Page 116 of Commanding Flame and Shield
Alec, still panting, huffed a low laugh. “I tried to warn you. You didn’t know who you were dealing with.”
A soft smile curved Alvara’s ample lips as she turned on her heel to face Jones. I rose and took the spot beside her, fingers itching to take hers as they flexed and curled by her side. Soothing her magic, I realized, as the flames retreated into them. Jones’ chin trembled, his dark blue eyes wide as we approached him. His voice was now breathless as he looked between the two of us.
“Im-impossible.”
Alvara cocked her head to the side in that feline, inhuman, predatory twitch. Her smile broadened as a growl rumbled in my chest, sparks popping between my fingers as lightning crept up my arm. My hand reached out for him. I wanted to crush his throat myself. But she raised her own elegant fingers in a signal to halt. Her voice was a lover’s caress, my blood chilling as she smiled at the demon.
“You had information we needed. Itwaspersonal. As you’ve provided nothing of use, I’m done with you.”
“Adr-”
“Adrastos can’t save you. Not from us.”
“He is just the beginning. Adrastos will come for you—for his vengeance. But he is only the beginning. The terrors that rule him will make Adrastos’ torture seem like—”
Jones’ body snatcher was silenced with a flick of Alvara’s wrist, her power utterly unhinged by whatever had just happened. I almost felt bad as I sensed her mental claws grasp the mind within the man.
“What are you?” The guttural thing within Jones hissed, the body now shaking.
“I am a daughter of The King. And you are not welcome here.” She knelt in a graceful motion and flicked her fingers out. Dancing light and fire took the form of butterflies, and the demon sneered, despite the whites of his eyes still showing. It was only once they had flown into his body, that his face contorted with panic and pain. Light shone through his eyes as black seeped from his flesh like blood. Her power immediately crackled and sizzled within it, causing the inky creature to bubble and evaporate into steam.
A moment later, Jones took one gasping breath, those now-lighter sapphire eyes wild, until he locked on Alvara. Her glow was now fading back towards a human appearance.
“Thank you,” he croaked, his voice a dry, hollow rasp. He collapsed onto the floor.
Her power retreated into her body, the room suddenly shadowed and hollow. She made to turn to me, but her lips were bloodless, cheeks just as wan. I wrapped my arms around her waist, and she leaned back into me, breathing a bit labored as she managed a soft smile.
“You brought me back.” Her voice was a whisper.
Safe. She was safe. The word repeated in my head like a metronome as she laid her head against my chest, her claims ringing in my bones as Marcus strode up to me, a smirk on his face. The eye in the storm.Jesus.
I looked around and summoned a glass that remained whole amongst the rubble. Alec filled it with water as it floated towards us, and I immediately set it in her shaky fingers. Tremors rippled as she raised the glass to her lips, and I reached out to steady her. I fought down my outrage, my terror at the risk she had again assumed for herself. And instead, pressed my face against her curls, breathing in the scent of honey and cinnamon, and whispered into her ear.
“You did it. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
The sound that came from her was nearly a purr as she sipped her water and nestled into my chest. She was safe here. Safewith me.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling this was just the eye of the storm.
FORTY-SEVEN
SNOW
AUGUST
Marcus’s safe house in Manhattan wasn’t nearly as elaborate as Aren’s homes had been. But it would work, warded and secure in the human sense. The ten souls and one mortal body seemed to press against the size of it, the cramped loft meant for two. Alvara peeled herself out of my arms too-soon. She was safe there, pressed against my frame like she’d been carved from it. Marcus tossed her an apple, and she swiped it out of the air and to her mouth in one swift motion. Alec and Fae both gratefully accepted their own. Livid rings of bruises lined both of their throats, but they were otherwise unscathed.
Jones was still unconscious, breathing and heartbeat steady. Alvara, still struggling to form coherent words, had opened her memories to us to reveal all that she had seen within his mind. Perhaps, despite his flaws, the bastard was worth saving. Alvara certainly thought so.
She showed us what it had been like as the possession took her own mind—how memory had distorted, and sense of self slipped, in that Middle Realm where time was non-existent. How Aren and my voices, pressing against the blackness, were what kept her anchored.
A lesser woman—a lesser soul—might have succumbed entirely to the murky reality.
Jones’ resistance had made it so that even in his position of power, the demons did not mention names often in his presence. Didn’t give him the information we needed to summon who was responsible for this mess. Because it was all one mess. The healers, the corruption. All linked back to whoever held the chain of the two Renown whose names we already knew. His handlers. Adrastos, and Agamemnon answered to something beyond them.
The brothers of Renown, it seemed, had nominated themselves to clear the path to a dark utopia in which humans were ruled and owned in exchange for life without the struggle of being good, or of ambitions that pushed them too far. A modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah.
It seemed that in Adrastos’ mind, The Great Commander would stand between them and that vision, or join their ranks to rule the mortals. Another blade in their arsenal.
