Wicked Saints (Something Dark and Holy #1) - Emily A. Duncan Page 0,36

by falling debris. His features shifted between something human and something not. They settled on something less than. Nadya shuddered.

“It won’t be enough,” he said, voice tangled. “We need to get farther away.”

“And abandon the others?” Nadya’s spells wouldn’t hold forever.

“The Vultures will try to come after us; they’ll leave the others, they’re inconsequential,” he said.

Nadya nodded, then turned to run. Malachiasz grabbed her arm. She froze, staring in horror at the iron claws that were inches away from brushing against her skin.

“Let me go.”

He did. Immediately. “That won’t be enough.”

There was no time. The rubble was already starting to shift. It took her a second to realize what he meant. They wouldn’t outrun the Vultures on foot. They needed magic.

None of the gods could give her magic like that and he looked like he was about to faint. He was swaying on his feet, skin ashen.

A hand pushed through the rubble. Malachiasz swore. Then there was more blood, dripping down his face, from the corners of his eyes and from his nose. The skin at his wrist split, an iron spike pushing through as if his bones were made of metal. The spike shot off his arm and slammed into the hand in the rubble.

Nadya was going to be sick.

“I could get us away, but…” he trailed off.

He seemed too drained to use any magic. And if they stayed, the Vultures stayed, and Anna and the Akolans would end up dead.

Malachiasz shuddered. He raked a hand through his hair, smearing blood on his forehead. Watching this boy whom she had just witnessed become something horrific, this boy who had appeared so untouchable, be shaken to his core and worn to his limits made her contemplate doing something unthinkable. Nadya had her beliefs that she would never forfeit, but she also understood the necessity for self-preservation. She had to stay alive to be any good for her country.

This is walking a dangerous line.

Nadya was no longer in the monastery; she had to make her own choices.

“Do blood mages have to use their own blood for magic?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s messy to use anyone else’s so we try to avoid it,” he remarked, voice absent. Then he blinked. “What?”

She swallowed hard and met his gaze. Her stomach roiled. His black eyes were too disconcerting and she had to look away.

“I know what you believe about my magic. It’s easy to spread the rumor that blood mages use human sacrifices,” he said slowly; his voice almost sounded normal. “It doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But can you?”

He nodded. She swallowed hard, hesitated, feeling her own hands shaking as she fought with the weight of her decision. He would get them out; it would save the others.

Would she make a dangerous exception of her own principles for the safety of her friend, the only one left, and two potential allies? For the possibility that this ragtag group could turn the war?

Swallowing hard, she rolled her sleeve back and held her forearm out to him.

He didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. His iron claw was a shard of ice dragging down her skin, parting her flesh. Her breath swept out of her and she prayed she would not live to regret this. She watched with her heart in her throat as the cut welled crimson.

Blood was not to be spilled for the sake of power. Magic was a divine appointment from the gods. But here her gods-given magic was useless. Doing this one unspeakable thing would keep her alive, keep those she needed to protect alive. She couldn’t destroy these monsters if she died.

Malachiasz’s eyes narrowed, his fingers tensed around her wrist. “Our secret?” he said.

She snapped his grip off, flipping it so her hand was clenched around his forearm. “I don’t know what you are,” she said slowly. “But I swear by the gods, if you use this against me it will be the last thing you ever do.”

The silence that followed was so fraught Nadya could feel him trembling underneath her hand. She had the sense it was the sheer effort of keeping himself in a form that resembled human.

Who was this boy? Or, rather, what was he? And what had she just done?

“I understand,” he said.

She nodded.

He pulled her to his chest and the surge of power she felt around them nearly knocked her out. She felt herself slipping, felt him materialize into a spray of blood and magic. Then Malachiasz was gone and he