A Sanguinary Rose (Complete)
The Taste of Iron

Limbo was nothing but a grey Hell without fire. Wandering this place for eternity sounded like an equally cruel punishment.

It seemed to leach you off everything that made you feel alive—no smell, no taste, no touch other than your own body, nothing to hear, and nothing to see—all five human senses were pointless here. Not inconceivable to think someone could scheme to bring prisoners here to break their mind for torture.

No grass rose from the ground, no wind blew across this surface, and no star shone upon this plane. The floor I stood on didn’t seem solid either—nothing to touch at all. Enhanced hearing or not, I heard nothing but my breathing and the rustling of my clothes when I moved to peer around to gather my lay of the land. It was incredibly dizzying and disorienting.

As for the sight, the landscape itself played tricks. Mirages rose, taking shape of familiar things, only to dissolve after a moment’s scrutiny. I saw a family of four, holding hands, as if strolling down the mall, but their shapes deformed when I stared longer. An old, hunched lady waving at me cut up into strips of fog. And there was not a sound to be heard.

Far off in the distance, raised tarps and tents stood in columns, half concealed among the brumes. Those were real though. The human-like figures standing outside by them didn’t dissolve like the rest. Even if spotted, it was likely they’d take me for another mirage from this distance. Still, I could hear nothing from them, as if they were a figment of my imagination, but I knew better.

Anja was the first one, landing nimbly by my side. No sooner her cat instincts were firing off in all cylinders—she whipped around on her heels, her ears going haywire for lack of sound. I grabbed her hand to help her keep steady, which helped calm her nerves.

Oliver landed square and steady, and then lurched to the side. He stood back up. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Morganne and Mr. Royce emerged closely together, holding each other for support. “Color me baffled. How did you manage to do it?” he said.

“I simply felt I could do it,” she replied, but trailed off. “Woah, everything I ever read about this place was downplaying it. This is… so much worse.”

A knot tied up my throat. This was it, the end of the line. “I’m going on ahead. If I act normal, the thralls shouldn’t react to my presence.”

Oliver frowned. “What about the Knights?”

“Mandala wanted to see me. If anything, they’ll bring me to him. It’s only a matter of sneaking up behind his back. If things go south… well, you’ll know.”

“My salary doesn’t cover this at all,” Mr. Royce said, but their voices were soon drowned out in the mists. It seemed sound traveled a much smaller distance here as well.

Tents lined up in rows and columns, forming a rectangle, and ringing a great canvas pavilion in its midst. Vampire thralls roamed aimlessly down the aisles, staring, staring, staring. Hazy wisps of mist rose about their feet as though kicking up dust. Their slit eyes fell on me as I passed, then returned to their previous focal point. It would’ve been an impossible venture trying to sneak in anyway.

Before the main pavilion sat a crestfallen figure, his back against a metal pole. Coils of rope strangled his wrists behind his back. Everything about him seemed bleak and gray, like the world surrounding him. Threads of mist curled about his splayed legs and his limp arms, licking, brushing, then vanishing.

His name escaped my lips. “Alan.” I knelt by his side. White feathers clung to his shoulders, and some spread around his confined area. He’d hidden away his remaining wing. However, the other severed pinion was still visible on his shoulder blade, like a scar of shame forever to bear. He glanced at me and turned away. “Come, we’re getting you out.”

I slid out the demonic dirk from my pockets and sawed away at the rope binding him. Thread by thread it gave way quickly. A thrall stopped his wandering to stare at me. I held my breath, stopping mid-motion. Then he shuffled away.

The rope fell off Alan’s chafed wrists. But he made no move to rise or to acknowledge me. Something not physical still bound him to the pole—his sulking and brooding.

“Oh no, don’t you do that. Come on, get up.”

“It makes no difference. Just go.”

“Stop being so damn selfish for once. We all came for you.”

“I’m nothing without my wings.”

“You have nothing to prove unless you have scars to show for it. It’s time to learn how to get up. If they crushed you so easily, you won’t make for a good Archangel.”

He tensed up but made no move to stand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” A shrill, feminine voice said in an exaggerated whisper. The one in all dimensions that made my blood boil. Melanie craned her neck for a look behind me. “What’s he doing here?”

I rolled the dirk’s handle in my palm. “Because you started all of this.”

