Dragon's Storm (Legion Of Angels #4)(5)

“The mark will be lifted as soon as your brother’s reformation is complete,” Major Singh told Marina. “If he is able to reform. As I said before, House Vermillion is quiet adept at reforming rogue vampires. But even they do not succeed every time. One-third of their reform candidates have to be put down. Not everyone can be reformed, so their success rate is quite remarkable actually. It is the highest in the world.”

“So what you’re telling me is that everyone in my family and coven will live with a black mark for half a century.”

“Yes, everyone now and those born in the years to come,” Major Singh added with dubious helpfulness.

“And that there’s anyway only a two-in-three chance that he will survive to be redeemed. So my coven could live with this mark forever.”

“Yes.”

A worry line crinkled the delicate, smooth skin between Marina’s eyebrows.

“It’s best not to worry about things you cannot change,” Major Singh said, turning toward her colleague.

“What if I could,” Marina said, and the Major stopped and met her eyes. “Change it.”

“You may petition the Legion for mercy,” Major Singh said.

A small smile cut Marina’s lips. She hadn’t been here earlier to witness the Major’s soliloquy on mercy, but everyone knew the Legion’s reputation as the merciless enforcers of the gods’ will.

“The gods reward great acts of heroism and piety,” the Major told her.

Some Pilgrims, the voice of the gods’ teachings, had been granted immortality in exchange for acts of uncommon piety. Soldiers of the Legion, the hand of the gods’ will, were granted magic and favors for their acts of bravery and self-sacrifice.

“Oh, gods,” Ivy gasped as she reached the same conclusion I just had: Major Singh was as ruthless as she was intelligent. There had only ever been one possible conclusion to this interrogation. It was all a game, a game designed to turn out exactly as Major Singh had designed it. It was no wonder Colonel Fireswift spoke highly of her. She was his sort of person.

Marina looked down at the goblet in her hands. Fear ignited her eyes. She’d gotten there too. She knew there was only one way out.

“If I join the Legion, will the black mark on my coven be lifted?” she asked.

“If you survive the first sip of Nectar, yes,” the Major promised.

Marina stared into the depths of the goblet. She lifted it to her mouth.

“No, Marina!” the vampire shouted.

Major Singh waved her hand at him, her eyes never leaving his sister. An invisible blast of telekinetic magic hit the vampire hard, shooting him across the room. He slammed against the back wall and stuck there, four feet off the ground.

Marina tipped back her head and emptied the goblet in a single go. The convulsions hit her immediately, rocking her whole body. The goblet slipped from her shaking hands and clinked against the hard floor. Her knees hit the floor next. Her hands followed, her palms smacking against the white marble, a surface so glossy that her harrowed eyes shone in it. Marina crouched on her hands and knees, barely holding herself up. The beautiful ribbons and stitches of her corset were just inches from the ground. The Nectar was dragging her under, its song of shattered dreams crushing her spirit as the poison led her to an early grave.

A sudden, heavy wheeze heaved out of her. Her chest rose another inch off the ground. Her legs and arms shook with vicious tremors, but she didn’t let go. She was fighting. The power of her will was pushing back the pain. She stubbornly rose another inch. And another. Her hands pushed off. She rocked back from her knees. Her feet hit the ground. She was in a deep crouch now, like a tiger rising from the bushes. Slowly, she rose to standing. The aftershocks of the spasms twitched across her body, but she stood her ground. She propped her hands up on her hips and met the Major’s eyes with cold triumph.

“Congratulations, initiate. You have survived the Nectar of the gods.” Major Singh waved her hand at the magical projection, and a wall of text replaced the map of the Wilds. “By the power invested in me by the Legion of Angels, I hereby remove the mark of dishonor on your family and coven in appreciation of your bravery and sacrifice.” She twirled her finger in a few loops, signing ‘Major Selena Singh’ to the bottom of the projected document. The text glowed once, then dissolved. “Welcome to the Legion of Angels.”

The vampire came unstuck from the wall and tumbled down. “No, Marina,” he wailed. “My poor, sweet sister.”

She pivoted around, her face lit up with fury. “You are not my brother. My brother would have drunk the Nectar himself and spared our coven the shame of his dishonor.”

“I am not strong like you.”

“No, you’re not strong. You are a coward,” she spat. “Fear rules your life. Fear drove you to the rogue vampires, the fear of living without magic in a world of magic. And fear prevented you from trying your luck with the Legion.”

“I would not have survived.”

“Then at least you would have died my brother. Instead of living on as this…thing.”

“I will atone. I’ll be better. I promise.”

She shot him a look of pure loathing. “You are no longer my concern. If you survive House Vermillion’s efforts to reform your black soul, do not seek me out. Do not seek out anyone in our coven. Julius Kane is dead.”