Chapter 39
Bran let Savon lead, while he held on to Evangeline’s arm. Fear rolled in as his sister led their group through the streets.
Preston stayed in front with Savon and Nate. He continuously muttered curses.
Ceridwen never stopped chanting a spell that supposedly kept them all hidden.
Robert’s mouth moved in sync with hers, probably refortifying her spell, which would make him a mystic. Right?
Man, his head hurt trying to figure it out. Not that he was your average werewolf to start. He had Sylvan magic in his blood, and he’d been told that most packs would never accept him. And if it hadn’t been for his father, he might have never chosen to become a werewolf until Evangeline finally let him in.
Evangeline’s hand tightened around Bran’s. “Don’t stress,” she whispered.
One corner of his mouth pulled up. God, she was so damned perfect. He wanted to be making love to her, not running around trying to rid the world of an ancient evil that didn’t even belong here.
“Trying. Be safe.”
“I will. You too.” She squeezed his hand.
He damn well hoped everything would turn out fine. Something in him didn’t believe that, though.
Savon spun and turned down another alley, through the street, up the road through the residential area, running faster. “Got to stop him, got to stop him,” she muttered.
Bran shut down the voice in his head telling him everything was going to crash and burn, and simply focused on what was going on around him.
Savon came to a stop.
Ceridwen rushed forward and grabbed the shadowy figure as she shouted a spell.
His body solidified even further than they’d seen. The shadows tinted his skin. Zariha tried to pull away. His image wavered slightly, then snapped into fuller focus.
Robert disappeared and came back with Tremaine and Halstien. Then they were all in another world full of darkness. Pale light shimmered from the stars far away. No moon, no sun, just darkness.
And Ceridwen was nowhere in sight because she could get trapped there.
And suddenly, Bran wanted both Evangeline and him out.
Zariha expanded, grew, then his physical form burst and he spread out as shadow. A great laughing erupted, then he reformed into a shadowy figure with no true form.
“Well, shit,” muttered Preston.
Yup, Bran wanted to take his woman and go home, but knew that until he was dealt with it would lie heavy on his conscience Dealing with the bastard was the only way to get rid of him.
A great wave of anger rolled through Evangeline as she rushed forward. He tried to grab her, but she was moving before he could stop her.
* * * *
Bran’s concern kept Evangeline level-headed until her great-to-the-umpteenth-power grandmother’s visions rolled through her head again. All the women, all the generations back had been made to suffer by Zariha.
Well, no more. She refused to let him win.
Rushing forward, she pulled the dagger and slashed at Zariha. He tried to flow over her, but she pushed light at him. A glow erupted over her skin, brightening the whole rift.
Zariha howled and jerked away, trying to get free of her.
She continued stabbing at the beast, hoping to tear it apart, to kill it. She felt something wet leaving his body, splashing her arms, her clothes, but the creature morphed, flowing around her, trying to take her essence, but either the tattoo she had worked against him too, or the blade protected her.
“Get her away from him,” one of the mages screamed.
Merova began to chant and each of them began to glow. Light bounced off the shimmering wall, keeping them confined in the dead world.
Bran grabbed Evangeline around the waist and dragged her back, whispering in her ear, “Don’t scare me like that.”
She glanced back, met his eyes, and the anger eased until she wasn’t so frantic to kill Zariha.
Several beings floated toward the group. Instead of shadowy creatures, they were made of light. They converged on the rift and more joined.
“Now what?” Tremaine asked. “We could let them deal with him. Sounds like the bastard betrayed them all.”
Halstien nodded. “Good plan.” He began chanting, and Tremaine joined in. Their languages were different, but each of their magic complimented the other.
Zariha reformed before them.
Merova marched forward, speaking another language, but Evangeline understood every word as if she were speaking English, or French. “You have done enough damage to my world, to my family. You will no longer torment anyone.”
She pulled a sword from thin air, then stabbed out, slicing into his chest.
He pulled away, but the weapon went with him. Merova spun with him, pushing deeper. Then pain sliced into Evangeline. She stumbled and Bran caught her, his hands going to her chest where blood spilled down.
There was a chorus of cursing while she sank to her knees in overwhelming pain.