by L. M. Pruitt
Lisette might have been the core of the evil but it was well and truly alive.
I leaned against the door when I finally reached it, my breath coming hard and fast. I pushed the door open and took a moment to look up and down the hallway. No one. This was either really good or really bad. The way the night was going, I cast my vote for really bad.
I stumbled down the hallway, one a hand on the wall to keep my balance. I hoped someone had thought to bring Bridget, because there was something seriously wrong with me. It would be like me to die right when I got my life straightened out.
I managed to make it to the end of the hall without falling, getting hit in the ribs, or walloped upside the head. I slid around the corner, pausing for a moment to catch my breath.
“There you are. Let’s see if you’re really willing to die for these damn animals.”
I turned in the direction of Hart’s voice, ducking at the last second. His fist went through the wall with a sickening thud and my stomach turned over at what that would have done to my head. I slipped under his arm, pushing up from the floor to run in the direction of the war.
If he wanted to kill me, that was fine. Nothing new, but the bastard had to catch me first.
I ran blindly, turning, then turning again. I scrambled up stairs, chased by Hart’s screaming. I needed to be going down and the only direction I could find was up.
Of fucking course.
I slammed through the first unlocked door I found and into the middle of hell.
The wind knocked me to the ground and I lay there stunned for a moment. Arrows fell in a constant, burning rain around me. One of Hart’s men took an arrow and burst into flames. I covered my ears, trying to block out the screams.
They were louder than anything else going on.
Someone grabbed and wrenched my arm upward, snapping my shoulder out of joint. Pain came so fast and brilliant I could barely breathe, never mind scream. Hart’s face twisted into a mask of fury and hate as he spun me around to face him, pushing me toward the edge of the building.
I heard a voice below call for the archers to hold their fire and the rain of arrows stopped. My hair whipped around my face, the wind scraping my skin raw. Hart leaned in close and even then he had to scream to be heard over the wind.
“Let’s see how well you fly, witch.”
I gripped his shirt with my one good hand and leaned backward. In any other situation, the look of disbelief on his face would have been priceless. “Let’s see.”
And we fell.
Chapter Thirty-Four
It was like jumping out of an airplane. At least how I’ve always imagined jumping out of an airplane would feel. You expected the wind to keep you up, even though you knew gravity pushed you down.
Hart tried to twist out of my grasp but I held firm. The fall might not kill him – it was only four stories, but if it didn’t, he sure as hell wasn’t walking away. Which meant someone would have the time they needed to take his head.
God, I hoped it wasn’t Theo. He was already having a bad night.
The screams grew in intensity as the ground rushed up to hit us. I waited for the moment when it would and everything snapped to black. I prayed. For me. For Theo. For Rian, Elizabeth, Celia, and Lies. For every person who’d trusted me to end this.
This wasn’t the way I would have chosen, but sometimes fate chooses for us.
It hurt. I thought the impact would kill me instantly but the only thing instant was the pain. Christ Jesus, there was a lot of it. My teeth hurt. Hell, my hair hurt.
Then I realized – I was breathing.
I rolled over, coughing and hacking, the movement made worse thanks to the damage already done to my ribs. I turned my head to the left and spotted Hart. The bastard moved, unfortunately. Not a lot, but enough to tell me he’d survived the fall, too. I turned my head to the right and my heart stuttered.
The Rising.
I tried to crawl toward the sword but the second I put my weight onto my left side my shoulder screamed in protest and down I went. My face scraped against the pavement and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I shifted to my right side, using my one good arm to crawl.
Behind me, Hart grabbed my leg, trying to pull me back. I kicked out, connected with something and heard the crunch of cartilage. Hart screamed, a high pitched sound that sent my nerves skittering. I crawled forward a few more inches, fingertips grazing the hilt of the sword.
I heard a muffled thud and jerked my head left. Nine feet away, Theo beat against air. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear anything. I paused, confused, forgetting Hart was mere inches behind me.
