41
OUT OF TIME
IVY
A nother strike of pain ripples through my core and I refuse to cry out. I whimper a moan that stifles my agony and allows me the release I need, buying me yet more time before I pass out. Again.
Marcus wasn’t lying when he said he was patient.
He’s cruel and vicious too, capable of extracting every ounce of pain my body will surrender as he draws my torture out. He’s using me to get to Henry, to weaken his resolve and make him rush into an unforced error. The asshole’s using our bond against us and I won’t give in, not when both our lives are at stake.
I close my eyes and calm, hoping Henry senses the tension leaving my muscles and understands it. There’s nothing left but hope and prayers, but both burn brightly and the light of faith is hard to extinguish. It’s the butterfly that breezes through a war zone, the birdsong after an earthquake. It’s the life raft keeping me afloat in the stormy seas threatening to drag me under, and I cling on, refusing to let go of the hope keeping me afloat.
“Am I going to have to heal you again?”
I stare at Marcus, ignoring the condescension in his stare. I’m impassive. I’m oblivious. I’m staring at him like I don’t give one single shit what he does because it’s the only resistance I can offer at this point.
“You really are something,” he says, running his claw over the metal cage that confines me. “Brave. Resilient.” His nail scrapes and sings with a screech of pain. “Does he tell you quite how startling your eyes are, my dear? Even now, after all you’ve endured, they refuse to fade. It’s a shame you’re mated to Henry, but perhaps you’ll learn to appreciate me once he’s gone.”
My eyes narrow and Marcus smirks, taking another point in our never-ending battle. His head tilts as he lets his eyes wander over my battered and bruised body before he bites his thumb and I turn away, biting down the bile as he runs his hand up my thigh. We’ve done this dance before and it gets no better with repetition, and my nausea crescendos as my pain fades away, disgusted with myself for accepting his help.
I know it’s the smart thing to do. It buys me time. Us time. But it’s despicable and it prolongs the agony, giving Marcus as much as it gives me. Maybe more.
“He’s close, my dear,” Marcus says, dragging his nail dangerously close to my inner leg. “Call for him. Call for your mate.”
“Fuck off, Marcus.”
“Manners, my dear,” he snaps, digging his nail in. “Henry’s allowed you far too much leeway. I’ll be much less tolerant. Much stricter. You’ll learn to behave or you’ll suffer, Ivy. Now, do as I fucking tell you, or this is going to hurt more than fucking necessary.”
A roar reverberates through the room and my cage rattles, moved by the sheer violence threatening to unleash itself. My heart stops, unable to keep going and only remembering to restart itself as it vaguely remembers a familiar habit. My chest moves, drawing air into my lungs as they burn and react on instinct, too fucking startled to do anything more than keep me alive.
Vampires race from the shadows, charging toward the arched entrance to the chamber. I’m the bait on the far side of the room, the thing Henry will try to fight his way toward—and Marcus is going to do everything he can to kill him.
“It seems he doesn’t need any further provocation,” Marcus says, exasperated. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you have to watch your mate die. I’m told it’s agony. I’d say I’d make it up to you, but I think we’d both know I was lying.”
“He’s going to kill you,” I hiss, hauling myself upright in a show of strength that catches us both by surprise. “He’s going to rip you limb from fucking limb and I’m going to love every fucking second of it.”
Marcus’s eyes flash with rage before they light with amusement. “Such spirit, pet. It’ll be fun to break and a shame when it’s extinguished.”
Vampires careen backward as Henry emerges from whatever hallway he was in, and he’s so fucking fast I can barely keep up with him. No one else appears to be doing much better as bellows of dust erupt and limbs fly in all directions as he tears through the coven advancing on him, forcing others to retreat into the shadows.
“There’s no need to be dramatic,” Marcus says, sneering as he prowls toward Henry, waiting for him to finish off the final vampire before he continues. Its neck snaps before Henry tears it to shreds and his anger burns hot enough to heat my chest, pulsing into me through the bond we share. “We should keep this between us, don’t you think?”
“It’s a bit fucking late for that, Marcus.”
Henry’s eyes flick to mine and the fire burning inside him turns into an inferno. His features have never seemed so fearsome, and I’ve never felt more insignificant in comparison. He’s the epitome of power, the definition of violence. Henry’s pulsing with a viciousness few possess and fewer master, and he’s brandishing it like the lethal weapon it is for me.
“Let her go and I’ll consider making this less painful.”
Marcus shakes his head. “You have no advantage, Henry. None what-so-fucking-ever. I’m going to tear you apart and claim the throne that’s been due to me for centuries. She’ll give me my kingdom once you're gone. She isn’t mine, but she won’t give a fuck by the time I’m done with her.”
I stare in disbelief as priests emerge from the darkness, holding light and dark into the palms of their hands. Their eyes are as black as their souls and they bow their heads, acknowledging Marcus.
