Shadow Descendant (Descendants Book 1) Page 18

  Raphael sensed their presence, whirling to face them, his face contorted with fury.

  Alaric leapt into the center of their circle, his fangs bared. Fear surged in her stomach, but she remained focused. As the witches charged towards her and Alaric, she held up her hand towards the Stone, already hearing its whispers flow through her mind. Come to me.

  The Stone heeded her call, sailing through the air towards her. Clutching it in her hand, she lifted her hand to issue a Repelling spell towards Raphael and the witches who hurried towards her, but Raphael was fast. He yanked her into his arms, pressing his knife to her throat.

  "Stop fighting your destiny," he snarled.

  "Eilion," she whispered, and her magic coursed throughout her body. The spell lifted her out of Raphael's arm, into the air. Raphael started to rise with her, but Alaric leapt onto him, yanking him back down to the ground.

  With a rush of wind, the others apparated onto the site; she glimpsed Casimir and Elias among them. Raphael and the witches fought them off with a flurry of spells. She had some time.

  She focused on the air around her, until she hovered several feet above the ground. Now she could hear the Stone's whispers, flowing through every part of her. Seffa, they whispered. Seffa.

  Expelling a breath, she issued a counter spell in the ancient language, the one she had practiced many times back at Alaric's estate. Silently at first, and then out loud.

  "Ieros onum alasi. Ieros onum alasi."

  But the Stone resisted her words. Seffa. Seffa. Seffa. The whispers grew in volume as if they were protesting.

  "Ieros onum alasi."

  She repeated the spell. The Stone continued to resist her; the whispers rose to screams in her mind, demanding her blood sacrifice.

  Below her, Alaric and Raphael continued to fight, along with the others. Alaric evaded Raphael's spells, landing physical attacks of his own, but she wasn't sure how much longer Alaric could hold him off.

  Another wave of panic swelled in her chest. Her spells weren't working, the Stone kept resisting her. It was something she should have anticipated.

  In her mind, the Stone's whisper-screams rose, as if sensing her faltering confidence.

  She forced herself to think past her panic. The Stone was meant to destroy life; it was created out of fear and desperation. She needed to focus on the opposite emotions. Hope. Love. Bravery.

  A thought struck her. What if she focused on her love for the creatures the Stone wanted to destroy—humans and vampires?

  Kat, a human. Alaric, a vampire. She allowed her love for them to swell in her heart. As soon as she did, her power followed suit, surging throughout her body.

  "Ieros onum alasi."

  We need your sacrifice, our Beloved Descendant. Preserve our kind. The Stone was speaking directly with her now, as it had at the estate. She couldn't allow the words to throw her. She remained focused; recalling Alaric's confession to her, only moments before, tears coursing down her cheeks.

  "Ieros onum alasi," she repeated.

  The whispered voices became howls of pain. Naomi had to resist the urge to place her hands over her ears; she couldn't falter. She repeated the spell. Something was happening, currents of electricity were prickling at her skin.

  In her mind, the howls of pain became screams. The Stone was dying, in its death throes.

  "NO!" Raphael howled from beneath her, and the force of his spell yanked her back to the ground.

  She landed on her back, gasping as the wind was knocked out of her. She scanned the fighting witches and vampires who surrounded her; Alaric was nowhere to be seen.

  She looked up. The Stone still hovered in the air, twisting and jerking from side to side by an invisible force, as if it were in physical pain. Raphael lifted his arm up, summoning it to him, but it didn't obey. She focused on it, whispering another spell. This had to work.

  "Finnum esi."

  The Stone let out one last agonizing scream in her mind; Naomi recoiled at the sound. And then it disintegrated, vanishing into nothing.

  "What did you do?!"

  Raphael's snarl was monstrous. She sat up, woozy, too weak to stand. The spell had drained her.

  He stepped forward, raising his hand towards her, his eyes wild with fury and grief. He shouted the words of the Killing spell.