The wind blew wildly where Theo stood. I could see it whipping his clothes, buffeting him back and forth, but there was no wind where I lay. I looked to my right and saw Lies kneeling, yelling at the sky.
Ahead of me, I could make out the faint, glowing neon lights of Bourbon Street. I looked up and saw where the quiet ended and insanity began.
Somehow, I’d cast a circle while I fell. No one could get in or out.
It was just me and Hart.
I closed my fingers over the cold metal of the hilt, dragging it toward me. It was going to hurt and I didn’t know what kind of range of motion my left shoulder had. I pushed to my feet, pulling the sword up with me, using it like a cane to gain my balance.
Hart’s swearing and cursing alerted me that he was gaining his feet as well and I swung around to face him. I hefted the sword with my right hand, testing the weight. It grew lighter, easier to manage in my grasp, and I gave a light swing. Steel whistled on the air and I watched Hart’s eyes narrow.
“So you can fly. Let’s see if you can fight.”
He darted forward and I danced away, moving with nothing but my instinct as guide. Where the hell he’d hid a sword on him, I have no clue. I watched him slice through the air and knew I was in a whole lot of trouble. He raised his sword again, preparing to strike.
A downswing. The Rising flew up. Parried. Clashed.
Gillian told me the Rising would be the weapon I needed, and it was. My mind emptied of everything but the clash of steel against steel. We circled, lunged. Swung again and again.
My arm went numb and still continued to move, independent of the rest of me. I felt myself slow down, saw Hart doing the same. He would last longer than me, I knew.
The Rising flashed out and met with flesh instead of steel. I watched the bright red of fresh blood spread across Hart’s middle, his hand going to his stomach in shock. His sword dropped and he raised the other hand to watch the blood drip from his fingers.
The Rising flashed again and scarlet bloomed across his chest. Again, and his sword hand went limp, the tendons in his wrist cut clean through. Breath burned in my lungs. The Rising swung again and Hart dropped to his knees, both hands clutching his gaping middle.
The wind returned, fluttering Hart’s shirt, splashing drops of blood on the street. I’d thought, when this moment came, I would feel panicked or relieved or even dismayed.
I didn’t feel anything other than empty.
I lifted the Rising one final time, the sword turning smoothly in my hand until the flat of the blade rested under Hart’s chin. No sneer on his face or fear in his eyes.
I swung my arm back, the blade whistling in the light breeze.
“Jude. Please.”
I didn’t drop the sword or take my eyes from Hart’s face. “What are you doing here, Williams?”
“Jude. He’s my brother.” Williams glided over the blood splattered pavement, sliding between us. I shifted so I could keep my eyes, and the sword, on Hart.
“What are you doing here, Williams?” Theo couldn’t get in, but Williams could. Strange.
“Your circle kept the living out.” Simple explanation covered all the bases. “He’s the only thing remotely close to a family I have left.”
“Keep your pity, brother.” Hart’s voice was still smoothly cultured, though strained.
“He kill
ed my grandmother. The only family I had left.” I slid my eyes from Hart for a moment, just a moment. “Get out of my circle.”
“Jude.” Williams grabbed my left shoulder and I gasped in pain, my right hand dropping reflexively. One second with my guard down. One second.
Hart pushed to his feet and rushed past me, knocking over Elizabeth as he fled the circle. Cries rose from the crowd of people gathered and more than one scream tore through the night air.
“Goddamn you, Williams!” I wrenched out of his grasp, holding fast to the Rising with my good hand. I turned and ran, power snapping as the circle broke. People cowered on the ground, their heads covered, raising them as I flew past.
I could make out the top of his head, just barely, over the crowds as he tried to blend into the melee of Bourbon. The screams grew more frequent the faster I ran and part of me realized people here had no idea what was going on less than five blocks away. A bruised, bloodied woman grasping a sword running after a man in even worse condition didn’t factor on the sight-seeing list of most tourists.
