Chapter 27 Leo
Leo
Diantha and Alfo blink out of existence. In the middle of our battle in this claustrophobic hallway, they just…disappear.
It’s like a switch has been flipped. They disappear and, in their absence, two roaring columns of flames appear.
Small, orange flames at first. They blast upward, knocking the last of us backward as we gasp for air.
They catch on the carpet, the curtains, the wooden banister. Every surface. Engulfed.
Choking on smoke, I crawl and push through the demons, digging through their corpses until I find Orfeo’s limp, pale body. I throw the fucking Italian vampire over my shoulder.
“Run!” I shout at Sofia who manages to break free from Nisos’s grip. “Run now!”
I spin around and make for the double doors, tripping on the ankle-high flood of sticky demon blood. Misha grabs my hand and pulls me through the doors as the flames lick at my back.
Together, we run. Hand in hand, we take off into the trees.
In the basement of Hades House, we throw Orfeo’s lifeless body onto the hospital bed that had once held Kat.
Misha tears away his shirt, brings a knife to her own wrist, then his chest. She begins speaking rapidly in a series of ancient incantations while I pace and chew my thumbnail.
Where the fuck did they go?
Misha rips the sleeves from her dress and rips into her wrist again, sucking blood from herself and spitting it into his chest. She demands hot water and herbs. I rush around, clumsy and slow. I hunt for everything she needs.
But the Italian vampire is dead.
I can see that. She can see that.
But nevertheless, we work on his body even as it loses the last of its color. Even as his lips turn gray and his eyelids so white, all their purple veins stand out like track marks.
What else are we supposed to do?
Overhead, sirens whirl. Firetrucks blast their anthem, speeding down Main Street in a never-ending stream of skull-shattering noise.
Misha doesn’t stop, not for a moment. Her lips never stop moving; her hands never stop their work over him.
She coats the open wound on his chest in oil.
She opens her own veins over and over, pouring into him.
She tells me to pull out every bottle of blood we have, and then she insists I hold the beautiful bastard’s head like a baby and feed him.
Of course, I do it. In her presence, I am nothing. My powers are a raindrop placed next to an ocean.
We try everything. But the blood just fills his mouth and spills out of the sides.
He’s gone, he cannot drink. Orfeo is dead—an empty soulless vessel, lying limp in my arms—and I will have to tell Diantha.
She will crumble. Both because of their blood bond, and because she is (was?) his mate.
His twin flame, devoted to him. Fully, from her soul, in a way that makes my stomach twist and ache.
In a way that brings into harsh relief how alone I’ve been all these years.
And now, I’ve lost my brother. Fuck. I clench his body to mine, willing the tears in my eyes to stay as they are. Not to budge.
Misha isn’t crying yet, so I won’t either.
We go on like this for hours.
The noise swells overhead; the ground shaking below. The entire town of Echidna rattles and rattles and rattles like Hades has climbed out of hell and set foot here to punish us himself.
Dust falls from the support beams around us. It’s an ashen rain that covers everything. Our hair, our dry lips, our broken hands. It sticks to Misha’s open wrists and the gash down Orfeo’s chest.
It clings to the fragrant oil smeared over his forehead, his throat, onto his palms.
Our world has shrunk down to a pinprick. All I focus on is the body in my arms.