Page 47 of The Curse of Eternity (Descendants of Helsing #1)
Die with Me
I staggered to stay upright, flinging my left arm out for balance. The guard didn’t move, trapped in place by the shifting shadow fortress, same as us. By the time I faced Drake, who gripped the nearby shelf as his gaze darted around the room with clear disbelief, the shaking ceased.
Silence followed in the wake of the disruption, and my head snapped forward at the smallest squeak.
The guard backed away, one step at a time, before turning tail and disappearing around the next corner.
Maybe I should have followed them, but with Drake injured, defensive action seemed like the better call.
I huffed, slowly lowering my weapon. Wincing at my aching muscles, I turned to Drake and asked, “Can you walk?”
Displeasure soured his features while he tried to keep himself upright without using the shelving for balance.
“You were meant to flee,” he rasped, and I took the initiative to shoulder some of his weight to get us moving. “They will surely wake now, our element of surprise is lost. You have to leave, Maria—”
“I don’t care what I agreed to! I am not leaving you,” I spat, glaring up into his gaze. Teeth gritted, I hunched under his weight. He’d heal on our way to the chambers. “Now, which way?”
“We must turn back.” His begrudging cadence convinced me they were real directions and not an argument. “A door at the end of the library contains a passage straight to the floor where the master bedroom is kept.”
“Alright.” I half-carried Drake as he limped along through the handicap of his blood loss, but the magick in his veins slowly repaired his body during our slow progress around the fallen tomes.
My grip on my machete was firm, but the shaking in my wrist was proof enough that the effects of his blood were wearing off.
Stupid supernatural metabolism wasn’t great for survival.
Under my fatigue, adrenaline pounded a dull beat inside of my skull. Three thoughts kept me moving through the maze-like library, taking Drake’s silent indications to turn when necessary.
Firstly, if we left empty-handed then both of our lives were over—Drake would be hunted down eventually, and I’d probably do something idiotic or romantic trying to save him. Sweat ran down my temple, my breathing low but harsh.
Second—I couldn’t die here. I had to get home.
Nobody would know the truth otherwise. Why had I even written that dumb letter?
Would that become my legacy, sacrificing myself for my mortal enemy to give my family peace of mind?
What a joke . No matter how I felt only a couple weeks ago, no death was a good one.
There was no glory in giving up.
Which was the third reason. Because this legacy had lied to me, painting a rose-tinted picture. Promised me a purpose, but only shoved me onto the battlefield. One I would have given anything to stay ignorant of, like everyone else who didn’t know to fear the pierce of deadly fangs.
I’d assumed that my family and I were the only ones who stood between these monsters and humanity, but Drake had wiped that slate clean for me.
Now I knew the truth, and we didn’t stand a fucking chance.
Not unless I could get out of here to warn my people of the danger, and prepare ourselves for what might come after.
Maybe then I could be truly free. If, by some means, I could win more than this one day, and eventually find a way to take them all out for good.
Except I couldn’t do it on my own. Glancing at Drake, whose steps had steadied enough to keep his weight from straining my aching muscles, I recognized what had dug our bond so deep.
On our own, we were lost, but together? We had a chance at surviving the hands life had dealt us.
Beyond determination, there was resolve behind his raven-dark eyes. Never again would I question my worth in my family. I might be descended from Helsing, but I wasn’t alone in this legacy, and the strength that fact gave me had never been more clear.
Drops of blood and sweat trailed behind us between the rows of books that hadn’t seen daylight for centuries.
Just when I felt like screaming ‘ how much longer, ’ the next turn brought us to an arched door.
A cold sensation swept through my bones when Drake stood under his own power as I reached for the iron knob.
Before my fingers could grasp the metal, a click echoed.
I raised my weapon, immediately shifting into a defensive stance, but my panic ebbed into confusion when the door opened outward to reveal nothing within.
Beside me, Drake’s posture stiffened, and his brow furrowed as we glanced at each other.
Looking as dumbfounded as I felt, Drake shook his head.
A spark of intuition itched at the back of my mind.
