by Tracy Wolff
I turn to the others, prepared to cut off another attack if necessary, but they’re not coming near me. They’re just watching me in horrified astonishment…which works for me.
But Delphina makes one last pass at me, diving out of the sky as fast as she can, talons aimed straight for my heart. With nothing more than a thought, with a wave of my hand, she disappears.
And the crowd roars even louder. Not because I’ve killed her, although I easily could have. But because she’s re-formed in the infirmary tent on the sidelines. So strange to imagine I could have dealt a mortal blow with a mere thought.
I’m only a few steps away from the goal now, and with each step I take, I shrink a little more, until I’m back down to my normal size.
I pause before I cross, though, and hold the ball up to the audience, in the same way Nuri did. I challenge each and every one of them to hold it as long as I have—which by now must be at least ten minutes, including the time it was trapped, incendiary and vibrating, under my broken body.
Then I shift back to my human form, so that as I step across the bloodred goal line, it’s Grace—just Grace—who is walking the ball across it.
Grace, just Grace, who has somehow managed to beat Cole, beat the Circle, beat the king, and beat the odds.
It’s a good feeling.
As I cross the goal, the arena erupts in cheers and stomping, and I can’t help taunting the king. I offer him the comet. I didn’t think the noise could become more deafening, but it does. Somehow it does. Nuri dips her head in respect, and I wink at her. Then drop the comet onto the ground.
But that last blast of Hudson’s power has decimated me, and the moment the words ring out across the stadium that I’m the winner, I stop. I just stop.
And then fall to my knees as wave after wave of exhaustion rolls right over me.
121
And the Crowd
Goes Wild
It’s over. It’s finally over. That’s all I can think as the world around me goes wild.
I want to get back up, want to check on Jaxon and Hudson and Macy and Flint and Eden and Mekhi and Gwen—all casualties in the battles that have gotten me here, to this moment—but I’m too tired to so much as turn my head. Too tired to do anything but lie here and try to absorb everything that’s just happened.
The crowd is screaming and stomping so loudly that it feels like the arena itself is going to crack wide open. Students are cheering, faculty are clapping, and even most of the Circle are looking at me like they might have underestimated me.
It’s a little strange considering how, less than an hour ago, it felt like everyone in this place was against me. Suspicious, angry, convinced that I didn’t belong here…and now they’re cheering for me like I’m actually one of their own.
And the only thing that’s changed is I actually won the Circle’s little Trial.
I’m still me, still Grace. Half-human, half-gargoyle girl. Only now they seem to think I belong.
Interesting, considering I’ve never wanted to belong less. Never wanted anything more than to simply walk away from this stadium and never look back.
There are only eight people in this entire place who I actually care about—everyone else can go straight to hell.
Ironic? Yes. Something I need to deal with right now? Not even close.
So I drop what I sincerely hope is my last entry into the “Shit I Don’t Have Time For Today” file, then rest my head on the ground and breathe. Just breathe.
I’m going to get up—I am—just as soon as I’m certain that my legs can support me. Turns out doing the entire test on my own and then following it up with some kind of mega power explosion takes a lot out of a girl…especially with the night I had.
But before I can so much as figure out what hurts—or more accurately, what doesn’t hurt, since that’s a much smaller list—Cyrus has lowered the magical force field protecting the playing area just enough to let himself in and is now moving quickly across the grass.
I don’t want to get up, but no way am I meeting this man facedown on the ground. Much less on my knees. So I dig into whatever last reserve of strength I have, and I push myself up and stand. I’m wobbly, but I’m on my feet.
As our gazes connect, I can’t help but pick up on a disturbing amount of rage in his eyes, so much so that I expect him to start screaming and running full tilt at me any second.
But he’s got too much restraint for that.
Instead, he walks slowly, deliberately up to me in his three-piece Tom Ford suit and tie, and he doesn’t stop until he’s only a couple of inches away.
The closer he gets, the more unsettling it becomes to be this close to him. Partly because he looks like a thirty-year-old version of Jaxon and Hudson—a little more scruff and a lot more sophistication, with an attitude that commands obedience—and partly because, when our gazes meet, there’s something in the depths of his that gives me the creeps on a whole new level.
I start to take a step back—several steps, actually—but that’s exactly what he’s going for. So I force myself to stand my ground, lift my chin, and keep my gaze locked on his despite my misgivings.
I expect my small rebellion to set him off, but instead it brings an ever-so-slight smile to his face as he looks me over. He never says a word, never makes a move toward me, and still I feel all kinds of gross by the time his gaze travels from my muddy shoes back up to my face.
Maybe I should have taken that step back after all—onto the next mountain, if possible. But it’s too late now. Any move on my part will look like retreat, and I’m not about to give him the satisfaction…or the power.
All of a sudden, the entire arena begins to shake, the ground rolling and jerking beneath my feet for a few seconds before settling back down again.
“So. You did it,” he says, eyebrow arched and index finger running along his lower lip in that way some men do when they think they’ve found a snack.
As if.
