Page 44

I lunge, not for the exit or for Lyrie’s throat, but for Grace’s cell.

None of them are expecting it. By the time they realize I’ve moved, I already have the man nearest Grace in my grasp.

He’s shorter than I am by several inches, and I hold his back to my chest. With my hand wrapped around his neck, finger pressed to his jugular, I glare at Lyrie.

She glares right back, raising her hands as her guard does the same.

“Let me say goodbye to her,” I say. It’s a demand, my voice ragged and reckless. “We all know I can’t steal her. So just let me say fucking goodbye.”

Strained silence falls over the room. It’s gone quiet outside too. The slaughter has paused, but I extend my fangs, making it clear I’m happy to continue.

“To be clear,” I say. “If you refuse me, I will kill you all, consequences be damned. As you said, Madam, I’m known to be impulsive.”

Her throat bobs as she swallows. The man behind her looks ready to bolt for the door, whether she gives her blessing or not. The one in my grasp strains against me, trying to escape my hold over his hands. It’s useless, and he must know it. Still, he tries.

To my right, a flicker of movement catches the corner of my eye. It takes every ounce of self-control not to look.

“Fine,” she says after a long silence. “Two minutes. And before you ask if we’ll give you privacy?— ”

“You can stay,” I say. I make myself as small, as humbled as possible. Advice from Cora. Dipping my head, I add, “Thank you, Madam. It will not be forgotten.”

She stares at me, and I keep my hold on the man’s throat.

“Theo!” I call. Looking to Lyrie and the other guard, I say, “Just to ensure you don’t kill me once I’ve turned my back.”

The prison door opens. Theo enters, his hands held in a gesture of goodwill, of pure intentions.

I shove the man away from me, and he staggers to Lyrie’s side, between her and the wall. Coward.

Only once Theo nods do I turn.

And there.

Grace.

Beautiful, radiant, fucking flawless. She’s been here two days, and they’ve been the worst of my life. Two days, and she already looks different. Thinner. Paler. So fucking sad it makes me want to burn this entire realm to the ground.

Maybe someday.

Right now…

“Are you okay?” I ask. “Did they hurt you? Have you eaten? You look?—”

“They know about my brother,” she says. Her words come in a babbled rush as she stumbles to the cell door. Her trembling fingers twist around the rungs, and she presses as close to me as she can. Her smell—decadent and alluring—wraps itself around me.

Good. Let it fucking stain my clothes, my skin, my hair.

Her words finally catch up to me. Her brother?

“You can’t let them find him,” she says. She widens her eyes and gives me a knowing look. “They’re going to kill him, just like they’re going to kill me.”

Smart, cunning little witch .

This is how she escaped, how she convinced them not to murder her.

I cup the side of her face, running my thumb along her cheekbone. She closes her eyes, and a tear races down her cheek. A heavy sob rattles her chest, and she falls against the bars, crying until her entire body shakes.

“You’ll be okay,” I tell her.

“If only you were fae,” she whispers. “I might believe you.”

She tries to smile through her tears. She’s spoken those words before, an echo of my own monstrosity.

I catch her tears with my thumb.

“I may not be fae, Grace, but you can trust me.”

With one hand still on her face, I tangle the other through her hair, pulling her close. Our lips meet between the bars, and I kiss her the way I’ve dreamt of for days. I allow myself one moment longer, and then, I do what I came here to do.

Her eyes widen in shock, but I kiss her through it, holding her still.

As soon as I’m done, I pull back, using my hands to keep her jaw shut.

“Be a good girl,” I tell her firmly.

I stare at her, praying to every god the Echo has that she understands. That for just this once, she listens without hesitation.

I watch as her throat bobs, as she swallows.

“Good girl,” I whisper.

I release her and step back.

“Two minutes are up!” Lyrie calls. “Now keep your word for once and go .”

“I will,” I say. I grab the cell door by its frame, pulling as hard as I can. It snaps off like it’s made of parchment. Magic swirls around me, violent and hungry, biting against my skin. “But I’m taking her with me.”

“You’ll kill her!” Lyrie screams.

“That’s the plan.”

Grace’s eyes widen as I lunge into the cell, grabbing her by the shoulders. She lets out a tiny yelp as I force her through. And then, she collapses. A puppet with cut strings, she falls limp in my arms.

Those pretty blue eyes stare up at nothing. Lifeless. Gone.

Just like that.

“Let’s go!” Theo shouts. He lunges for the nearest guard and rips his esophagus from his throat.

