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Behind Mikalis, waves of shadows poured in, painting an ink-black picture of enormous dark wings. Wings that consumed the night and beat in hypnotic rhythm, as though keeping time with Mikalis’s heartbeat.
If Saint walked in there, if he demanded answers, would it save the Brotherhood, or condemn them?
Mikalis lifted his head. All-black eyes swirled with eternal darkness. A darkness that had always been in him, just below the surface. But now it was here, living, breathing, consuming,feeding.
Saint suddenly knew who Mikalis was. Who he’d always been.
He wasn’t nyktelios, he wasn’t a First. He’d existed before the gods. Cast out, banished, locked away for the brutal crimes he’d committed against Nyx. But he wasn’t lost. He was right here, gaining strength, being worshipped, feeding on darkness. Because hewasdarkness.
Erebus lived.
Mikalis turned his head. His all-black, hungry-eyed glare speared into Saint, rocking him on his feet. Saint dropped and pressed his back to the wall, breathless, fangs bared, heart racing. He had to get back. He had to warn them all.
They’d never believe him.
The shadows crackled apart a few steps in front of Saint, and Mikalis stepped from within. A brief moment of confusion crossed his face, but he quicky banished it. He looked down his nose at Saint, like a god peering at an ant. If there had ever been a time to beg his sire to spare him, this was it.
Mikalis struck.
CHAPTER37
Octavius
It had been too long.
Saint had said he’d just be a few moments. It had been longer than that. A lot longer. The sun had set. Octavius should never have let him go alone, should have followed him into the shadows, should have been with him.
“What the fuck, Octavius?” Zaine ducked under the fence. “We’ve been waiting for you. There are nyks all over. We need to—”
“Saint’s missing.”
He expected Zaine to leave, to brush him off, to tell him Saint could look after himself, to demand they go back to the others.
He paced a few strides, aware of Zaine’s glare tracking his every step. This was it. This was the moment he’d have to choose Saint or the Brotherhood, and he’d choose Saint, every time. No hesitation. “I’m not leaving him, Z.”
“And I’m not leaving you, so here we are.” Zaine tapped out a message on his phone and dropped it back into his pocket. “Eric will contact the others and tell them what we’ve found. You and me are going after Saint.”
Octavius stopped pacing, unsure if he’d heard correctly. “You don’t understand, I have to help him.”
Zaine smiled. “I know, and Idounderstand.”
“Wait, you’re helping me?”
Zaine sighed, planted a hand on his hip, and cleared his throat. “I fucked up, okay? You’re Brotherhood. Probably more Brotherhood than I am. I owe you, and we all owe Saint after that ambush earlier, so here I am. We can stand here all night and talk it out, or we can go do what we do best, and that’s protect our own.”
Zaine was going to help him and Saint?
Octavius had thought he’d lost them, lost everything he’d cared for, everything he’d fought for, lost his family. But he needed them right now, and they were here for him, in Zaine.
“Oh Jesus, don’t get all teary-eyed. Fuck, Octavius. I might just start liking you. Where’d you last see your man?”
“He went through the shadows toward the main warehouse. Wait—My man?”
Zaine huffed a sigh and drew both his guns from their holsters. “Hold on to your wings because we’re about to fuck up this party.”
Guns were a terrible idea. “We can’t go in guns blazing.”
Zaine shrugged, Desert Eagles akimbo. “The chances of finding Saint and getting him out without any bloodshed are exactly zero. Until I get wings and whatever other upgrades y’all ancient assholes have, I’m taking the guns.”