“Excuse you, bitch, I did what?” Melanie gave a fake laugh. “No, everything turned to shit the moment you killed me. Did you ever stop to think about that?” She bared her fangs while she whined. “You ruined my life. All of it. I can’t go shopping with my friends anymore. They think I’m a freak—Emily, Casey, Kelly. They won’t even talk to me. I’ve spent all year alone, listening to you and your fake ass friends, watching you take the spotlight every little chance because you MUST be the center of attention. Whiny bitchy Scarlett’s gonna cry, so everyone has to comfort her. But me, who cares about Melanie?” She threw her arm out. “Even he was fawning all over you. Fuck your guts.”

I bit my lip. The vampire thralls paid us no mind. “I apologized. I told you if I found a cure, I’d give it to you. But I couldn’t. I didn’t find it. I’m sorry. But now, why would I give a shit what happens to you? You caused this whole mess.”

“I didn’t do shit, dumbass. But I will tell on you.”

“Are you going to sell us out again? Are you going to sell him out?” I gestured to Alan as my blood reached a boiling point.

“Well… I’m guessing you’re up to no good if you’re sneaking around like that.” She turned away from me and made her way towards the closed flaps of the pavilion.

My mind was racing.

I couldn’t think straight.

My body moved on its own as I hurtled across the distance to tackle Melanie to the ground. I dropped my weight on her and my left hand was at her throat, clutching hard, while my right hung the tip of the dirk over her face.

“Shut up.” My voice came out in a fierce whisper, a dangerous hiss. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut the FUCK UP.”

Her white, wide eyes ogled silly between me and the dagger, her head shaking.

There was a kind of childish innocence as I stared into her that made me hesitate, made common sense catch up to me before I did anything I’d regret. My chest heaved and I let the dagger slip from my hand to my side.

“Please… just keep qu—”

That’s when she launched me off into the air.

Her punch hit me in the ribs. Its force sent shockwaves through my bones and knocked the air out of my lungs, sending me vaulting head over toe into a tent. The old canvas draped me in darkness. I was only glad nobody was inside. Provoking a thrall was the last thing I wanted.

Melanie let out a ragging cough. “Damn, how I’ve wanted to do that.”

I burst through the fabric. “You’re not getting in my way. Or I shit you not.”

“What? You’ll kill me again?”

I rushed her, and instead of dodging, blocking, or sneaking in a strong counterattack, she simply raised up her arms to shield her face. I ducked under them, rammed, and slammed her on the ground, pinning her down under my weight once more.

“Why did you do that? Why sell us out?”

She started to cry. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You liar.”

“She’s telling the truth.” The voice was deep and gruff. It sent shivers down my spine.

I rolled off her to my feet. Mandala stood by the open flaps to the pavilion. Next to him was Caspian, flanked by the two Knights. Alan still sat with his back against the pole, pretending to be bound.

“We’re compromised now.” The vampire hunter scowled at me. “How did you get here? How did you find us?” He reached into his trench coat for the crossbow and took aim. “Explain yourself.”

Mandala shoved his arm out of the way without taking his eyes off me. “I was hoping you’d reconsider your position. After all, it is in your best interest as a vampire to see our revolution through to the end. Unless you’d rather be alienated, persecuted, and subjected to the languishing effects of SanguineX until the end of times—spend your eternity locked away in the old decayed Blightpoint like the one you set loose.”

I gestured to Melanie. “You couldn’t know about the vampire unless she fed it to you.”

Mandala stepped forward and with a burly arm pointed to the thralls roaming the place. “They do not know what they’ve done. If freed, they wouldn’t remember. Their consciousness is suppressed by our command. They listen and they act. We ask and they tell. What keeps them from becoming our thralls? Well, nothing.”

A shudder ran down my spine. My heart was racing.

“You’ve been double-crossing yourself this entire time, Scarlett. I asked, and you answered. Every. Single. Time. That night at the graveyard, I couldn’t have you snooping around classified projects. Yet you seemed so intent on saving that girl, I had to see if your burning, passionate will could be revoked to achieve the opposite. And it worked ten times out of ten.”

“What?”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but it’s in your best interest to agree with me. The rest of the Bureaus will soon fall. In the end the stronger kin will assert their superiority, and we’ll start our lives anew, free from chain and shackle. All thanks to you.”

