Page 32 of Love Immortal

Thirty-One

N ot having a costume or enough time to procure one on such short notice means I need to improvise. I put on my dark maroon hoodie—the closest thing I own to black—and borrow an old ski mask from Fiona. Yes, I’m going to the Halloween party as a burglar with every intention of stealing back Dacian’s journal.

Fiona picks me up wearing her witch costume, and we drive to the top of the mountain to the legacies’ mansion. When we arrive, the place is booming. I’m shocked by how gigantic the house is. Three stories tall, two wings, and a huge portico with marble columns, and it’s already swarming with students. There have to be at least thirty cars in the long driveway, and even more parked on the front lawn.

“How are you gonna find the book? This place is huge,” Fiona asks, trying to make herself heard over the blaring music.

The legacies must have spent a fortune prepping for this party. The entire house is decorated with red, blinking string lights, ghosts, dozens of hanging bats, spider webs draped over everything, and glowing jack-o’-lanterns in every corner.

“I…haven’t really thought about that yet,” I admit sheepishly.

“Well, you better start thinking now ’cause it looks like the hosts just showed up.” She gestures with her chin in the direction of the stairs.

I look over my shoulder as Callahan and Mads Jr. descend the grand staircase wearing—my jaw nearly drops—Dracula costumes. A Molotov cocktail of emotions fizzes up in me.

Now that I know Dacian personally, this attire looks tacky at best and highly offensive at worst. I want to rip their cheap polyester capes off of them and burn them in a dumpster. However, the crowd surrounding me doesn’t believe in high standards. Everyone explodes into cheers as the hosts make their entrance. I grit my teeth and try not to think about the significance of those vampire costumes. I need to get down to business.

“All right,” I say, determined. “If you notice anything, give me a sign, okay?”

Fiona tips her head in disbelief. “So you want me as a lookout while you trespass? Being an accessory to a crime is a crime too, you know.”

“Sorry.” I sigh awkwardly. “But I’m gonna be quick. Just find me if something seems off, okay?”

Fiona reluctantly agrees.

We go in opposite directions, Fiona toward the kitchen and me deeper into the crowd of students. I’m scanning people’s faces, trying to come up with a plan, when I notice Pixie Trish dressed up as—yes, of course—a fairy, complete with butterfly wings, a green wig, and a very short miniskirt. An idea sparks in me. It’s risky, but I’m banking on the fact that she has a total of two brain cells. “Hey,” I say, stepping in front of her.

Given my slapdash costume, it takes Pixie Trish a moment to recognize me. “What are you doing here?” she snaps, looking like she’s getting ready to call for Grady.

“Wait,” I say, lifting my hands in a pacifying gesture. “I was just wondering if you know where Eric is.”

She narrows her eyes in suspicion. “And why would I tell you that?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about what happened, and I want to apologize to him.” It’s an effort not to throw up in my mouth as I say this.

But she is still skeptical. “You should apologize to Grady first.”

“I will,” I say quickly. “I’ve just been worried about Eric. He’s been out of class for a few weeks. He must be really sick if he’s not even partying tonight. I might not have another chance to talk to him.” I do my best to look remorseful, wondering if this stupid charade is gonna blow up in my face, especially if Pixie Trish is in on the fact that Eric is dead and Mads Jr. and Grady are covering it up.

But surprisingly Pixie Trish relents. “I think he’s in his room. Last door on the second floor. He’s, like, super contagious, though. He’s been in there forever.”

A massive wave of relief crashes over me. “Thanks,” I say.

“You should definitely apologize to Grady too. He’s still pretty pissed at you,” Pixie Trish says just before I make myself scarce.

Once I’m sure neither Mads nor Callahan has spotted me, I dash upstairs.

There are plenty of people dancing on the landing and milling about in the hallway, including several couples making out. It’s easy to remain unnoticed on the way to Eric’s room. I double-check that no one is paying attention as I approach the door. Unease burrows under my skin as I step inside. This room belonged to a guy I watched die. I lock the door behind me and shake my head to dislodge the memory of Eric convulsing on the ground with Dacian’s bloodied face hovering over him.

