For a second, Auggie doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even breathe.
But then… a slow grin, that dimple finally making an appearance. A sparkle in his hazel eyes. And finally, a deep rumble of laughter vibrating through his chest, making his whole body shake.
“It’s really you,” he says.
“It’s really me.”
He sets me on my feet, takes one more look at what’s left of the ceiling to make sure nothing else is about to fall on our heads, then grabs my face and plants a searing-hot, all-too-brief kiss on my mouth.
“I got your back, witchling,” he says, finally releasing me. “Let’s take these motherfuckersdown.”
Chapter Eleven
JUDE
Ahhh, the delicious scents of fear and freshly spilled blood. The soothing sounds of splintering wood and breaking glass. The unholy screams of the innocent.
Oh,fine. Eloise and the Forsythes are not exactlyinnocent. And they’re not so much “screams” as “tormented wails of the eternally damned,” but I digress.
Serenity—that’s what I’m talking about. That’s what this night has become.
Because after I spent the first part of the night crawling out of my skin thinking I’d never see my girl again, there she is, safe in Augustine’s arms on the other side of the cathedral.
The demon-mages are running around like headless chickens—all the more fun because some of themareheadless, thanks to me and Drae. And even Rook’s witches have joined in on the fun, lighting up the whole place with a show of magic and lights that even Disney World couldn’t compete with.
“Jude! Watch your back!” Rook shouts, and I spin around just in time to catch another demon-mage by the throat. Motherfucker was about to set my arse on fire with his spooky little candle and a little hocus-pocus hell magic.
I lift him off his feet, grinning at him through my fangs.
“Black robes? Really?” I punch my other fist through his chest and rip out his heart, tossing it to the floor like rotten meat. “You’d think the most powerful mage society in all of Manhattan wouldn’t have to resort to the post-Halloween bargain bins for their formalwear. Then again, I suppose it hides the blood pretty well, doesn’t it?”
He doesn’t answer. Poor blokes can’t talk, what with their mouths sewn shut and all.
I drop his arse on the floor and take down three of his mates, their blood coating my skin. Rook’s right by my side now, smashing skulls, tearing out vital organs.
But for every demon we take down, another seems to spring up in its place, like we’re standing at the very gateway to hell.
Fucking demons. Fucking shadow mages. Fucking hell magic bullshit.
So much for serenity.
“We need to get the fuck out of here,” I say to Rook, his hands buried in another demon chest. “Where’s Drae?”
“Jude!” Westlyn shouts, her voice clear and commanding, cutting through the din. “Move!”
I grab Rook and the two of us leap out of the way just as our girl throws out a blast of purple lightning—wild and angry, as beautiful and terrifying as she is. It hits home, scorching three bastards in one perfect shot, melting the flesh from their skulls.
The scent of fried demon makes me all kinds of warm and tingly, and the sight of Westlyn after fearing the worst all night makes me feel all kinds of something else, and that’s it. I need to touch her. To hold her.
Right fucking now.
Path clear for the moment, I run to her, scooping her up in my arms and giving her a big kiss. With extra tongue, just how she likes it, the dirty girl.
Laughing and breathless, she wriggles out of my hold and says, “Did you see that last move? With the zap, and the whole lightning thing?”
“I saw everything, scarecrow. And I couldn’t be more proud of you. Not to mention grateful you’re alive. Fucking hell, woman. I thought you were…” I shake my head. Can’t even bring myself to say it.
“Honestly? I thought so too.” West laughs, nervous and relieved both, brushing her wrist across her forehead. A trail of blood streaks her skin.
