Chapter 28 #2
I still feel him. His nerves thrum through our connection, and a sour, bitter feeling takes me, almost enough to knock me off my feet. That’s how his father’s presence makes him feel.
“The sacrifice is about to begin,” my father says.
Strode looks at me with his red gaze, and I fight the urge to claw my eyes out.
“You are anointed,” Strode says with a devious smile. His teeth are shiny, white, and perfect. “Good. Come.”
I step closer to Strode, and my knees go weak.
He presses his thumb to my forehead, touching where my father placed the oil. When he takes my hands, heat radiates through me; it’s unlike anything I’ve felt, close to how being touched by Jun feels but a thousand times stronger. For a moment, I feel… alive.
“An immortal soul is born,” Strode says. “Now, deliver my sacrifice, and I will be gone until the next ceremony.”
I won’t do it… but no one breaks a deal with a demon.
I’m supposed to use the witch weapon, but I’m not strong enough. Fear immobilizes me. I shake my head at my father, begging him to get me out of this, but he gestures to Tobey.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “You must do it, or Lord Strode—”
“It has to be you. You must have the first bite, and I can finish.”
“Right.”
A voice rings out. “Stop!”
Professor Connolly steps forward. Her black horns and wings are on display now, and she’s nearly as tall as Strode. Unlike me, she’s fearless.
“Virve,” Strode says, as if he’s greeting a colleague. “I haven’t seen you in centuries.”
“Then it has been a good few centuries,” she says. “But I’m not here for a small chat. I wish for you to take me. Accept me as your sacrifice and leave the mortal.”
Strode looks her up and down with a bored expression. “You have an immortal soul. You are no good to me.”
“But—” Professor Connolly says.
“Go back into your place.”
He has a voice people would not dare disobey. As strong as Professor Connolly is, she listens, stepping back into the crowd.
I’m alone. The end. I must do this myself.
While Strode is distracted by Professor Connolly, I take advantage. With the dagger in my hand, I charge.
He grows as soon as I move, no longer a foot taller—but three. Flames cover him, and screaming ghosts surround him. My bones go frigid. It’s an attempt at intimidation, but I won’t let him win, lunging at him with the dagger.
It’s no use. He tosses me to the side as if I’m nothing.
As I fall to the ground, I let out a sharp cry. The dagger slips from my hand and clatters to the floor.
“Foolish mortal,” Strode roars, with blood-red eyes. “Drink from the sacrifice now. This is your final warning.”
“Margaux.” My father looks at me with a plea in his eye, shaking his head. “Please.”
He’s begging—begging for my life, I realize, and perhaps for his own. I still have a mortal soul, and vampire or not, Strode may steal it.
I look wildly for the dagger—the witch weapon—and realize he must not know what it is. But it’s out of my line of sight, somewhere in the crowd, and if I make another wrong move…
It’s over.
With a blank face, I move to Tobey and lift their wrist. They meet my gaze with a wary expression, their head shaking. This wasn’t part of the plan. I know.
But they don’t pull away. Their wrist rests in my hands with no reluctance.
“I trust you,” Tobey whispers, though the trust doesn’t exactly show in their face.
I don’t know if they should trust me. I lift their wrist to my mouth, and without thinking, I bite in. Their blood fills my mouth, and the room goes silent.
Their fear takes me. I feel it through the connection of the feed, but it’s nothing compared to what I feel from Jun.
Hatred. Anger.
And then, under the cloud of fury, there’s a hint of what I’ve always known him to be. Ambitious and driven.
I lift my head, wiping the blood on the back of my hand—and in a smooth motion, I drag my fangs across my palm. Too fast, fast enough that no one else can act, I shove my bloody wrist to Tobey’s lips.
It takes only a moment to realize what I’ve done. Now that I have the gift of immortality, I can share it with Tobey.
Without a question, they drink, sipping my magic until they faint.
The room explodes in sounds of awe and terror.
“There will be no sacrifice today!” I yell, standing between Tobey and the rest. “Her mortal soul is mine.”
“I warned you!” Strode lunges in my direction.
I am one person. There are dozens. But it doesn’t matter if I lose.
This is the distraction the others were waiting for.
Jun’s mask is on the ground, and the witch weapon is in his hand. Around him float a dozen hungry ghosts, just like the ones that follow his father.
“Charge!” Jun yells.
The ghosts dart to Strode in bursts of light, but as soon as they hit him, they dissipate.
“You cannot use the dead against me,” Strode says, with disappointment dripping from his words.