Inside, the room is a mess: clothes are strewn on the floor, the bed is unmade, and a couple of dirty mugs and plastic cups sit on the desk and the bedside table. The air is stale with the faint stink of cigarettes and dirty laundry. No one has been here in a while. Despite everything, I feel suddenly sad for the boy who lived here. In the end, Eric didn’t have a single soul who cared enough to check on him. Even his “best friends” don’t seem to give a fuck where he is.

I free my face from my itchy ski mask and begin sifting through the clutter. Unbelievably, it takes only a minute before I find Dacian’s journal sitting in plain sight on Eric’s desk, buried in a messy pile of textbooks he probably never opened.

I pick it up. It has a weight to it, like I am holding a piece of Dacian’s heart. It’s bound in old, red leather. My fingers skim it gently. My chest aches with how much I want to know about Dacian, but another part of me—the more sensible one—whispers how wrong it would be to read someone’s private thoughts without permission. Wouldn’t it make me just like the person who stole Clay’s letter and ruined his life forever? Or like Eric Stockton and—I’m increasingly convinced—Mads Jr. and Callahan, who used it to murder at least two innocent people? I refuse to be like them.

Then again, this might be my only chance to learn more about Dacian. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do with his journal once I’m out of here. I don’t know how long I can hide it from him. What if he has already sensed what I’m up to? He might just take the book from me and leave. I may never see him again. That thought makes me want to tear my heart out and leave it bleeding on the floorboards.

Trembling, my hands flip open the journal before my conscience can interfere. My breath hitches, and despite everything, I smile at the sight of the familiar, elegant cursive. It’s really his. A hundred years have passed, but he still writes the same way.

I let my fingers brush the letters. It feels like reaching out to his soul across time. I check the door—it’s still locked. Downstairs, the party is raging so loudly that I can make out every word of “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).” I’ll just peek at the journal and then slip out with it before the legacies catch me. Dacian can deal with them later. The fact that the journal is here is enough to connect Grady and Mads Jr. with the murders.

I skim ravenously through the entries, letting myself indulge in a few random passages. I wish I could absorb every word, every bit of Dacian’s history. Almost everything the world knows about him is untrue; his very existence is considered fictional. It’s both painful and cathartic to hold his real story in my hands.

I pause when my eyes catch a small drawing of a pentagram in the corner of one page. As I try to work out where I’ve seen the symbol recently, I read the words above it. My heartbeat quickens. Dacian was thinking about sharing the power of the shadows with Jonathan, and there were two ways to accomplish that. One was turning Jonathan into his progeny by making him partake of his blood, which Dacian didn’t want to do as it would make Jonathan subservient to him. The only other way was the ritual, and he didn’t know if Jonathan would go through with something like that. It says, An offering of one is required for one to enter the realm of the shadows. To return with the power of many, an offering of many is required. Then, Dacian recounts the massacre that served as the final stage of his own ritual.

A massacre .

My body stiffens. If Dacian had to do that, then that means the legacies…

My brain scrambles to put the pieces together. If Mads and Grady are indeed Eric’s accomplices, they have already made their first offerings—they killed Jeremy and Anita. I would’ve been Eric’s kill had Dacian not stopped him. But now comes the final stage: the offering of many. How do they plan to kill a whole bunch of people?

A cold dread loops around my throat. I strain to hear what’s going on outside the door. The music is still thumping from the speakers below, but there’s a noticeable change. The other noise I hear, the noise of people talking and laughing, is faint. I shut the journal and hastily walk to the door. With my heart pounding, I slowly open it and peek into the dimly lit hallway. Shit! On instinct, I jerk back, panicking—someone is there, and I think they saw me. It takes a moment to realize who it is: curly hair, witch hat, curvy frame. I stick my head back out again. “Fiona?” I whisper.

Fiona rushes down the hallway and slides into the room.

“Oh my god, Jonathan, finally.” She sounds like she’s been looking for me for a while.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, shutting the door behind her.

Fiona looks shaken. “I honestly thought you were full of it before, but something very weird is happening downstairs. You know how you said to tell you if anything seemed off?”

“Yeah,” I say, my sense of unease starting to multiply like germs in a festering wound.

