Desperately, she squeezed his hand, trying to bolster him with her own magick.
But she couldn’t maintain the connection.
This foul creature had seen into Oliver’s soul, found his shame, such deep shame at the acts he had perpetrated that it was like a scar on his soul. And now Igor was using that shame to try and shake her bond to him, make her doubt Oliver’s goodness.
To weaken their love, their magick.
She glanced at her beloved’s profile. His jaw clenched, his eyes almost unseeing.
“Oliver,” she called. “Come back to me.”
But if he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it.
Somehow, she had to help him back to the light, to the goodness inside of him.
To their love.
Because if he faltered now, they were doomed.
Dark memories formed a kaleidoscope of horror inside Oliver’s head. Things he had buried so deep in his psyche, even he hadn’t known what was there. The cries of his victims, the fear in their eyes as they realized that he was not human, but a monster, intent on their destruction. A monster with no empathy, no conscience, no soul.
He tried to shut those memories out.
“You—lie…” he forced out from parched lips.
The grimaald laughed, his two sets of fangs like a thousand sharp daggers. “You were so out of it on blood lust you can’t recall a thing. Let me remind you of how you dressed up in your smart clothes, whispered sweet seductive words, using your Hale charm—oh, those poor little humans. You took them down dark alley ways with the promise of love and marriage, and left them drained dry.” The beast spat at the ground in front of Oliver’s feet.
Oliver pressed a hand to his forehead, reeling, unable to refute any of it. Igor was circling him now, grunting, snorting. His breath was a foul stream, his body odor like death itself.
“And you know what cut the deepest? You never even asked my name. Even though you warmed your claws by the same fires in the Wasteland. You ignored us grimaalds, thought we were beneath you. Until you disappeared when some fancy mage saved your sorry ass. And then years later, you dared to come back in your silver suit and tie with your hoity toity superior ways, and pull out your police badge. You knew our habits, where we hid, where we fed, and you washed us out like rats in a drain. And even then, you didn’t recognize me, you nevereven asked my name. So now you will hear it. I am Igor, Igor Doskominov, The Terrible One. And you will never forget it.”
Oliver tried to hold up his arm, to ward off Igor’s words, to engage the ring on his finger, but nothing happened.
Igor clapped an arm around Matteus’s shoulders. “I’ll admit, I don’t like vampires, but this one here, he found me, and he talked to me like I was somebody. He got to know my name out there in the cold dank mountain caves where we’d been banished. And we made a deal, formed a partnership, me and my buddy here. Seems we had a common goal. To develop a superpower that would defeat the valley lands and, most importantly, you, Hale.”
Matteus muscled in. “Igor had been developing his demonic powers of mirage to shift dimensions. He taught me everything he knew. But we needed a special kind of human blood to maintain such high-frequency magick. And then I got a supply of this incredible blood through my contacts. I knew it was the real deal, what we’d all been waiting for all these centuries. After that, it was easy enough to bribe a few humans, promise them plenty of coin and eternal life, get them to do our bidding. And then you, Hale, you fucking had to come along and try to spoil it all. And steal our little necromancer… our jewel in the crown.”
Igor slapped Matteus on the back with a scaled claw. “The Kominskys had done a good job, getting the humans to stake your mom and dad and your sister… ah, poor little Effie, you didn’t even try to save her, did you? You left her to die and just flew away.”
Oliver flinched, the pain so unbearable it felt like it was eating him alive.
“Oliver, don’t listen to them.” Clare’s voice seemed to be so far away, so weak compared with the cloud of self-loathing inside him. It was eating into his veins, his tissues, his verybones, and he knew if he did not let go of her hand, he would infect his beloved too.
He was not worthy of her love, he could never undo his dark past, make up for his sins. Because she was good and he was evil, and he would not drag her into hell with him.
Better to forever endure darkness than to steal her light.
Oliver ripped his hand from hers and stumbled backward.
Igor’s horrible little eyes lit up as he saw the connection between them break. “Get her,” he roared.
In a flash, Matteus sprang forward. Grabbing Clare, he plastered her back against his chest, holding her like a human shield. “She’s ours now, Hale. How does it feel to end your life like this? Knowing that everything you’ve ever loved has been ripped away from you.”
Igor howled with laughter, slapping his sides. “Guess what, Hale? We’re going to stake you. And your beloved is going to watch you die.”
Desperately, Oliver tried to force some order back into his beleaguered brain. Summoning everything left in him, he tried to channel the words of the Hale mantra into the ring, but it remained a chunk of inert metal on his finger. Oh gods, how futile and hopeless the situation was. What use were his years of investigative skills, his logical analysis of crimes? None of it could defeat what they were up against now.
From a long way away, he heard Clare calling his name. “OLIVER!”
