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A low rumble of laughter bursts from my chest as I catch sight of Adriel standing nonchalantly beside the door he just slammed, unperturbed by the dust and debris floating around his head. His one black eye gleams with savage delight under his scarred brow.
"Did the big bad 'church ghost' scare you?" he taunts Malachi.
I howl with laughter.
"Drit og dra. Both of you." Shit and leave—go to hell. Malachi flips us off without missing a beat. His tone holds no real venom, though, only good-natured annoyance.
"I have no fear of hell." Adriel strides forward, dust motes dancing around him like a veil of shadows. "But perhaps the priesthood would better suit you since you're so afraid of it," he says to Malachi.
"Oh, I'm not afraid of hell," he taunts, his pointed gaze locked on Adriel. "I sit at dinner with it every night."
Adriel growls in response to the barb, though there's no malice in the sound.
"And I sleep with an angel," I say, grinning.
They both groan, making me laugh.
"Jealous assholes."
"Maybe I will quit and go be a priest," Malachi mutters after a moment, nudging at a pile of used needles with his boot. "It has to be cleaner than this bullshit."
"Good luck with that," I respond dryly. "You wouldn't last five minutes without cursing."
"And you wouldn't last two minutes without stabbing something," he parries right back.
"You're both idiots." Adriel shakes his head. "If God was up there, he'd cast the both of you out as soon as he set his eyes on your miserable faces. You're hideous."
"Well, damn," Malachi says without heat. "Why don't you tell us how you really feel?"
Adriel flashes him a lethal look, the corner of his mouth barely quirking up. "I've been telling you for millennia."
I eye him sideways, surprised at how calm he seems. It's different. New. Usually, he's cloaked in anger and steeped in rage. But today, he seems…lighter. As if he's finally found a little sliver of peace.
Abigail. It has to be Abigail.
He's barely left her side for the last few days. Neither has Damrion. The two of them still snipe and snarl, unable to get along. But spending so much time with her is healing pieces of him, pulling him back from the brink after millennia spent at war with himself.
It's damn good to see. He's been tormented and haunted long enough by what he endured in captivity. He deserves peace. If finally admitting to himself how he feels about the tiny Seer has brought him a measure of it, then good for him. I just hope his peace doesn't come at the expense of Damrion's.
Malachi opens his mouth as if to say something, but before he can, a deafening roar shakes the old stone church, the reverberating echo slicing through the calm like a double-edged sword. The pained cry that follows sends ice into my veins.
As one, we pivot and charge towards the disturbance.
We burst into the old nave to find a dozen Forsaken advancing down the aisle, their silhouettes etched in harsh relief against the stained glass and stone. Dark magic pulses from their hands, coiling tendrils contorting like snakes.
Their eyes burn with an unholy light as they advance toward us, each step echoing off the high-vaulted ceiling. Their gaze flickers over Garrison—who is crumbled and bleeding on the filthy floor—with dismissive disdain before settling on us.
"I guess we found the right church this time," Malachi says dryly. His umber skin glows under the dim light seeping through the discolored windowpanes, making him appear much like a deity about to roll up his sleeves and mete out a little divine retribution.
"Ja. I guess we did."
Adriel is all naked fury and lethal grace to my right, his pale skin stark against the backdrop of chaos. Savage intent brims from his solitary black eye. The scar marring his other eye seems to pulse in rhythm with his rage.
To my left stands Malachi, cool as an arctic breeze, a cheeky grin playing about his lips…as undeterred by looming death as ever.
I see the others in my peripheral, taking up positions around the room—Dax and Damrion to the right, Stephan and Daric to the left—but I keep my gaze fixated on the Forsaken.
They've trespassed on sacred ground where they have no right. They've threatened our people. Destroyed our home. They hurt my mate. For that, they will pay.
