Page 172 of Devoted

So was everyone else.

Giovanni pressed a blade to Luca’s throat, his smile cold as the grave. Even with death poised so close, Luca did not react. There was no fear, no anger, and every part of me recoiled from the sight. A walking corpse with a familiar face.

Because without Blackwood to animate him, that’s all he was.

“Hello, niece,” Gio said pleasantly, his gaze lifting to the bell tower, the knife pressing deeper, slicing into skin. “And company, of course.”

In an instant, Nico’s form contracted, the Emissary pulling back into some liminal form—half mortal, half god—even Nico knowing he wasn’t faster than Giovanni’s blade, already drawing blood.

None of us were.

Giovanni’s smile widened as he surveyed the ruins, all of us frozen in place. “Very well-planned ambush. You should be proud.” The full weight of his attention landed on Emberline and sharpened into something cruel that set my heart racing. “Unfortunately, I am better prepared than you.” He looked at Luca, then his sister. “Put down your weapons,” Giovanni said, “and call off your soldiers. Do that, and I’ll let your brother keep his blackened blood inside his body.”

Nobody moved for a moment.

“Now,” he said patiently, as if he’d already won and was waiting for us to figure it out.

Looking at Gabriel, my brother was tracking everything—the knife, Luca, Emberline—relentlessly searching for an opening he could exploit, for some way to get the kid free.

Emberline studied her brother’s face, hope flickering across her features before dying just as quickly. She closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths as she sagged against Gabriel.

“Stand down,” Gabriel ordered, and all around us came the sound of knives sliding back into sheaths, guns being holstered, the scrape of feet on dirt as Emilia’s priests faded back into the shadows. Maybe some of them could get away, warn the priestess that we’d failed.

Or were about to fail since I couldn’t see a way out of this clusterfuck.

Of course, if the kid was in his right mind, he could help us out, but as things stood, he was under Blackwood’s control—or no one’s control at all, from that unsettling blankness on his face.

“Bring it out,” Giovanni called, and five guards struggled out of the ruined rectory, arms straining, the Basin suspended between them. I kept my mind carefully blank, and I prayed the others did as well; everything we’d planned—this entire trap—balanced on whatever came next.

They set it down in the dirt with a heavy whump, stepping away, looking relieved to put some space between them and the ancient relic.

Fake or not, magic thrummed through the air with a crushing potency, so much that bile rose in my throat, one of the guards doubling over and retching.

Emilia had really gone above and beyond.

Keeping the blade to her brother’s throat, Giovanni looked straight at Emberline.

“Come here, niece.” He cocked his head. “I require confirmation, and while I would gladly spill Luca’s blood, unfortunately, it’s too tainted. But yours will do nicely.”

Emberline walked toward him, every line of her body controlled, every movement economical and fluid, her hand hovering over her knife. When she got close enough, one of the guards took her wrist and yanked her closer, both Gabriel and I advancing, a growl building in my throat.

Emberline warned us off with a shake of her head and offered her wrist.

In one fast swipe, the guard dragged his blade mercilessly across her palm. So deep, white muscle peeled back before blood pushed to the surface.

“Now bleed for me, niece, and show me if this is real.” Emberline opened up her hand over the Basin, and a thick stream of blood splattered.

So much blood, crimson, rushed up the shallow sides.

Then over, coating the thing with crimson

The Basin glowed with power, the runes igniting.

A gut-wrenching wave of power rolled through the ruins, knocking the guards back a step. Giovanni’s grip slipped on the knife, carving a cut into Luca’s neck—deep enough to bleed black but not enough to kill.

All around the indentation, markings glowed white, Emilia’s enchantment doing exactly what she’d designed it to do—convince Giovanni and his mage they’d reclaimed the real deal.

“Excellent,” he crowed, snapping his fingers as the guards moved forward and picked up the Basin again, heading down toward the docks.