Chapter 19 The Stolen Weapon
MIREYA'S POV
The witch stumbles into our cathedral at midnight, bleeding and terrified.
"They're building something," she gasps before collapsing at my feet. "Kieran Vale. He's building a machine that can trap demons forever."
My blood turns to ice.
Azraeth appears beside me instantly, his shadows wrapping protectively around us both. "Who sent you?"
"Thorne." The witch—I recognize her now as one of the rebel coven members—clutches her wounded side. "She said... said you need to know. Kieran's almost finished. Days, maybe hours."
I kneel beside her, my demon-touched healing magic flowing through my hands before I even think about it. The wound closes, but my mind is racing with fury.
Kieran. Still stealing from me. Still trying to use my research to hurt people.
"What kind of machine?" Azraeth demands.
"It's based on summoning circles, but reversed. Instead of calling demons, it binds them. Traps their essence in a containment field." She meets my eyes. "He stole the design from your research. The paper you wrote about theoretical demon prisons."
That paper. I'd written it three years ago, exploring historical methods angels used to trap demons. It was supposed to be academic—understanding the past to prevent future atrocities.
Kieran turned it into a weapon.
"Where is he building it?" I ask, my voice dangerously calm.
"Old university laboratory. Sub-basement. He's got rogue witches guarding it and funding from someone powerful." She struggles to sit up. "Thorne thinks it's an angel benefactor. Someone who wants Azraeth captured but not killed."
Through our bond, I feel Azraeth's rage matching mine. But underneath, there's something else—fear. Not for himself, but for me.
"We destroy it tonight," I say, standing. "Before he can use it."
"No." Azraeth's hand catches my arm. "This is a trap, Mireya. Kieran knows we'll come for it."
"I don't care if it's a trap! He's built a torture device using MY research!" My shadows explode around me, responding to my fury. "He took everything from me once. He's not taking you too."
The witch scrambles backward, terrified of my power. I don't blame her. I'm terrifying myself right now.
Azraeth pulls me close, his forehead touching mine. "Listen to me. Let me handle this. I'll destroy the lab, eliminate the threat, and be back before dawn."
"Absolutely not."
"Mireya—"
"He's MY enemy, Azraeth!" I shove him back. "He stole my work, destroyed my reputation, married my sister, and now he's trying to torture you using my research. I get to watch him fall. I NEED to watch him fall."
Through the bond, he feels my desperate need for this. For closure. For revenge. For proof that I'm not the powerless girl Kieran discarded.
His expression softens. "Then we go together. But you follow my lead. Kieran's dangerous when he's cornered."
"So am I."
We leave the wounded witch with healing supplies and instructions to tell Thorne we'll handle it. Then we shadow-walk to the university—Azraeth's power carrying us through darkness in seconds.
The old laboratory building looks abandoned. Too abandoned. Every instinct screams trap, but I don't care. Kieran's in there, building nightmares from my stolen dreams, and I'm going to end him.
We descend three flights of stairs to the sub-basement. The door's locked with complex wards—witch magic layered over magical technology. I recognize some of the spell-work.
It's mine. From my research notes.
"He's using everything I ever created," I whisper. "Everything I worked for."
Azraeth studies the wards. "These are sophisticated. He's not working alone."
"I can break them. They're based on my original designs." I press my hands to the door, feeling the magic. It resists, but I'm not the powerless student who wrote these formulas anymore. I'm demon-bonded now. Powerful.
The wards shatter like glass.
The laboratory beyond is massive—and filled with the machine.
It's beautiful in a horrible way. A circular chamber made of metal and crystal, covered in demon-binding runes that pulse with sickly green light. At the center, a containment field flickers, testing its own power.
And standing beside it, looking triumphant, is Kieran.
"Mireya!" He grins like we're old friends. "I knew you'd come. You're so predictable."
"Destroy it," I tell Azraeth. "Now."
But before he can move, the room floods with light. Twenty witches emerge from hidden alcoves, their hands already glowing with binding magic. More than we can fight.
Kieran laughs. "Did you really think I'd leave my masterpiece unguarded? I've been waiting for you, darling. Both of you."
Azraeth's shadows explode around us, defensive. "Mireya, stay behind me."
"Oh, she can't." Kieran pulls something from his pocket—a vial of dark liquid. My blood. From the fight weeks ago. "See, the machine needs a demon to activate fully. But it also needs the summoner's blood to bind properly. Your blood, Mireya. Without it, the device is just theoretical. With it..."
He pours my blood into the machine's core.
The containment field roars to life, reaching for Azraeth like a living thing.
"No!" I throw myself between them, my power flaring—
The field catches us both.
Pain. Horrible, burning pain as the machine tries to trap our bond itself. Through our connection, I feel Azraeth fighting the pull, his power straining against magical chains.
Kieran's face appears above us, ecstatic. "Perfect! I wasn't sure if it would bind a soul-marked pair, but look at this! I'm going to be famous!"
The machine pulls harder. I'm losing consciousness. Losing Azraeth through the bond as the device rips us apart.
Then everything goes dark.