“But it will come at a price. Power always comes at a price. Many of you will not survive. Those of you who do live will shed your humanity altogether. You will become something else.” He lifted his hands into the air, his wings spreading wide. “Are you ready?”

The Legion brats lifted up their hands. Others in the room followed, caught up in the magic of his speech.

I could feel Nero’s enchantment winding through the room. He was riling them up, making them want to follow where he led. This was how the angels commanded armies. Beside me, Ivy and Drake lifted up their hands too. Everyone’s hands were in the air.

Except mine.

Nero’s eyes locked onto me, watching me with an intensity I could hardly bear. It took every shred of willpower to fight the magic he was casting around me, to keep control of my mind. Sweat dribbled down my neck, but I held on. I gave the angel a small smirk—I just couldn’t help it, even knowing that it would cost me later, that he’d realize his siren’s song didn’t work on me—but I lifted my hand too, slowly and of my own free will.

Nero held my gaze for a few moments, then he addressed the crowd. “The time has come.”

He indicated the fountain beside him. It began gurgling and bubbling a crimson liquid. Some kind of juice? Except it had an unnatural gleam to it. Magic. The longer I looked at it, the more I realized it bore an unfortunate resemblance to blood.

I obviously wasn’t the only one thinking that. The other initiates held back, clearly wanting nothing to do with that creepy fountain.

Except for the Legion brats. They marched up to the fountain with complete confidence, their ringleader Dallas at the front. Nero dipped a golden goblet into the pool of crimson liquid, then handed it to him. Dallas drank it down in a single gulp, smiling widely. The first convulsion knocked the goblet from his hand. The second knocked him to the ground, where he lay, spasming and seizing as whatever he’d drunk slowly killed him.

7

First Sip

With a crisp flick of Nero’s wrist, one of the Legion soldiers standing around the room moved in and carried the convulsing initiate away. The other Legion brats clustered together, the arrogance wiped from their faces. They seemed to have realized that if their ringleader could fall, so could any of them. The realization hit them hard. At least half of them looked like they were going to puke.

Nero turned to the room of initiates and said coolly, “Next.”

“What is in that goblet?” someone asked.

“Next,” Nero repeated.

The initiates exchanged nervous glances.

“Will he live?” one of the Legion brats asked.

“For a time,” said Nero. “What’s in that fountain will either kill you or make you stronger. The end result is entirely up to you.”

No one was moving a muscle.

“I’ll go,” I declared, my voice echoing through the ballroom.

It sounded so sure, so confident. So completely unlike everything I was feeling right now.

“You’re really brave,” Ivy whispered to me.

“No,” I told her. “I just don’t believe in putting off the inevitable.” With every passing second, my stomach was twisting up into an even tighter knot. If I didn’t do this now, I’d never be able to do it.

Nero motioned me forward. As I walked toward the fountain, all eyes were glued on me. The distance felt immense, and I held the angel’s gaze the whole time. His expression was unreadable. Like granite. No, marble. Cold, smooth, and not an emotion etched into it.

Nero handed me the golden goblet. My hand shook as I dipped it into the strange fluid, so I steadied it with the other. And then, taking a deep breath, I drank.

It didn’t taste like blood. An explosion of flavors tickled my tongue. It was sweet, by far the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted, but there was something else. My other senses were being bombarded with a whirlwind of sounds and sights and smells. Overcome with dizziness, I stumbled to the side. Nero’s hands flashed out, catching me. But before I could meet his eyes, he nudged me aside.

“Come on, initiates,” he said, loud and clear. “Form a line.”

As they marched to the fountain, single file and solemn, I leaned against the wall. Everything was zipping past me at five hundred miles per hour. My body rocked and then stumbled again, and I threw up everything in my stomach all over the floor. Wiping my mouth, I straightened and looked across the ballroom. The other initiates were shaking. Some were dying on the floor, convulsing even more wildly than Dallas had. A man near the back of the line gaped at the men and women on the floor—then he turned and ran.

He didn’t make it far. As he fled, one of the Legion soldiers pulled out her gun and shot him in the back of the head.

A hand touched down on my shoulder, and I turned to find Nero there, holding the goblet out to me.

“Drink,” he said.

“I did.”

“You threw it up before it could enter your bloodstream.”

He sounded like he was chastising me. Like it was my fault that I’d thrown it up.

I looked down at the man with a bullet through his head. “Did you have to shoot him?”

“He signed up for this. He chose to be here. Once you join, there is no leaving. One or two always try to run once they see what’s happening.”

His cold tone chilled me to my bones, even though I should have known better. After all, I’d been the one to tell him he’d lost part of his humanity.

As Nero set the full goblet into my hands, magic buzzed across his skin onto mine. It was an oddly enjoyable feeling, so much so that I was almost tempted to brush my hand against his again to repeat the sensation. Whatever magic had passed between us, it hadn’t been one way. Surprise flashed across Nero’s face before he quickly cooled his expression.