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I walk up the steps behind the evil creature, and Tamsin’s eyes meet mine across the space separating us. An understanding flows between us; I don’t know if it’s her idea or mine or both of us at the same time. But through our connection, we know what we have to do. It’s the only thing that has any chance of working.
“You’re right,” Tamsin says. “Icannot win this battle. Not me alone.” She pauses and sweeps her gaze left and right over her fellow witches. “But I am not alone.”
Tamsin and I raise our hands simultaneously and pour every bit of magic we have into Darkness and her brother.
Luciana joins us next, then Colin, then Rowan and Ven and Daniel and Nessa and Ainsley. Ryder and Devon and Xander and all the other witches, warlocks, and the rest of our comrades. A hundred beams of magic blasting into the one who had come here to end us. The one who would spread her evil across the world.
There’s so much color and power converging at the center of the stone altar that I can barely see Darkness and the other creature. Slowly, however, I see them fall to their knees beneath the onslaught of our magic. Beneath the unity of our attack. All of us, together. The power of many acting as one.
A hum moves across the valley, and the ground begins to shake. Then there’s a growl and a roar of rage, and Darkness and her sibling vanish in a flash like a black diamond. Night turns to day, and I blink in the sudden sun.
I run the rest of the way to Tamsin, crushing her against me, pressing her lips to mine. “Thank all the powers that be.”
“You’re injured,” she gasps, gingerly touching the blood-soaked side of me from where Aengus clawed me, and the spots where the demon grabbed me.
“I’ll be alright,” I say, dusting another kiss over her lips. “You took a hit, too.” I frown as I look at her bloody shoulder.
“Is Darkness…dead?” Luciana whispers.
Ven shakes her head. “No. She was injured, but she fled before we could end her.”
“And her brother? Who the hell was that?” Rowan asks. She still has flames coming off her fingers, her magic and adrenaline not quite burned off yet.
Devon steps forward, folding his angel wings behind him. “I’m afraid I know the answer to that, though I wish I didn’t.”
We all stare at him, and his hazel eyes turn stormy.
“We have old tales about him in Heaven,” Devon continues. “I thought they were just that: tales. He is the opposite of Darkness in every way, or is supposed to be. They are meant to balance each other out, to ensure cosmic harmony. But here they are, working together.”
“Don’t leave us hanging, angel,” I say.
Devon drops his gaze a moment, then raises it again and sweeps it over us. “Simply put, she is Darkness, and he—he is Light.”
A murmur of dismay moves over the crowd.
“But—but he should be good then, right?” Ainsley asks, brow crinkled. “Why would he fight us?”
“Something has shifted, it seems,” Tamsin says softly. “They clearly are no longer creating balance and harmony.”
“This is grave news,” Xander growls. “We’ll have to discuss a combat strategy.”
Rowan nods. “We’ll summon a meeting of the Raven Society.”
“But first, I need to attend to the injured,” Tamsin says, pulling away from me.
Devon steps forward. “I’ll help.”
“As will I,” Nessa adds.
We split into groups and sweep the battlefield, assisting fallen friends and foes alike. I hope that Clan Cameron will think on our compassion here and not stir trouble again. With Aengus gone, I think that’s likely.
There are a few casualties on each side. Clan Cameron take their dead, and we bury ours at the edge of the valley, where the morning sun hits first. We say rites over them and send our magic into the sky to honor their spirits. It looks like a fireworks show in the early morning light.
Hours later, we finally return to MacPherson House. We say our farewells to Ven and Ryder, Rowan and Xander, Devon and the three former-demons. When they’ve left, Tamsin turns to me and winces. “You’re still covered in blood.”
I look down. It’s true. Tamsin had stopped the bleeding earlier, and Devon repaired her wound as well, but we’re both filthy. “I suppose I could use a shower.”
Tamsin takes my hand and leads me upstairs. We head down the hall and into a huge bathroom. It’s clearly been converted from some other type of room, because this house is too old for the style of marble tiles and brushed nickel fixtures inside. Tamsin walks over to the glass-enclosed shower and turns on the hot water. The room immediately begins to steam up.