I glimpsed Hart as he turned suddenly left, a group of female tourists screaming and dropping their geaux cups. Left, toward the river. The crowd broke and I pushed through, praying I wouldn’t slice anyone open with the sword, as I ducked and slid around people, always moving, never stopping or slowing.
The weight in my right hand changed and I risked a glance down. The Rising shrank to a dagger, easily able to fit in the palm of my hand. I closed my fist around it, ignoring the sharp sting as the blade bit into my palm, and ran faster.
If the people hadn’t been observant before, they were now. Screams rose as we flew down St. Peter Street, becoming shriller the closer we got to the river. Hart didn’t pause in his sprint across Decatur and neither did I. A cab stopped right before running over my toes and I slid across the hood, hitting the ground hard on my hands and knees, the Rising slicing deeper.
By the time I raced up the incline and sprinted across the train tracks, I was fighting another crowd, this one running away from the river. I pushed through them, homeless, tourists and locals out taking the night air. I skidded to a halt on the Moonwalk, my lungs on fire, my muscles shaking.
Where was he?
The shove from behind knocked me to my knees and I rolled, half second before Hart slammed his fist down where my face had been. I grabbed his shirt and kept rolling, moving us toward the river. I kept my elbow in his throat, his face away from mine. I winced when rocks dug into my back and took a deep breath.
We plunged into the river.
It stung, the cool slap, even in August. I kicked hard, dragging us down and away from the bank, until my lungs protested and I had no choice but to rise. Our heads broke the surface together and I gasped in a breath, choking as water splashed into my mouth. Hart’s sneer returned, and my right hand convulsed where it clung to his shirt.
“You can’t drown me, you fool. I’m already dead.”
I treaded water, pulling him closer. My nose nearly touched his and I knew the instant he realized what else was in my hand besides his shirt. I relaxed my fingers, and the Rising pressed delicately into his left breast.
“There are some things worse than death.” I thrust the blade home.
He screamed and pushed me away while trying frantically to draw the dagger out but it was like the weapon had teeth and clung to his insides no matter how hard he pulled. His screams grew until I threw my hands up over my ears to drown the sound out. I didn’t know what the Rising was doing to him, but I knew what I planned to do.
Gillian never showed me how to call water – we hadn’t had enough time, but it was do or die. The circle I cast while Hart screamed and thrashed drained, the water within shifting out.
The cold, thick and muddy slush of the river bed slid through my bloody fingers. I looked up at the ceiling and walls of water around us and the man in front of me on his back writhing in pain. I crawled over, straddled him and yanked the dagger out. I pressed on his shoulders and the ground opened up to draw him in.
“You can’t leave me here. I’ll burn.”
I moved backward as the ground took over, pulled him deeper and swallowed him up. “You’re under ground, under nearly two hundred feet of water.” I crawled further away, not wanting to touch any part of him, scared of being sucked in myself. “Let’s see you swim, you bastard.”
The mud cut off his screams and I pushed myself to my feet. I looked up again, the walls of water shivered and jerked. I didn’t know how to undo what I’d done. I took a deep breath. Closed my eyes, uncast the circle.
The water collapsed on me with a quiet whoosh and everything went black.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The bright light hurt my eyes so I kept them closed. Slowly, they adjusted and I squinted. Everything was bright white, almost blinding. The walls, the chairs, the floor.
Gillian.
I blinked, opening my eyes wide and sat up. I leaned back, weight braced on my hands and noticed my left shoulder no longer hurt. My right hand no longer bled. I tilted my head. No headache, no nausea. This meant one thing.
“Am I dead?”
Gillian smiled, chuckling slightly, like she always did when I asked what she considered a question with an obvious answer. “Well, do you want to be?”
“I’m pretty sure God doesn’t give you that kind of option.”
“To saints, and to martyrs.”
I snorted and pushed to my feet, stretching my muscles. If I was dead, I felt surprisingly good. “Well, since I’m neither, I guess that answers the question.”