“This has taken centuries, Henry. You won’t take this from me now. I’ve given too much to let it slip through my fingers. I’ve sacrificed too fucking much and all it took was one fucking prophecy. One pathetic prophecy your mate fulfills.”
“She’s mine, Marcus. My mate. My equal. MY. WIFE.”
Silence rings out as time freezes, shocked into suspension by Henry’s declaration. Vampires from both covens stare in disbelief as Henry tracks Marcus’s movements, stalking toward him painfully slowly as the seconds stutter and try to find their rhythm.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” Marcus snarls.
“Pots and kettles, asshole,” Henry snaps back, closing the distance .
“You can’t expect your coven—any coven—to accept a human as their master. As their equal. This is insanity, Henry. You need putting down to spare us all from this wretched disease.”
Henry snarls and his fangs descend further, making my heart leap. I don’t know if it’s in joy or terror and I don’t fucking care, either. I’m alive and Henry’s readying to unleash all he is on the cunt who’s tortured me all night long. My fingers curl around the bars of my cage and I haul myself onto my knees, ignoring the pain singing from my bones or the agony clawing up my muscles.
“Silence.”
A voice whispers a muffled warning, a hushed promise of hope, and the quiet sounds of safety. I know its timbre and its inflection. I recognize its owner, slowly turning to the priest standing beneath me, certain Damon’s beneath its cowl.
He draws a heavy breath and the fabric of his cloak ripples with irritation as I defy him. I snap my head back up, paying attention to the two vicious predators circling each other, dipping and weaving as they look for an opening and trade insults.
“Things would be simpler if you did as you were told, sweets.”
I smirk, aware he’s chosen his words with care. Damon rarely makes a mistake and considers all eventuality and his coded message is clear: don’t fucking run, stay the course, and fight like your fucking life depends on it.
Marcus launches at Henry, and they tussle as all hell lets loose around us. Bursts of light fire across the room as streaks of blue and green and orange wrap around smoke and shadows, conjured from adversaries I’m struggling to distinguish. The Brotherhood battles against itself for its future, and both sides are determined their vision will come to pass. Chemical fumes explode as Henry roars and Marcus cries, both taking and giving damage in equal measure. They’re moving so fucking fast that punches blur and strikes merge, making it impossible to track who’s winning or how close one comes to defeating the other.
Sparks sound near my ear and I snap my head, startled as the metal ignites in bright white flames. It’s burning as something exerts itself on the lock, forcing the pins and levers to move as Damon stands unmoved, reacting to nothing and observing everything.
The cage door opens of its own accord and I shuffle toward it, ignoring the pain screaming in my tired, cramped muscles. I’m stiff from my confinement and it’s hindering my progress, but I won’t let it stop me. Not when there’s the chance of escape and Damon’s got a plan.
He’s got to have one.
He always does.
Only an imbecile would turn up at a moment like this without one, and there’s nothing simple about Damon.
He lifts his hand, offering me the slightest assistance as I free myself, lowering myself with little stealth. But everyone’s eyes are on the drama in the middle of the room, watching with bated breath as Marcus and Henry grapple with each other, trying to inflict a mortal injury. Their snarls and grunts deepen and their strikes harden, and it’s the cover I need to make it onto the ground in one piece.
Damon steps closer and tilts his head, effortlessly grabbing my attention. My muscles tense and I wait, counting every breath and the beat of my heart that coincides with it as Emmanuel steps forward, unleashing a burst of light so furious it extinguishes the life of several rebellious priests.
“You’re the cause and effect, Ivy. You’re the choice that’s made and the act that follows. You are this prophecy and this is all you are. Don’t fear it. Few will pay the price of agency and most lack the courage of their convictions.”
His head turns and his irises blaze into my soul, a peculiar shade of purple and grey, communicating something I barely begin to grasp and have no time to understand.
“Try not to lose these this time.” He smiles and slides both daggers into a belt that’s appeared around my waist. “You’ll need them.” His smile widens. “Hearts or heads, sweets. Both if you’re feeling vicious.”
I exhale and only now do I realize I’ve been holding my breath. My hands tremble, my fingers shake. My legs are wobbly but my resolve isn’t and I step forward, unsure but certain of my choice.
It’s binary.
To act or not. To run or not. To let others control my fate or to determine it myself. To show strength or choose weakness. To command and control or acquiesce and submit.
And I’m done with playing nice.
Henry lands a blow on Marcus and he hurtles back, bracing his legs against the force as he slides across the floor. He surges forward, catching Henry around the chest, slashing violently as he hammers home his advantage, inflicting wound after wound dangerously close to Henry’s heart. But Henry recovers, slamming his fist into Marcus’s jaw and sending him reeling, chasing behind him and kicking his legs out from under him.
Marcus pivots, leaping forward and tearing at Henry with his fangs. Henry snarls and smacks his teeth out of the way, pounding his fist into his face, obliterating its sharpened features. Blood drips onto the flagstones beneath them as they slip, staggering as their wounds take their toll and their fight approaches its end.
