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Whatever answer she saw in Serena’s face must have convinced her of the truth, and she slumped to the floor. Serena’s heart shattered at the glassy broken look on her face, but she could not figure out what words to use to fix this.

“Well?” asked Lore, an impatient tone entering his voice. “What is your answer? Will you stab your very real lover or watch your aunt die all over again?”

The dagger disappeared and rematerialized again in her hands .

“Tell me the answer now, before I let your beast of a lover tear apart your aunt’s throat and then yours.”

She racked her brains but came up with no answer. The dagger felt heavy in her hands as her breath came in short gasps.

“No, please! ”

“Tick tock, tick tock, little mouse.”

She looked at the woman who wore her aunt’s face—the woman who was created from Serena’s loving memories of Aunt Maeve.

She was looking back at Serena now, the broken look gone, replaced by one of worry and fear.

Her aged features once again sent a shock through Serena’s body.

This was what Aunt Maeve would have looked like if she had not fallen prey to her sickness and died so early.

Her grip on the dagger loosened, and it clattered to the floor.

“I-I can’t,” she whispered.

Lore let out a snort of disgust, and Grim unfroze, lunging toward them again.

Serena pushed aside her aunt, putting herself in his way instead.

He grabbed her by her upper arms and she heard her aunt cry out in terror.

His claws dug into her flesh, blood spurting out from where he had grabbed her.

She let out a whimper of pain, and the snarling stopped.

She looked up to see his eyes switching between red and onyx, as if some internal struggle was taking place.

“Serena,” came a strangled voice, Grim’s voice, “the dagger, sweetheart, you need to use it.”

She shook her head, and the connection broke.

Grim snarled again, throwing her onto the banister.

An involuntary scream of pain escaped her as she collided with the wood.

He turned away and stalked toward her aunt who was looking around, presumably for a weapon.

Her hands closed around the poker, which she raised over her head with sharp eyes watching his movements.

Serena crawled forward and got to her feet in a shaky movement.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” she said in a cracked voice. “Please.”

Her aunt paused, mid swing, and Serena used her last bit of energy to throw herself at Grim, stopping him from going at her aunt’s throat. He fell backward in surprise, and she tried to pin him down. The impact disoriented him, and his eyes switched back to their usual inky color.

“Serena please, listen to me,” he said urgently. “You have to use the dagger on me now before I end up killing you!”

“No,” she cried. “We’re supposed to get out of this together, you promised!”

“What did I tell you, Princess?” he said, his eyes softening.

“If I lived a hundred lives, I would find you in each one, just so I could dedicate it to you. We will see each other again. Now please, do this for me, there isn’t much time before I turn back.

You must put the dagger through my chest. Promise me. ”

Sobbing, she nodded, just as his eyes turned red again, and he threw her off. She fell into a heap near the fireplace, and she lay there, unable to move.

I’m sorry, Grim. I think I’m going to be breaking that promise.

A warm hand covered hers, and she looked into her aunt’s dark eyes filled with concern. Her gaze was intense as she cupped Serena’s cheek.

“I don’t know what’s going on but…that boy, you love him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she choked out. “More than my life.”

She helped Serena up and then picked up the dagger that had once again materialized next to Serena. Lore watched them with eyes that were filled with glee at their torment. Aunt Maeve turned to her then and gave her a smile that struck terror through her heart .

“I love you, Rosie,” she said and raised the dagger.

“Aunt Maeve?” she whispered, unable to move.

“No!” screamed Lore, and lunged forward, but it was too late. The silver blade buried itself in her aunt’s chest, and she gave a pained gasp, blood spurting from her chest and dribbling from her mouth.

“Aunt Maeve, no. No, please don’t leave me again.

AUNT MAEVE, PLEASE,” cried Serena, falling to her knees beside the fallen woman, her hands soaking up the blood that was pooling around them.

There was a ringing in her ears, and someone was screaming, screaming, screaming so loudly.

She felt a body crouch next to her and large callused hands wrapped around her wrists trying to tear her away.

Dimly she registered that the screaming was coming from her.

She felt herself being picked up and she thrashed wildly. Whoever it was, was carrying her to a glowing door on the other side of the room. She began to fight in earnest. No, she needed to stay with Aunt Maeve, she needed to get help.

Aunt Maeve? But Aunt Maeve was gone—she had been sick for a while, the physician said. Then who was that woman on the floor with blood all over her? She needed to help her, she looked just like her aunt, she needed to help her aunt—

“I’m so sorry, love,” whispered a voice in her ear, and then everything went black.