I force myself not to look at Grace. I cradle her to my chest and brace myself for the inevitable.

The curse has again been altered, and the vampires must pay.

I tense, only making it a few steps before the pain hits.

Stronger than ever. A heat equal only to the sun’s surface flares beneath my skin.

I push myself forward, determined not to fall into agony.

My legs shake, my arms struggle to keep hold on Grace.

Two enemies and Theo stand at the exit, and I force myself to reach them, one step at a time.

This is the first time the curse has truly and wholly closed. Grace’s life weakened it, even if no one—not even the magic itself—knew she existed.

Scalding heat rages through my body, dousing my organs with boiling, wretched pain. My knees buckle, my arms shake, but I refuse to fall. This pain is temporary, but my chance of getting Grace home depends entirely on this moment. If I crumble now, we’ll never make it.

“Fuck,” Theo cries.

He has the remaining guard’s neck in his hands, and it takes all his effort to break it. The witch manages one final spell as he falls. It strikes Theo’s side, tearing a massive hole through his stomach. Blood darkness his shirt and drains toward the floor.

Theo screams as he slouches against the wall. One hand clasps his wound, but the other grabs his chest.

“Go!” I scream.

It’s too late. Lyrie’s shock has finally worn off, and she finishes what her guard started. She throws both palms in his direction, and like a blade through water, her magic slices through Theo’s chest.

His heart flings to the ground, and seconds later, his body follows.

Lyrie’s attention shifts to me.

My chest rages with heat, but already, I can feel the curse shifting, the pain softening each breath. I drop Grace to the floor, stepping over her body. Lyrie watches as I approach, hands lifted but expression hesitant, confused.

“Careful, Sebastian,” she says, lips curving in a taunting smile. “You never know what killing me might do.”

“Only one way to find out,” I snarl.

Her magic strikes my chest, exactly where it’s charring on the inside. I push forward, knees shaking, head spinning. But as much as I would love to end Madam Lyrie, she’s right. Killing her might very well be the last thing I do.

I shove forward, knocking her against the stone wall, hard enough to break her spell. The force of her magic leaves my chest gaping and bleeding, only slightly smaller than the wound she left in Theo. I can’t afford another hit.

Lyrie lifts her palms again, the sadistic grin already curling her lips. I lunge. Fangs drawn, I bite as hard as I can over one wrist. Then the other. When I pull back, her hands are bloodied, flesh torn and veins exposed. Lyrie screams as blood pours over her palms and to the stone floor.

It won’t kill her, but it should make casting impossible.

As she screams, I dart back to Grace, pulling her into my arms. Her body already feels cold and stiff, like she’s been dead for hours, not minutes. I tuck her against my chest, and the burning finally ceases.

It ends. Finally, and for the last time, it ends.

“You better hope we find her brother before you do,” Lyrie says. The bloodied leader glares at me from where she’s collapsed to the ground. She’s bleeding heavily, her arms hanging limply at her sides.

Though she’s not casting, I can still sense her magic. It hovers around me, as if it might surprise me yet. I don’t give it the chance.

“Until next time, Madam Lyrie,” I say. I don’t say a word about Grace’s supposed brother. Let her chase Grace’s imagination for the rest of her miserable life.

Then, I’m gone. Past Madam Lyrie and her dead henchman. Past Theo’s mutilated body and the graveyard outside the prison. I scan the dead, looking for familiar faces. Witches and vampires alike surround me, too many to count, but Beatrice, Milas, and Cora aren’t among the lost.

Only once I reach the forest, do I find my retreated people. They’re alive and covered in rancid witch blood. Beatrice scans the space behind me, but Cora’s eyes are locked only on me and the woman in my arms.

“She’s dead,” Cora says.

“Yes.”

“You’re lucky it didn’t kill you ,” she points out. Then, “Let’s hope it works.”

“It worked,” I say, because I refuse to consider the opposite .

“Where’s Theo?” Beatrice asks, pulling my attention back to her. By the tone of her voice, she already knows. When I shake my head, she dips her chin, eyes closed.

“You’ve got Cora?” I ask.

“Yes, Master,” she says softly.

I nod, adjusting Grace higher in my arms.

“If we make it back to the manor,” I say, managing a smile. “You’ll never have to call me that again.”

“Thank the heavens,” Beatrice drawls. It’s forced and sad, but it’s a seed of hope all the same. “I’ve always hated it.”

“Let’s go,” I say, rather than reply. “Don’t stop until we reach it.”

Both Beatrice and Cora nod, and then, we run.