Fiona’s words come out in a rushed whisper. “It’s probably ’cause I’ve read too many criminal statistics—like, about alcohol-related violence and date rape and all that awful stuff—but at parties, I never drink anything that doesn’t come in a sealed container. But when I checked out the bar, I noticed there were no bottles, no cans. Everything was already mixed in coolers and punch bowls. And then I remembered Grady spiking that girl’s drink, so I passed on the punch. But now, something is happening down there. People are starting to randomly pass out, dropping like flies one by one.”

“Holy shit,” I say.

How do they plan to sacrifice many people at once? This is how. The legacies have drugged the whole party because they’re gonna use all those people for the final stage of the ritual. It’s going to be a massacre.

“We need to get out of here.” I push the words out through my tight throat.

“What’s going on, Jonathan? Do you know something I don’t?”

I look down, frantically trying to figure out how to explain any of this to Fiona. I can’t betray Dacian’s secret, but Callahan and Mads Jr. are about to commit mass murder, and even though their transformation is only halfway complete, we’re no match for them in a fight.

“Something horrific is about to happen here,” I say, hoping Fiona trusts me enough that she won’t pressure me for more answers. “I can’t explain, but please help me. We must find Dacian. He’s the only person who can stop it.”

Fiona draws back, alarmed. “Mr. Bathory? What does he have to do with any of this?”

“I really can’t say. But I need you to trust me,” I plead. “We have to go.”

Fiona takes in my grave expression. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she finally says.

I don’t. But Dacian will.

I dash to one of the arched windows and check below, but we’re out of luck. There’s no rose lattice or gutter downspout to climb down, no balcony or porch we could jump to. Which means we’ll need to go back to the first floor and use the front door to escape this mansion of horror.

I return to Fiona. “Let’s go downstairs and hope we can make it to the front door without being seen.”

She bites her bottom lip. “Wait—I saw a back door in the kitchen.”

“Even better.” I stuff Dacian’s journal into the front pocket of my hoodie. It sticks out awkwardly; I really should’ve brought a bag or something, but it’s better than nothing. I hope there are enough people still standing upright that we’ll be able to blend in among them.

I reach for the door.

“Wait,” Fiona says again before I can turn the handle. “I completely forgot about Becky.”

I freeze. “What? I thought she went to a different party.”

“She did, but she said it was boring because Mads Jr. did actually buy out all the alcohol in town, so she left and came here instead.”

Damn. “I’m sorry, but we can’t go looking for her now. The best way to help her is to find Dacian as soon as possible.”

Conflicting feelings twist Fiona’s features, but she follows me into the hallway.

My heart is thumping as we cautiously tread across the old, patterned runner. It’s impossible not to notice that the house has gotten quieter. No chatter, no dancing. Someone has even turned off the music. Fiona and I exchange glances at the eerie new silence that hangs in the air. This isn’t good. Without the cover of noise, it’ll be more difficult to make our escape.

The dark, windowless walls of the hallway seem to close in on us. I motion for Fiona to crouch down when we get to the landing. I take a deep breath and peek around the corner.

What I see downstairs turns my blood cold. The floor is covered with bodies. Every single guest is passed out. They drugged them all. But that isn’t even the most terrifying part. Mads Jr. and Callahan are standing in the middle of the foyer, each holding an unresisting body in their arms, gnawing at their exposed necks. I can almost hear the gurgling sounds as they tear through the skin and begin sucking the blood from their victims’ throats.

Fiona lets out a horrified gasp beside me. “What the hell?” she mouths. Her shock reminds me of my own reaction when I stumbled on Dacian and Eric.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth back, wishing I could explain. But all I can do is continue to watch as Callahan drops his victim unceremoniously to the floor. He licks the blood from his lips, but that does nothing to rid his face of the grotesque scarlet smears all over his jaw and cheeks. Blood is starting to pool around several bodies they’ve already tasted. For them, the real party is only just beginning.

Mads inhales deeply as though savoring the taste. “By the way,” he says, “that book said they have to be dead for it to work. We’ve gotta make sure.” With inhuman swiftness, he twists the neck of the guy he’s holding. It lets out a loud crack that ricochets around the foyer.

Fiona claps her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. I put my index finger to my lips, silently begging her to stay quiet.

