Page 52 of Fated In Ruin

My heartbeat slowed. I looked up at Malachi, who gave a small nod of approval. “Again,” he said and I groaned, but couldn’t stop a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, I could do this.

And later, walking past beds of flattened roses, surrounded by the scent of crushed vegetation, I asked, “Why sin, do you think?”

Why did Rhiannon appear, the second my magic touched you? Is she your greatest sin, Malachi?Those were the questions I yearned to ask, but was too afraid of the answers.

He shrugged. “You humans have your concept of original sin, and we have ours.”

“So vampires really believe in sin? After all the evil shit you do?”

“Of course. But our concept of sin vastly differs from yours. Our code is based on honor, yours is based on human weakness.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Is it? We don’t punish our kind for who they are sleeping with, or who they love, or eating too much, or wanting more. We punish for betrayal, for breaking one’s word, for harming innocents. We follow a strict code of honor. You might not agree with our ways, or even understand them, but we do have principles. Honor isn’t subjective, it’s earned and kept only through trust.”

“Says the male who’s guilty of all of the above.” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I’d meant the comment to be funny, but it was anything but, and Malachi’s face fell.

“I never claimed to be a good person, Vicious. I have done terrible things to my enemies that will haunt me for the rest of time and I have protected those I loved. I’m like anyone else, flawed and petty and good to the ones I care about. But I will never hurt you.”

“I’m sorry.” I told him, “I shouldn’t have…”

“Sin might not be inherently evil, but it does require atonement.” He looked past me, his gaze empty. “And killing Ravok will atone for many of my mistakes.” He offered me his hand. “What do you say we finish this?”

23

EVANGELINE

Atonement.

I thought about that word as we’d flown here, about how I’d been—unsuccessfully—atoning my entire life. First, for having magic. Though that trick of fate hadn’t been my fault, I was the reason we’d gone on the run, and after that, the guilt had never stopped.

Then, for Mom dying. Because I could have stopped Silas that night. I had the training and the skills to face my father down, but I’d been afraid, and I’d cost Angel her mother.

Then I’d lost Angel, and…well, look where that fuckup had gotten me.

Now I would atone again, to Blake and Riordan.

Providing I survived.

The Silverwood compound was half hidden by a faint mist, a fortress of hand-hewn stone, hiding a multitude of dark secrets. Covered in his glamour, Malachi and I moved like ghosts, my magic curling around us in tendrils of shadowy flame and the occasional screaming, ghastly face.

I’d tried keeping them under wraps, but control was a lost cause, my nerves fraying by the second.

Malachi had armed me, but I wanted my own knives back. I liked relying on cold steel, since my flames weren’t exactly…reliable. And I was woefully under-weaponed right now. I had exactly one measly blade tucked into each boot, two in a thigh sheath, and my empty palms were sweating since my comrade in arms wasn’t exactly inspiring confidence on the intimidation front.

Dressed in a flowing dark green coat and his usual silky shirt, Malachi wasn’t looking very threatening, and an incursion like this required a solid, well thought out plan, but so far, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming.

What was I supposed to do?

Just let my magic go and hope the resulting carnage decimated Ravok? My newfound power pulsed beneath my skin, necromantic energy woven with shadowy flames that almost felt alive, and the closer we got to the building, the harder everything shoved at my ribcage.

“We need to be decisive,” Malachi murmured, his pale amber eyes flicking to mine. “He knows we're coming.”

I nodded, clenching my fists. Of course, Ravok knew. Healwaysknew. His sight stretched beyond time, ensuring he remained two steps ahead. How could we ever hope to beat someone with that kind of power?

The blue spiderweb of protective witch wards was gone, there was no sign of the expected trip wires or land mines or heat signatures my family usually employed. Almost like they were rolling out the welcome mat.

But we still had to cross hallowed ground, and my first step onto the grass sent a shockwave tingling through me, my magic ricocheting wildly before the effect faded, my roiling power dampening down more and more, the further in we went.

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