Page 60 of Rescued By the Beast
I exchange a glance with Viklaus before descending the stairs. The putrid smell is so thick it makes me salivate with nausea. In the centre of the room, an inverted pentagram is precisely engraved on the floor, its lines drawn in blood. The pentagram is surrounded by black candles, now extinguished, their melted wax staining the concrete floor.
Inside the pentagram, resting on a round table, is a black grimoire, its cover marked with a strange symbol. I strain my eyes in the darkness, studying the design. It is an ouroboro, but the snake biting its tail is replaced by a raven's head, and inside it is a closed eye.
That is where the energy emanates from, a thick, viscous force that runs like a disease, spreading and growing, invading the air.
The last step creaks under my weight. As soon as I step on the floor, the eye of the grimoire opens with an ominous snap, the pupil dilating and sparkling in a silvery tone, moving in our direction, as if it were a living presence.
The candles light up instantly, their flames dancing with a life of their own, and then, from the eye, a light begins to emerge.
A flash explodes in the air, momentarily blinding my vision.
It is strong, sharp, like a thousand suns in fury.
Everything begins to burn with unbearable intensity.
Viklaus screams in pain.
"GET OUT OF HERE!" I roar, but it's too late.
The energy expands in a destructive wave. Something hits me in the chest, setting my shirt and skin on fire, the force of the impact throwing me backwards.
As I spin through the air, I let my beast emerge and fall on top of Viklaus, protecting him with my own body.
The house shakes.
The heat licks at my skin, burning faster than I can regenerate. The pain is intense, but I grab Viklaus and run, creating an invisible barrier around us, keeping the flames away, though the heat and light still manage to penetrate the dome.
The door explodes outward as I reach the street, and the morning breeze is a balm. My chest heaves up and down in heavy gasps as I look back.
The flames consume the house. The walls cave in, the roof collapses.
Every piece of evidence, destroyed.
Viklaus groans as he breaks free from my arms, falling to his knees on the floor and covering his eyes with his hands.
That explosion was cruel to him. His eyes and skin are sensitive to ultraviolet rays. Having been a vampire for several centuries, he has developed resistance. He can tolerate the morning light, but he needs sunscreen and must wear special lenses or sunglasses with an adequate filter.
But that...
That was different. The magical incidence of light was terrifying, comparable to that of multiple suns, each beam charged with raw and devastating power.
I run my tongue over my teeth and clench my fists.
"The bastard knew we were here." My eyes narrow at the ravenous flames. "We need to call Balthazar, maybe he'll recognise that grimoire and..."
"Mark..." Viklaus murmurs, and I turn my attention to him. Still on his knees, his hands slide tremulously from his eyes before he lifts his face.
His irises, once red, are now milky.
My stomach churns.
"I'm blind."
I gasp for air, but something catches in my throat, a lump the size of my fucking heart.
"Why aren't you recovering? When was the last time you fed, for fuck's sake?"
"A week ago."