“Right,” Callahan grits out, then bends down to pick up the body of the girl he just drained. He drops her against his knee. The ease with which he snaps her spine like it’s no more than a twig makes me want to vomit.

And I’m not the only one.

“Oh my god, can you guys just finish already? I’m gonna be sick!” a familiar voice complains from somewhere below. Both Fiona and I flinch as Alessandra steps into view. So she’s involved in this too.

“Grow a pair, Lucente,” Grady spits out before moving on to the next body.

Mads Jr. briefly lifts his teeth from the neck of a kid I recognize from my Latin class. Blood gushes down his chest in streams from his severed jugular. “Grady’s right. What are you gonna do when I turn you? You should get used to it now.”

“Maybe I’ll have the stomach for it then,” Alessandra scoffs. “It’s not like you two were salivating for blood before you turned.”

This catches my attention—so Alessandra is still human. Is there a reason for that? Or did she simply not want to get her hands dirty by participating in the ritual, so she’s waiting for Mads to change her, like that somehow absolves her of responsibility for this bloodbath?

Instead of responding to her, Grady snaps another neck and drops the body with a thump. He methodically moves from the foyer to the living room to continue the carnage. Dark pools of blood spread across the floor, creating a red sea of death.

Alessandra makes a gagging sound as the blood flows toward her. She steps back, but it gets on her high heels anyway, so she makes a dash across the foyer to the guest bathroom, awkwardly maneuvering between the dead bodies. Grady laughs as she slams the bathroom door shut and begins to vomit into the toilet.

I turn to Fiona. “We have to make our move now,” I whisper.

With Alessandra in the bathroom and Callahan and Mads busy in the living room, this is our only shot to sneak out of here unnoticed. My stomach twists at the idea of using murdered students as our distraction, but getting out of here alive is the only way to stop this madness.

It takes Fiona a moment to snap out of her shocked stupor and follow me.

I clutch Dacian’s journal in my pocket as we slowly descend the stairs and carefully step over so many familiar bodies. Even Pixie Trish wasn’t spared. Her green wig and butterfly wings stick out, permanently stained a deep red.

Fiona keeps her hand over her mouth as we tiptoe into the kitchen. This room is a big mess. A student crashed into a snack table as they fainted, spilling chips and spiked punch all over the tile floor. I wince and try to avoid stepping on anything crunchy. We’re so close to the door. Getting out is all I’m thinking about when suddenly I feel someone seize my ankle. Petrified, I freeze.

Sprawled on the floor beneath me is Becky, dressed in a pink Care Bear onesie. She’s gasping for air through the massive gash in her throat. I try to yank my foot free of her grasp, silently begging for her to stay quiet, but she’s holding on for dear life. In the span of a few horrifying seconds, several things transpire at once. Fiona reaches the door. Realizing that I’ve stopped following, she looks back at me with wide eyes just as Becky finally gets enough oxygen into her lungs.

“HELP!” she croaks loud enough that the sound reverberates through the otherwise silent house.

I lock eyes with Fiona, and before she has a chance to react to her friend dying on the floor, I say, “29 Hollow Lane. Go! ”

Fiona rushes out the back door. I jerk my leg out of Becky’s grasp, but just as I do, heavy footsteps come my way…and then Mads Jr. bursts into the kitchen, his cheap vampire cape fluttering behind him.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” he says as he skids to a stop on the bloody floor a few feet away from me.

Before I can run, Mads grabs me by the shoulders and hurls me through the kitchen and all the way to the living room. My body collides with an armchair, which is the only thing that stops me from crashing into the wall and possibly breaking my back. My vision doubles and I taste blood in my mouth. By the time my spinning surroundings resolve back into a single image, I find Mads gazing down at me with the excitement of a cat that has cornered a mouse.

“Hello, Evergreen. Are you trying to steal our book?” he demands, and I follow his eyes to Dacian’s journal, which is miraculously still sticking out of my pocket.

“You’re the one who stole it. I’m returning it to its rightful owner.”

Surprise flashes on Mads’ face as he realizes I know more than he thought I did. But his politician mask slips back on with practiced ease. He wags his finger at me. “Uh-uh. Let’s keep things clear for posterity. I didn’t steal the book—Eric did. I simply read what’s inside. And speaking of Eric, what happened to him?”

