Chapter 15
Penelope
I’m screaming Dahlia’s name. But she’s already turning grey as she hits the floor.
I storm forward, no thought to my safety or what I plan to do to the hulking man. I’m just desperate to reach her.
A boot slams into the middle of my chest. I’m flung back and crash into the floor. He pins me, pressing his filthy boot into my chest. The hooded intruder.
Only his hood has been knocked off.
Finally, I see his face and my blood runs cold.
His dark hair, lank and limp. Eyes beady and hollow. Skin paler than I’ve ever seen, almost as if…
He snarls, and that’s when the truth slams into focus. Two incisors lengthened and blunted, as if someone shaved his fangs to useless stubs.
“Penelope,” he growls.
“R-Roman? You’re… you’re a va—” I gasp.
He pushes his boot harder into my chest, cutting my words off and making me cry out. I can’t breathe. There’s a crack and a splinter of pain so acute I see stars.
Octavia careens into Roman, smashing him to the ground. I gasp for air, clawing at my chest, trying not to panic as I struggle to get oxygen in deep enough.
Red skids to my side, kneeling and grabbing my face in her hands. “Look at me,” she barks. “Focus. Breathe slow. If you panic, you’re going to hyperventilate and knock yourself out. Breathe with me. In. Out. In.”
She’s demanding, but it works. My heart rate steadies, and I adjust to the searing throb with every intake.
“D-Dahlia,” I pant out.
Red pivots, spotting her lying motionless and dashes across the dance floor.
She pulls the enormous blade from Dahlia’s chest and shreds the fabric of her top to examine the wound.
Red’s expression is drawn, the lines of worry etching into her skin.
And I can see why. Mottled veins plague Dahlia’s chest. Oh my gods, is she desiccating?
Red bites into her wrist, shredding the skin and presses the dripping flesh to Dahlia’s mouth.
I struggle to my knees, about to go to her, but something heavy knocks into me.
I’m sent flying and collapse on the floor several feet away.
My ribs bloom again with an intense pulse of heat.
Tears leak down my face. I’m screaming, but it sounds disjointed, far away.
Octavia and Roman are beating the shit out of each other. I’ve never seen a vampire move the way she does. Pure power. Blow after blow. You’d think she wouldn’t stand a chance against a man his size, but she’s hammering him. Pushing him back. One pace. Two.
I should be scared, but my attention is sucked away by something far more terrifying: Morrigan.
She appears, hovering over me, one hand open to help me up, the other brandishing two stakes.
“Are you ready to end this?” she says.
“Gods, yes.”
“Then let’s do it together. As sisters.” She grins at me as the atmosphere around her shivers as if she’s sucking power from the air itself.
Her blue eyes burn like fire and flames.
Threads of silvery magic peel from the palace walls, thick and fast. They swirl and swim around her, wrapping her arms and fists in power.
Fuck me, she’s magnificent.
I yelp as she tears threads off her body and wraps them around me too.
Power surges through my skin, melting into my fractured ribs and easing the constant, searing pain to a dull ache.
My body is alive; energy and heat course through me.
My gods, if this is half of what Morrigan experiences, no wonder she’s obsessed with collecting magic.
We stalk towards Octavia and Roman. I risk a glance at Dahlia. Red is still feeding her as Quinn joins them, frantically unhooking a belt and pulling bottles and potions out.
But no matter what Quinn does, Dahlia’s skin remains grey, those purple veins staining her chest. I have to bite the inside of my lip to prevent myself from screaming.
Scarlett sprints into the fray, katanas drawn as she joins Octavia. The pair of them move in tandem—Octavia with fists and fangs and Scarlett with swords crashing against Roman’s weapons.
Scarlett takes a savage hit to the face and clatters to the floor. Octavia lashes back at Roman, her crimson eyes flaming.
The hits keep coming, reverberating around the throne room.
“Enough,” Morrigan says and flings her hands out, contorting and twisting her fingers. Remy appears, her hands forming knots at a rapid rate. Bella too. The pair of them throw silvery strings of magic that bend and join each other, creating a lattice-like cage imprisoning Roman.