The only images those words conjured up in my head were the death and destruction of all I loved. I saw myself standing before my family’s tombstones, before the mound of ash that used to be my home. Friends dead everywhere. As I pictured it, my brain gave in to emotion, my legs took automatic control, and bolting to a high-speed sprint, demonic knife leveled in my hand, I pointed it at the warlock’s heart.

“Scarlett, no!” Alan shouted at the top of his lungs.

Melanie shrieked.

An invisible force yanked me to a complete stop some feet away. The veins in my body tugged and pulled, overriding every command from my brain, leaving me immobile and defenseless. There was a blur of gray movement by my side.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Mandala said in a furious snarl, reaching out his other arm to the Knight whose blade came inches away from decapitating me. Its gleaming edge hung frozen in midair, the Knight eyeing me with such cold ruthlessness. “Do you presume me so defenseless?” the warlock clenched his fist, and the devil cried tears of blood, dropping limp face-down on the spot.

Caspian jumped back from him. “Motherf—”

“Go send our guests off. This might take a while,” Mandala told him.

The dhampir cursed under his breath and pushed through the tent behind them. Without fear, the other Knight gave Mandala one last belligerent look before trailing inside after Caspian.

The warlock squatted next to me, admiring the knife in my hands before sliding it out. “Devil-made. How does the Belial household treat you? Now I can further narrow down the list of families supporting the cause.” He put it inside his trench coat. “Help me understand your side of things, your… animosity towards me. You scream words of betrayal, yet you fight for ORPHEUS, they who betrayed you before you even came into our world.” He pursed his cracked lips. “Us… not just you.” He shook his head. There was a hint of sadness in his usually cold eyes. “I taught you so many things—information privy to me. You know more about ORPHEUS than several of the highest-ranking employees. I armed you with the knowledge to make it big in our cruel, oppressive world, and this is how my kindness is repaid? A knife to the heart…”

He released me. When I could finally move on my own, I dropped on my fours, coughing erratically.

“You worry about your human relatives, your friends. I understand that. But you’re selfish. What are they compared to the generations that will follow? I know you came today to kill me. I knew it the moment I saw you. Even if you succeeded, you’d only delay the inevitable. The revolution has already begun. Despite all your efforts, in the end you’ll know I still won. You’re the legacy I never had—never could’ve had.”

The coughing brought tears to my eyes. “You mean the demon dwelling inside me. Without it, I’m just as disposable.”

“It’s not what you are what matters, but what you do with it. If you fight for those who hate what you are, who detest what you became, then, in my mind, you’re stooping too damn close to the muck.”

“If you hate them, then you’re no better than them.”

Mandala bared his teeth. “The one person I’ve ever loved was human and only. My black swan. They enslaved her. Wrecked her mind in the Starlit Almanac. Why? To hide us, the abominations, from the human eye. Putting her out of her misery was the first step to ensuring it doesn’t happen again.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you. But if you do this, everyone I love gets hurt. There must be other ways, but this is too extreme.”

“You’re the last person I’d want to kill, but gods grant me strength, for I will do it.” His lips became a distorted snarl. His arm raised towards me. “I’d hoped there would be at least a part of you that could be salvaged. If you won’t make compromises, then I can’t have you interfering. Make. Your. Choice.”

I gasped for air. An invisible fist clutched my throat, lifting me up as my legs thrashed underneath. I clawed at my neck for release, but there was nothing there to fight. My lungs soon became empty, wrinkled bags as I gagged, black spots clouding my eyes. Soon the blood would rush to my brain…

Alan sat ‘bound’ at the pole. I caught a glimpse of horror twisting his face. He leaned forward and shouted. “Let her go, or I’ll fucking kill you!”

The last person I expected to help me smashed headfirst into the warlock. The hulking figure skidded a few yards on his back, kicking up fog in his wake. The spell broke, and I fell on clouds of mist, coughing my guts out.

As Mandala clambered to his feet, attention fully trained on a terrified Melanie, Alan bolted from the pole at top speed, arms up and poised to impale him with a rapidly materializing spear of hard light.

The warlock raised his arm to block at the last moment. Tendrils of thick darkness sprang from within his trench coat to cloak it with extra protection against the light.

Alan’s spear skated off harmlessly. He followed up, swinging the tip of the pike, sparking off Mandala’s quick blocks one after the other. The hulking man met each of them with deft handling, shoving them away to tire out his opponent as he regained his balance.