One of them will make a mistake. One of them will seize the opportunity it affords. Both of them are tiring, but neither of them are conceding an inch of ground. Both still vicious, both still violent. They’re holding the room in their thrall as the covens stare in awe as their leaders fight for dominance.
Henry spirals as Marcus hits hard, and I gasp, drawing Marcus’s attention. His eyes narrow and he moves fast. Too fucking fast and I duck, narrowly avoiding him as he flies over my shoulder. I turn and draw a blade, bringing my other hand up for balance as I focus on the snarling vampire racing toward me.
I’m pulled back, yanked out of the way as Henry barges past, intercepting Marcus and fighting with an intent as clear as fucking day. Marcus thought I was a weakness and the threat rouses Henry, letting him find reserves he didn’t know he had.
And he’s wielding them without mercy as he attacks Marcus. Blood spurts and screams ring out, reverberating with the violence in the room. Henry keeps striking, keeps moving, hitting harder and harder and constantly moving, always searching for that final opening. That one mistake that’ll cost Marcus his life.
Marcus is weakening and his body buckles as Henry brings his weight to bear, forcing Marcus to the ground. Teeth slash and Marcus splutters, gasping as his claws draw blood and he frantically rails against Henry’s strength, trying anything he can to hold back the inevitable.
They roll on the ground, still fighting as Marcus’s time runs out. The clock is counting down to his demise and the room senses his end is coming. Henry’s too damn strong, too damn certain. He’s inflicting too much damage and Marcus’s light fades as the curtain begins to draw, casting his eyes in a shadow from which they won’t emerge.
I step forward, relishing this moment .
It’s the revenge I’ve wanted. The retribution my soul craves. This is what I fought through the night to make happen, and this victory is as much mine as it is Henry’s. I held my own. I refused to cave. My battle wasn’t the same and my strength brought a different kind of power. One that’s a quiet scream of determined rage that will not succumb and won’t surrender. It won’t bow or break, and it’s not going quietly into this or any other night. It's the cry of a thousand lost souls. It’s the anger of the masses and the rage of the oppressed. It’s the voice that speaks up, that stands up. The line drawn in the sand that only fools dare to step across. It’s the righteous silence that refuses to cower, and it’s as potent as any poison and as destructive as any weapon.
Marcus snarls and Henry dips his head, going for the jugular. Marcus slams his fists into Henry’s chest, pushing with every ounce of fight left in him, sending Henry tumbling back. It’s swift, decisive and my mouth falls as Marcus races for me, snarling like a predator homing in on his kill.
There’s no time.
There’s nothing to do.
There’s only instinct and I lean forward.
Pain erupts as he slams into me, tackling me to the ground. I gasp and splutter, unable to catch my breath as I stare up, still and surprised. Marcus’s eyes meet mine, darkening as they blink, confused and as uncertain as I am. I try to snatch another breath and can’t inhale, breathing in water instead of air.
Except it isn’t water and my mouth opens and closes, useless as blood trickles down my neck.
Marcus doesn’t smirk. He doesn’t claim his victory. It’s enough to make me blink and then his face starts to crumble, breaking apart as ash falls like snowflakes on a winter’s morning, gently floating to their final resting place. The weight on my chest eases as dust clouds form and Marcus’s eyes hold my stare until they’re all that remains.
I blink and they’re gone.
It's as if they never existed, as if the vicious hatred and the nightmare they contained were nothing more than a figment of my imagination. A dream I dreamt in an illusion of reality. A catastrophe I imagined and a horror I never endured.
I’m clinging to the last few seconds of my life, watching the lights above me as the priests cast flecks of candlelight into the air. This is the peace Ryan found, the tranquility that comes from knowing your sun is setting and everything is well.
It’s fine.
It’s going to be fine.
Henry’s going to be fine.
He won’t be, but he’ll live through this and my death will gift him life. It’s a price I’d pay a thousand times over and I rest content, certain these few weeks are all the time we’re allowed and they are more than enough. They’ll never be enough but they’ve brought me more than I knew before and the mayfly’s life is brief and fleeting, burning brightly before it extinguishes.
I blink and Henry grabs my shoulder, pleading with me to stay with him. He’s terrified, as pale as ivory, screaming at everyone to do any-fucking-thing to save me. His voice contains the panic I knew when I first met him and I stare up, as calm and controlled as Ryan was when he almost passed.
I want him to know peace. I want him to know this gift.
I want only good things for Henry and I don’t want us ending on a note that leaves him with the bitter taste of regret.
“Ivy, don’t…”
I try to smile as he slashes his wrist, pouring his blood onto my neck. It won’t heal fast enough, and we both know it’s too late for desperate measures to hold back the tides of death. I’m drifting on their currents and stare at Henry, holding him in the middle of my vision as the darkness closes on me. My breathing splutters as I choke out my remaining seconds and the colors of the dimly lit chamber fade until there’s nothing left but darkness and a final spark of pain heralding my end.