Like Grayson had already considered: an awful actress.
“It is not. And since it is not and that small chalice you present to me now is but a token of your false greeting, I have but one last offer to make you,” Axia said, finished playing the game Ingrid was so clearly losing.
He felt his sister shudder. “I want nothing from you.”
“The world is going to burn, Ingrid Waverly. However, pledge your fealty to me here, now, and you will know only safety.”
It was time.
Grayson released Ingrid’s arm and stepped toward Axia. It was a carefully measured step, one that would not alarm the two hellhounds at the fallen angel’s side. His twin, however, lurched forward, attempting to hold him back. He jerked his arm out of her feeble grasp and dropped to one knee before Axia’s rippling blue robe.
“Your brother has already made his accord with me.”
“No … no, he hasn’t,” Ingrid said, though Grayson detected her uncertainty as he bowed his head before Axia. A show of devotion. Of fealty.
His stomach in knots, Grayson waited. And then Axia gave him exactly what he needed. She extended her hand and touched him on the shoulder. He moved slowly, clasping his free hand over hers. Her hand was hidden, once again, within her robe, but the fabric was thin. It would be easy to pierce.
“Grayson, stop!” Ingrid shouted.
Axia began to laugh. She would be distracted, at least for a second. Grayson started to pull the syringe from his pocket. Marco, his talons scraping the high metal railing of the promenade as he grew restless, screeched. Damn it.
Grayson felt Axia’s hand tense; start to pull away. The edges of her robe began to glow, golden light seeping out from the hem, from the two panels crossed and bound by a rope belt. The iron floor quaked as Marco slammed onto it, felled, Grayson knew, by Axia’s power. He had to do it now.
Grayson moved fast. He clenched his fingers around Axia’s hand, drew out the needle, and, holding her firm, stabbed at her arm. He felt resistance as the needle sank into her flesh. Grayson pressed the plunger hard, emptying as much of the mersian blood as he could before she, or her hounds, could stop him. But in the next second, Grayson toppled forward. Axia had vanished, the needle ripped out of his hand.
Marco roared as he surged up, freed by Axia’s momentary loss of control. Grayson flattened himself to the grime-covered floor as the gargoyle skimmed overhead, his target now standing deeper within the tower. Grayson watched as a second Axia appeared to the left of Marco, then a third to his right; the one Marco had been going for was quickly fading. Ingrid had tried to warn him that Axia was fast, but not that she could make copies of herself.
“Grayson!” Ingrid shouted. He pushed himself to his feet and saw that a hellhound had backed Ingrid up against a support beam.
“Get away from her!” Grayson shouted as Axia’s copies appeared in a dizzying circle around him.
Marco chased the fallen angel, his talons slicing through mist instead of flesh. The gargoyle roared his frustration, his wings cutting dangerously close to Grayson as he swerved after Axia.
The hellhound cornering Ingrid turned its head toward Grayson, its red lantern eyes narrowing. The beast turned its body and came at him. But then a black-scaled gargoyle with only one wing appeared out of nowhere, colliding with the hound and sending the beast off course. The hound recovered and pushed back at the one-winged gargoyle, blocking Grayson from reaching Ingrid’s side once again. Behind him, Marco shrieked. As Grayson turned, he saw that one of the other hellhounds had raked its claws through his wing, snagging on one of the bony ridges.
Grayson was noticing that every last Axia had faded when the third hellhound rammed into him—and a shock of brutal pain tore through his stomach. He heard Ingrid’s scream at the same second he saw the hellhound’s fang protruding from his abdomen.
Grayson knew he was going to die before his feet left the floor. Before the hellhound, its hot breath gusting against his back, bounded toward the railing. And then they were over it, out into the air, falling, Grayson slipping off of the beast’s long fang. Ingrid screamed his name as the wind took him, the ground rushing up at a mesmerizing speed. He had seconds, he knew. Seconds to say a final prayer that he’d made a difference tonight.
Grayson closed his eyes, ready.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT