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 ittakes 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. Lyriescreams 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 killyou,” 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.