“I did,” I answer, lip curled in contempt even as every instinct I have is screaming at me to run, that a deadly predator has me in his sights. “And now I’m going to leave.”
I go to move past him, and he reaches out, grabs my elbow.
The arena starts to shake again, and I glance over at my friends, see Jaxon’s and Hudson’s frantic faces, and know instinctively that Jaxon is the cause of this. He’s fighting his father’s protection dome, trying desperately to break through it.
The ground shifts again, and Cyrus adjusts his stance—and his grip—on my arm. I brace myself for pain, for punishment, for something, but his touch remains light even as he leans down to whisper in my ear.
“You don’t really think I’m going to let you leave, do you?”
“I think you don’t have a choice,” I answer. “I played your little game and I won. And now I’m walking away. From you. From this arena. From everything.”
I start to pull my elbow from his grip, and that’s when his fingers tighten, pinning me in place. And there’s nothing I can do. I’m fighting a fatigue so powerful, my entire body is shaking with the effort to stay on my feet. “You think I don’t know you cheated?”
“Do you think I care what you know?” I shoot back.
“I designed this Trial. There’s no way you beat it on your own.” His fingers dig into my elbow a little more with each word that he hisses.
I don’t flinch or pull away, even though the pain is getting worse by the second. Instead, I return his smile and answer, “I find it interesting that you felt the need to put together the hardest Trial ever for a half-human girl who’s only had her powers about two weeks. Overkill much?”
“Are you saying you didn’t cheat?” he asks.
“Are you saying you didn’t?” I counter.
Because I suppose, technically, I did cheat a little—I used Hudson’s power when on
ly mates can help each other.
But that’s nothing compared to what they did to ensure that I failed. They deliberately broke my mating bond minutes before I walked into the arena.
They deprived me of a mate, not just for this ridiculous game but for the rest of my life as well.
They broke me…and Jaxon.
And Cyrus thinks he’s going to come down here and complain that I cheated? Sorry, so not sorry.
“Do you think this means you’re actually going to get a seat on the Circle, little girl?” It’s said with a snarl, though his face never changes—and neither does the pressure of his fingers on my elbow. “No gargoyle will ever sit on it again. Not while I’m king. Not after what they did.”
I don’t know what he means, and I don’t care. Not now, maybe not ever.
Which is why I snarl back, “I don’t give a shit about your Circle. I never have.” I’m fed up with this conversation, fed up with him, fed up with this whole damn world and its arbitrary rules and out-of-control power grabs. “So why don’t you and your little group of playmates pack up your stuff and go home? Nobody wants you here.”
“You don’t get to tell me to go home.” He starts to circle around behind me, and I know something is coming, can feel it in my bones.
But I’m still not backing down from this man. I can’t. More, I won’t. Instead, I reach for my gargoyle. For the shiny platinum thread that has kept me safe for days now.
“You don’t get to tell me anything,” he continues.
I turn my head so I can track his movements. Just because I refuse to back down to him doesn’t mean I’d ever let him out of my sight—especially when he’s this close. “I feel exactly the same way, Cyrus.” I deliberately use his name just to piss him off.
It works, his voice turning to ice as he says, “You know we can’t both win, right, Grace?”
I would congratulate myself for getting under his skin, but there’s something in his tone that tells me I pissed him off too much. Something that puts me on high alert and has me pulling on the platinum thread. I start to shift even though I’m exhausted and I know it will cost me. But I’m too worn out; my gargoyle is sluggish.
And that’s when Cyrus strikes, fangs flashing a millisecond before he sinks them into my neck, right over my carotid artery.
122
You’re So Jelly
I scream as the world goes completely out of control, the ground shaking so hard that I swear it’s going to tear itself apart. And then I scream again.
I can’t help it. The pain is overwhelming, so different than when Jaxon bites me that I can barely comprehend what’s happening.
“Stop!” I scream, shoving Cyrus off as I desperately try to complete my shift.
But I can’t transform, my body already moving beyond my control as the pain starts shooting down my arms, turning my legs weak and my blood to fire.
Oh God, it hurts. It hurts.
Tears bloom in my eyes, but I blink them back as I push at Cyrus, desperate to get him off me. But he’s already off, already pulling away. I don’t understand how that’s possible when the agony inside me is only getting worse.
And that’s when it hits me. He’s not drinking my blood like Jaxon did. All Cyrus did was bite me, and it’s that bite that burns like the surface of the sun.
Venom.
Cyrus turns to the crowd, his arms wide, and announces in a bellowing voice that carries in the silence like a lone bell, “Our little gargoyle has admitted she cheated. We all saw it. And the penalty for cheating the Trials is death, is it not?” He holds the arena in the palm of his hand. “How dare she try to subvert our traditions, our rules. She is not one of us and never will be.”
And on that final note, he turns back to me just as a loud tearing noise rends the air. Suddenly the crowd sounds much louder, even though the ground has finally stopped shaking. Which is good, I register, as everything starts to shut down inside me, because my legs are giving way.
I start to crumple, brace myself for the impact of the ground and whatever else will come from Cyrus when I’m finally lying there defenseless.