I huff out a bitter laugh. “You tell me! He’s supposed to be your fr?—”

“Don’t be fucking smart with him, Evergreen!” Grady roars before I can finish my sentence. He grabs me by the neck and lifts me up. My feet dangle helplessly above the floor. Staring at his face this close, I realize what a true monster he has become. Grady’s pupils are dilated, and his irises are blazing red like he’s possessed. His canine teeth are protruding from his mouth, their points sharp and dripping with fresh blood.

The pressure grows on my windpipe as he tightens his grip. He might just kill me. Panicking, I claw at his wrists, but he holds me in a death grip.

“Wait, Grady, don’t kill him yet,” Mads Jr. says.

Grady roars again but releases me. I cough violently as I collapse back to the floor. Black spots recede from my vision, and I catch my breath, momentarily relieved that my neck hasn’t been crushed. But any notion that I might get away without further damage evaporates when, a second later, Mads adds, “So, Evergreen, are you gonna tell us what happened to Eric, or should we pull you apart piece by piece until you beg for us to let you die?”

Fear lurches through me. They have lost their minds. The ease with which they murdered their fellow students leaves me with no hope. The only thing I can do now is stall for time. If Fiona gets to Dacian quickly, I might still have a chance.

“Why are you doing this?” I rasp. “You already have everything you could possibly want. Why murder all these people?”

Callahan’s face twitches, and for a second, I wonder if he’s gonna ignore Mads and snap my neck.

Mads Jr. lets out a sigh. “Oh, Evergreen, Evergreen. What’s money, what’s influence, when you can have fucking immortality ?” He practically shouts that last word, his eyes blazing with the same red glare as Callahan’s. “No more of my shitty dad using me as a campaign prop when his ratings sink. No more stupid, ‘What are you gonna do with your life, Archie? Behave like a future congressman, Archie! Smile like a senator, Archie!’ Fuck all that! Fuck rules, fuck society. This is real power. And with it, we can rule the world!”

Maybe it’s the vampire transformation taking effect, but somehow, Mads’ features become sharper as he speaks. His face elongates, and his grin stretches from ear to ear as though someone has widened his mouth to look like the Joker’s. It’s utterly horrifying and demented. Dacian never looked like this, even when he drank from Eric. He never sounded like this, either. But Dacian has more dignity in his pinkie finger than these two half-baked monsters combined.

I shake my head. “You really believe this crap, don’t you? Being a vampire doesn’t make you invincible. I bet you don’t even know about the domain restriction. You’re so used to your daddy bailing you out that you can’t predict the most basic consequences of your actions. You’ve murdered five dozen students. The cops are going to be hunting you down for eternity. What good is immortality if you have to spend it in hiding?”

The sick smile slips from Mads’ face, and Grady growls dangerously, but I’m not done. “And you’re completely delusional if you think it’s only the police you need to worry about. Because when he finds you—and I promise he won’t stop searching until he does—you’ll regret the day you laid your hands on what’s his!”

For a moment, neither Callahan nor Mads responds. The living room is so deadly quiet as my threat sinks in that all I can hear is the thudding of my own heart. Maybe I said too much. But if I’m about to die, I want to tell these hell spawns what I think of them before I go.

“Well,” Mads says, his voice so cold you can practically ice skate on it, “consider my earlier offer revoked. I’m gonna kill you very slowly, Evergreen, whether you tell me who took down Eric or not.”

Callahan cracks his knuckles. “I’m gonna enjoy breaking everything inside you.”

On instinct, I crawl backward as the two step toward me, but my back hits the armchair. I’m trapped. Grady grins his revolting vampiric grin, all teeth. I close my eyes, not wanting his face to be the last thing I see. I picture Dacian instead, his beautiful, noble features. I hope he won’t be too angry about this stupid excursion of mine. I hope he will forgive me. Unexpectedly, I also wonder if I’ll see Clay on the other side. Maybe I’ll finally get to tell him I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save him.

I brace for impact. But the surge of violence never comes. Instead?—

“Who the hell is that?” Callahan hisses, annoyed and alert at the same time.