Gillian shook her head, still chuckling. Her hair made the same sliding motion it always had and a lump formed in my throat. “But you are.”
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. “Has being dead fried your brain cells? I am so not a saint or a martyr.”
“Oh, so then you didn’t stop a homicidal megalomaniac by entombing him and dropping millions of gallons of water on him, and yourself in the process? That wasn’t you?”
“Apparently, being dead hasn’t made you any less of a smartass.”
Gillian shook a finger at me, making a tut-tut sound. “Language, Jude. Do you kiss your grandmother with that mouth?”
I crossed the room to kneel in front of her. I placed a kiss on each cheek before sighing and laying my head in her lap. “Well, now I do.”
Her hand slid over my hair, smoothing down some piece. “I wanted to tell you, Jude. Each and every day, but Lisette—.”
I laughed, sitting up, resting my chin on her knee. “Is so no longer a problem. To go back to the original question – am I dead?”
“Again, do you want to be?”
I laid my head back in her lap, sighing heavily. “But it’s not what I want that matters, right? It’s what’s best for everyone, for the Covenant. That’s what matters.”
Her hand in my hair was lulling me back to sleep or whatever I’d been doing before I woke in this room. “And if your death was for the best?”
I thought of Theo, going to bed and waking up with him. Rian and his cheesy cryptic remarks. Elizabeth and her emerging bad-assness. Celia and her stubbornness. I sighed again, my heart heavy.
“Well, then I’m petitioning to skip Purgatory. After sixteen years with the nuns, I think I should get a pass there. I’ll tell Peter myself.”
Gillian moved above me and I turned to look up at her. Tears streaked down her cheeks. “You do make me proud, Jude. More so every day. Keep a close eye on Elizabeth. She’ll land herself in hot water without even meaning to.”
I waited a beat. “So, seriously, am I dead?”
Gillian smiled, drawing me up to kiss my face. “Not anymore.”
“She’s coming around! She needs space, give us some space!”
I coughed, choking, and someone rolled me to my side as water poured from my mouth. My lungs burned and the most God awful taste coated my tongue.
But the sky rose above me, covered liberally
with stars. I could feel Theo’s warmth where his hand gripped mine.
I turned in his direction, grateful when my head didn’t explode. Apparently I got to stay healed. Woo-hoo. “Hey.”
His eyes were red, but he smiled at me. “I’m pretty sure I told you to wear white if you were going swimming in the Mississippi.”
I choked out a laugh, wheezing at the fire in my lungs. “Yeah, silly me. Forgot about that.”
“You took about five and a half years off my life.” Arm under my back he helped me sit up. A circle of faces surrounded me and more than one looked like they’d been crying. Nice to know people will miss you when you’re gone.
I kept moving, standing up, although Theo stayed close. “Guess we’ll need to really enjoy the remaining forty four years and some change. Make up for lost time.”
“Not to interrupt, but I don’t think people will believe this was all a movie shoot.” Lies sounded remarkably calm. I searched her face, wondering if she knew about her sister. She caught my look and nodded. “I knew when it happened. Something snapped inside. Maybe she’ll find whatever she’s looking for now.”
“My followers and I will ensure what needs to be known is spread about.” Williams spoke from behind me. Theo and I turned as one. There were more vampires behind him now than I’d ever seen and I wondered cynically how long some had waited before throwing in their lot with the winner.
My people, Theo and I turned to head back toward the Quarter. Theo kept a hand under my elbow. Williams stepped forward and rested a hand on my forearm. I stopped, staring, reminded sharply of the first night I’d met Hart. I stared at his hand for a long moment before lifting my gaze to his face. I lifted my eyebrows, waiting, until he removed it and stepped back.
“Let us know if you need any help clearing out the debris.”
Williams nodded and we started walking back toward Decatur, and the Quarter. Theo slid his arm around my waist and I snuggled close. He didn’t seem to mind the smell of the river that would take three hours to wash off me “Let’s go home.”