But I never hit the ground, because just as suddenly as Cyrus struck, Hudson is here, beside me. Catching me.
Like I was yesterday’s trash, Cyrus has already turned and walked away. I stare at his tall form stalking across the field, and I wonder if anyone will ever challenge this brutal vampire. How much longer until the entire world is on its knees before him? How naïve was I to think I could temper his reign? Me. A tiny half-human gargoyle.
Hudson scoops me up into his arms, his face ravaged with a fear and rage like I’ve never seen from him before. “Grace!” he shouts hoarsely. “Grace, hang on.”
There’s nothing removed about him now. Nothing sardonic or defensive or even snarky at all. And I suddenly realize, even through the pain, that I might be looking at the real Hudson for the very first time.
I like what I see. Except…the sudden tears in his blue eyes only make them look deeper.
I reach a hand up and brush them away. “Hey, it’s okay,” I tell him even though I know it’s not. “Don’t do that.”
I know this is bad, even without Hudson’s tears. It’s not like it’s exactly a surprise as pain and burning continue to spread through every part of my body. It doesn’t mean I’m not sad, though. I was looking forward to getting to know him when he wasn’t in my head.
I was looking forward to a lot of things.
I glance over to where Jaxon and Macy are trying to get to me. They’re halfway across the field, but Jaxon is struggling—I can’t imagine what it must have taken for him to rip that magical dome apart, especially as depleted as he already was.
I wish I could go to him, wish I could hold him one more time.
But I’m already cold, the rain and sleet able to reach the stadium with the magical wall gone, and I can already feel everywhere Cyrus’s venom touches as it works its way deeper and deeper into my system.
“Grace, look at me,” Hudson says with an urgency I’ve never heard from him before. “I need you to look at me.”
I slowly turn my head back to him, even as I wonder how much longer it’s going to take the venom to kill me. Everything hurts so much, I can barely breathe, barely think.
“You have to hang on,” Hudson whispers. “We can fix this—I know we can. I just need you to stay with me a little longer.”
“Eternal bite,” I whisper to him. A reminder that I know what’s happening here. Just like I know that he’s lying. Because no one ever recovers from Cyrus’s eternal bite—not even gargoyles. History has proven that.
“Fuck the eternal bite,” he answers. “You’re not dying on my watch, Grace.”
I laugh—just a little—because the pain makes it hurt too much. “I don’t think even you can stop this.”
“You have no idea what I can do.”
Speaking of which… “I think I have something that belongs to you,” I whisper.
Another wave of pain racks my body so hard, I almost pass out. I vaguely register Hudson’s shouting at me, pleading with me, though I’m not sure why. He doesn’t want me to do something…probably not die. Yeah, I don’t want that, either. But if I’m going to die, I’m going to at least give him a fighting chance at living again.
As the pain finally recedes, I reach my hand up, lay it on his cheek. Then reach inside me to find the brilliant blue thread that’s never been there before—it’s right on top, laid over all the others like it’s just been waiting for this moment.
Then again, maybe it has. I’m sure Hudson knows what to do with his powers much better than I ever will.
With the last remaining strength I can muster, I wrap my hand around the string and channel Hudson’s power back into him.
There’s a lot of it, more than I’ve ever imagined was possible fo
r one person to hold, let alone wield. I’ve seen Jaxon’s power, felt it through the mating bond, and it’s immense. But this…this feels limitless.
The exchange goes on and on, Hudson’s eyes glowing a little brighter with every second that passes, his lips moving, but I can’t make out the words he’s saying over the sound of his power rushing in my ears as it leaves me. Until finally, finally I’m empty. Finally, the last remnant of Hudson is gone, and I am well and truly alone.
Which seems fair, actually. I guess when it all comes down to it, everybody dies alone.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, tears blooming in my eyes once more and mingling with the soft rain on my face. “I should have—”
“You,” Cyrus says, his fury barely contained as he stares down at the son he so recently lost. “How are you here?”
Someone must have told him Hudson was beside me, and he came back to see for himself. I wish he would leave. I can tell I only have a few more minutes left, and I want to spend them with Hudson.
“Does it matter?” Hudson responds. “You were always going to pay for this, whether I was here or not.”
“She cheated. The rules are very clear—only a mate can help you pass the test, and she has no mate. Cole made sure—”
My heart stutters in my chest, rage and regret burning inside me at what Cyrus just revealed. He did know what Cole had planned—had maybe even put him up to it.
I want to say something to Cyrus, want to call him on the atrocity—or atrocities—he committed today, but I don’t have the strength to fight anymore. It’s taking every inch of strength I have left to try to follow what’s going on. Arguing is impossible. And it wouldn’t matter anyway—what’s done is done, and it’s not like getting him to admit his complicity changes anything. I just want him to leave me to die in peace.
Hudson doesn’t argue, either. He just stares his father down, face blank and eyes blazing, until it’s obvious that Cyrus starts to get uncomfortable, his face growing pale as he shifts back and forth. But still he blusters. Still he pits his arrogance against Hudson’s strength.
