To Vanquish Darkness (Le Sombre #1)

Chapter 51

51

1836 MORDELLES, FRANCE

A malie’s vision narrowed to a dark tunnel as Theo’s body went limp. The thread of light inside her flared, making her gasp. I didn’t, what? What words had he been about to speak? Didn’t want to tell you the truth? Didn’t want to kill us both in the end?

Tears pricked her eyes as Theo’s strong body hit the stone with a sickening thump. Marcel didn’t even pretend to break his fall. His eyes were still open, the dark liquid of his irises like pools of ink as he stared at her sideways. His chest still rose and fell. He wasn’t dead. Not yet.

Amalie forced herself to breath, though it felt as if she were sucking air through a siphon. The urge to throw herself at Marcel, at Ren, to drive her blade through both of their ribs, was unbearable.

But Marcel was trained. Olivie too. And Ren held the sword. One swipe from that blade would end her life. Would she be reborn, or was it capable of vanquishing her blood, too?

“That’s better.” Ren clicked his tongue, but there was sweat on his brow. He was nervous. Why? It seemed he held all the cards. “I have to thank you, Amalie. None of this would’ve been possible without your help.”

Her limbs trembled. She had to do something. Theo was defenseless, and Ren watched her like a hawk trained on a rabbit.

“I’m sorry about your mother. Truly. But you must understand by now that guardians are never truly gone.” He gave her an apologetic smile.

She knew it now, but at ten years old, she hadn’t known it. She hadn’t known it as she’d grown up and dreamed of dark eyes and blood-soaked grass, or when she’d discovered she hadn’t bled like other girls and had no mother to comfort her. Yes, she knew it now. But she’d suffered for twelve years because of him.

“Not talkative?” Ren sighed. “I understand. But I promise this won’t take much longer.” He turned to Marcel and Olivie. “You can let go. He won’t be waking up any time soon.”

She wouldn’t die like this. Amalie needed to move. She scanned the front of the house, searching for anything she could use as a weapon, sweat soaking her shirt. She could fight Marcel or Olivie one at a time, but together? They would disarm her within minutes. And Ren held the sword.

There was no way out of this. She couldn’t protect Theo. She couldn’t even protect herself.

“I’m sorry you had to hear it from me.” Ren turned toward her, descending the steps. “I’m sure Theo had some romantic gesture planned. Some Shakespearian tragic ending.”

“Don’t come any closer.” Amalie dropped into a defensive crouch, and Ren’s eyes widened.

He barked a laugh. “Or you’ll what?” He glanced down at the sword, then back at Theo slumped on the ground. “You should thank me, Theo. This way she doesn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“If you’re going to kill me, then do it.” Amalie seethed. She would not go out without a fight.

“Do you think I’m going to battle you to the death?” Ren’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “No, no, no. You’re not understanding. You think I want you to die, but I don’t. I simply need something you have, and unfortunately . . . it does require your death for me to take it.” He stepped forward, and Amalie lunged at him.

Ren easily caught her by the arm and forced her against the trunk of the oak tree in the yard. She blinked at the pain as the bark bit into her cheek and shoulder.

He dropped his head to her ear. “You won’t have to change your shirt this time.” Ren pulled back and forced her to look at the marks on the inside of her arm. “This. This is what I want.” Amalie stared at the mark of her bond with Theo, then at the blood red chains. “Helena took something from me, and now I’m going to take it back.”

He released her, and Amalie dropped to her knees on the sanded path.

Ren snapped his fingers, and she looked up to see Marcel approaching, a book in his hand.

“Your death destroyed him, you know?” Ren murmured. “Both times, actually, though with the last he didn’t have to wait long for your return.”

Amalie’s chest pinched as if she’d been run through with a blade. Sixteen hundred years.

Ren’s voice was like sandpaper over raw flesh. “He didn’t want Helena to know you were reborn. He thought she would come for you if she did.”

Marcel took his place at Ren’s side, and Ren glanced over at the page he held open in the book. He nodded approvingly.

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 Theo took 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. She didn’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.