Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
Rorrick
Among all of us, I’m somehow the only pure vampire left.
Seven is changed now, different from me in ways I can’t comprehend.
Christian and I have never really been alike, not ever.
Of course, I’m different from the fae. So here I stand, the only one of my kind left, and now Crymson stands just as different, vastly so.
I watch everyone carefully, not trusting the Dead to actually remain still. They’ve stopped lurching at us now, but they linger along the edges of the clearing, eagerly clacking their fangs at us. If given the opportunity, I have no doubt they’ll bite. I don’t trust their stillness.
Right now, everyone feels like an enemy.
Christian, who stares at what appears as a gruesome image of his mother, feels like he could snap at any moment.
Thorn has his sword lowered, clearly struck dumb.
Carver is on his knees, staring at the woman in awe.
Only Seven and I seem to be focused on Crymson, who stands before us with the presence of a goddess.
A very powerful goddess.
Along her skin, dried blood leaves streaks that appear to be from wounds, but there is not a scratch on her.
She must have been bitten many times, but there is only a single wound that appears on her neck.
Despite the wounds or the lack of them, despite being covered in old blood and dirt, she stands regally before us, a new Queen in all her glory.
Because there’s no mistaking what’s happened. She has risen. We belong to this woman.
It’s me who walks up to her. It’s me who slides his sword into its sheath and moves close enough to feel her power across my skin.
And it’s me who takes a knee before her before I bow my head.
“What will you have us do, beloved?” I ask.
She could ask me to slaughter the world right now, and I’d do it.
Just because she asked me to.