Page 86 of Of Flame and Fury

I cut myself off. “Oh, my God,” I say. “I know what’s he’s doing.”

I think back to how I saw him crouched on the floor when the image of me he dreamed up tried to drown me. I thought the little perv was whacking off to our pain, getting his dirty on while we suffered and tried not to die.

“Taran,” Gemini says slowly. “What is he doing?”

“He’s not masturbating,” I rasp.

He grunts. “Good to know.”

“He’s painting.”

His eyebrows lift briefly. “This place is a painting? As are the creatures?”

My body shudders. “Yeah.”

“That’s not possible,” he argues. “Johnny can’t do this.”

I hold my stomach certain I’ll be sick. “He can if he’s not only drinking shifter blood but painting with it.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Remember that day we found Johnny in his suite at the Den, when he was under pack protection and on lockdown?”

Gemini stops his growling and pacing just to look my way. “Yes.”

“Johnny had broken a vase and was using the shards to cut himself. We initially thought it was self-mutilation, but it wasn’t. He used the pieces to create that peacock on his abs that came to life. What if it’s not Johnny’s skin that’s the source of his creations? What if it’s the blood he releases when he creates the tats that are the link?”

Gemini rubs his jaw, swearing some more. He’s still not as creative as me, but he gets an A for trying. “You think the shifter blood is not just making him stronger, but mixing with his blood to make his Nytes as strong and plentiful as they are.”

“That’s exactly what I’m getting at,” I reply.

“Taran, there’s only so much blood a being can consume and so much blood within his body. Given the amount of Nytes we’ve killed, Fate should be dead by now.”

It’s what he claims, but he can’t deny there’s something to my theory. “You’re forgetting. Destiny almost died. When she came back, she became something more. Maybe Johnny is something more now, too. If so, he doesn’t need all his blood to raise and create these freaks. He just needs enough to give them life and allow them to multiply.”

“It’s still a lot of blood,” Gemini insists.

“I know, and it’s cost him. I told you how Johnny doesn’t quite seem real. The muscles seem too outrageous for him. I’ll bet my savings he’s only trying to give the appearance of strength. He’s getting weaker. Despite all his power and what he’s earned kissing shifter ass, he’s running out of juice.”

Gemini places his hands on his hips, staring hard at the ground. “Or in this case blood,” he says. “He’s the last sacrifice.”

“What?” I question.

“To the shapeshifters.” Gemini straightens. “To become a shifter, it’s not just how many sacrifices you make for the deity, it’s the quality. Children are worth more than a strong, grown man because of their purity and innocence.Weres, vamps, witches—any being of magic is that much more due to the magic they possess. Every death that has occurred in the manor, combined with the sacrifices of his former fans, have given Fate the leverage dark witches spend decades earning for the chance to become a shifter.”

I wish I could argue, but he’s right. “Add his own blood and the sacrifice he’s making to his own body.” I shake my head. “If he survives his bloodletting, he’ll be a shifter for certain.” The muscles along my jaw tighten to the point they hurt. “And like Uri said, unstoppable.”

“We have to get out of here and tell the others,” he says. “Fate knows he’s running out of time. He’s going to throw everything he has left into the spells and his Nytes.”

I clutch his arm. “Can’t you make your twin keep everyone in the house?” I ask. “If he’s this weak, this close to death, they may be able to outlast him.”

“Taran,” he says. “From what we’ve gathered, he’s become part of the house. If he dies, the entire manor will collapse with him.”

“But if Johnny lives, we won’t stand a chance.” I motion around. “He’s created all this with his Fate power and a few gulps of shifter blood. What’s he going to do when shifter blood is the only blood running through his veins?”

The rage that surrounds my mate is only matched by mine. “We have to stop him while he remains weak. Try another circle, another link, something,” he urges.

I do, putting everything I have left into each chant and circle I create. I start out large, thinking I could leech some of Johnny’s power from the soil beneath. It doesn’t work.