Chapter 34 #2
“Jacob let Lily’s family believe her heart was destroyed in the fire before offering it to the Blood Angel to drink from,” Ezra says.
“It worked, but the awakening triggered a tether, tying the angel to every woman in Lily’s bloodline for over a hundred years.
The book refers to seven as the holy number.
So there had to be seven generations of offerings.
Our congregation didn’t have to lift a finger; the blood wasn’t exactly on our hands.
The angel collected the hearts himself in a temporary, fleeting form.
He’d access each woman’s free will—infiltrate their minds through the tether.
The compulsion to self-sacrifice would eventually become too great to resist. At a certain point, they’d want to offer their hearts for his consumption.
His devourment. And on the seventh offering, the angel would finally be able to achieve permanent physical form.
No longer needing a host to survive in our world.
And our congregation would be rewarded further—”
“Because the group’s leader would achieve immortality,” Mallory finishes. “You. And then what? The rest of the cult will be blessed and flourish in proximity to a god? You’ll grant them miracles?”
Ezra raises his eyebrows. “You’re smart.” He crosses his arms. “So was your mother. She found a spell to transfer the self-offering compulsion to someone else so it wouldn’t happen to you.”
“Saskia.” She shakes her head. “Why Saskia? She has nothing to do with any of this.”
Ezra holds her stare. “I can’t answer that.
But we learned that the transfer spell had been done because it weakened the angel.
Drinking from Saskia’s heart would be useless to him, even if she offered it herself.
I’ve tried to appease him—giving him my own blood.
Animal blood. Birds, rabbits. It’s not enough.
It’s never enough. He’s been craving what’s been promised to him.
You. It’s your heart—and only yours—that can give the angel true freedom.
” Ezra’s face is etched in pain as he adds, “My father ordered me to set things right.”
Mallory opens her mouth to press him further, but a terrible, chilling thought occurs first.
“The letter I got, inviting me to apply to Shore, offering me a scholarship,” she says. “The letter Saskia got. Did you send them? Did you pay our tuition? To ensure we’d both be here, so you could put this plan into motion?”
When Ezra’s response is only silence, a flame lights up inside her.
“This entire time, I’ve been a mark,” Mallory seethes.
“You tricked me into handing over my trauma. My grief. You made me laugh. You made me feel seen. You made love to me. And the whole time, you knew you were going to kill me? From the second we met?” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Even before that?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Ezra steps toward her. “I wasn’t supposed to fall for you, but I did. I did. I knew right away that I wasn’t going to be able to go through with it.”
“I don’t believe you,” she spits. “That Latin phrase you had me say all those nights? Redeo vita mea tibi. What does it really mean?”
He flattens his mouth in a line, nostrils flaring.
Knowing he just got caught in another lie.
Mallory narrows her eyes. “What does it mean, Ezra?”
“It means: ‘I return my life to you.’ ”
Silence widens between them. A quiet, fresh fury takes hold.
“You never intended to help me find Lily—it was all a ruse. This whole time, you were just trying to re-tether me to your demon. To bind me to something that would kill me.” She shakes her head.
“But your little games of death allowed Lily to make contact more clearly. She’s been trying to warn me for years. About you.”
“I told you to stop saying the Latin,” Ezra replies. “Why do you think I told you to stop?”
“You let me say it dozens of times!” she snaps. “What, do you want a medal for deciding it’s probably a bad idea to kill the girl you want to fuck?”
“It was never just about that.” Ezra’s eyes flash.
“The night we met, I got this feeling, like I couldn’t breathe.
Like we were the same somehow. And when you told me about your past—god, I thought we were meant for each other.
Soulmates. Destiny. Romeo and Juliet, life imitating fucking art.
I knew you would be the one to understand me. ”
Soulmates. But his words don’t spark anything delicate. He can’t reach that part of her anymore.
“I would have understood!” Mallory marches toward him, arching on her tiptoes. Wanting him to taste every breath of her smoldering rage. “If you’d told me anything real! Are you aware that I’ve been sick since you bit me? I’ve been craving blood.”
“That wasn’t me and you know it,” he insists. “Like I said, the transfer weakened the angel. It made him hungrier, and you’re the only thing that can sate him. He used my body as a vessel to hold him over until he gets what he truly needs—don’t you see that?”
“All I can see is that you’re deranged,” Mallory fumes. “You’re not the victim here, Ezra. Did you know what would happen to me after I got bit?”
