Nyx and Boone were Reds, something I should have been able to pick up on much sooner if I hadn't been so distracted. And as much as I disliked admitting it, even just to myself, Malachi was right - I needed to get back out into the city, every city, any city. I should be out with him each night, it was the best practice I could get. And if I truly wanted to be like my Pair had been, like my brother was, I had to be able to see everything at once, to never be distracted, never caught off guard, to watch and design and execute a plan with perfect steps. No mistakes, no hesitation, no mercy.
And tonight was the start.
My second Shift roared in my ears like the ocean, my red vision a filter coating everything my eyes fell on. I kept my control, but I knew I was holding back something stronger than myself. At least the self I was now, who didn't really want to hold it back, who didn't have a reason to, who wanted to see the destruction I could wreak. I knew it was just a matter of time, and with Malachi occupied, his own anger spreading from him like smoke in the air, and Ailech acting more like a Darkling than a mage, I was on my own.
Ailech was following Malachi's orders with suspicious diligence, and whether he obeyed because of some influence from their connection or because he gained a part of the person he drew from - and Skye was certainly darker than her appearance had initially let on - he was wholly committing to his practice.
Sometimes the doll-woman cried out like he was pulling harder, making her more than just weak, like it could cause pain. Other times she could speak, begging and bartering through half-gasped breaths, or screaming curses. Still other times she seemed to be near unconsciousness, stilling on the dirty concrete floor before Ailech let her eyes flutter open once again. But regardless of if she growled or gasped, screamed or swore, Ailech wasn't affected, he wasn't even listening really. Instead, he stood over her stonily, waxing and waning the intensity, the ebb and flow of his draw. He wore a tight smile, and with his green eyes looking near black and the way his face was held in cold concentration, he looked a little bit like Malachi.
I could feel the anger rolling from my brother, whether it was his Gift spilling over or just an instinctual sense of rage in the air, it flowed from him like a scent, like blood in water. When he stood, with black eyes shining and pointed teeth, his chest heaving and his chin and throat and shirt soaked with Parker's blood, he wore a red smile. Clearly, there had been history between them. I caught his eye and he flicked his attention to the two Reds frozen in the corner before rocking back onto his heels, holding his hands behind his back and lifting his chin, clearly ready to politely wait for my own victims to be dealt with.
I felt the air stir before I turned my head, but I knew it would be the large one called Boone. He was fast, but I was Irin, an Air, and most importantly, I was furious. I saw his fangs gleam in the low light as he went for my neck as Vampyres so often predictably did. And though memories of Jevin flipped through my mind, his rusted eyes, copper hair, and beautiful features meant to draw in his prey, his dead writhing veins I had filled for so long, his stone-cold skin, the sick taste of his blood, the disconcerting way he watched me without blinking, without breathing, having no need to, none of the memories affected me. None of it mattered anymore, because I had lived through something worse, yet again. I was still living through something worse. So now his ownership, his touch, even straining his poison from me and the madness that had come with it seemed like nothing. I would gladly go through it a thousand times if it meant my Pair would still breathe, if it meant I could see him again in the end.
I saw his eyes then, a flash of the midnight I loved, but not as I remembered them, not full of amused arrogance or burning fire or cold calculation, not even the dull dead eyes when he had hidden his true self from me at the Vault. These eyes were unequivocally his, I would recognize them no matter how they changed, but they were hollow, blank and vacant like his corpse was staring back at me, the eyes frozen open without the mind, the soul or spirit behind them, lighting them. But I didn't feel any slice of sorrow, or the weight of grief and regret, I only felt anger. Rage and violence and pain that needed an equal, that needed to be unleashed pressed down on me.
My eyes met the Vampyre's a moment before he reached me, but he wasn't attacking me, not anymore, not really, he was merely coming to me, making his death quicker. And he knew his mistake as my hands met his flesh, moving through him, the last mistake he would ever make. He should have run, he should have begged, he should have given himself over to us, and though nothing would have saved him, he had chosen the worst option - coming to me, thinking he stood a chance against my power fueled by anger and pain.
I felt the thick muscles of his arm bend in my grasp, his steel bones snap, and the stolen blood in his veins sprayed as I tore open the arm he had been reaching for me with. But his momentum couldn't be stopped now, he couldn't get away, he was too close and I was too immersed in my nature. Even as the mangled shard of his arm still swung like a broken branch just barely hanging on, connected with stretched skin shredded by the protruding bones, the rest of his body came within my reach. I tore into him like I was the carnivore, the thing in the night that Humans whispered stories of. Like I was the one who fed on blood, and soon, I did.
