The witch turned burning eyes on him. “Lord Devereux, is it? How much you look like your brother,” she exclaimed, her smile gaping. “But your soul is so much darker, isn’t it?” She frowned at him, a knowing grin on her lips. “Why the sudden sacrifice? Surely you don’t seek redemption after all this time?”
Lucian smirked. “I am long past redeeming, as you well know. But I welcome death with open arms if it is indeed my time to go.”
“Lucian,” Christian protested weakly. “What are you doing?”
“Returning the favor,” he said with a sardonic twist of his lips. “You saved my life more than once. It’s time I do the same.”
“Don’t be foolish.”
“Better a fool than a coward.”
The witch laughed. “So touching, but it matters not for you will both die.” She reached for Lucian, but he spun out of the way, his claw darting out to rake her side.
“What are you doing?” Christian gasped. “Don’t hurt her! It’s still Tori.”
Lucian set his jaw, compassion visible for a brief moment on his face. “I may not know much, but I do know that pain is the one thing that will loosen the blood magic’s hold, brother. Trust me. She’s a witch, she’ll heal.”
He struck again, this time his nails scouring across her middle. Her back arched, her shriek of rage piercing as she twisted to get him in her sights. But Lucian was fast, dodging the spells that flew his way. He crouched and appeared behind her, his eyes meeting Christian’s.
“I am sorry for everything—”
Christian stumbled forward, hands outstretched, as he realized what his foolish brother was about to do. “Don’t do it, Lucian. It will kill you.”
“And you’ll have a chance. Don’t waste it.” And with that, Christian watched in horror as his brother sunk his fangs into Victoria’s neck. She fought to dislodge him, but he hung fast. His eyes flared as her blood coursed into him. It was poison, Christian knew. And it would kill him. Or control him as it had Christian. Whichever best served its interests.
Lucian … you fool! What have you done?
Au revoir, mon frère.
Regardless of Lucian’s ill-conceived attempt at heroism, Christian couldn’t stand and watch his brother die. He lurched forward, but was distracted as movement above him caught his attention. A figure descended from the sky. And then another and another. They surrounded Victoria and Lucian, barring them from Christian’s view. Something in his chest awoke, like a deep-rooted awareness, stretching out to connect him to one of the new arrivals—a woman. He recognized her face instantly in his memories—the long silky hair and that striking olive-skinned face—the one that had given him immortality.
Sezja.
His maker.
Sezja and the ethereal glow that surrounded her mesmerized him. She was otherworldly, like an apparition.
The Reii had come.
Christian didn’t have time to process what was happening, only that the three immortals surrounded Victoria. Like Lucian, they fastened their fangs upon her. They would be far stronger than Lucian was, Christian guessed, with a greater chance of survival against her blood.
Lucian tore away and reeled backward, his eyes black like the blood that stained his lips. Christian hobbled to his brother’s side, his body still drained and weak. The smell of Victoria’s blood consumed him, and god help him, he wanted to take the blood Lucian had just consumed. He stalled himself with effort and pulled his brother into his arms. Lucian’s entire body convulsed against him.
“Why?” Christian asked, his voice tortured.
“You. Know. Why.” Each word was a pained gasp.
“You owe me nothing.”
Flecks of bloody foam spotted his lips. “Owe … too … much.”
His brother’s body went ramrod straight in his arms, his skin mottling as the blood magic did its worst. Black tendrils wound their way down his limbs and across his cheeks. His dark silver eyes met Christian’s and suddenly they were twelve years old again, lying beside each other in the field beside the château and staring up at the glistening stars.
“What do you want to be when you become a man?” the young Christian had asked.
Lucian had smiled. “I want to be remembered.”
Tears filled Christian’s eyes at the memory as he gripped Lucian’s poison-ridden body. “You won’t be forgotten,” he whispered as the last light of life left his brother’s eyes. His body shuddered and then went still. “I promise you.”