“Yes, but I thought…” He pushes a hand through his hair. Grasping at last straws. “I would have taken care of you. I would have let you drink from me. Anytime you wanted.”
She presses her fingers to her temples. “Oh my god—”
“I’m sorry, Jules. I’m so fucking sorry.” Ezra tries to hold her, but she twists away.
“You’re sorry? I trusted you, and you never said a word about any of this!”
“I didn’t tell you,” he pleads, “because he didn’t want me to.
The angel. Whenever I even thought about saying it, I would have visions of horrible things happening to you.
” Ezra snarls in disgust. “See me doing horrible things to you. And the more I started falling for you, the worse it became. I’ve seen you die—so many times.
” His jaw knots at the corners. “You have to understand something, Jules. This angel, demon, Our Lord—whatever you want to call him. He’s kind to me and my family until he isn’t.
When he’s inside me, using me, I don’t trust myself.
That’s why I wanted you to leave that day. I knew he would make me hurt you.”
She swallows. “Like you hurt your fraternity brother. Bryce.”
Ezra’s eyes darken. “I don’t remember that night at all. The only thing I know is that I had a best friend, and then suddenly, I didn’t.”
“You pushed him,” she snaps. “Off a balcony.”
“I did.” Ezra’s voice breaks over the confession. “But like the other day, it wasn’t me. The angel was coaxing me, possessing me. I think it was a test. To see if he could get me to kill you.”
She can only stare at him, devoid of pity.
“I’m not an Ivy League student,” he continues. “I’m not even a good actor or director. Or a decent person. I’m pretty much nothing.” He swallows. “But I can still be something. We can still be something.”
“No,” she says. “I don’t think we can. We’ve been doomed from the start, Ezra.”
“You’re wrong.” He steps toward her. “I can fix this. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Mallory nearly laughs. “There’s a dagger upstairs with my name on it. There’s an audience waiting to watch me die. What could possibly fix this?”
“There’s a loophole,” Ezra says quickly. “Your bloodline. My bloodline. Our families have been at war, essentially, right?”
She hesitates. “Right…”
“We can break the cycle. Start something new.” He gathers her hands in his. “By merging our bloodlines as one.”
Mallory stares at him, brain short-circuiting at the suggestion.
“Ezra,” she says, “tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”
“It’s the perfect solution. Think about it.” His eyes ignite, gaze raking over the length of her. “How long does it take for them to wear off?”
Bile rises inside her. She can barely form words. “Are you—are you talking about my birth control pills?”
“How long?” Ezra’s stare is suddenly wild, churning with desperation. “A few weeks? Months?”
“You’re serious?” Mallory cries, completely incredulous. “Do you really think, after everything you’ve done to me, I’d agree to have your child? Are you out of your fucking mind?” She pulls at her hair, feeling slightly hysterical. “For god’s sake, I’m only nineteen!”
“I’m trying to save your life. No one can hurt you if you’re carrying my heir, Jules. You’d be like a queen to them.” Ezra curls a hand over her stomach. “You’d be like a queen to me, too. You already are.”
Something is coming apart inside her. Since the day they met, Ezra has done nothing but steal and claim, twisting his way into her heart, possessing her mind, her body, her darkest secrets.
Determination boils brighter. She won’t let him take anything else.
“You were right, you know,” she clips, swiping his hand away. “You’re exactly like your father.”
A pained shadow flickers across his face, and Mallory knows she landed the harshest blow possible. But his expression quickly settles into stone.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ezra says. “I’ve made sure he can’t hurt either of us. Or anyone. Ever again.” He swallows. “I wanted to tell you that, too.”
Mallory takes in his appearance again, as though she’s seeing his torn skin and bloodstained mouth for the first time.
A fresh wall of fear hits her. “What did you do?”
He presses something cold into her palm: his silver lighter.
“See for yourself.”
Mallory’s hand shakes as she flicks the lighter. Ezra’s cheekbones momentarily glow before the light goes out. She swears and snaps it again, turning. A rush of flame. A burst of dark. She flicks and turns, flicks and turns, until finally, she sees it.
A scream bursts from her mouth as the lighter falls to the floor.
It’s just enough time to register Victor’s blood-soaked body amid the circle of stones. As though he was another offering, knife wounds across his chest, eyes wide and staring. The way she’ll look eventually, too.
She has to get out of here. Now.
She sprints for the elevator, but Ezra is right at her heels.
“Jules, wait!”