Alan backed up a step after each swing. His foe advanced boldly on him, swiping his attacks away like an adult deflecting a toddler’s stick.

A missed thrust, and Mandala yanked the shaft from his grip. The weapon vanished into motes of light the moment it left Alan’s hands. Another took its place and he jabbed again with the swiftness of a viper.

As long as the warlock couldn’t stop to perform a spell, we’d all be safe from his powers.

Mandala caught the shaft in his hand again. This time he pulled it back along with Alan’s body. The angel was abruptly within hugging distance, and a massive fist sent him zooming across the camp and crashing over a vampire thrall.

That was the kick to the hornet’s nest. The rest of the thralls converged on us.

Still on my fours, I threw myself over the dead Knight and wrenched the dark saber from under his weight. The hilt fit snuggly in my grip, and heavy, though not unwieldy, under all that mass. Above its crossguard, the smoke-and-ash blade gleamed with a deadly edge. Just as I found my footing and held it before me, Caspian and the second Knight emerged from the pavilion, each drawing their weapons.

The same massive fist that had sent Alan airborne clenched down, and his body was dragged the distance it had flown back to Mandala’s grasp. Alan dangled in midair, clawing at his throat for a hand that wasn’t there, legs flailing like a madman beneath, gasping desperately for air. In a last-ditch effort, he hurled the spear like a javelin just as his face turned red. The warlock merely swatted it out of the air.

Caspian jumped between me and them, his straight sword shining a contrasting holy white with my own evil blade. Desperate, I peeked over his shoulder. Alan was going to die. “Outta my way.”

Then the angel was gone, vanished out of thin air.

I blinked, stunned but relieved.

Caspian’s gaze zipped around the place. “They’re not alone.”

Then I glimpsed the wormhole closing where he had been right before the warlock finished him off. Puzzled, Mandala also hunted for the source.

For the first time since entering Limbo my nose caught a smell—smoke. Its pungent stench assaulted my nose. The fire’s fury was reflected on Caspian’s startled eyes, and he was gawking at it behind me. A great conflagration had surged up, consuming the smaller canvas tents in its infernal wake, a giant dancing bonfire whose heat beat my back. Vampire thralls caught fire. They ambled for a few seconds alight and tumbled wordlessly.

Another explosion of heat flared up, this one much closer to me.

When I looked, a cascade of lashing flames gushed down where Mandala had stood seconds ago. The firestorm poured down from an open wormhole fifteen feet above. The warlock rolled out of it, smoking in his leather. He slipped out of the trench coat and tossed it over his shoulder. He wore a black military T-shirt underneath, close to the ripping point from his sheer bulk. Multiple scabs and old burns covered his arms, and a large scar ran from his collarbone and across his chest under the fabric.

A shell of solid darkness sprang to cloak his entire body as another summoned inferno engulfed him from above.

It was Oliver, conjuring it all into the wormholes that Morganne was opening. They hung back, half-hidden behind tents. At the same time, they had to fend off vampire thralls coming up their rear. Close to them and out of Mandala’s sight, Mr. Royce peeked from time to time while adjusting his pocket watch, muttering phrases.

Alan was now with them. He vaulted over their cover and charged Mandala again, his spear leveled like a scorpion’s sting just as the warlock emerged from the fires almost unscathed. Their duel resumed as though he hadn’t suffered any pain or fatigue from the fire. On the other hand, Alan looked to be tiring out faster with each exchanged blow.

Whenever he managed to create distance between himself and Mandala, he’d take a breather while flames showered above his foe.

With ease, he’d roll out of their way or take the brunt with a cloak of darkness swathing his body.

A nimble shadow landed next to me. It was Anja, halfway transformed, gripping a large survival knife in one hand. A hectic mixture of emotions flowed through me, but fear was the least of them. My pride and admiration for her swelled up.

“You don’t get between a hunter and his prey, catspawn,” Caspian said. He raised a fist and gestured to the Knight. “You, deal with the old man. I want no interruptions this time.” The vampire hunter took a side-facing fencing stance, pointing the white sword at us. “Even together, the odds are against you.”