Christian howled his grief to the sky and stood. He didn’t want his brother’s sacrifice to be for nothing. Sezja beckoned to him, her lips black with Victoria’s blood.
Come, she told him. Find her.
He understood what Sezja was saying to him. He had to go into her mind and connect to what was left of her consciousness. Figure out a way to bring her back. Victoria was in there somewhere and his window of time was swiftly closing if the color of the glowing portal was any indication. Leto’s eyes met his, full of primitive, impotent rage, and Christian knew what he had to do. There was no way he could let her go without a fight.
Sezja put her hand on his shoulder. He stared at his maker and felt a strange peace descend upon him. Her touch filled him with strength and purpose.
You were going to die for her. Choose to live instead.
Christian nodded and stood in front of the love of his life. Victoria’s eyes were black and her mouth a slash in her face. He could feel her vitriolic rage center upon him. He closed his eyes and pushed his essence out. He focused on the core that was Victoria and entered her mind. They had done this before, torturing each other with sexy mental games, but now it wasn’t about lust. It was about life and death.
And before, she’d been receptive.
Now, her mind was closed and angry and vengeful.
A person’s mind was like a living backdrop, capriciously changing with quick turns of emotion and evolving states of being. When Victoria was in a playful state, exploring her mind was a joyful, wondrous experience. When they flirted and made out, it was a wildly sensuous one. The one time she’d been angry, he’d found it full of rough seas and dangerous predators, but she had still been present. Normally, she’d come to greet him and welcome him into her private sanctuary.
Now, not only was it was a dark barren landscape and nothing of the Tori he knew, there was no sign of her. Black bands of shadow scattered between the hollows on either side of an ash-colored maze. Spindly burnt trees surrounded him like a demon labyrinth. It was bleak and desolate. Christian trod carefully, knowing instinctively that whatever remained of Victoria would be trapped somewhere. Deep down, he also knew that this was nothing like what she had endured with Pan, where her fantasies were of her own making. This was the blood magic—and he knew that the blood would not want her to be found.
In the mental world, he was also powerless. He did not have any super speed or vampire strength. He only had his wits and the power of his own mind. Shadows moved around him as if they were alive and something slithered across his feet. He forced himself to keep moving forward. The worst thing he could do was to get caught up in any of the blood magic’s tricks. He’d only taken a few steps when something snaked around his ankle and snagged tight. He fell like a sack of bricks, slamming into the ground so hard that the breath was knocked clear out of him. Agony lanced through him.
Christian had to remind himself that the pain was not real. He kicked at the python winding around his legs and grabbed for a nearby rock. He managed to dislodge the creature and stood, only to realize that the blood was testing him. If he had panicked, it would have no doubt sent more snakes. He took a deep breath—staying calm was critical.
Christian made his way through the speckled pathways until he reached the other end of the maze. It led him to a lush meadow that had a glistening river running through it. As he got closer, he realized that the river wasn’t clear as he’d thought. It was red. Blood red. He felt a
n answering pressure in his jaw and ran his tongue along perfectly flat-edged teeth. He wasn’t a vampire here, but hell, the sight of the river of blood did shaky things to him. Christian shook himself roughly, forcing himself to focus.
“Tori!” he called out. He waited, sure that he’d heard a whimper of a response. He shouted again, and this time heard another whisper of a cry. It was coming from a cave cut into the hillside. Christian made his way carefully upward, through the razor-sharp blades of grass that nicked at his skin. There were larger plants, too, ones that looked far too carnivorous for his liking. He tried to steer clear of them, but tripped on a rock that appeared out of nowhere and plunged headlong into a field of the beasts.
They snapped at his face, taking huge gouges out of his flesh. He was being eaten alive. Christian pummeled his fists and tried to rip them out of the ground, but the more he fought, the more aggressive they became. Poison from their venom slid into his veins and he felt himself slowly turning to stone. He struggled as they slowly ate him alive, feeding on his calcifying flesh. He looked down—he was covered in vines. He was going to die in a coffin of creepers. Even in his state, the irony was not lost on him.
