Page 98 of Peacemaker

And she wasn’t the only one.

The sun wouldn’t arrive for hours, and though the vampires might slowly defeat the rifters, lives—both human and supernatural—were being lost. The vampires cut down on those deaths, sure they did. But they couldn’t stop them. Not as long as rifters roamed the city.

Then the rifters charged Angus, and I could only back away, my hands to my mouth, terrified they would hurt him.

But he was Angus, and he would kill them.

God, I needed my sword.

More rifters arrived, entangled with vampires, fighting, killing, dying.

Suddenly, we were in the thick of the battle, and I saw the master.

“Amias,” I screamed. “Amias!”

He flew down the street and plunged into the new group of rifters without hesitation. Maybe because he was near me, or maybe because he was simply too distracted to keep up his walls, I felt his emotion. I felt his mad rage as he tore the enemy apart, his speed and strength unrivaled, even by a rifter.

But rifters were killing his vampires.

All through the night, vampires died. Vampires he’d just gotten back. Healthy vampires.

He ripped the rifters’ heads from their shoulders and flung them into bloody piles, and it was one of the most horrific scenes I’d ever witnessed.

Not just because of the way he killed them, but because I saw his heart as he fought. I felt his pain. No, it wasn’t pain—it was bigger than pain. It was as though he were being forced to watch his children die.

Rifters kept killing vampires, and it hurt him. As his vampires were slaughtered, he felt every single death. He drowned in despair—the despair of the afterlife. It overflowed, splashed out of him, and roared over me.

We were connected, and through that connection, I felt his unspeakable, unimaginable agony.

And I needed it to stop.

I rushed toward him, unconcerned with the rifters, not worried about them attacking me. The master was there, and he was fierce. No one would touch me.

“Master,” I screamed.

The only thing on my mind was his agony.

It was unbearable.

He looked up, his eyes widening as I raced toward him, and he wasn’t sure whether to run or to stand still for whatever I was bringing to him.

In the end, he dropped the dead rifter he’d just pulled from a vampire, opened his bloody arms, and let me come.

I barreled into him, then wrapped myself around him. I wound my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and I held him as desperately as he held me.

“What are you doing?” He pulled back to search my eyes.

“I’m chasing away the despair.” I held him tighter.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Indeed you are.”

And his stare lost some of its desolation.

Maybe he’d just needed someone to understand. Someone to care.

In that moment of softness, a silver blade hurtled from the shadows, straight at the master vampire.

“Silverlight,” I yelled. “To me!”

I hadn’t called her, but she’d come anyway. I opened my hand and she flew into my grip, and my soul eased even as my heart stuttered with fear and dread.

I leaped away from Amias, complete, finally, with Silverlight back where she belonged. I turned to run her through an attacking rifter, then whirled and took another’s head off.

My body woke up, my instincts kicked in, and bloodlust, terrible and wonderful at the same time, roared over me.

This was what I was born to do.

Despite all that, foremost in my mind was something that wanted to cripple me with terror.

Shane was nearby.

And he was defenseless.

Or he was dead.