the luxury of worrying about what that might mean.
I smash my fist against the side of the wolf’s face, right where Arjun raked his silver claws. Unmitigated wrath blazes in the wolf’s bloodshot eyes. It thrashes, then closes its powerful jaws around my wrist and bites down hard enough to nearly sever my hand from my body.
Arjun jumps onto the wolf’s back and wraps his arms around the creature’s neck until it relinquishes hold of me. It does not miss a beat before it rolls across the stones and pins Arjun beneath its heavy body.
Then the wolf sinks its teeth into Arjun’s throat.
Without a second thought, I grip the wolf’s skull with my uninjured hand, then take my bloodied fingers to its muzzle and tear in the opposite direction. The animal’s jaw separates from its head with a sickening snap. Like the sound of a plate being smashed against stone.
The wolf collapses to the ground, lifeless.
Growls ripple through the pack. Teeth gnash together in fury. The sight of their vanquished leader has left them all the more crazed.
Boone, Jae, and Hortense surround Arjun and me in a protective circle, their backs to one another. I stand, blood dripping from one arm, my vision swirling into focus. Power threads through my veins. It is unlike anything I have ever experienced in life or in death. As if everything around me has narrowed, converging on a single point.
Destroy or be destroyed.
I am a Saint Germain. I choose to destroy. Maybe it is not a choice at all.
By my count, the wolves have lost a third of their number. At least four more are severely injured, one of them partially blinded. They come to the same conclusion I do the next instant. Snarling while they collect their dead, they vow wordless retribution as they slink back into the darkness.
We stand in silence for at least a minute, waiting to see if they will return.
Gruff laughter rolls from Hortense’s throat, her beautiful face filled with delight as she gulps in the night air. She is in her element, her face covered in blood, her fangs coated with crimson.
Boone laughs with her, his arms stained up to the elbows like a butcher’s.
Jae has not moved in the last two minutes. He stands like a statue, his gaze focused on the path before him in morbid meditation.
With my good arm, I reach down to help Arjun to his feet. When the ethereal struggles to stand, I remove the torn jacket from my shoulders and press the fabric against the dripping wounds on his neck to stanch the flow.
His smile is weak, his stance unsteady. “I slowed your escape. You should have left me behind. I would have left you behind.”
“Fucking liar,” I mutter as I hold him upright.
“It’s not a lie,” Arjun says, his expression grave. “Ethereals are taught from an early age to fend for themselves.”
“As I said to Valeria, you’re my friend. A part of our family. I would never leave you behind.”
He says nothing in response, but falters as he tries to take a step forward on his own.
“Arjun is badly injured,” I say to Hortense, Jae, and Boone. “Where is Madeleine?” She is the best healer among us.
“In the past, Le Pacte liked to set traps,” Hortense says, using the French name for the Brotherhood. “So my sister and Odette stayed behind to guard Nicodemus.” She licks blood from her fingertips as she turns toward me.
“I’ll carry Arjun home,” Boone says, taking hold of the ethereal’s uninjured arm.
“Like hell you will,” Arjun croaks, his face pale. “I’ll carry myself, thank you very much.”
“Don’t be a damned fool, little fey brother.” Boone grins. “Besides, I don’t mind spilling a little blood of the Vale.” They begin leaving the cemetery, Arjun’s protests fading with each step.
When he looks at me over his shoulder, his smile is one of gratitude. One of promise.
I linger in their lengthening shadows, pausing to gaze at my hands. The puncture marks around my wrist have healed, though the skin there is lighter than normal. All around me are signs of a vicious struggle, blood splashed across the stones beneath my feet and the slabs of marble at my back.
The thrill of battle begins to wane, and my features turn bleak. Hortense stands beside me. She rests a palm on my shoulder.
“Are you ready for this war, Sébastien?” she asks.