I open my eyes and zero in on the big arched window to my left and the shadow of a person hovering outside. My heart vaults into my throat. It’s Dacian! Despite the sea of dead bodies around me, I feel lightheadedly happy to see him. But how did he get here so quickly? Did Fiona manage to get hold of him? It seems impossibly fast.

Haloed by the dim glow of the porch lights, Dacian looks like a human-shaped void. I think he’s very angry.

Mads sneers knowingly, as though he’s been expecting this all along. “Finally decided to show yourself, huh?”

“Here as summoned,” Dacian replies. “Now, how about you step outside, Mr. Madison. Let’s have a chat between equals. Mr. Evergreen has nothing to do with this. Leave him out of it.”

But Mads only continues to grin. “I think Evergreen here has everything to do with this. I think you came here for him .”

Dacian doesn’t dignify that with an answer, but warmth fills my chest all the same. He’s come to save me. He’ll mop the floors with these monsters. At last, I feel a tiny flutter of hope that I might escape this horror show alive. But as I stare at Dacian’s face, I realize that he doesn’t look victorious yet. Instead, I see a swirl of worry in his eyes. Why is he worried? Oh, right—I need to invite him in.

“Dacian, please come inside!” I shout, expecting him to charge, to shatter the window and pulverize anything that stands between him and me.

Except that doesn’t happen. What I hear instead is an explosion of laughter.

Awful dread makes my chest clench.

“You don’t know anything, do you, Evergreen?” Mads cackles, nearly doubling over. Grady starts laughing too, a harrowing sound that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. “Not only do you have to be human—you have to live in the house in order to invite a vampire inside!”

I whip my head around to look at Dacian, but the question dies on my lips. With horror, I realize that Mads isn’t lying. Being what I am, there are places I cannot enter without invitation , Dacian said. And I stupidly assumed that any invitation would suffice. From anybody.

“Now, let’s discuss business, shall we?” Mads says to Dacian once he’s gotten over his cackling fit. “What should I do to Evergreen as justice for you killing Eric? I’m assuming it was you who did it. There’s no way that pussy could’ve taken him down. Should I skin him alive? Make you watch while I break every bone in his body? Or maybe…”

Nausea rises in my throat as Mads babbles on about various methods of torture he’d be thrilled to inflict upon me. Dacian keeps his face cold and focused, but I can tell panic is starting to seep through the cracks. A realization dawns on me. He didn’t come here to save me after all; he must’ve known there was almost no chance he could do that while I was trapped inside. Still, he revealed himself to Mads and Callahan, hoping they might let me go. And now I’m going to die, and he’ll be forced to watch.

“I’m sorry!” I blurt out, ignoring Mads’ insane rambling, ignoring everything, focusing only on Dacian. “Coming here was a really stupid thing to do. I didn’t think it through.”

“It’s all right.” I see Dacian’s lips move, but his voice is too quiet to reach me. His fingers touch the glass gently. There’s nothing more I want in this world than to be able to touch them back. Instead, I clasp his journal. How could I have been such an idiot?

“Hmm, I really can’t decide,” Mads announces loudly. “I guess we’ll just have to improvise.”

Without warning, he pounces on me, yanking me up by the neck. I gasp.

“Jonathan!” Dacian shouts, losing his composure for the first time. He slams his fist against the window, but the glass might as well be made of diamond. It doesn’t even rattle.

Mads bears his fangs, making sure we’re in full view of Dacian. Callahan snarls hungrily behind me. My heart tumbles. This is it. I’m going to die a stupid, miserable death.

But before Mads can tear into me?—

“Stop, Madison, or I’m gonna slit your girlfriend’s throat!” Fiona yells.

Mads and Grady whip around in surprise.

I gape too. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Fiona is walking slowly across the foyer, pushing Alessandra in front of her while holding a kitchen knife to her neck.

A part of me is instantly terrified that Fiona didn’t flee, that she’s stuck in this murder house, risking her life for me. I’m the one who convinced her to come here in the first place. But another part is grateful that she didn’t abandon me, that she came back like a true friend.

