Page 130 of Samhain Savior
“I—”
“Spare me.” My voice cut sharper than steel. I turned my head, seeking Delilah through the chaos. I needed to see her. To breathe her in. To remind myself why I was prepared to let my shadows devour the lot of them.
She stood a few paces back, her shoulders squared though exhaustion hung heavy on her frame. She tried to hide it, but the bond thrummed with the truth—it showed just how much healing Mex had truly cost her, how close she was to collapse. Yet her skin still glowed faintly, leaking magic she couldn’t contain, her body too full of power to hold it all in.
It reminded me of myself, how my shadows slipped free when rage owned me. Delilah truly was my opposite andmy equal: her inner light spilling over even when she tried to contain it, while I bled nothing but darkness.
Protect the light.
Words I’d heard a million times before, words I had tattooed on my very flesh, but never had they held more meaning than they did in that moment.
Delilah was my light, and I would protect her with everything I had.
As though she sensed my gaze, she lifted her chin and met my eyes. Her blue irises softened to silver, gratitude pulsing down the bond between us. Love answered in my chest—raw, fierce, unyielding.
No one would harm her ever again. Not while I still drew breath.
I turned back to the trembling man, curling my lip. He would learn what it meant to cross me.
Pain. I would carve it into his bones until he prayed for death.
“So, the Storm-bringer refused to face me again?” I asked, smirking down at the man who had very little time left to live. “After he was so easily defeated the last time we faced each other, I am not surprised at his reluctance for a another round. I do have a hard time believingyouwere the best that the Order had to offer. After all, you were a coward in Boston, and you’re a coward now.” Rolling myhead, I cracked my neck from side to side, my rage a living thing inside me. “And now, you’ll die a coward’s death.”
“Wait—wait a minute.” His voice cracked as he raised his hands, eyes darting to the others for support. They offered him none. “There’s no need to—”
“Boss!” Vine’s shout split the night. He, Mal, and Corson burst through the shadow wall I’d raised, bloodied but unbroken. My pride swelled—my brothers, still whole, still standing.
Still with me.
Vine grinned like a madman, spinning his spear. “Hope we didn’t miss the party.”
“Just getting started,” I replied, eyes narrowing on the witch quaking before me.
Vine’s gaze shifted past me to where two men still held Genevieve captive, her face still filled with fear. “Oh, look, boys. Leftovers.”
Mal sighed and Corson snorted, but Vine was already striding forward, his spear twirling lazily in his hands. “Time to play.” His demon rose within him, his eyes gone black as pitch, the visage of the soul eater he truly was rising in the night.
That was it; the two other witches abandoned their post, the first dropping the grimoire, the spell releasing fully, the second backing away from Genevieve in fear.
Cowards.
Genevieve extricated her hand from the wooden stake that had pierced it, then crumpled to the grass in a sobbing, velvet-covered heap. Mal moved to stand next to her, not offering consolation, just standing silently guard.
“Come on, fellas,” Corson called with fake joviality. His short sword twitched by his side, already bloody and ready for more. “Don’t be like that.”
The two of them bolted for the edges of the clearing, fleeing blindly as their terror overwhelmed them.
But there was nowhere to go.
My wall of shadow rose high and impenetrable, blocking every exit. The first witch struck it at full speed, and the darkness responded, attempting to swallow him whole. The man barely had time to scream before the shadows bit into him, blistering his skin wherever it touched. Thick tendrils wound up his arm, digging like claws beneath his flesh. He clawed back in blind panic, shrieking as skin sloughed from bone, his arm unraveling into pulpy ruin.
“No! Please, just make it stop!”
The second man froze, paralyzed by horror, his face draining to chalk.
“Move!” the woman shouted, shoving the stunned man out of the way so she could reach her screaming friend. “Fuck!” She hissed, her hands hovering over him as she attempted to quell my ravenous shadows with her magic.
Her attempt was laughable, her magic nowhere near strong enough to dispel my infernal gift. Over and over, she tried, sending wave after wave of her power toward him, but nothing worked, and she was too frightened of suffering the same fate to get any closer. Instead, she crawled away, cowering next to her hell hound as she watched the nightmare play out.
