The Night Everything Fell Apart (The Nephilim Book 1)(20)

Rage, rage against the dying of the light...

Luc nudged the corpse with his boot, heaving it over onto its back. Hornet’s mud-caked face bore an expression of imbecilic surprise. Had he really thought death so unlikely? He was a drug dealer, for fuck’s sake. He should’ve been expecting it.

Luc flicked his wrists, calling his hellfire. Sparks of green gathered in his palms. One good blast combusted the corpse. Flesh and bone burned, until all that was left of Hornet’s sorry-ass life was a heap of muddy ash.

Luc stared at the remains for a long moment. Eventually, he came back to his surroundings. Insects buzzed, frogs croaked. He looked down at his body. The bleeding had stopped. The wounds were already scabbing over. Pain—at least the physical variety—was gone.

How many humans had he killed in the past couple weeks? Ten? Fifty? How many of those had he mauled, before disgust had overwhelmed his bloodlust? It hardly mattered. He was Mab’s weapon now, whether she stood beside him or on the other side of the Earth.

He stood beneath the branches of a water oak. A faint rustle sounded above him. Fuck. He closed his eyes and let his demon body fade.

When he was fully human again, he opened his eyes. Without looking up, he said, “Get down here, Zephyr.”

A skinny teenaged girl, all long limbs and awkward grace, immediately dropped from above. She landed on her feet without so much as a stumble. Flipping a thick auburn braid over her shoulder, she peered up at him. “How’d you know it was me?”

He regarded his half-sister with exasperation. “What other dormant could spy without me noticing?”

“Cybele.”

Luc flinched. Of course, Cybele. Cybele was the reason Zephyr was so stealthy—Luc’s twin had been giving clandestine magic lessons to their half-sister for a year or more, since the first flashes of the girl’s magic appeared. Now that Luc was Mab’s thrall, this was dangerous knowledge for him to have. Mab had been furious when Cybele disappeared without a trace. If the alpha discovered Zephyr’s magic promised to be almost as strong...

Luc scowled. “Damn it, girl, you shouldn’t be following me. Not during a pickup. Those men would kill you soon as look at you.” After they raped her, but he didn’t add that.

“Those two? Come on. If you couldn’t tell I was here, they sure couldn’t. Besides,” she added, “you wouldn’t’ve let them hurt me.”

Damn right. He’d’ve murdered both of them just for looking at her. “You shouldn’t be out here. Where’s Auster?” Auster was Zephyr’s twin.

She made a sound of derision. “Playing video games. It’s all he ever does anymore.” Her brows drew together. “I’m bored without Cybele here.” She watched him closely. “Know where she is?”

“No. And I don’t want to.”

Her green eyes, so like Cybele’s, betrayed her fear. “She went after Arthur, didn’t she?”

Luc let out a long breath. “I reckon she did.”

“Think she found him? You think he’s even alive?”

“I have no idea. Come on. Let’s get out of here. You shouldn’t have seen me kill that human.”

“Maybe not.” Zephyr looked older suddenly, well beyond her thirteen years. “But...I’m glad you killed him. He was horrible. And I’m glad I finally got to talk to you. I’ve missed you. I was afraid when you came back, you wouldn’t care anymore.”

“Of course I still care,” Luc said. “About you and about Cybele.” And that was the truth, he realized with a start. Maybe his emotions weren’t quite as dead and buried as he thought. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

A shadow passed overhead. He looked up sharply. Three dark shapes glided above the trees. His heart plummeted.

Zephyr’s gaze followed his. Color drained from her face, rendering her freckles even more prominent against her pale skin. “Mab’s back,” she whispered. “With Rand and Hunter.”

Luc jerked his head toward the house. “Go. Now.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. With a frightened glance skyward, Zephyr ducked into the vegetation and scampered away, cloaking her path with illusion as she ran. He wished he could follow. But for Luc, escape was impossible.

He was Mab’s thrall. There wasn’t enough world in which to hide from her.





FIVE


A man lay in the grassy verge, his head a few feet from the rest of his body. He’d been a big bloke, middle aged and round-faced. A laborer with muscular chest and arms, and a stomach running to fat. Now the bloody mess of his muscles and sinew spilled across the road. One leg had been mauled quite thoroughly. The femur bone had been broken and its marrow sucked out.

The last of the poor sot’s blood leaked hotly from his body. Wisps of steam rose, wraith-like, from the congealing liquid. Arthur turned away, doubled over, and vomited on the grass.

This time, he had no memory of the killing.

The last minutes floated in darkness. He tried to look past it, to the moments just before. He remembered leaving Cybele at T?’r Cythraul. Her blood had triggered his deathlust, but the urge to rip the head off of something had diminished as he put distance between them. He’d hoped that this time, he’d remain in control of his magic.

As he’d flown, he’d sifted through the ancestral memories churning through in his brain. Try as he might, he could see nothing beyond the single vision of his father hiding his mother’s touchstone. His frustration grew. The deathlust returned. He tried to resist. But in the end, the urge to kill overwhelmed his resolve. He’d turned his attention to the ground, searching for a victim.