Despite the abject horror of the situation, Mads bursts out laughing like a maniac again. I don’t know if he’s drunk on blood or has simply lost his mind. “Onayemi! To think that a fucking equal rights nut would hold a blade in one hand and a hostage in the other—you’re really something!”

To Fiona’s enormous credit, she manages to keep her composure. “Only a privileged jerk like you would think any rights have ever been won by asking nicely,” she says in a flat tone. “Let Jonathan go, and your girlfriend doesn’t get hurt.”

Alessandra whines, “She’s gonna leave a scar on my throat! Please kill this bitch.”

Mads takes a moment to assess the situation before replying. “Nice try, Onayemi. But who says I care more about her living than I do about Evergreen dying? He did get Eric killed. What do we say…bros before hoes?”

Alessandra’s face reddens. “Maddie, that’s not funny.”

Mads raises a brow. “Who says I’m joking?” To Fiona, he smugly adds, “Do whatever you want with her. I don’t care.”

Fiona clenches her jaw. But her reply is not directed at Mads; unbelievably, it seems she expected this and is prepared for contingencies. “Told you this was gonna happen, but ‘No, my Maddie ain’t like that,’” she says to Alessandra, mocking her voice. “Now I’ve proven it to you—he’s exactly like that. So here’s the new deal. If you want to preserve your throat, invite Mr. Bathory in.”

I don’t know how Fiona figured it out, but she’s driving a hell of a bargain. Being the only human who lives in this house, Alessandra is the only one who can invite Dacian inside. I wonder if the reason she moved in to begin with is that Mads smelled danger after Eric’s death and wanted to make sure they were protected against other vampires. Ironically, now her presence has become a threat to them.

Mads takes several steps toward Fiona. “Why don’t I just end this game and kill you both?”

“Maddie, please!” Alessandra shouts in disbelief, as the severity of her predicament finally sinks in. “I did everything you wanted. I lied for you. I even brought girls for you to drink from.” But Mads Jr. is not swayed. To him, she means no more than the dozens of dead students sprawled on the floor.

Outside the window, Dacian rises into the air. “Invite me in, Ms. Lucente, and I can protect you from him.”

Alessandra’s shocked gaze darts from Mads to Dacian, taking in the faint shadows swirling around him. “You can?” she chokes out.

“I can.” He gives her a shallow bow. “I am a creature of my word.”

“That’s a smart girl,” Fiona encourages.

“Mads,” Callahan warns menacingly, apparently fed up with the melodrama.

Mads shakes his head at Alessandra. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”

“Maddie?” Alessandra whimpers as he steps forward, exposing his fangs with a sinister smile.

But Mads Jr. only scrunches his face in distaste. “You’ve outlived your usefulness, darling.” The sudden viciousness that punctuates those words scares Alessandra stiff.

As though in sync, he and Grady lunge toward her and Fiona.

What unfolds next happens so fast that I can barely follow the action.

“Come in!” Alessandra shrieks in terror.

The window explodes in a blizzard of glass shards as Dacian smashes through it. Alessandra’s scream dies abruptly, and she drops to the floor in two parts, the upper half of her body severed like a torn rag doll—either Mads or Callahan got to her before Dacian could stop him. A pool of blood rapidly accumulates around the loose pile of her intestines. The void left by her dying scream is filled by two earth-shattering booms. The furniture splinters into wood chips as three black shadows dart around the room, colliding violently with each other like raging tornadoes. The sounds are so deafening that I cover my ears before they bleed.

Then, suddenly, everything stops.

As the dust settles, I numbly stare at the gruesome aftermath.

Fiona’s eyes are wide, and she’s crouching in the far corner of the room, paralyzed with fear. Dacian must have pushed her out of the way, choosing her safety over Alessandra’s. I guess I can protect you doesn’t mean I will protect you . One must be careful about word choices when striking a bargain with a vampire.

But neither Callahan nor Mads has escaped Dacian’s wrath. Their mangled remains are scattered on the floor in pieces that don’t even resemble human body parts—more like mashed pieces of meat. I nearly vomit at the sight of their exposed insides.

Dacian fiercely scoops me up with one arm, nothing like his gentle embrace when he held me in the woods. He grabs Fiona with his other arm and swiftly carries us both outside through the shattered window, setting us down in the gravel driveway.