Page 176 of Rose and Shadows
Then the psychopath thrust his gray magic toward the remaining hostages, all one hundred or so of them.
The first five it hit started screaming, and I looked on horrified to see that Morien was using a necromantic ability known as Desiccation Curse, which did the obvious, their skin turning a gray tinge, as he began to turn them to ash.
Sylas let out a roar, freed his left hand, then thrust up a shimmering red barrier that cut off Morien’s power, sparing them.
My dad called out to his unit to hurry with the evacuation.
Now a hole had been torn in the place, his magic-wielders were able to teleport them out, and even open a couple of portals.
They worked in concert with the vampires so that it all happened swiftly.
Relief flooded me when they’d removed all the hostages.
But that was offset by the fact that it left the three of us and my dad’s remaining ten agents only facing off against Morien and thirty majorly souped-up Dark Fae psychopaths. The other agents of The Shadowed that he’d had with him were taking care of the evacuation from the other side.
Morien let out a laugh. “You see, boy, no matter how hard you try, you cannot hope to win against me.”
Sylas grimaced in disgust as he took in the red veins travelling along Morien’s fingers, up his neck—Sylas’ power he was stealing part of.
I went to move from around the shield, intending to take out some of the Dark Fae to take the load off Sylas, but my dad pressed his hand to my chest.
Before I could protest him stopping me, whips of harsh wind tore through the area, and then his remaining ten vampires were hitting the Dark Fae gathered so close so they could feed that stream at Sylas, coming from the sides and the back.
They snapped necks and ripped out hearts—shrieks, squelching and cracks sounding—managing to take out a dozen before they were suddenly slammed into by a wave of Morien’s gray power.
Before they could recover, he invoked Undead Domination and levitated them all several feet off the ground, their bodies unable to move even a fraction of an inch.
Sylas grunted and forced sparks of his magic to his free hand that was trembling violently. Then, with a pained roar, he flung the power at the field trapping the vampires.
It shattered, shards raining down everywhere, and utterances of relief sounded as the ten landed in deep crouches, fangs dropped and hissing at Morien, already prepared to resume battle. That was my dad’s well-trained soldiers for you.
Sylas was sweating profusely, his brow slick with it, beads even trickling down his neck.
He went to bring his other hand back into play to help against the Celestial stream, but he hesitated at the look on Morien’s face, the look that said Sylas had to keep that hand free for the bastard’s next move.
My dad stepped forward and told him, “Channel me.”
“What?” Sylas rasped.
“You heard me. You need additional power.”
Sylas’ gaze flitted to me and I saw his regret, before he looked away. “No.”
“I am an Ancient Vampire with centuries of amassed power. I’ve lived through more pain, brutality, and torment than anyone alive. You couldn’t ask for a better battery.”
“If I do this, draw from you, as a necromancer to a vampire—”
“I will desiccate. I am aware.”
No.This was not happening. Morien was forcing them both into impossible positions, things that would break us.
Sylas grimaced, then held out his hand, and my dad grabbed it firmly.
And then he was jolting as Sylas’ free hand glowed with his vibrant crimson, as he drew from my dad.
The oval shield flamed and strengthened, Sylas released a breath, and his eyes raged with his necromantic power at the Dark Fae.
The vampires moved in, speeding toward them, only to be forced back by Morien who fired upon them and then swept that Undead Domination wave toward them, keeping them away.
