Forty-Five

 

The part-bred and I continued to dance around each other while the alchemists got more and more determined in their throwing of shit that tried to burn me. The part-bred was quick on his feet and had good balance. He blocked my attacks as much as I blocked his. We were an equal match, and my shield was about to give up.

He glanced to his side, where Alasdair was slicing an alchemist open. I dove in and drove my blade into his stomach before I pulled my knife out and thrust it into the base of his neck, just to be extra sure. I felt my shield give up when the air around me suddenly became very hot and something was prickling my hands.

I spun around, looking for the original alchemist, the woman with the manic smile. She threw something lurid green at my chest. I was too slow. It hit me hard and sucked the wind from my lungs. I gasped for breath. My fire surged forward with the shadow close behind it, the instinct to continue living overriding any fear of their knowing what I was. I allowed both magics forward. The pure unadulterated pleasure of the fire washed over me with the eerie calm of the shadow. They collided in my psyche, producing a high unlike anything else. It was time to end this.

The alchemist’s face lit up with glee. I was sure my own expression was one of vicious predatory intent as I stalked towards her and pressed the cool oil slick of the shadow towards her. Her face fell into one of confusion as the darkness swept up over her body before it dove down her throat. She clawed at her throat, but it was no good. The shadow was filling her lungs, and I had turned my attention elsewhere.

Alasdair was glowing a silvery white and had an odd calm expression on his face as he snapped a part-bred’s neck. Grayson was sinking his teeth into an alchemist’s leg when I felt someone leap on my back. I pushed my fire out with everything I had. The weight dropped off, and I turned to see a young sidhe writhing on the floor, coated in fire. Slowly, the addiction of the fire increased as the shadow took away my emotions and pulled me further from my body. I wasn’t ready. It felt like I was drifting away from myself and being consumed by a pleasure unlike anything else. The experience was simultaneously joyous and terrifying.

Grayson grabbed the elf alchemist that had acted as the leader by the throat and tore it out, leaving a bloody mess. Alasdair ran to me, ignoring the blood and carnage all around us, and wrapped his arms around me. He nuzzled against my neck and kissed behind my ear.

“I am not going to lose you,” he growled.

The physical sensation of him grounded me, I reached out to it with every fibre of my being, desperately clinging onto it with all that I was. Slowly, his familiar calm kicked in. I felt as though I was present once more. The room became more real, the colours dulled some, and I could breathe clearly again. I was myself, and I hoped that I never lost that sensation again. The thing I was on the edge of becoming was a monster, far worse than any monster people might have thought I was before. I could never allow myself to become that. My fire and shadow both flickered out, and I leaned my head on Alasdair’s shoulder, allowing the rage and need to embrace the fire to slip away. It had been too much. I couldn’t handle one of them, let alone both.

Alasdair ran his fingers through my hair and down over my jawline.

“We will work on your magic, together,” he said.

“I did what I had to,” I said weakly.

He smiled and hugged me tight to him, our bodies pressed together. Grayson came and joined the hug.

“You’re pretty damn scary when you’re like that, Niko,” Grayson said.

“You’re not exactly an adorable puppy yourself,” I said with a laugh.

Gray gave me his trademark grin.

They released me, and I looked around at the carnage. There were holes in the concrete floor, and not small ones. The part-breds and alchemists had been reduced to black goo that would soon dissolve, too. Magic returns to magic, which means that when those tied to magic die, their bodies vanish.

“We have to go and save the shifters,” I said.

A furious howl came from outside.

“I’m not sure they need us to save them,” Grayson said with a smile.

We jogged out into the darkness to find the shifters tearing a couple of part-breds apart with their bare hands. Once they were done, they turned their attention to us. I instinctively put my shoulders back and allowed my wolf forward to push the dominance. They lowered their eyes almost immediately and got themselves back under control. The taller one began sobbing. His friend put his arm around his shoulders.

“It’s a blood bath in there,” the friend said softly.

“See if there’s another car around here we can use to get back to the city,” Alasdair said.

Both shifters nodded and walked off behind the farmhouse. I braced myself for the worst as we walked into the house.

The stench hit me almost immediately. Every light was on, and I wished they weren’t. The harsh white halogen lights only highlighted just how bad it was. They’d somehow found a way to keep the bodies from turning to dust. I had to assume they needed them to make their Tempo and such. An emaciated body of what looked like Shona, one of the witchlings, was propped up in a corner. Her dead eyes stared at me accusingly.

“Niko!” Grayson called from the room next door.

I ran into the room expecting more fucking part-breds. Instead, Grayson was crouched down, trying to soothe a couple of survivors. Taking a deep breath, I pushed aside the rage and tried to call up as much empathy as I could muster, I needed to be gentle and soft.

Grayson slowly moved towards the young shifter, who didn’t appear to be much over fourteen. I dropped my eyes and slowly walked to the broad witchling that looked like the boy from the Firenze coven.

“Daniel?” I asked softly.

He raised his eyes from the filthy carpet in front of him and gave me a look that broke my heart.

“I’m Niko. We’re here to take you home,” I said softly.