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I nearly reach her when I’m struck in the temple by a huge hand. It takes a second for the room to swim into focus again, but when it does, Kyle is in between me and my target, looking like the boogeyman from a nightmare.
What the actual fuck?
His black hair is disheveled, eyes full black, and his thick fingers have curled into talons. Hissing at me through two-inch fangs, the hulking man is standing between Nicola and I, his arms thrown wide to prevent me from getting to her.
Why is he protecting her? Other than Aurelia and me, I’ve never seen a wraith give two shits about a phoenix in my life, and vice versa.
I’m two seconds away from pulling my Ruger and putting a bullet in his head when Nicola intervenes. She gently places her dainty hand on his shoulder, instantly calming him. His sclera bleeds back to white, and his hands uncurl, the talons retracting into his nail beds. His fangs are the last to go, the dull crunch of bone reforming in his jaw causing my stomach to turn.
I make the mistake of relaxing my posture, and then like the fucking asshole he is, he strikes, tackling me to the ground with his forearm against my neck. Before I can retaliate in kind, Aurelia gasps.
Then she screams.
She screams so loud and so long, I know I’m going to kill whatever monster is haunting her.
No matter what.
Chapter Twelve
AURELIA
The power is out, darkness surrounds me. The quick pained breaths of the injured fills my ears. Lightning slashes across the sky outside, swiftly followed by the roar of thunder. In the scant glimpse of light, puddles of blood and water from the sprinkler system appear, pooling on the hardwood floor of the great room. The broken ruins of lamps are strewn across the wood, alongside jagged shards of the largest window.
The safe house wasn’t so safe after all.
My feet are bare, the hem of my already-sodden jeans sucking up the watered-down blood from the floor. The shush of feet moving through the water reaches me, quiet as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. In the darkness, I can’t tell if the person is friend or foe. My gut goes with foe, and I tighten my grip on the butcher knife in my hand, ready for anything.
I’ve been searching for Rhys for what seems like hours, but I know it's only been mere minutes since the siege began on the house. Either Rhys has left me to stave off this attack alone, or he’s keeping someone else safe.
Either way, he’s not with me.
We got separated, and I can’t remember the reason, but now I can’t find him anywhere in this pitch-black Hell. I remember reading once that Hell was as black as a moonless night, and they—whoever they were—are right. I’m tortured more by fear of the unknown and what I can’t see than I am by anything else that has transpired here.
Clearing the great room and the kitchen, I check the pulses of a lifeless Cam and Asher as I go. Judging by the open maw that used to be Asher’s neck, he died quickly. Cam’s death was slower—his intestines spilled from his belly onto the kitchen floor. But with each person I find—every single one—has lost their life.
I fear that everyone is dead.
I can’t find Evan, West, John, or any of the other guards who were here with us. I can’t find anyone alive in this blackness. I fear if I set myself aglow, using myself for light, it will give away my location. My shield is pointless as well, since the house is flooded in an inch of water. It would electrocute anyone touching the ground. Maybe they wouldn’t die a true death, but in this pit, I fear hurting someone.
What good are powers if you can’t use them?
A hard hand grips my hair—the braid used as a handle as my neck is stretched backward. The thick, cold bite of a knife is thrust against my skin, nearly nicking the flesh. My worry of being found is gone, and my whole body ignites, fire racing over my skin, burning whoever’s holding me. The pained growl of a man sounds loud in the dim as I’m released.
A phoenix wouldn’t be burned by my flames—only a wraith would.
I turn to see Carver’s naturally bronze skin red and puckered from the flames, rapidly healing from the burn. He smiles, his hard lips pulling into a cruel smirk, as he removes a blade from his belt, his other hand holding an intricately crafted short sword. The betrayal burns in my chest. I knew we had a traitor in our midst, but I thought better of Carver.
I thought he was a friend.
“Why?” I plead. “Why would you kill your friends? Why would you do this?”
“I didn’t kill them. You did,” he hisses. “Just by being here, you damned us all. I’m only trying to live. If I give you over, I’ll keep breathing, and breathing is my top priority. Your safety and the ideals of your ridiculous war are not.”
His eyes flick just to the left of my head and then back to me.
Before I can move, he has disappeared like smoke, reappearing at my left. I step to counter, but I’m not fast enough. The dagger slides between my ribs, stabbing my lung, cutting off my pained cry.
“Quiet, my beauty,” he whispers into my ear, his lips soft on my skin. “I will keep him safe for you until we get you out of there.” He slows my crumpling body before it can hit the floor, my flames extinguishing as my light goes out.