Scarlett, bleeding from her cheek, stands. She advances, wearing the same fury as Octavia. As she places her katana against his neck, she sneers the kind of rage that only a woman can wield. Octavia draws her fists back snarling, ready to pounce.
We work together as a team. Red and Quinn saving Dahlia. Remy, Bella and Morrigan holding Roman as Scarlett and Octavia guard him, ready to force him into submission.
Morrigan sweeps around to eyeball him. “We should have ended you when we had the chance,” she says.
“And I should have killed you when you lay in my bed. Both of you,” he spits, glancing between us.
“Who turned you?” Octavia’s voice is so low, so filled with sharp edges it cuts the air like razors.
Roman laughs. “Get fucked.”
“Force him,” Scarlett says, holding her sword tight under his chin.
Octavia’s tone changes; it melts into silk and rivers. “Tell me who turned you.”
Roman’s face relaxes into a compliant sort of daze. Is this compulsion? He shakes. But Remy and Bella’s hands move faster, blurring into a haze. The lattice-like cage tightens around him, hissing as it sears into his flesh.
Roman screams out.
“Who turned you?” Octavia asks, her tone so deep, so rich, I have to fight myself from falling to my knees and answering for him.
Roman trembles as he fights not to answer. His nose drips steady rivulets of blood that cover his lips and chin.
Finally, he sags, his eyes dulling into a muted, distant expression.
“No one. Or they didn’t change me knowingly.
I swallowed some blood splatter in the club the night I had a visitor.
” His eyes slide to mine and I swallow hard.
I’d managed to keep that quiet for so long.
There are a few confused looks thrown my way, but thankfully Octavia drags everyone’s attention back to Roman.
“Then how did you die? You were on a fixed regimen of transfusions to keep you alive,” Octavia says. She uses the same silky, golden tone. It flows so smooth I think I’d do anything for her, tell her whatever she needs to know.
“Penelope visited one night and got close enough for me to steal a hairpin.” He looks at me. I swallow hard knowing there will be repercussions from my little excursion.
Fuck. My fingers brush my hair, the memories drifting back. He made me lean close and then attacked me. He must have slipped a hairpin from me then.
“I used it to pick my cuffs. But I was caught. There was a fight. They drained me, but when I woke, I fought back, hard. Your bouncer, Erin, I think her name was, said she’d had enough of my shit and broke my neck. Silly woman didn’t even know what she’d done.”
A muscle in Octavia’s jaw ticks. “And your fangs…?”
“I was disgusted with myself. You… your species disgusts me. Newborns aren’t known for their self-control. I pissed off a gang of vampires.” He shrugs, then winces as the lattice digs into his flesh.
But he continues, lost in the cadence of compliance. “They said my fangs would sharpen up eventually. But it left me hungry, pissed off and disgusted. It’s Penelope’s fault I’m like this, and there’s no one’s blood I’d rather drain than you two.” He fires a filthy stare at Morrigan and me.
“Too bad,” Morrigan says and hands me one of the stakes, nodding in Roman’s direction. “You do the honours.”
I take it and stare at the wooden spike. But I realise this wasn’t just my fight.
It was both of ours.
He may have come for me tonight, but he came for Morrigan first. I take her hand and curl it around mine. “Let’s do it together,” I say.
We bring the stake up as Morrigan’s silvery threads of magic weave around our conjoined fists. A surge of energy pools in my palm. I’ve never felt so strong. There’s no coming back from this. Not for him. Not anymore.
Roman must realise this because he twists and contorts, fighting with every ounce of strength he has left. But Scarlett’s katana cuts into his neck, and Remy and Bella’s lattice prison tightens around his body, pinning him in place.
“Fuck you!” He shrieks.
Together, Morrigan and I plunge the stake into his chest. He screams, his skin flushing white and then he goes limp, grey and mottled veins spread over his skin as he desiccates before our eyes.
“It’s over. It’s finally over,” I say.
Remy and Bella’s hands cease moving. The lattice evaporates into the air, and Roman’s body clatters to the floor. His skin is already flaking as I rush to Dahlia side.
“Is she…” I ask Red, but she won’t look at me.
It’s Quinn who answers. “It’s not good.”