My long teeth ached to bite him, my nature urging me on, my tongue begging for a taste of another Red to see if it would be the same as Jevin, or if each had their own flavor. I wanted to swim in the big, brave, stupid man's veins, dive into the thick and drown in its cold, drink until I was sick with it, until I drained him just like he had done to so many others in the countless years of his ageless life. So he could feel what it was like to be devoured. And then his face was so close to mine, his neck, his throat unprotected. My hands were slick and cold with his blood, and he might have been dead already, I couldn't remember if I had taken his heart or if the hole in his chest was just my fun, but I dove for his neck nonetheless, biting and feeling the cold stream as it flowed down me.
He was little more than a broken mess of muscle and meat on the floor when I was through. The room gradually came into focus again, shadows receding, and I was on all fours, crouched over him like it really was a feed. I stumbled back, my chest heaving as I took in what I had done, what I had enjoyed. Panic and revulsion began to rise in me for what I was capable of, and I felt my stomach begin to rise, the taste of his blood overpowering and wrong in my mouth, I spat, feeling my stomach churn. But then tendrils of pride and twisted pleasure washed over me. Malachi's approval and encouragement.
I looked through sticky lashes to the last standing in the room. He looked truly horrified, but when my black eyes met his, he closed his hanging mouth, bowed his head, and sank to his knees.
"Daughter of Bezaliel, if you do not kill me, I will tell you everything I know, anything you want to know - of your father, of Baraqiel, anything. And though I cannot be in your service, I will be indebted to you, and I promise you, my skills are both deep and wide. I can be of great use to you."
I felt my lips curve at his submission, his offering, and the reverence in his voice. This was how enemies and allies alike had viewed my Pair, with respect and fear in equal measure. And though his reputation had stemmed from his mask of deadly calm control, I would command the same by the inverse - unpredictable violence and wild, consuming fire. I would stay faceless, glamoured and anonymous, but everyone would know my name, everyone would dread when I came for them.
I recognized Nyx's mistake immediately, but I had to be smart to get the answers Malachi had done his best to lead me to. So I did what I did best, I lied.
I forced my eyes to break from the pretty picture of Nyx bowed and fluttered them to Malachi like I was looking to him for direction out of habit. Malachi merely kept his relaxed stance, his feet planted wide apart, his head leaned back, chin high, though he had shifted to hold his hands in front of himself instead of behind his back. He opened just two fingers slightly from clasping his hand in a mild gesture of deference at my questioning look. And whether he did it because he guessed at my plan or because he truly thought I was asking his opinion, it didn't matter, it played into my game perfectly.
I glanced at Ailech next, like I was considering, like I was used to their opinions being weighed, helping to guide me. His victim was unconscious on the floor, his pull apparently finally slipping and becoming too great for her. The silence was almost painful as I stalled, the muffled sounds of bar music droning on from beyond the thick door while we stood in a garishly splattered room like the aftermath of a paint fight. But the longer I waited, the more unsure I pretended to be, the more Nyx would underestimate me. He struck me as the type of man to often think he was the smartest in the room. And I could use that.
Everything was to keep his attention on me; seeming young and inexperienced, oscillating between volatile overconfidence and timidity, like a new leader, unsure and untested, erratic, not the conniving, cunning, hardened thing I really was. What my short time in this world had made me.
I brought my eyes back to him and made a show of clenching my jaw, pulling my brow, looking serious as I earnestly nodded.
"Deal."
I let my dark eyes melt away to gray, straightening into a looser, less aggressive stance. Nyx followed suit as he and his writhing shadows rose to stand again.
"Jor-"
I raised a hand to stop Malachi from saying whatever he was going to and walking straight through the perfect web I had woven. I darkened my eyes for the razor-edge of a moment and flashed my teeth at him in an annoyed snarl, like some animal showing dominance. He bowed his head slightly, stepping back and pressing his lips together, biting his tongue, the picture of a lowly Clan member yielding to their leader's choice. He was a good actor.
I let my attention fall back onto Nyx, and donned my second mask - the devoted daughter.
"Tell me about my father." I let my voice soften on the last word, and though I felt nothing for the Angel of shadows and darkness, being foolish enough to care about who's blood made me was something the rash, young leader of the overpowered Clan behind me would do. So I played the part.
"He was one of the most powerful Irin, he could have ruled them but never had the appetite or ambition that Master Darke does. Bezaliel was content in his quiet shadows, they called to him and he always answered, drawing from their calm, hungry, unending power."
Nyx spoke softly, lovingly about the shadows. And as he continued, he pulled darkness like strings from his clothes, winding the black threads around his fingers. He let them swirl like fire dancing at times, and others like a pet sliding between his knuckles and around his wrist. I watched it mesmerized.
"He spent much of his time in that other place, where the dark lives. It made him vulnerable when he was in our world, not physically vulnerable, but in the ways of this world. There was no danger to him in the shadows he lived in, in his dark, it was a different existence altogether, more real to him, less so for beings like us. And so, when he was in that place he often forgot that others were still in this place, scheming and amassing power. He forgot that life continued outside of his world. This world wasn't the real one to him, this wasn't the main stage like it is for us, and so he didn't care much for it. He didn't stay here often or pay attention to it, but most importantly, he didn't give the Earth's dangers the caution they deserved. And that was his undoing.
