“The citadel has fallen.”
Any remaining sanity fled with the words. Effie’s sanctuary was gone. The Shadows stole it from her, and now they must die. Starting with this one.
Ronan grabbed her arm and pulled hard enough to bruise. “Effie. It’s time to go. You heard the Triumvirate; the citadel is lost.”
Effie whirled on Ronan, shoving her elbow into his stomach. “Get off me, unless you want to be next.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Effie—”
“Look at her, Ronan. She’s not herself,” Reyna murmured beside him, leaning against the wall for support. Her expression was pinched, her mouth a tight line. Her energy was rapidly diminishing, soon she wouldn’t be able to remain standing.
“Better take care of your woman, Shield.”
Torn, Ronan looked between them, his loyalties divided.
“If you want to run and hide, then go,” Effie snarled. “I don’t need you.”
Ronan took a step toward her, looking determined. “I will drag you out if I have to. I’m not leaving you alone.”
Behind her, the Shadow-touched laughed, the sound fraying her already thin patience.
“Try it and I’ll geld you.”
Ronan paled, but reached for her anyway.
Effie swung her blade down, twisting her wrist just before she made contact so the flat end smacked his arm. “Next time I won’t miss, and it won’t be you I’m aiming for.” She purposefully let her eyes fall on Reyna, her voice low and laced with malice.
The Night Stalker’s eyes widened and her throat bobbed.
Shaking his head, Ronan stepped back. “Effie,” he tried a final time, his voice pleading. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t you see? This is all there is,” she said, turning away from him and leveling her gaze on the trio before her.
“What about Lucian?” he asked, his voice sounding far away.
“What about him?”
There was a soft feminine gasp of pain and then Ronan grunted. “I’ll be back for you.”
Effie was past hearing, focused only on the three beings standing before her. A ball of flame hurled past her shoulder, setting two of the three alight. Ronan must have truly given up if he was willing to risk his Fire. But even that bit of help wasn’t enough to redeem him in her mind. A true warrior never would have run from the fight.
Neither woman so much as flinched at the shrieks of pain coming from the smoldering bodies writhing on the floor. They’d be dead soon. No need to waste energy thinking about them when the true fight was before them.
Effie adjusted her grip on her weapons, her eyes never leaving Tess’ cruel grin. She’d already taken down two Shadows today. A single, Shadow-touched woman would be no match for her.
They were in a small alcove, the area opening up where two hallways joined. There wasn’t much space to maneuver, but there was enough. So long as Ronan’s Fire continued to burn down the hallway behind Tess and not switch directions, Effie would have long enough to finish the kill without any other of Tess’ Shadow friends joining the party.
Tess remained motionless, her hands splayed by either side of her body. “What are you waiting for?” she crooned.
“Just savoring the suspense,” Effie replied, her voice a dark purr.
“Before you die, little mouse?” Tess asked, tilting her head as the black veins slithered obscenely in her eyes.
“Before I kill you.”
Effie raised her sword, legs pumping as she raced forward, only to stop short with a startled cry as the muscles in her arm began to spasm. The pain ricocheted down the right side of her body, almost blinding her with its intensity. This was ten-times worse than what happened in the shower, the muscles in her arm tearing and snapping as if they were coming undone.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, eyes wide as she stared up at the Shadow-touched woman.
Tess didn’t answer, but her smile widened. The sight of her joy bringing with it a fleeting moment of panic.
Looking down at her arm, Effie blinked rapidly. Something was slithering beneath her skin. The muscles and tendons in her arm shifted, trying to adjust to make room for whatever was moving inside of her.
The pain was absolute, Effie’s eyes tearing as her body tried to rearrange itself.
Tess started to laugh, watching with a malicious glee. “Looks like I don’t need to do anything.”
“No!” Effie growled behind clenched teeth, refusing to let this abomination win.
Even though her arm felt like it was being torn from her body, Effie still had one good one. Letting the sword fall from limp fingers, she hefted her cleaver higher in her left hand.
Tess laughed harder, which only fueled Effie’s rage.
Snarling, vision cloudy with pain, Effie pulled her left arm back, inhaling deeply. As she exhaled, she let the cleaver go, watching it spin through the air and wedge itself in the center of Tess’ forehead.
The laughter abruptly stopped as ichor-tainted blood started to drip down the once beautiful face.
Heart still thundering, Effie stumbled forward, her right leg buckling as the stretching and tearing feeling from her arm worked its way down her body. Nothing was going to stop her, not when she was this close.
Limping forward, Effie tugged her weapon free from the woman who’d fallen to her knees, a wet gurgle bubbling forth from her mouth.
Large, milky-white eyes blinked up at her, and in them she could see her reflection. In that long, drawn-out moment, Effie was no longer sure which of them was the monster.
Nor did she care.
Grasping the woman by her hair, Effie tugged her head back, exposing her throat. Leaning forward so that her mouth brushed against Tess’ ear, she whispered, “When you get to hell, tell them that I sent you.”
The dead woman’s head was already falling from her body before Effie finished speaking.
Chapter 32
All around him the Keepers and the citizens protected by the citadel fought for their homes and their families. It didn’t take centuries of experience to see that it was a losing battle. More than half the buildings in the city were burning, thick smoke hanging heavy in the air and turning it a menacing, burnt orange. Those that weren’t on fire were little more than dust with nothing left to show that they’d once existed at all.
Lucian felt the loss of the city like the loss of a limb. He’d called many places home throughout his life, but had always found a special kind of peace in the Vil d’lume. Now that it was destroyed, the survivors would try to rebuild, but they’d never capture what had been lost. That kind of magic only ever exists once.
Lungs burning, Lucian spun around, searching for his next target. He didn’t have to look for long. The tainted beasts were everywhere. Drenched in blood and sweat, he no longer knew how much of it was his, but Lucian didn’t stop swinging his blade and fighting for what was left of his home. For the people he considered his.
While the Guardian plowed through an endless stream of Shadows and their Shadow-touched minions, the Chosen used what powers they had to try and mitigate the damage. These were no seasoned warriors, few if any had more than remedial control of their elements, but between them they’d been able to offer enough of a distraction that Lucian and his men could fight back.