Page 109 of To Vanquish Darkness

Ren turned his gaze on her as she lifted to her knees. “But Theo didn’t know about our little bargain. Your friend Marx and I came to an agreement. I would let him know whenever Theotook an interest in a woman, and in return, he would ensure the sword came to me when I needed it.”

Olivie appeared on Ren’s left, offering him a chalice.

“Why are you helping him?” Amalie spat.

Olivie flinched, but Marcel’s stare was even.

“We do what we must,” he answered, his eyes flicking to the sword in Ren’s hand.

Amalie let out a sardonic laugh. “Is that it? He promised you the sword? I told you about the relic. I told you?—”

“You didn’t know where it was. He did.”

Amalie exhaled. It was always that simple with Marcel. You were either useful or you weren’t. “Olivie?—”

“Don’t.” Olivie pursed her lips. “I’m sorry Amalie, but you defended them. You?—”

“I’m of guardian blood!” Amalie’s voice was raw. “There is so much more that the Grimoire doesn’t begin to cover?—”

“You’re a hypocrite!” Olivie screamed, her face darkening in the moonlight.

Amalie’s arms trembled with rage. “Do you think he’ll hand that over? The power to vanquish, and he’s going to let it go?”

“You were my friend, Amalie! You didn’t come to me. You trusted that creature instead!” Olivie pointed an accusing finger at Theo. “You claim to be a vanquisher and yet you showed up here tonight with the sword in your hand and Theo Vallon standing next to you, his heart still beating.”

Amalie’s words died on her tongue. They wouldn’t understand.Shedidn’t understand.

She’d walked out of Uncle Oren’s house with the sword, and not once did she consider using it on Theo.Not once.

Olivie was right. She was a hypocrite. When she left the castle, she’d intended to give the Pourfendeurs information to vanquish others, but not him.Never him.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at Theo’s shadowed form behind the three of them.I loved you.She wanted to shout the words at him. To hurl them at him like daggers.I loved you, and you kept this from me!

Ren approached, flicking a dagger between his fingers. “Your arm, Amalie. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

A whimper worked its way up her throat. Had her mother felt like this? Like her heart was being ripped from her chest? Had she fallen to the forest floor knowing the man she loved had kept his true intentions from her, or had she gone willingly?

Ren knelt next to her. “Shh, little bird.”

This was it. He was going to slit her throat just like he had her mother. Amalie's heart pounded, her mind working furiously. She could hit him in the soft space below his ribs. She could?—

Ren growled as a shadow darted between them. He flew back, the chalice flying from his hand.

52

1836 MORDELLES, FRANCE

Amalie scrambled to her feet, scanning the yard and the street for any explanation of what just happened. Marcel and Olivie ran back to the house, yelling for reinforcements. Were they under attack? By whom?

Amalie ran toward Theo, then skittered back as three more members of the Pourfendeurs bled from the house. She didn't have time to figure out who they were before striking out. "I'm sorry." She grunted as her fist struck home. They were blocking her way. She needed to get to him and somehow retrieve the sword and get away from Ren, and the Pourfendeurs.

She shouldn't have come. Theo had told her they should stay together, and she hadn't listened. But Marx had been right. Ren had killed her mother, he had made a replacement ring to hide the fact that his had gone missing.

Rage welled up inside her, whistling like a tea kettle and begging for release. There was a sharp crack as her elbow connected with bone, and the woman she'd been fighting dropped. Amalie didn't hesitate. She flew toward the steps, but before she could reach them, the light shifted, and she caught Ren hovering in the shadows behind Marcel and another Slayer.

He was letting them fight his battle? Her pulse quickened as she took in the weapons they wielded. Whips with barbed tips, batons that burned with white hot flames to blind and singe. These were new weapons, ones she'd never used. The smell of burnt skin and clothing filled the air, and Amalie nearly gagged.

A whip cracked, and a frustrated scream tore through the air. Amalie was nearly to the steps when she saw blood red lips. Clémentine. Amalie's jaw dropped as the vampire threw herself toward Ren, only to be hit again by the wicked barbs.

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