He darted forward with a thrust. Dark and white blades clashed in a jangle of metal and slid off each other. I had no skill with it, but at least speed and strength were in my favor. We exchanged blows in showers of sparks, the clangs reverberating up my arms down to the bone. All I could do was focus on defense. Taking the offense would cost me a limb or my head.

As I backed up, Anja would move in with the knife and Caspian would take a turn swinging at her. It was child’s play for him, switching between both of us to slash at whoever got closer.

At one point he overextended. I drew back, deflecting the blow and making him stumble for a split second.

Anja took the opening, and down on her fours, she darted under Caspian’s defenses, slashing at the back of his knees with the knife, and leapt back to her feet behind him. We had him surrounded back and front.

The dhampir yelped and fell to one knee. “Figlia di puttana,” he said, cursing loudly and pressing on the wound with a bloody hand.

Anja snarled at him. “That’s for ruining Halloween.”

He brandished his sword wildly from his genuflect position. “That’s just playing dirty. But it’s not me you should be worrying about.”

He was right.

Mr. Royce!

The Knight advanced ruthlessly on him, his saber drawn. The teacher lurched backward, almost stumbling over a corpse, nearly losing his footing over a creased mound of a tent, wheezing, desperate for respite. His mouth flitted quickly, casting time curses one after another in fast succession. But they were weak against his callous foe. The most they did was slow down his lightning quick strikes or put him into stasis for a moment or less, giving Mr. Royce barely one or two more seconds of retreat.

I looked back to the others just in time to watch Mandala disappear high in the air.

The last of his feet vanishing through the wormhole above him was all I saw. As soon as it had torn open to rain down fire, the warlock had flown up and into it. That meant he could only be on its other side.

I thought my heart would stop.

He emerged in our back line, towering between Oliver and Morganne, taking them wholly by surprise. By the time Alan realized this and dashed his way to them it was too late.

Oliver stared up wide-eyed as a huge hand seized him by the neck and hoisted him three feet over the ground as though he weighed nothing. “May you meet your ancient Archdemon.”

The sickening sound of bones cracking, and the sight of my friend being tossed lifeless to the side made my stomach turn. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t breathe.

Morganne was glaring up at the warlock, her eyes becoming pitch-black pits of defiance as eldritch words of sorcery left her croaking throat. Drafts of air and crackling sparks of energy gathered about her frame, making her disheveled onyx hair float above her shoulders.

“Die.”

She’d kill us all in the process. Something had appeared high in the gray hazy skies, something big she had summoned, its jaggedly round, colossal shape visible through the clouds. And it was hurtling towards us, gathering fire around its cratered rim, splintering into smaller shards of destruction.

It was an asteroid.

Mandala held up his arms to the sky, rending open a wormhole in its path and sucking it out of this dimension. “Alas, your talent is wasted. You would’ve been a good pupil.” He merely placed a hand on Morganne’s forehead while her big, weary eyes stared at him, defeated. The witch keeled backward, unmoving, crying tears of blood. The grimoire fell by her side, its pages crumpling face down.

At that moment he spun on his heels, intercepting Alan’s spear on its way to his heart. “Where were we?” Invisible forces lifted him yet again, and with the clenching of the warlock’s fist, Alan fought no more. The angel dropped limp beside Oliver.

I heard Caspian rushing me. When I turned to block, the impact of his blow flung the saber from my hands. Anja jumped him, forcing him to swap his attention.

The werecat, my last friend, my love, she looked oddly collected despite the three bodies by Mandala’s feet. A few tears streaked down her cheeks as she ducked and spun from Caspian’s sword strokes.

Then a blow connected as she tried to slip the knife into an opening. I smelled the blood seeping from her arms before I saw it. “Ow,” she cried, wheezing. Caspian’s face was contorted with a manic smile of triumph as he kept coming at her, swinging, cleaving.

I snatched the saber again. A spurt of rage sent me after him. The vampire hunter shoved Anja away, sent her stumbling backward, and whirled around with his hand crossbow aimed at my heart.

“No, you’re not tethered,” Anja yelled.

The bowstring twanged. I could see the bolt flying in slow motion. I deflected it with the flat of my blade, and felt it snap upon impact, the wooden pieces flying off in different directions.

Anja’s knife sank into Caspian’s shoulder while he watched me. He cried out, and the crossbow flew from his hand. Her mistake was not pulling out immediately. The dhampir spun around, slashing with his sword.

