Devils & Thieves (Devils & Thieves #1)(69)

“I should never have protected you,” Killian roared as he slammed into Darek, his animus magic winding around his nephew. They hit the floor between Dad and Katrina, who stood by, calm as sleepwalkers.

As Darek and Killian wrestled for control of the knife, I sprinted for the only person I knew could save my family—Crowe. I grabbed his shoulders and dragged him away from the edge of the pit, just far enough so he couldn’t accidentally roll in. With clawed fingers and all the love that was in me, I muttered another protective incantation and ripped away the sickly green curse, leaving him groaning and blinking up at the fractured roof. “It wasn’t real,” I said, bending over him as Killian and Darek struggled by the trough.

Crowe’s eyes met mine. “Jemmie?” he asked weakly.

“Yeah. I need your help.”

“I killed you.”

“Nope. Get up. How much magic do you have?” I yanked on his arm, trying to get him on his feet.

Blood dripped from his mouth as he swayed, trying to keep his balance and get his bearings. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “He took a lot.” From the tortured tone of his voice, I knew he wasn’t just talking about his magic.

As we started for the trough where my parents and Alex stood, their blood spilling into the basin below, Darek let out a laugh, and Killian screamed. Before we had a chance to intervene, Darek rose from the floor, the dripping knife in one hand and Killian in the other, bleeding from a terrible wound to his gut. Orange strands of invictus magic wound around Darek’s arm, and he hefted his uncle upward before dropping his entire body, limp and bleeding, into the trough.

“You aren’t worthy to call yourself a Delacroix,” Darek said, then spit on Killian, who shuddered and went quiet, the blood from the others Darek had cut flowing over him.

Darek raised his head and saw me and Crowe standing between the pit and the trough, and then his blue eyes skimmed the people around the bloody basin, as if calculating. A tiny smirk pulled at his lips, and he lunged for Katrina.

He was going to try to complete the curse, and if he did, there would be no stopping him.

Crowe began to move forward, but I grabbed his arm and turned to him. “No,” I said quietly, taking his face in my hands. “You heal anyone who’s been cut, and hurry. You aren’t the monster today.”

Tonight, I was the monster. It had to be me.

Crowe looked down at me, and I watched the same love and determination I had felt spark in his eyes. I wondered if he sensed my heart inside him, too. He crushed his lips against mine, quickly, hungrily. Did he know this was the last time? Did he feel it, too?

“Go,” I said quietly. “Save them.”

Magic surged inside me. It coiled in my bones and in my veins. I charged Darek, calling forth a vault hex. Too late did I sense the glittering blue shield around him, stolen from my father as he bled. My hex bounced off him. Before I could stop my momentum, Darek lunged for me and jammed the blade of his knife into my stomach. Blood poured down the front of me, soaking my shirt and my jeans, squishing in my boots. My insides burned. It wasn’t just a physical pain, but a mental and metaphysical pain, felt to the root of my soul.

“This is what you get for hurting me,” Darek said with a low sob. He grabbed my shoulder, and with his other hand, drove the blade up, hitting bone when he reached my rib cage. A reedy, wet gasp escaped me.

Crowe roared my name from the other side of the trough, but Darek threw up a barrier around him, imprisoning him inside.

I dropped where I stood, my entire body on fire, a strange whispering in my ear, calling to me. Mom had collapsed to her knees, her lips blue and her skin pale, but her arms were still held out. My dad bled out into the trough, too, though he was starting to sink to the floor. With Crowe trapped, beating his fists against Darek’s barrier, Darek quickly sliced the wrists of Boone, Gunnar, and Hardy before going to the other side of the trough to cut Flynn and Jane. They stood helplessly, growing paler by the second, as their blood—and their magic—drained from them.

I closed my eyes. I was so tired, and so cold. “Don’t do this,” I whispered. “Please.”

“I have to,” Darek said, even though he had tears in his eyes. “This is my destiny, Jemmie. I’m going to be a god among men.”

It hit my consciousness hard, awakening a memory from its slumber. Slowly, I raised my head. “No,” I said. “You’re the devil.” I rolled onto my side and glanced at the gaping hole in the floor that stretched all the way down to the river below. It was only feet away.

Up onto all fours, I grabbed the hilt of the knife and pulled it out with one swift motion. Blood hit the floorboards, and my teeth began to chatter. I clutched an arm to my stomach, pressing hard as I leaned against the end of the trough. Avoiding looking at the carnage within, I raised my head.

Darek’s spell had already begun. He threw his left hand over the trough of blood, and with one quick slash opened a gash across his own palm. When the first drops of his blood hit the rest, the crimson liquid vibrated and rippled outward, like a stone had been dropped in the center. Wind kicked up outside and ripped through the cracks of the mill, drowning out the sound of Darek’s voice as he shouted an incantation. He plunged his hand into the trough. The magic immediately took hold and a mushroom cloud of smoke and light burst upward.

Darek rocked on his feet. There was no locant barrier surrounding him now, but his black tollat magic was coiling around him in ribbons, mixing with the other magic to create something new.