It’s not real, Christian.
He had no idea where the voice came from, but it made his panic dissolve. He blinked and suddenly he was lying in a boat that rocked on the ocean. He had to get back to that cave! That’s where Victoria was. The bottom of the boat held nothing, not even an oar or a piece of wood he could use. His eyes scanned the horizon—there was nothing for miles, no land that he could see. The only thing disturbing the glassy surface of the water were the pointed fins circling the tiny vessel.
Christian gritted his jaw. He could handle sharks. Using his hands, he knelt and started paddling. The sharks followed, but kept their distance from the boat. It was as if they wanted to see how far he would get on a journey to nowhere. Christian knew that he would paddle until his arms fell off. After what seemed like hours, he could see land looming in the distance. Suddenly, the sharks started circling more fiercely. Christian frowned—the fins surrounding the boat were too perfect. Too evenly spaced. The realization surfaced moments before the creature beneath him did. They weren’t fins, he saw. They were teeth!
He did the only thing he could. He dove into the swirling water and started swimming for shore. Gasping, he pulled himself onto the sand just in time to watch the boat disappear into the maw of the sea monster. He knew it wasn’t real, but nothing would make him relish the sensation of being swallowed alive, not even if it was all in his head. Or Victoria’s head, as it were.
“Tori!” he shouted, cupping his hands to his mouth. He heard the faint cry again, and this time, Christian sensed that she was close. He ran up the beach and saw a gilded cage sitting on the edge of a green wood. It was too perfect—too obvious. But there she was, shackled to the bottom of the enclosure. She wasn’t moving.
Christian advanced with caution, but nothing untoward attacked him or jumped from the bushes. He half-expected the sand to turn to quicksand beneath his feet at any moment, but it held firm. He reached the pen and frowned at the gate. It was unlocked. Something wasn’t right. It was too easy.
“Tori?”
She blinked and turned weakly to stare at him. Every cell within him leapt with recognition. It was Victoria, not some trick. Her hair was matted and her face haggard. Oozing wounds covered her entire body and both her legs looked broken. In addition to her apparent battered appearance, the look in her eyes was utterly defeated. “Christian?” she whispered as if in disbelief. “How did you get here?”
“I came to find you.”
“You have to leave. It will kill you.”
He shook his head. “Not without you. Can you move?”
“My legs and some of my ribs are broken.”
Wincing with sympathy, he unlocked the gate and stepped in, lifting her into his arms. “I’ll carry you. Which way?”
She pointed down the beach and Christian took off at a run. He raced down the beach and into the woods, past the carnivorous fields where he’d seen the cave, and back to the shadowscape where he had entered. He met no resistance, but Christian was prepared all the same. Her blood would not let them go that easily. Sure enough, they came to a looming black wall. It’s sides looked like polished onyx granite. It stretched for miles on either side. He looked upward—they’d have to find a way over it. He set Victoria down and she clung to him.
“Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” he said. “I need to figure out a way over this.”
“Can you hold me for a second?”
“Of course.” He sat beside her and drew her shaking body into his arms. He pressed a kiss to her temple at the same moment that she turned her face up to his. Christian’s second kiss brushed her lips. In response, she plastered her body to his and kissed him as she’d never done before. He couldn’t help his body’s instantaneous and fiery reaction. He wanted to be gentle, but she would have nothing of it. Memories of the last time they had kissed like this tortured him.
“I love you,” she said against his mouth.
“I love you, too.”
“But not more than her.”
His eyes narrowed. “More than who?” he repeated carefully.
Victoria smiled at him, brushing a lock of hair out of his face. Her features shifted and Christian flew to his feet, dumping her unceremoniously off his lap. White blond hair framed a face of startling perfection. Ice blue eyes drilled into his. “Lena,” he huffed. “What is this?”