  She tried to counter it, but she wasn't fast enough. The spell hurtled towards her—

  In a flash of movement, Alaric leapt in front of her, blocking the spell from hitting her.

  "NO!" she screamed. "ALARIC, NO!"

  But it was too late. He blocked the spell with his body; slumping to the ground before her. Still. Dead.

  She was frozen, looking down at the body of the vampire she loved, shock, horror, and grief tearing through her body.

  And then she let out a wail; a strangled sound that came from some dark place. The last time she'd made such a sound was the night she'd learned of her parents' deaths; only now it was paired with such great fury that her entire body began to quake.

  Raphael, who had looked triumphant as he stalked over Alaric's body towards her, faltered. His eyes went wide.

  She dimly realized that everyone had stopped fighting. Because the ground was shaking. She was shaking the ground. Just as she'd done in Athens,

  But unlike in Athens, she felt no fear. This time, she allowed her fury and grief to consume her, to strengthen the magic that already flowed through her. The other witches and vampires scrambled, trying to find a foothold as the ground beneath them quaked.

  Terror filled Raphael's eyes as she allowed her body to rise into the air once more. He tried to scramble away from her, but she focused all her rage on him as she shouted the Killing spell.

  Raphael stilled, slumping to the ground, dead.

  From somewhere far away, she heard Casimir and Elias shouting at her. She didn't care.

  She allowed herself float back to the quaking ground, where she pulled Alaric's still body into her arms, allowing her grief to consume every part of her.

  Chapter 31

  Alaric had always assumed death would be peaceful. But a searing agony consumed every part of his body, and the world around him seemed to quake. During his human years, he'd been nominally Anglican; he'd turned his back on human religions when he became a vampire. Now he wondered if that had been a mistake, and he was in hell for all the sins he'd committed.

  A sound tugged at the edge of his consciousness. Someone was weeping.

  Naomi.

  His pain faded away, and he willed himself towards the sound. He began to sense other things. Casimir and Elias, shouting in the distance. Waves crashing on a nearby shore. A breeze that carried with it the salt of the sea. And . . . the sensation of shaking.

  He opened his eyes. Naomi had him cradled in her arms, her eyes closed, sobs shaking her body as the earth around them quaked.

  They were still at the archeological site. Casimir, Elias, Maximillian, and other Alliance members stood a dozen yards away from them, as if they were afraid to get too close. Their faces were tight with fear and alarm.

  "Naomi—you have to stop this!" Casimir shouted.

  Naomi was ignoring him or didn't care; her entire body continued to shake with sobs. His entire being ached at the sight of her despair.

  "Naomi," he croaked.

  Her eyes flew open. Looking down at him; her sobs caught in her throat.

  "Alaric?" she breathed. But she closed her eyes as if it hurt her to look at him. "No. You're not real. This isn't real. You're gone, just like—“

  "Sweetheart."

  His limbs were stiff, but he managed to reach for her hand. He squeezed it. "I'm here. Your voice brought me back. Now it's time for you to come back. Come back to me, Naomi. Come back to yourself."

  Naomi opened her eyes. Her gaze raked over every part of his face, disbelief paired with hope on her face.

  "I'm here," he repeated. He started to sit up, but her hold tightened on him, so he remained still. "I love you, and I
'm here. Come back to yourself. Come back to me."

  The disbelief on her face vanished, replaced by an incandescent joy that seemed to shine from within her.

  "Alaric," she said, her voice breaking.

  "I'm here," he said, repeating the words, until the earth stopped quaking, and she leaned down to press her lips against his, her face wet with tears.

  "Alaric . . . " she whispered against his mouth.

  He returned her kiss, and sat up, pulling her into his arms. The tension drained from her body as they kissed, and he pulled back only to whisper his love for her, before he again claimed her mouth with his own.

  He dimly realized that their bodies had lifted into the air as they kissed; it was Naomi's joy that ignited her magic, causing them to soar. Their kiss deepened, and the world around them faded away.

  On the plane ride back to England, Casimir explained how he'd survived the Killing spell.

