Page 122 of Nocturne

But I’m too late. With a powerful beat of its wings, Marco—or the thing that was once Marco—launches himself back through the shattered window, Lena clutched against his chest.

I reach the window just in time to see them vanishing into the dim grey light.

“Lena!” My voice echoes across the cliffs, met only by the indifferent crash of waves against rocks below.

“How did he find us?” Ezra groans, pulling himself upright, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead, slowly healing.

“He must have been tracking Callahan,” Abe says grimly, helping Adonis to his feet. “Dmitri probably didn’t trust that his control would hold. Sent his new pet to follow, to ensure the job was done.”

“And when it wasn’t,” Valtu finishes, wiping blood from his hair, “he took matters into his own hands. Or claws, as it were.”

“But I don’t understand,” I ask. “What happened to him? I killed Marco. I buried him.”

“And you were being watched when you did so,” Abe says, rubbing at his shins. “It doesn’t take much to create a vampire, but it has to be deliberate. I’d wager Dmitri or one of them saw where you buried him, dug him up, pumped him full of vampire blood, and thus a monster was born. Risky business but the Ivanovs seem to thrive on risk.”

“And he’s just…what, a literal beast now?”

“Yes,” Abe says, getting a dreamy look in his eyes. Then he clears his throat, his expression flattening. “I have known one, or two, that have overcome the monster, that have remained a vampire in control. But it took centuries and a lot of work to get them back to normal. I’m afraid that won’t be in the case with Marco. The Ivanovs want him for one purpose only: to kill.”

I turn from the window, rage and despair tearing me apart. “We have to go after them. Now.”

“We will,” Abe assures me, though his expression is grim. “But we need to be smart about this. Marco is taking her to Dmitri. We don’t know where. We need to figure out that out first.”

“And we don’t have the time,” I say, the words coming out as a growl. “I’m going after her with or without you. Tell me Abe. Are you with me? Or are you against me?”

“No one said anything about being against you, Callahan,” says Abe calmly and quietly.

Adonis steps forward, his towering frame intimidating despite his injuries. “I’ll come with you. I’ve tracked harder prey than a feral vampire.”

“We all will,” Valtu says, surprising me with his vehemence. “The Ivanovs have gone too far. Created an abomination. Broken laws older than any of us.”

“Besides,” Ezra adds with a grim smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself killed. Lena would never forgive us.”

Relief washes through me, tempered by the crushing weight of responsibility. Lena is in Dmitri’s hands because of me. Because I led Marco straight to her, like a homing beacon guiding a missile to its target.

I stare out at the lightening sky, dawn approaching with merciless certainty. Somewhere out there, Lena is being carried toward a fate designed by madmen with delusions of godhood. Carried toward Dmitri, who needs her blood to open his precious gateway to the Red Realm.

I failed Elizabeth. I won’t fail Lena too.

“How do we find them?” I ask, turning back to the others.

They all look at me. “You’re supposed to tell us.”

And that’s when I know.

It has to be me.

It has to be…theotherme.

31

LENA

Pain pulls me back to consciousness—dull, throbbing pain that radiates from my shoulders down through my limbs. I try to move, only to discover my wrists are secured above my head, metal cuffs digging into my skin.

My eyes flutter open to darkness, then gradually adjust to the dim light. I’m hanging from chains in what appears to be a warehouse—different from the one I’d visited with Callahan, larger and older, with high ceilings lost in shadows. The floor beneath me is concrete, stained dark with substances I don’t want to identify, and I’m suspended just high enough that my toes barely brush the surface.

Around me, dozens of candles flicker in a perfect circle, their flames casting eerie, dancing shadows across the walls. The air is thick with incense—something reverent that burns my nostrils and makes my head swim.

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