“You killed Lucian,” she snarled. “You murdered your brother.”
“No,” he said, the pain still raw.
“You wanted him to die.” She advanced on him. “Because you wanted this.” She pulled her shirt apart, exposing breasts as perfect as he remembered. Before he could utter his denial, she closed her mouth on his, her tongue sweeping in like a sweet, seductive devil.
Something shifted again and the body in his arms was once more Victoria. “I told you that you loved her more than me. You made her.”
“No, it’s only you,” he vowed.
Her face morphed into Lena’s again. “Tell her the truth. You wanted him to die. Murderer.”
And once more, Victoria’s, making his head swim. “You never loved me. You’re a liar.”
He shoved her away, clutching his head as the voices around him intensified into a cacophonous noise, and fell to his knees. “Stop,” he begged. His fingers dug into the sharp gravel at his feet. “You are not her,” he screamed. “Where is she?”
Victoria/Lena’s face transformed into a demon and he lurched forward, catching her about the throat. He squeezed, guilt driving him to madness.
Christian. It’s not real.
His heart stopped, his grip loosening. The landscape disappeared until it was nothing but a blank gray slate. A body flopped against him, unconscious. He stared at his fingers still wrapped around her throat in horror “Tori? Oh, god, Tori. Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Please. Be alive. I’m begging. Please.”
A huff escaped her lips, her eyes fluttering open, and they were the brightest, most vivid green he could have ever imagined. He knew that green.
This time, he knew it was real. She was real.
“Hi.”
Christian brushed her cheek and she leaned into the caress. “I almost killed you.”
“I know, but you didn’t.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, his thumb stroking her jaw. “To face the blood?”
Victoria blinked and took his hands in hers. “I’m sorry about Lucian. I saw what he did.” Christian swallowed hard and nodded. She slid her fingers between his. “Let’s finish this.”
TWENTY-FIVE
The Final Stand
As Christian pulled away from her mind, Victoria gathered what was left of her magic. She was the wielder of the blood magic, not the other way around, and no matter what its endgame was, she
would be the one in ultimate control. It had to bend to her will—not her father’s or whoever he was.
She reined herself in, taking sharp hold of her mind. The blood magic swirled hotly in her veins in protest, but eventually, she felt it capitulate. Pan’s toxin had weakened her willpower and dominion over the blood magic, which Leto had taken full advantage of and had so very nearly succeeded in spiriting them both away. But now she was back. Her mind was strong. She was strong.
And she had a demon to vanquish.
Her palm solidified in Christian’s very real one as everything around her came into sharp focus. Including the demon who had once been Leto. He growled at her, leashed violence shimmering in acid green bands along his limbs as if he could read her mind. She blinked, realizing that he probably could because of their connection. She frowned and blocked him from her.
Her eyes darted behind her. Almost three quarters of their number had been decimated and those who hadn’t fled remained behind them. Aliya was still alive, she noticed, focused on the spell keeping Leto—and her—transfixed. So was Freyja, the head of the warlocks, but her energies were directed toward the dimension portal. Three stunning vampires, a female and two males, stood to Christian’s right. They were Reii, she knew. She could sense the power emanating from them—they were old and powerful. They were the ones who had drained her blood without dying. And thank goodness they had, or who knew how many more she would have killed.
The woman turned to stare at her with dark impenetrable eyes, holding her gaze with an assessing, curious look, and Victoria felt an odd recognition in her gut. She inclined her head graciously and Victoria did the same.
That’s Sezja, Christian said, noting the interaction.
Your maker?
Yes.
She came to your rescue.
Not just mine. Everyone’s.
Victoria squirmed inwardly at the thought that the Reii had been awakened from the self-imposed sleep because of her. She was the extinction level event that had roused them. She sucked in a deep breath. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t grateful for their intervention.
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