  "Killing spells are specific to the creature its meant for," he said. "They're not interchangeable. Raphael meant to kill Naomi—a witch, not a vampire. That's why it knocked you out but didn't kill you."

  Naomi, who’d been glued to his side since they left the site, squeezed his hands at Casimir's words, her face going pale.

  "You were so still. I thought—“ she whispered.

  "I know," he murmured, his lips close to her ear. "I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

  She gave him a tremulous smile though she remained pale. He turned to glance in the back of the plane where they had secured Madalena.

  Madalena had survived her injuries, though she had multiple broken bones. Elias had given her blood to speed up her recovery, but it would still take time for her to fully heal. Now she was sleeping soundly, her body wrapped in multiple bandages. She was going to be proud of Naomi when she awoke. And relieved.

  The surviving Order witches had scattered; many had fled once Naomi caused the earth to shake. The Alliance was already strategizing how to locate them; it was only a matter of time before the Order regrouped around another of their shadowy leaders. They were also determining how to investigate who in the Alliance could be secretly working for the Order. There was a lot to be done.

  But Alaric barely paid attention to any of this. His entire focus was on Naomi, who was quiet and shell-shocked. The combined experiences of destroying the Stone, killing Raphael, and his near death had traumatized her. Like Madalena, he knew it would take her some time to recover from it all.

  Even when they arrived back at the estate, and Kat raced to Naomi, pulling her into her arms with grateful tears, she remained reserved.

  Their first night back, they remained awake until the late hours, holding each other and speaking little. Around two in the morning, he sensed Naomi's fatigue weighing on her, but she refused to give in to it.

  "A part of me is afraid this is all a dream. That I'll wake up to find you dead in my arms," she said, her eyes glistening as she looked at him.

  "I'm not going anywhere," he said. “You have my word. Sleep, sweetheart."

  She still fought her fatigue, but soon gave in, her eyes drifting shut, her breathing slow and steady. He held her close as she slept, stroking her hair.

  She awoke from a nightmare an hour later, her eyes wild, clinging to him.

  "You were dead," she said brokenly.

  He studied her, worried. His reassurances weren't enough. He needed to give her more.

  He'd held so much of himself back from her. To prove his love, that he was here to stay, he needed to show her all of him.

  So he did.

  Naomi stilled as he told her . . . everything. His family had been wealthy nobles, distantly related to the royal Visigoths, hence his name, which wasn't a traditional English one. His mother died when he was a child, and his father had been stern and disapproving. Due to his family's wealth and distant parents, he'd been a spoiled and arrogant human, always seeking to prove that he was better than others. It was this nature that had gotten him killed; he died at thirty-five in a sword fight he'd instigated at a local tavern.

  Lysander, the five-hundred-year-old vampire who found him dying in a dirty alley in London, seemed to sense there was something about him worth saving. He'd turned Alaric and trained him how to live as a vampire, insisting it was possible to live a peaceful existence. Alaric had treated Lysander with cold arrogance, which he regretted to this day, shunning his teachings and using his prowess as a newborn vampire to kill.

  His first victim had been the man who'd ended his human life. And then there were others. Many others.

  Shame roiled through him at the memory, and he had to blink back blood tears as he told her that Lysander chose to take his own life during the height of the French Revolution; he'd grown weary of human cruelty, and he believed he'd made a mistake in turning Alaric.

  He paused, sorrow skittering through him as he recalled the last time he'd seen Lysander, the disappointment and sorrow plain in his Maker's brown eyes.

  "What did you do then?" Naomi asked.

  He looked up, relieved to see that there was no disgust on her face; only curiosity, only love. Regret pierced him; he should have opened up to her before. Still, he didn't want to tell her what happened next, but made himself continue.

  "I went into a grief spiral. I became darker, more violent. I killed many during those years. It wasn't until Ileana that I changed. After her death I was tempted to turn back to the darkness, but I chose to atone for my years of killing and cruelty. I did what I could to save lives. And I joined the Alliance."