It couldn’t be a coincidence, and after what happened when I fought the guard…
This wasn’t the time to wonder idly, so I rolled my shoulders and took the first tentative steps into the shadows.
Drake staggered after me, his strides growing more sure by the minute as he started up a series of steps swathed in darkness.
I reached out for a railing, but Drake’s cold hand grasped mine, his fingers sticky with the blood of others against my sweaty palm.
As I shifted to pull the door shut behind us, I startled when it swung closed without making a sound.
Shrouded in oblivion on all sides, I ascended the steps and inhaled a deep breath. Nowhere to go but up.
Drake’s gentle pull on my arm indicated our direction, but this staircase didn’t spiral like the one we’d descended to the mirror room. Instead, it rose diagonally through the castle, cutting straight through the fortress.
Logically, if I had nothing better to do but exist forever, I’d also want direct access from the floor I lived on to the extensive library.
A little light reading would be a great way to pass the time in between planning world-domination.
Man, it was hard to believe I was related, however distantly, to the original inhabitants of this place.
My legs soon felt like jello, while Drake’s restitution was only improving.
Without warning, I ran right into his back when we reached the final landing.
He spun, catching my arms to keep me steady, and his firm touch pulled something from deep within.
The fact that he could make me feel anything close to enamored, considering our circumstances, made me smirk.
Through the pitch-black, I guessed he could see it because he huffed a note of disbelieving mirth.
“Thanks,” I whispered, joining him on the landing but finding that the small square before another wooden door kept us smooshed together.
“Always,” he replied. I closed my eyes at the brush of his fingers against my cheekbone when he tucked a stray curl behind my ear, and I focused on the sensation replaying across my skin.
“The fortress will be on alert, I cannot guarantee what will come next. We are not far from the chambers now. Are you prepared?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. The time for talking was over.
So I lifted up on my toes, placing my weaponless hand on the side of his neck to give me a clue about where his mouth was before I pressed my lips to his.
Sweetness lingered beneath the scent and taste of salted iron, and that sour flavor I recognized as his own blood.
Our kiss was brief, but the gentle way he held me in return—keeping me close but with room to breathe—made my heart ache.
Hell, I really hoped we made it out of this.
There was still so much I wanted to know, and things I needed him to understand about me.
When his mouth released mine, our foreheads met, but only my breath fogged the air between us.
This was it, the final stretch. Taking a deep breath, I turned for the door.
I didn’t bother to reach for the handle.
My will seemed to be enough, confirming my suspicions and fears.
Soundlessly, the door swung open. Compared to the darkness within the stairwell, the lightless hallway beyond was bright.
Pops of color struck my vision from the deep violet of the rug stretching up and down the corridor.
It was a refreshing change from the bloody red, and rather than gruesome paintings, family tapestries depicting status and regal lineage lined the stone walls between more unused oil lamps.
Drake entered first, flexing his left hand as the nerves reconnected, but I was fast on his heels.
While the door closed of its own accord behind us, I glanced up and down the hall.
The start and end was significantly smaller in length and width compared to the floor below.
Drake frowned, then cocked his head to give direction. We walked side by side, my machete low but at the ready. Heart-pounding excitement encouraged my quick steps. Our goals felt tangible, like static in the air, charged by my own hope.
We were almost at the end of the hall when a shiver quaked down my spine.
Raising my blade, I spun on the spot. Drake’s silhouette blurred on my left, both of us now facing down the opposite end of the corridor.
Someone was coming. The odor of death intensified, punctuated by the smell of blood and sweat.
The taste of Drake’s blood I stole from his lips elevated my senses, and my eyes widened when the double doors down the hall were pushed open.
“ You ?” Rage burned my synapses when I stared into the icy blue eyes of the North American Cneaz. Four guards flanked him on either side, close enough to act as bodily shields if Drake or I moved in. Too chickenshit to face us on his own, huh?
Except Lucian’s advance came to a halt with plenty of space between us. A feral sort of smile glinted beneath his ruthless gaze.