A Clash of Storms (A Shade of Vampire #50)(39)

“You try to shoot me again and I will kill her.” Azazel gave me a cool sideways glance.

“This stops now, Azazel.” Draven’s voice cut through the madness with crystal clarity.

Azazel flicked his hand, forcing Vita to fall flat on her face. She hit her head hard against the black stone slabs. Blood trickled from her temple, and she passed out, making me boil with rage. I couldn’t shoot him. I couldn’t do anything against him at this point, as he had both Vita and Jovi under his control, and I didn’t know the extent to which the blood spell worked.

I didn’t have time to think of any solutions or alternatives, either, because Azazel swiftly focused his attention on us, grinning. He muttered something, and a bright green light shot out all around him— it looked like it was going to hit us, until a golden light blocked it.

I glanced over to Draven and stilled, watching as he lit up like the sun, the energy pouring out of him opposing the green blaze that Azazel had pushed our way. The two force fields resisted one another, and Azazel blinked nervously, frowning at Draven.

“How did you… How are you doing this? This isn’t a job for a single Druid!” he barked.

“Did you think I’d come here alone?” Draven grinned.

One by one, the sources of his power emerged from below. They’d been waiting patiently by the staircase, waiting for Draven’s signal. Ori, Malachy, Mason, Flynn, Cassin, and Dain revealed themselves, their bodies incandescent with the same golden light as they fed Draven’s protective shield. They were feeding him with their energy, so he could amplify that force field.

“Druids,” Azazel muttered as anger lit his eyes in a ghastly green glow.

He pushed out more of his dark energy to amplify his offensive spell, but he was still struggling. He was enveloped in a bright green sphere of light, while Draven’s had an amber hue to it, held strong by the young Druids. Both spheres still opposed one another. Left without the little Daughter and the power from the volcanoes, Azazel had clearly lost his edge and was experiencing difficulties for the first time, up against seven Druids. Draven’s training in the sphere back at Stonewall had paid off nicely, and I dared to let hope blossom in my chest.

“I’m sure you had a lovely reunion party planned for this occasion.” Azazel grinned. “But I fear I have to once again reiterate that I am still, and always will be, one step ahead of you.”

“You’re done for, Azazel,” Draven replied. “I know it’s hard to come to terms with it, but you’re not getting out of here alive. The more you fight us, the easier it will be for us to kill you and spare you the honor of judgment before the Eritopians you’ve hurt.”

I caught sight of Jovi slowly getting up, clutching his crossbow and straightening his back. His muscles twitched and his knees shook as he fought Azazel’s control spell. I had a feeling Azazel wasn’t putting any energy into controlling Jovi at the moment, giving him the opening he needed to raise his weapon and point it straight at the back of Azazel’s head.

The snake pendant’s ruby eyes flashed a phosphorescent green as more emerald light emanated from Azazel’s body. My heart stopped when he threw Jovi a sideways glance, materialized a sharp sword from the energy oozing out of him, and hurled it at him.

“No!” I screamed.

But it was too late. The blade pierced Jovi’s stomach.

Aida screamed. The others gasped as Jovi fell backward, blood pooling beneath him. My heart was torn to shreds, my eyes burning, and I struggled to keep my head clear.

Azazel then looked at Draven and me, glowing all green as his energy continued to oppose the Druids’.

“I am always one step ahead.” He sneered, then hissed—this sounded different, a higher pitch that lasted a few seconds.

Destroyers soared up around the platform, armed with swords and spears and riding their pale flying horses. Time seemed to stop for a second. I looked around and felt the dread rushing through me and shattering my defenses.

There was a growl, and I glanced to my right. Two more shifters emerged from the staircase, advancing across the platform. I heard Phoenix knocking on the glass, his eyes widening as he recognized them.

“They made it all the way here!” My brother’s muffled shout came through. “They followed us here!”

These were the shifters that had gone after Phoenix and Aida during the Sluaghs’ attack on Stonewall. Their eyes glowed violet as they came up next to Patrik and Thadeus, glaring at Azazel and baring their sharp fangs, ready to fight by our side.

Better late than never. There wasn’t any time to think about where they’d been hiding all this time. We desperately needed them in this fight.

Jovi and Hansa were on the floor, dying. Aida and Phoenix were still trapped in their glass spheres, as was Abrille, who looked more dead than alive as she floated in the clear liquid. We were surrounded by at least twenty Destroyers, their forked tongues flitting out to catch our scent.

The war continued to unravel below. The allied forces were making advances, explosions rocking the castle and swords viciously clanging as the free nations fought to reclaim their land. I could hear them overpowering the incubi and Destroyers below. Soon enough, they’d be swarming through the castle.

We were up here, surrounding Azazel in a standstill that, as horrible as it seemed, was pretty much where we’d planned to be before we’d left Stonewall. None of us had seen the blood spell coming, though. Hansa, Vita, and Jovi’s predicament had not been part of the plan, and it tore me apart because I couldn’t do anything to help them. With hordes of Destroyers arriving to defend Azazel, we couldn’t spare a single fighter at this moment.