  He lowered his gaze, loathing for his past self filling his chest. He didn't deserve Naomi's love.

  She seemed to sense his thoughts, reaching out to turn his face toward her.

  "I love you, Alaric," she said, "all of you. Thank you for sharing with me. When—when I thought you'd died . . . " she drew a ragged breath. "It was agony. Please don't do anything like that again."

  "I can't promise that. You have my heart, Naomi. My soul. I'll do anything for you, including give up my life."

  She closed her eyes at his words, her shoulders slumping. But he wouldn't lie to her. It was true. She was his life. She had been since he first saw her in Athens.

  "So," he continued, attempting to lighten the mood, "you're just going to have to stay out of danger."

  He kissed her, and she smiled against his mouth before returning his kiss. The strength of their bond coursed through him as they undressed. He took his time kissing every part of her body until she whimpered with need.

  "Look at me, sweetheart," he whispered. She met his eyes, and he joined their bodies as one. Naomi let out a soft sigh of pleasure. "I love you. I'm never going to leave you. You have me; all of me."

  Her eyes filled with love, and as they began to move, their bodies fused perfectly together, he felt a sense of calm, a sense of love. She was his center of gravity. After all his years of solitude, of darkness, he'd found his home.

  Chapter 32

  “Your boyfriend lives . . . here?” Emma gasped, stepping out of the car.

  Naomi grinned, stepping forward to embrace her friend. ‘Boyfriend’ didn’t seem like the appropriate title for Alaric; he was so much more. Her partner, her love, her soulmate.

  But Emma nodded as she stepped back, turning to face the estate.

  “Yep. Home sweet home.”

  Two weeks had passed since the confrontation with Raphael in Greece. Naomi had already made tentative plans for her future; she’d informed the museum that she wouldn’t be returning; they’d already found her replacement. Eventually, she would return to museum curation. As long as the Order was out there, she wanted to help stop them.

  Naomi was nervous when she told Alaric she wanted to officially join the Alliance, bracing herself for his protests. Though his body tensed, he smiled and told her he wasn’t surprised.

  “After destroying the Stone, the Alliance will welcome you with open arms,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.


  The others reacted with delight when she told them her decision; even Casimir gave her a warm hug at the news. Madalena had been hesitant.

  “This isn’t a nine to five, and it’s incredibly dangerous. Now that you’ve killed Raphael and destroyed the Stone, you’ll have even more of a target on your back,” Madalena said.

  “I know,” Naomi replied, holding her gaze, “but I’m all in, Madalena. They’re going to keep trying to kill humans and vampires en masse. I want to stop them.”

  “Then . . . welcome,” Madalena said, with a broad smile. “I’ll have to get approval from the other Alliance leaders. You can take your Oath at our headquarters in London.”

  Kat protested the most, but Naomi held firm. She couldn’t just walk away and return to her old life, nor did she wanted to. Kat quickly accepted that Naomi had made her decision.

  “You’re making me want to stay here. I’m just going to worry.”

  “I’ll be fine. I have Alaric and the others. You’ve done more than enough. You have a life in Seattle.”

  “I don’t like this, but I am proud of you, Naomi.” Kat reached out to squeeze her hand. “I know you’re strong and brave. But I’m going to text you three times a day.”

  Naomi laughed. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

  Before Kat left the estate to head to the airport, Naomi saw her take Alaric aside. She watched, nervous, as they spoke in hushed tones. When she later asked what they’d discussed, he replied, “Your aunt said if I ever hurt you she’d stake me in the heart. I think she was serious.”

  “It’s her way of telling you she approves,” she said, grinning. Relief swept through her; she’d worried that Kat still didn’t like her and Alaric together.

  It was Alaric who urged her to reach out to Emma after Kat left. Now that she was comfortable with who she was, there was no need to hide. And Emma was the closest friend Naomi ever had.

  Emma sounded thrilled to receive Naomi’s phone call. Before inviting her to visit, Naomi bit the bullet and told her everything that happened since she left Athens. Everything.