“I tire of your infantile humor.” Byzamoth popped open the vial of blood and whirled toward the Foundation Stone.
“No!” Wraith struck Byzamoth in the back, propelling him into a support column, but blood splashed from the vial and fell in thin streaks across the Foundation Stone.
Outside, the storm hushed. Inside, it had just begun.
The blood on the stone bubbled, releasing black steam into the air. Byzamoth struggled toward it, kicking at Wraith, who held onto his ankle. The fallen angel held the necklace stretched before him, trying to reach the blood.
“Damn you!” Byzamoth slammed his fist down on Wraith’s skull like a hammer on a nail. Wraith crumpled to the ground, his legs not functioning. Byzamoth moved to the stone.
“Wraith…” Reaver’s hand closed on his ankle. The angel had somehow crawled from where he’d fallen, his body a broken mess. “Drain… me.”
Wraith brushed blood out of his eyes. Holy hell. If Reaver died like this, his soul would suffer eternal torment. “Let me try—”
“There’s no time!” Reaver rasped. “You must slash Byzamoth’s throat… and then fill the wound with your own blood after you drink mine. Hurry.”
Byzamoth was holding the necklace in the steam rising up from the blood on the stone, and the building had begun to rock. Reaver had exposed his throat. There was nothing to say. Nothing at all.
Wraith sank his fangs into the angel’s jugular. The blood hit his tongue like an electric shock and began pouring down his throat.
“No!” Byzamoth flashed to Reaver, grabbed the other angel by the arm, and threw him like a Frisbee through the doorway. “I want him dragged to the depths of Sheoul!” he screamed, and from nowhere, a horde of imps swallowed up Reaver and dragged him away.
Snarling, he turned on Wraith, crunching a foot into Wraith’s chest. Wraith launched into the air and hit the far wall with a crack of ribs.
His vision swam. Byzamoth darted back to the stone. Hand shaking, Wraith fished in his weapons harness for something to throw—anything. Outside, the sounds of battle became a screaming roar, metal on metal and metal on flesh growing closer. And then Kynan was there by Wraith’s side.
“Need Reaver,” Wraith gasped. “His blood.”
“Take mine.”
Wraith shook his head, trying to make sense of what Ky had just said. “I don’t need to feed.”
“I know. You need to drain an angel. Angel blood runs through my veins. It won’t be the same, but we’re losing, Wraith. Either way, I’ll die.”
“No.” Wraith grasped another throwing star and tugged it free of its housing. “I’m not done—”
“Wraith!” Ky’s voice was hushed but urgent as he grabbed Wraith’s shoulders and shook him. “Damn you, vampire. If you want to see Serena again, you have to do this.”
Byzamoth looked over at them, but he didn’t view Kynan, a simple human, as a threat.
“Feeding won’t help you, idiot.” Byzamoth turned back to the Foundation Stone, which was becoming lost in a giant, spinning black hole that extended upward to the cupola. It was growing, expanding, swallowing the ceiling.
Kynan tilted his head. “Do it.” He swallowed, locked gazes with Wraith. “Tell Gem… never mind.”
“Fuck,” Wraith whispered.
“Do it!”
Closing his eyes, Wraith latched onto Kynan’s throat. The human stiffened, but after a moment he sagged so Wraith had to catch him.
He drank until Kynan’s heart sped up to compensate for blood loss, and then he pulled harder as the human’s veins collapsed, until his heart stuttered. Oh, shit, he was doing it… he was killing his friend.
His friend.
He’d never had one before, and the one he had, he was destroying.
Kynan stopped breathing.
Power ripped through Wraith, power and pain that felt as if his muscles were separating from the bones. He lowered Kynan gently to the ground and let the rage of what he’d done fuel him. Rage that Byzamoth was the cause of all of this.
The demon would pay with his life.
Wraith launched himself at Byzamoth with a vengeance. They knotted together, a vicious swirl of hand-to-hand, a form of combat at which Wraith excelled. He would not lose. He could not lose. Kynan’s death would not be in vain.
Byzamoth’s wing sideswiped Wraith and knocked him to his knees. The fallen angel kneeled beside him and wrapped his clawlike hand around Wraith’s throat.
“I scarcely have time for this.” Byzamoth glanced at the horizon, where the clouds pushed against the sun’s light.
Wraith opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Not even breath.
“I know who you are. A demon born to a vampire.” He licked the gash he’d made in Wraith’s cheek. “I found your dam. She’s in Sheoul-gra.”