Anja backed up, pressing her hands to her stomach as blood dripped between her fingers and her lemon blouse bloomed red. She wheezed, her voice raspy and teary. “Don’t worry… It’s fine.”

Behind us among the tents, I heard a gasp of air being sucked in deeply and a wail of agony that scared the heart off my chest. The Knight knelt over Mr. Royce, the dark saber piercing his chest as he sank it into him and beyond. The gold pocket watch rolled from his palm.

Numb.

A cold, steely numbness gripped my organs. A shadow swaddled my soul from ever seeing the light again. I could barely breathe. All I remembered was losing my strength, the vigor to keep on fighting, the will to live on, and I was soon on my knees with a dead stare.

“Scarlett, really, it’s fine.” Anja had fallen to her knees in front of me. “Please, babe, this was the only way.” Her voice sounded faraway, in a far off dreamworld.

I’ll wake up. Soon I’ll wake up from this weird dream, this parody of reality.

Caspian stood shambling behind her, the tip of his white straight sword hovering over her neck. “I’m usually good mates with werecats… But I did warn you. Sorry about this.”

“Just hang on…”

A distant sound was gradually picking up in strength, but still so barely audible I questioned if it was real. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. It came from the innards of my soul, or the darkest corners of my mind. Tick tock, tick tock. It came from within my brain, vibrating into my eardrums. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

It was Mr. Royce’s pocket watch.

It rang.

Caspian arched his eyebrows. His gaze landed on the watch, vibrating where it lay, ringing, its glass dome cracked. The noise distracted him so much he held the sword at his side, leaving Anja wheezing and bleeding on her knees.

The Knight went to pick it up, holding it from the chain at arm’s length.

Caspian looked to Mandala for answers. “What does it mean?”

I perked up to listen. Anja was smiling weakly at me.

The warlock stepped over the bodies. “It’s his catalyst. He must have charmed it.”

“I’m sorry you had to see all of that…” Anja said in the softest whisper I could barely hear. She grimaced from the pain. “When we go home… we’ll celebrate… chips, pop, a movie, my bed…” Her smile took on a lascivious hint while biting her lower lip.

I drew an involuntary gasp when she vanished into thin air, literally—no wormhole involved this time. She went from kneeling and bleeding, to not being there, to not having ever been there at all. Desperate for answers, I looked up to Mandala and realized the bodies of my friends were no longer there either.

I had grown used to the heat of the bonfires consuming half the camp warming my body, and to the reek of smoke poisoning my nostrils. Suddenly, that was all gone too. Their abrupt disappearance was so jarring I spun all around me. The air was clean and there was no remnant of smoke I could smell. There was no heat but the everlasting cold of Limbo. No fires burned anymore. In fact, nothing had burned anywhere at all. The tents that had crumpled in their rage and during the fight were now back on their feet, intact. Previously dead vampire thralls now ambled aimlessly along their aisles.

You’re not tethered, she had yelled at me. Even if nothing ever truly happened, everything I’d suffered up to now, physically and emotionally, was here to stay with me forever, though.

Mandala was also surveying the scene, crunching his lips in anger. “The old bat’s playing with our timeline.”

Caspian rushed to where Anja had been kneeling, slashing his sword at the air madly. He shouted: “Where did the cat go? Where the hell is she?”

Then his mouth hung open, his white eyes opening wide with astonishment, sucking in a large mouthful of air as he attempted to scream, but no sound came of that. The sword dropped from his hand in a loud clang. He keeled over on his fours, struggling for breath. A large survival knife stuck out on the square center of his back. The scent of iron kicked my taste buds into overdrive.

Anja stepped back from him in her human form, shaking, but unharmed. “That’s for ruining Halloween.”

I also tried catching my breath. “Anja… how?”

Mandala raised a fist towards her, clenching it. Before he could do anything with it, he was interrupted.

A flash of red hit his eyes, and he blinked. The wormhole roared open under his feet, a gale of wind riffling his clothes. Before he could react, lance of light bolted from within it, spearing through his torso, and Alan emerged sinking it in, his cold, calculating eyes staring into the warlock’s stunned ones. The hulking man gripped the hard light to try to pull it out, bellowing in pain, face contorted in agony and fury. The angel pursed his lips and buried it deeper.

