Wicked Bite (Night Rebel #2)(51)

“How?” Yonah interrupted.

I didn’t mind revealing my secret to Yonah, but I had no intention of telling Ereshki. “Do you know what Ashael is?”

Yonah’s expression shuttered like a house battened down for a storm. “Assuming I know what you’re speaking of . . . what of it?”

Yonah might be protecting her, but he was being careful with what he revealed around Ereshki. Good. And he absolutely knew what Ashael was. He wouldn’t have reacted this way otherwise.

“Ashael and I have much in common,” I said, and pulled a small trickle of bloodied water from the palm of Yonah’s hand. With my other nature so close to the surface, it barely took any thought at all, and that worried me as much as it should.

Yonah’s eyes widened as he felt the water being pulled from his skin. He didn’t look down, though, and his fist closed, hiding it so Ereshki didn’t see. Ian noticed, however. His nostrils flared as he scented it.

“Ah,” was Yonah’s only reply.

Ereshki looked even more confused, not that it mattered.

“As I was saying,” Ian went on. “Dagon’s coming for Ereshki because he wants to reclaim the power she consumed from him when she was released and resurrected. He’s coming for me, too, which is why I’ll do you a favor and remove both of us—after the smallest of favors. You’re right: a normal demon is of no concern, but one who’s hyped-up on souls for extra power?” Ian tsked. “That’s no fun, is it?”

“Assuming I’d agree about the danger,” Yonah said, holding up a hand at Ereshki’s frightened squeak. “What is the favor?”

Ian’s smile was charming and lethal at the same time. “So glad you asked.”





Chapter 29


Ereshki was no longer in the drawing room. It was just me, Ian, and Yonah. The former demon prince’s wings were clearly visible now, the obsidian arcs made of something that was neither shadow nor night but whatever darkness had existed before those. They grew and stretched as Yonah poured the largest amount of power I’d felt on this side of the veil into the blood-drawn symbols before him.

The blood was Ian’s, pumped out directly from his heart. I’d done that myself after Ian stripped off his tuxedo jacket and shirt so only his gleaming, bare upper body bore the stain. He’d taken the horn off, too. It stood upright in the corner of the room the way it had the last time he’d removed it, though this time, it was swaying as though in approval of Yonah’s power.

At a nod from Yonah, I drew another stream of blood from Ian’s heart so he could paint it over the last of the symbols. “Now,” Yonah said without looking up. “Use some of the power you stole from Dagon, Ian.”

How? He couldn’t teleport with the wards here and . . . oh!

Not a muscle on Ian moved, but his whole body began to shimmer until it looked like he’d been bathed in a silver haze. New magic filled the room, twining around Yonah’s power until it felt like I was watching an invisible dance. Nothing on Ian moved, so this wasn’t a tactile spell. He also wasn’t speaking. Not even breath escaped Ian’s lips. Still, the power grew until it grated across my skin. I half expected dents to appear in the floor from the weight of it.

With a sense of awe, I realized that Ian could now create spells by drawing from his power alone. Or, more accurately, by drawing from Dagon’s stolen power in him.

Yonah gave Ian a surprised, if satisfied, look. Then he began chanting in a language I’d never heard before.

With a snap, all the blood-drawn symbols suddenly caught fire. Then they lifted into the air, their shapes now drawn by fire instead of blood. That fire brightened, merging with Ian and Yonah’s power, before it coalesced into a long single swirl that suddenly rammed into Ian’s chest with enough force to drive him more than a meter through the demon’s hardwood floor.

“Ian!” I gasped, about to run to him when one of those long wings blocked me. Its weight belied its non-corporeal appearance and touching it felt like plunging my arm straight into hell.

“Don’t,” Yonah gritted out. “Not yet.”

Ian’s body bowed while muscles stretched and tore as if trying to contain something fighting to get out of him. That shimmering glow turned to fire and a shout tore from Ian that had me beating against Yonah’s shockingly immovable wing despite the burns that ate through my skin.

“Stop it, stop it!”

“Too late,” Yonah said in a pitiless tone. “Ian will either absorb the spell or it will kill him.”

Why did we ever trust a demon? This was the second time one was putting Ian’s life in danger!

Another howl tore from Ian as blood suddenly coated him as if his capillaries had erupted violently enough to burst through the surface of his skin. Then he shuddered with such violence, I could hear as well as see his bones break.

I let my other half free with a ferocity that made my vision turn black and my own skin feel like it had split open. For once, my other half and I were in complete agreement: If Ian died, Yonah was going to die with him.

I spread out the darkness haloing me until I felt its width surpassing the demon’s curious wings. Then my power sought the energy in the water surrounding this island. Once it found it, I felt the Leviathan, their sinuous bodies cleaving through the sea as if they were lethal, sentient waves. But something else felt me touching them, and it snapped back my power like the retracting coil of a whip.