I never knew why Master Darke wanted my old master, why he wanted to find him, to kill him. Not until now. He was looking for you, or your mother, I imagine. He had just had his son, I remember that, which meant you probably hadn't breathed your first yet. Yet he somehow knew his son would have a Pair, and he must have figured that finding you and grooming you as children would be easier than as adults...but I guess he couldn't find you. I wonder how he knew it was Bezaliel's offspring..."
His voice drifted, and I could have sworn I heard shadows in his words, swirling between the syllables and sounds, though I didn't know how that was possible.
"Regardless, he found him, he can find anyone - or his dogs can." He glanced to Malachi, who lifted a lip in a sneer at him. "My master was still...adjusting to this world after being away so long, but I wasn't there for his death, so I cannot speak to what happened. But I felt it, felt him perish. I had been his for centuries, and he shared his power with me, so when it was snuffed out, I knew."
Nyx looked sad, like he truly mourned the loss of his master, my father.
"You miss him."
Nyx's dark eyes snapped to mine, the strings of shadows he had been playing with vanishing.
"I worshipped him." His voice was fierce.
"But you betrayed him."
"Master Darke has a way of convincing anyone of anything. He is excellent at stripping away choice, at making only one option remain. My new master has always coveted power. And he will do anything to gain it, to hoard it, as it seems you know. Killing his own son, the first Irin of Earth - I know the lengths my master will go, the actions he would breach, but his own son? That surprises even me. That poor boy, I remember him, you know, such talent. And such a pretty child. A shame to waste that life, that power, that face.
"Watch it," Malachi growled from behind me. I raised a hand to halt him even though I agreed. My jaw was burning from how hard I was biting down, my entire body begged to end the Red before me for so much as speaking of my Pair.
"What power did my father share? How?"
At this, Nyx's eyes lit again, like he was a different person when he spoke of his shadows.
"He gave me some of the dark, from his world. And it is a power none can fathom. It never tires, never falters, as long as I don't. And it's always hungry." His smile changed to more closely resemble the half of him that was a Vampyre, and I pushed down my revulsion.
"Would you like to see?"
His voice matched his smile now, and I knew he was attempting to lull me like Jevin had. Which meant I knew how it looked. I smiled slightly, letting my body relax and my face soften minutely. He took that as a yes.
Black, undulating smoke, a mixture of solid and translucent materialized in his open palm. It moved like it was alive, twisting and coalescing before expanding and lashing out as if it wished to attack anything near. I almost caught glimmers in it, like a distant night sky, not a void but the cosmos.
"It takes or hides or consumes anything I tell it to, but I wonder...I wonder if it would listen to you, to his own. Care to try?"
His voice was still melodic, trying to pull me in, but it wasn't him or his encanto that called to me, it was the beautiful black in his hand. My chest pulled forward as everything from my stomach to my throat strained toward it. I took one step and felt the fire in me, the power I couldn't control rising, growing, the blackness close on its heels. I stopped, fear washing away the draw of the onyx otherness he held and tried to breathe through the feeling, but I couldn't, it barreled for me like a tidal wave.
"Malachi!"
I heard the desperation in my own voice as I called for him, his calm, his help. And I felt it immediately, but it wasn't enough, it didn't matter, didn't even begin to soak up the magnitude of the dark, burning destruction. I clenched my teeth and balled my fists, squeezing my eyes shut as I gave everything I could to stop it, to hold it in.
"Ailech,"
My voice croaked out from a dry throat. Unconsciousness loomed and my mind began to swim, to spin, direction and reason fleeing me. Then Ailech pulled and my knees hit the floor. My entire body tingled, prickled, both my physical strength and my power falling from me like old layers of paint off a worn down building, leaving me exposed and weak. I gasped out something between a yell and a growl, the fire and my nature furious at the loss, at being stopped, being controlled.
"That's enough!" Malachi's deep voice boomed, and immediately the pull disappeared, my strength and self returning.
I looked up to see Nyx baffled, his mouth opened into a little circle of shock, his dark brow furrowed. I stood, slowing my breathing as best I could and held my head high.
"Is there anything else you can tell me?"
"You already have i-, n- I don't. No, that is all." Nyx stammered.
"Well, then you've fulfilled your use. Malachi?"
My brother took an aggressive step forward, his pale eyes melting to black again.
"Call off your dog! We had a deal!"
Nyx, to his credit, sounded angry, not afraid. But I wouldn't spare someone as evil as him just because he was stupidly brave.
"I said I wouldn't kill you. But my dog, as you so love to call him, can do as he likes. He only listens when it suits him. I don't control him."
"Can't," Malachi corrected, smiling as he licked the blood from his chin with his usual theatrical flair. He looked to me briefly, his head cocked, playing at asking my permission. I nodded him on.
"Sic him."
"As you wish, Gray."