There was an explosion of heat, a wave of blistering incandescence rolling over us. There it was again, along with sharp stench of smoke worming into my nostrils. Oliver’s raging inferno rampaged through the camp, consuming everything in its wake, torching all vampire thralls that might have jumped us from behind.

Mr. Royce strode past me, his watch pointed firmly at Mandala, uttering sorcery, and threw him into a stasis spell while transfixed to Alan’s hard light.

The blood warlock fought against it but fell to its restraints. Every movement he made looked in slow mo. He raised his fist at the teacher painstakingly slow as though he were lifting three hundred pounds along with it while groaning from the pain and exertion. His powerful voice thundered like a god’s over a valley as he, at last, managed to outstretch his burly arm to perform magic.

“Oh no.” Oliver grabbed it and hooked himself to it, dropping his whole weight on it, pulling it away from Mr. Royce.

Morganne clung to his other arm before he even tried again.

“Help! Get me out of here…” Caspian was squirming on the foggy floor, his twitching hands grasping, fingers clawing. “Why am I even paying you? Damn it!” He coughed a glob of blood.

The remaining Knight slashed at me on his way to Caspian. Our blades met once, and as they glanced off each other, he ignored me to fall to his knees beside the hunter, hooking his healthy arm around his neck.

“Go! He can fend for himself…” Caspian said, wincing as though each syllable hurt.

The snake-eyed devil didn’t hesitate. In a second their wormhole was opening, and they jumped out of this dimension, leaving nothing behind but drops of red.

As soon as they were gone, Anja threw herself into my arms, nuzzling my neck. The jasmine aroma kissed its way into my nose. Most of the tension gripping my muscles, the suspense smothering my heart, it all gushed out with my heaving chest and tears of joy and relief. I hugged her back, my arms tight around her back and my hand caressing her blonde, silky hair.

But it was far from over.

Mr. Royce marched up to his counterpart, keeping his watch pointed at him. “Now, this can end in two ways. You set off my rewind spell. No doubt you killed me or all of us. Unfortunately for you, now I won’t have regrets killing you.”

Oliver frowned. “Am I the only one getting some really strong déjà vu vibes here?”

Mandala stood rooted to the spot, held down by Alan’s spear, Mr. Royce’s stasis spell, and my two friends’ weight on his arms. “You’re too stupid to see. The only difference killing me would make is you walking out of here alive.” Mandala fought for breath. “Had you not come here… you wouldn’t be worrying about that difference. You’re so afraid of change, you’d rather die averting it… But that is also beyond you. There’s no averting it.” He bared his walls of teeth. “Scarlett! You should’ve been by my side. ORPHEUS betrayed you, the overseer betrayed you before you were even brought to our world. Yet you cover your ears and refuse to listen. You see the signs, but you’d rather ignore them.”

“You told me I was their chosen one. Is that what you meant?” I said as Anja clung to my arms.

“Farpoint’s overseer gave your sire the command to turn you and many others. They had you become their pawn in their filthy game, using me, using you, to fulfill the quota of sacrifices at the lake.”

“But why?” I watched the pieces of the puzzle fall together in hindsight. As I recalled the overseer, Malcolm’s smug piggy face, my nails dug into my skin.

“I gave you all you needed to thrive in this world, taught you and took care of you when your own father would’ve gotten rid of you. Malcolm had hoped I’d break you and turn you into an irredeemable beast like all the others.”

There was a pause. An oppressive, menacing silence ensued.

“Why me? Why me of all people?”

“Because I saw the fire in you, the burning desire and the unstoppable will to rise up and change the world.”

“That’s not the case anymore. I’ve found my place in the world and that’s where I want to stay.”

“You leave me no choice th—” Mr. Royce began.

A growl surged from the warlock’s throat. “All I’ve done for you, yet you betray me. After everything I’ve done. Disappointing me wasn’t enough. You had to come twist the knife.” He chuckled. “The Starlit Almanac does things to a man you couldn’t even imagine. There are no alternatives, Royce. You cannot physically kill me. I am unkillable, unstoppable, indestructible. Seems like having you all join me would be too much to ask. So yes, you leave me no choice.”

“Alan!”

“On it.” A second spear materialized in his free hand. As he drove it through the warlock’s chest, it bounced off the shroud of hard darkness.

