Dragon's Storm (Legion Of Angels #4)(3)
Fear was the reason the vampire hadn’t come to the Legion. Fear of death. Fear of pain beyond imagination. I could see it in his eyes. Fear ruled him, even now. He didn’t think he would survive the Nectar. And that was the reason he wouldn’t survive. The mind was a powerful thing. It could be your greatest ally—or your worst enemy.
Major Singh pressed a button on her watch. A floodlight high above clicked on, shining down on a hole that had just opened in the floor. From that hole rose a pedestal, a white platform bathed in ethereal light. And on the pedestal sat a clear bottle of Nectar.
It was pale, diluted. There were only a few drops of pure Nectar in there, mixed thoroughly with water. I’d drunk this same Nectar on my first day at the Legion. This was the Nectar that had unlocked my magical potential, the same Nectar that had killed half of my fellow initiates.
Major Singh opened the bottle. A warm rush of pure longing swept over me like a tidal wave. The Nectar sang to me. It wanted me to come to it, to drain that bottle down to the last delicious drop. I slid my tongue slowly across my mouth, wetting my lips in anticipation of the sweet ecstasy that awaited me down below. All I had to do was take it.
“Leda, stop,” Ivy whispered beside me.
One of my legs was already over the balcony rail. Another second, and I would have jumped down there. Another two seconds, and it would have taken a small army to pry the bottle of Nectar from my mouth. The Interrogators would have loved that.
I backed up, swinging my leg back onto the balcony. I shot my comrades an embarrassed look. Most of them chuckled. Many people found my uncommon reaction to Nectar amusing. I couldn’t really blame them. Despite its magic-bestowing qualities, Nectar was essentially poison. I craved poison. That was pretty messed up.
Sure, soldiers of the Legion drank heavily diluted drops of Nectar when they wanted to unwind, but that was something entirely different. Those drops were soft Nectar. They contained a tiny fraction of the Nectar present in that bottle below, which itself was the weakest Nectar the Legion used in its magic ceremonies. There was someone else who craved hard Nectar: Nero Windstriker, the only person ever born to two angel parents. Angel magic was in his blood, so of course he craved Nectar. What was my excuse?
I’d never known my parents, but Nero didn’t think they were angels. Before joining the Legion, I’d never shown signs of having any significant magic, as was common of people with an angel parent. All I had was my weird hair, which for some reason mesmerized vampires. Considering those mesmerized vampires almost universally tried to tear my throat out, I wasn’t calling my pale shiny hair an ability. It was more like a curse.
“Mr. Farrows,” Captain Norton said with perfect calmness, completely unaware that I’d just nearly ruined their interrogation. “This is Nectar.” He picked up the bottle and filled a small goblet. “We thought you’d enjoy an opportunity to remedy your past mistakes. Empty this cup, swear your undying allegiance to the Legion of Angels, and all will be forgiven.”
The vampire pressed his lips together, sealing his mouth. His eyes never left the goblet.
Captain Norton sighed. “How disappointing.”
“But not unexpected. Which is why we have invited Ms. Kane to join us today.” Major Singh flicked her hand, and the door groaned open once again.
A woman about twenty years old stepped into the room. She wore a dark blue corset top with wide bell sleeves made of periwinkle chiffon. Her black skirt fitted her curves, its smooth lower hem kissing the tops of her knee-high leather boots. The long golden coil of her braided hair was pinned to the top of her head, and a tiny black hat sat at the center. A small piece of dark lace spilled out of the hat, covering one side of her face.
I knew that witch. Marina Kane went to school with my sister Bella. They were both students at the New York University of Witchcraft. Just last week, I’d sat at the same table as Marina and Bella, eating cheesecake and drinking tea. My sister said Marina was a talented witch, but it was her sense of humor that I’d found most interesting. Witches were usually too prim and proper to tell a joke, let alone tell one joke after the other for over two hours. Her hilarious tales of growing up in one of New York’s premier witch covens had kept us thoroughly entertained. At the time, I’d thought she’d left no stone unturned about her life, but I’d been wrong. She’d never mentioned she had a brother.
When Marina looked at her brother now, there was no pity in her eyes, only sadness. She kept her hands folded tightly in front of her body, never reaching for him. The two Interrogators moved to either side of her.
“The universe requires balance, Mr. Farrows,” Captain Norton said. “Some call it karma. Some say it’s justice. I simply like to think of it as ‘balance’. Every act of evil must be countered by at least one act of goodness. Otherwise, the Earth swings out of kilter. If darkness reigns, the demons gain a foothold into our world again. I don’t think anyone wants that.”
“We’re giving you a precious gift: the chance to right your wrongs. The chance to help us save the world.” Major Singh offered him the goblet. When the vampire didn’t jump at the opportunity to drink it, she sighed. “The funny thing about the universe, Mr. Farrows, is it’s not particularly picky about who rights the wrongs. As long as humanity’s acts of goodness outweigh their acts of evil.” She handed Marina the goblet.
The vampire screamed, thrashing against his restraints. The chair shook but held. It had been designed to withstand beings with supernatural strength far beyond his. It could even hold an angel.