Jun doesn’t let it dissuade him, moving with more strength than I could muster. Each action is a graceful dance. He’s cat-like, lunging at his father and crashing into him before the demon can reach me.
The ghosts were another distraction.
Strode doesn’t want to hurt Jun, I realize, using far less force against his son. A demon against a half-demon should be an easy match for the demon. It isn’t. They’re two flames in a fight—they can create a bigger fire and burn it all down.
Rather than hitting back, Strode dodges the jab of Jun’s knife.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Strode says with a plea, sounding weaker or older than he has before.
“I do.” Jun disappears in a puff of smoke and reappears at his father’s back, his wings flapping to keep him mid-air. “I’ve been planning this for longer than you know. You forced me to take fighting classes, and each time, I imagined killing you.”
“Why?” Strode asks. “I was there for you when your mother was not.”
“She died!”
The demon turns, his hands limp at his side. “I was the only parent you knew. Where did I go wrong?”
I understand now. Professor Connolly and I failed to disarm Strode in any other way because only Jun can. It’s not with fighting or begging, but through tugging at his heartstrings.
“You’re killing people,“ Jun says. “Do I really have to fucking explain why that’s wrong?”
As they continue to fight, it looks more like they’re sparring. Strode dodges each move without fighting back, but Jun gives it his all. He uses his magic to disappear and reappear, closer each time.
He appears in front of his father, inches from his old, rotten, wrinkled face. With a powerful move, Jun stabs the witch weapon into his chest. Strode moves a fraction. It’s enough, just enough that the knife sticks out from his shoulder, not his chest.
The demon shrieks, but what comes next is nowhere near what we need. He doesn’t disappear or melt—or do anything we expect.
Jun had one shot, and he missed it.
“My son…” Strode grabs the handle and pries the knife from his shoulder like it’s nothing. “I taught you better than this. You were supposed to be a stronger fighter—and a loyal man.”
With a smooth motion, the demon throws Jun at the wall, as he did to me. Jun’s blood smears and leaks from the back of his skull as he drops to the dirty club floor.
Jun sits up, defiant to the end, using his remaining strength to glare at his father. “I’m loyal to the right fucking people, and Father—you couldn’t be more wrong. About me, and about this.”
“I am saving lives. You may not agree with how I do it, but I am.”
“You’re right.” Jun spits blood from his mouth. “I don’t agree.”
The demon easily snaps the witch weapon in two. He turns to me, fixing me with a look of hatred. “You will pay for this. You turned my son against me.”
“I didn’t,” I say. “That was you.”
“Without my protection, the mouth of hell is open.” Strode’s gaze turns from me to my father, who cowers in fear. “I will not close it until your daughter pays her debt. Double. I want two willing mortal souls.”
There’s an echo of murmurs through the room—of fear.
Behind the demon, in his red light, a familiar form appears in a puff of smoke. It’s a face I could never forget.
But it feels like a memory now.
I don’t recognize her at first. Her blonde hair is still in waves down her back, but her face isn’t sunshine anymore. Instead, she’s become the shadow the sun creates.
Poppy looks at me with the same hatred Strode holds. “What have you done?”
A portal behind them opens, and as quickly as they arrive, Hell sucks Poppy and Strode back in.
Silence reigns until my father speaks.
“I’m free.” He’s crying, I realize, harder than before.
I turn to him to find blood spilling from his eyes. His expression crumples—it’s something I’ve never seen before.
“God. I am free, but at what cost?”
God. I’ve never heard my father speak the word.
What does this mean? What does any of this mean?
Silence loses its reign, and the room erupts into chattering, crying, and screaming. There’s one person unmoved, unconcerned—Caldwell moves to Tobey’s side.
I move to Jun. He’s already standing upright. I touch his shoulders, fixing him with a worried look.
“He’s not gone,” Jun grumbles. “But he’s weak. We’re going after him.”
“No, you fool. You hurt your head. Sit down.”
“Strode didn’t hurt you?”
I shake my head. “I’m more solid than I look.”
“So am I. But I failed, Margaux. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You didn’t fail. You tried, and I love you for it.”
“I love you, too.”
I wrap my arms around Jun’s neck, pulling him into me. My mouth presses to his with fervor, desperately needing something—a reminder of our love, of my mate.
Jun is alive, and I can touch him. He can touch me. His firm hands hold my face, and he pulls away to meet my gaze.
“We both tried,” he says.
“We did. And Tobey is…” I turn back to where Tobey and Caldwell are.
Tobey still hasn’t moved.
“Alive,” Jun says. “I can feel her soul. It’s still on this plane, for now.”