Page 4 of To Vanquish Darkness

“Where are they? Uncle Oren and Aunt Maurielle?”

Patrice took in her disheveled appearance, then gaped at the object she held in her hand. “In the study, but?—”

Amalie didn’t wait for Patrice’s carefully curated explanation for why she couldn’t interrupt her aunt and uncle. She felt a bit guilty at greeting the man inappropriately, especially since she’d pulled him from his bed, but this couldn’t wait.

She charged down the hall, barely glancing at the artwork Aunt Maurielle had hung since the last time she’d visited, and slammed her shoulder into the heavy wooden door.

It flew open, and Uncle Oren jumped from his chair. His hand was halfway to the drawer that held his musket when he recognized her face. “Amalie?”

She straightened her shoulders, then strode to the desk and dropped the ring and the bloody spike onto the polished wood with a hollow thump.

4

1836 COUNTRYSIDE BEYOND MORDELLES, FRANCE

Amalie worked to catch her breath as Oren stared at the macabre collection of objects in front of him. Aunt Maurielle shoved the book she’d been holding onto the shelf and took a step toward the desk. For a second, she wondered if they’d ignore the weapon completely and start in on her being out after dark.

“What is this?” Her uncle’s voice was tight.

“You know what it is.” Amalie wasn’t going to play his game. Not anymore. There was too much at risk for her to placate him and accept his outdated reasoning.

“I don’t—” he started, but Amalie slammed her hand onto the desk, making him flinch.

“This is the proof you said I’d never find. I killed him, Uncle. The man I told you I saw in the city. The vam?—”

“Donotsay that word in this house.”

Amalie’s nostrils flared. She forced air into her lungs as her hands started to shake. Oren had been the one to teach them from the Grimoire. To tell them the story of Solène and Le Sombre, to explain why their world always teetered between light and darkness, never settling in peace. Yet he would notconcede that either god had touched humans with their power. It was madness.

She drew a breath and forced the edge from her tone. “Those dark creatures killed my mother. I saw it with my own two eyes. I’ve hunted him—the man they call Theo Vallon—for months, and tonight I vanquished darkness.” Amalie held up the ring with his insignia. “He is one of them. The brotherhood you refuse to acknowledge. The creatures of the night responsible for?—”

“You know nothing of what you speak.” Her uncle’s voice shook with rage.

Amalie straightened, her palm still stinging. “And you do? You live in a dream, Uncle! Pretending we are not being watched, hunted! Pretending the accounts of corpses drained of blood are not spread to cow us into submission!”

“I told you to stay away from Marcel and the Pourfendeurs. I told you?—”

“You told us plenty of things that aren’t true, Uncle. You may not approve of Marcel, but he has been willing to do what you haven’t.” Amalie straightened, stepping back from the desk. “Now there is one less of them prowling the streets.”

Oren watched her with barely concealed anger. Amalie waited for him to open his mouth, thrilled and terrified by this break in her uncle’s gentle demeanor. He hadn’t yelled when she told him she was leaving. When she left with his horse, he hadn’t chased after her like she’d half-hoped he would.

“Amalie?” A small voice sounded behind her, and she whipped toward the study door.

“Bethany.” The name slipped past her lips as her sister ran forward, wrapping her arms so tightly around her waist, Amalie thought she might heave the meager contents of her stomach. Even though she had nothing left after heaving outside. The adrenaline that had coursed through her for the past half a dayseeped out of her at the clean scent of her sister's hair, and she wanted to sink like a stone to the floor.

Leaving Bethany had been the hardest decision of her life, but the ring staring at her from the desk had made it all worth it.They would be safe.Amalie would fight until they were safe.

Her sister pulled back, tilting her chin until her deep brown eyes locked onto Amalie's. She didn't have to look far. Bethany had grown a full inch since the last time they were together. She'd had a birthday as well.Fourteen.Bethany's jaw tightened. "Why haven't you visited?"

"I—" Amalie paused. How to answer that question? She glanced at her aunt standing next to the desk. "I was working and couldn't get away from the city." She could've visited more if she wanted to. If she'd been willing to lie about what she was doing in Paris. Who she was spending time with. Leaving and defying her uncle's wishes was one thing, but looking him in the eye while sleeping under his roof and partaking of his hard-earned food would've filled her with shame. She'd come back halfway through the year for her blood infusion, and those twenty-four hours had been difficult enough.

"I missed you," Amalie breathed, pulling her sister in again and clutching her head to her chest. That was the truth. Perhaps one of the only truths she could tell her at the moment. "Let's get you up to bed, shall we?" Amalie positioned herself purposefully between Bethany and the desk where the ring and stake were still sitting out in the open.

Bethany nodded, linking her arm with Amalie’s and leading her into the hall. They walked together up the stairs and into Bethany's small room. Besides the new clothes thrown over the chair next to her vanity, the room looked the same as it had the day Amalie had left. The same four-poster bed. Same mahogany armoire. Amalie sat on the bed and ran her fingers over the cream Matellase quilt.

Bethany grabbed her brush, then handed it to Amalie as she dropped onto the mattress next to her. Amalie had to reach to pull the brush through her hair from scalp to tip. "You're too tall for this now."

Bethany grinned back at her, her brilliant green eyes sparkling. "Aunt Maurielle passed on some of your old clothes. I wore that blue dress you used to love—the one with the bow?"

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