Mandala roared. Everything he said was directed at me. The rage in his eyes, the vehemence in his voice, all towards me. “You don’t get to get away with it. My black swan won’t have died for nothing, and certainly not for your betrayal.”

Nightmare reared its head again. And I watched hopelessly.

In the blink of an eye, he set himself loose. He broke free from Mr. Royce’s time spell and flung his arm, slamming Morganne on her back, leaving her windless. An elbow to the face sent Oliver stumbling backward with his hands clenching over the bruise. A launched fist freed him from Alan’s stinger lock, sending him rolling on the ground and making the spear vanish from his body.

Mr. Royce hollered spells to stall the warlock. But he was ignored.

Mandala rose into the air, levitating, his enraged eyes transfixed on mine. His lips were moving, conjuring a curse under his breath. “May the blood of life become your poison…” A swirling, pulsating glow of red gathered about his palm, coalescing into a rotating mass like a rapidly spinning ball of death. His arm pulled back and flung it at me.

The curse zoomed through the air. In a split second it had reached me.

Anja stepped in between us and hugged me. She whimpered. I felt her nails dig into my skin before her grip on me became loose. Her body went limp. I caught her in my arms before she slid to the ground.

Why do I feel fine? What’s wrong with her?

“Love, what’s wrong?” Since she wouldn’t stand up again, I helped her lay down, her head cradled on my lap. Her eyes were half-closed, and as understanding dawned on me, a stab of pain lanced through my heart. “Anja, Anja… Anja, babe, what is it? How are you feeling? Please, talk to me.”

Mr. Royce watched stunned, paralyzed.

“Rewind it, turn it back, turn it back, turn it back!”

The teacher had lost his speech. “I-I… she’s not tethered… None of us are anymore.” His mouth hung open. “I-I-I’m not strong enough… I c-can’t. Too much time… to rewind.”

Mandala watched, too. He’d settled on the ground, one big hand covering the spear’s cauterized wound while watching us, panting. The rage had abandoned him. But it would be hard to tell what he felt from the brooding look in his eyes. He frowned before turning his back to us and lumbering towards the still-standing pavilion tent.

“Anja?” Oliver had a swollen bleeding lip. “What happened? Anja.” He squeezed her hand. “Anja, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

She drew in a lungful of air, wheezing harshly. “It hurts.” Her voice came out grating from her throat. “Love, did you turn off the lights? Why’s it getting dark?”

Mr. Royce knelt by her side, grasping her other hand. “I-I can’t… forgive me. Please, forgive me.”

Anja tried focusing her gaze on him, but her eyes struggled to keep open. “I don’t understand…” She grimaced and a tear dribbled down her side. “I don’t wanna go. I’m only sixteen… I-I don’t wanna…”

Tears streaked down the teacher’s face. “I know, I know. You will… you will be fine.” His voice could barely be contained.

“You won’t.” I sat her up, her back propped against my chest. Her head lolled on her shoulder, revealing her tender neck. I swept her hair away.

“Don’t. Her blood’s poisoned,” Mr. Royce burst out. “Even as a vampire, it’d destroy her heart.”

I leaned in all the same. As I did, I could tell there was something off—the blood’s scent was all wrong, twisted, like something didn’t belong. But it didn’t matter; I didn’t care.

My fangs pierced her skin like a knife on hot butter. The taste repulsive, its strong odor a reek—everything about her blood repelled me. I spat out what little entered my mouth. I physically couldn’t drink it, or I’d retch. It’s poison. “There’s gotta be a way. Anja…”

“I-I’m feeling better now,” she said softly. There were faint vibrations against my chest. She was purring. “It doesn’t hurt as much…”

Oliver threw himself over her shoulder, pressing his forehead on her, shaking. His tears stained her lemon-colored blouse. I could barely tell what he was saying from his distraught voice and slobbering cries. “I love you. I always did.”

My arms were wrapped around her waist. I clung to her, kissing her cheeks, rocking her. “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t go.” I couldn’t think straight anymore. It felt like the end of the world. The grief racked my lungs, making me heave uncontrollably, making breathing hard. My heart was splitting in two, and heartache spilled from my eyes.

I felt her slipping away from me, and the despair consumed every inch of my body. Her voice became softer, weaker. Her faltering, loving gaze was for my eyes only, still managing to give me one last feeble smile.

“I don’t regret anything.”

The purring ceased.

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