Jack raised his own stake, having one on his belt, ready to stab her, ready to end it all when the yellow vapor returned, settling over Marion like fog.
Marion’s eyes were wide open in fear, and as her humanity returned to her, Jack felt an overwhelming moment of grief, and he had no idea why.
The part of his soul that was dedicated to revenge screamed in fury, knowing the answer before he did. Jack wasn't even aware of the question yet. All he knew was that this was his moment to kill Marion and that he was hesitating. That somehow the game had changed, and he didn't understand why.
He stood there with his stake, ready to stab her through the heart and turn her to dust. Ready to avenge every person she’d ever killed, every family she’d ever torn apart.
But when he did it, she wouldn't turn to dust. When he killed her with the stake, she would bleed to death. A strange and barbaric way for a mortal woman to die. Should he shoot her?
Then Marion realized her transformation. She raised her hands in front of her, looking at them as if they belonged to somebody else. They were chapped and work-worn. The hands of a seamstress perhaps.
Fuck.
His heart thudded loudly in his ears as Marion turned and looked at him, confused as a baby doe. And just as innocent. That animal part of him that wasn't a werewolf—was nothing so magical, but was simply the feral wounded boy he’d always been on the inside—howled in rage.
Tears slid down her cheeks. “My baby is gone,” she said brokenly, and Jack didn’t know what to do. He couldn't let her go. There was no way he'd be able to let her walk out of here alive. His hand opened, and he heard the stake clatter to the floor. But he didn’t let her go.
His hand was fisted into the neck of her dress; the satin fabric clenched tight, her skin warm and alive against his knuckles. The scarred part of him that ruled him, that had spent his adult life killing monsters, grabbed his gun, holding it to her temple and demanded he give her justice.
One clean shot to the temple and she would be dead. Her heart would stop beating. Her blood and brains would ooze out of her, and that would be it. It was the only thing he’d ever wanted in his whole life.
She didn't try to pull away from him, didn't do anything to defend herself. Just asked for her baby, over and over again.
Rachel approached him softly, her voice calm and soothing. She didn't touch him, but he could see her out of the corner of his eye. The gun, weeping Marion, and Rachel. Voice of reason. He laughed harshly.
“What’s the plan, Jack?”
He felt blind, as if he couldn’t see the world around them. He needed help. His vision blurred. His words were broken. “I don't know what to do.”
And Marion, fucking Marion, just lay there like a calf waiting to be slaughtered. Making no protest, uncaring that he pointed a gun at her head and faced an existential crisis.
He shook his head, felt as if he were moving in cement. “Is she…evil?” he asked. Begging for the answer to be yes.
Rachel was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
Marion was sniffling, her face blotchy and sad. If he were walking down the street, and she asked him for help—a crying woman out by herself—he’d help her. Because she was helpless. Broken. He didn’t hurt defenseless women.
She turned her face away from him, and he saw a gray hair mixed in with the auburn.
“She’s human,” he said again, dully, as if a part of him needed to hear it aloud. “If I kill her now…Is it in cold blood?” If she'd fight him, or do something to prove that she was a monster still, he could do it. But this crying pathetic creature?
It would give him peace at night when he thought back to this moment. His soul was already tainted, stained black by the mistakes he’d made. Remorse. It was looking back at that instant of his youth when his parents died, and thinking of all the things he could've done differently, and that would have been right. If he killed Marion now, was it right? Or would it just be another stain upon his soul? Perhaps the final one that he would never recover from. Was he killing an innocent woman?
“She still did terrible things. She’s still crazy. Isn't it justice to make her pay for her mistakes? Maybe she will want more children.” A stricken laugh. “Maybe she will even have them. Her own flesh and blood. Can you imagine that, Jack?”
“So she's evil?” he asked, needing confirmation.
“You can’t ask me that,” Rachel said, voice thick with tears. His attention shifted to her, to the desolation on her own face. “What about you? Are you evil?” Her lower lip trembled as she squeezed her eyes shut.
And that was when he thought of his parents. Of his mother, who would spend all day in the kitchen making Jack's favorite meal. Of his father, who had been sturdy and wise and filled with happiness. Their memory was the ultimate judge. What would they think if they if they could see him now?
Jack swallowed hard, felt his grip on Marion loosen infinitesimally “Should I kill you too? For your past? Are you telling me you’re a bad person? And that you won’t change now that you’re human?”
He could watch her. Make sure Marion didn't do anything to hurt anyone. If it took months or years of following her and making sure she didn't hurt a soul, he could do that. And if she stepped out of line…he'd kill her. Decision made, Jack released Marion and stepped back, stumbling away from all of it.
There was a roaring in his ears and a fuzziness before his eyes. The emotional toll of the moment becoming a physical reaction. From very far away, he heard Marion speaking to Rachel. The words were weak. Almost tinny. “You promised. You told me you’d set me free.”
And then he heard a sound that he couldn’t mistake. A whimper, followed by a gurgle of terrible sound.
He had to see. Had to know what was happening. He turned around and saw Marion on the floor, Rachel next to her, Marion's head in Rachel’s lap as Rachel held her close. Blood was everywhere. Marion was gripping Rachel’s arm hard, eyes wide and desperate as blood spilled from her neck, soaking into Rachel’s trousers and the floor around them.
Tears dropped down Rachel’s cheeks, her lower lip beginning to tremble, moments away from sobbing in grief.
Marion was breathing shallowly; eyes glazed and unfocussed. “No,” he said like an idiot, and he dropped down to his knees, trying to think of some way to stop Marion from dying; even though he didn’t want to touch her. He didn't know if he could bring himself to touch her. And then it was done. He saw the exact moment Marion died. The sudden stillness. The glassiness in her eyes as they went dim.
His soul filled with silence.
Jack turned to Rachel, could hardly get the words out. “You killed her,” he said, a genius statement for the ages.
“It’s done.” She stood slowly, picking her steps carefully to get away from the blood and not slip in the wide, heavy puddle. “It should have been me, anyway.”
“I don’t understand.”
She turned away from him, walking towards the door. Her posture low, almost stooped. As though the last few minutes had aged her beyond reckoning. “Of course you don’t. Because you're the good guy, Jack.” Her eyes sparked with anger, the words flung at him like daggers. “You couldn't possibly understand the sort of relationship we had. As a sign of my love, I promised to kill her. We’d lay in bed at night after sex, and I’d tell her all the ways I’d kill her. Someday. When I didn’t need her anymore for my witchcraft. And I don’t need her anymore, do I?”
*****
Valerie came to slowly, her mouth filled with blood from biting the inside of her cheek when Cerdewellyn hit her. The jerk. He was gone. A quick look around confirmed that the stone was gone too. Lucas was looking at her from several feet away; his face glazed with pain, a sword sticking out of his chest.
She crawled along the floor to him, too dizzy to stand. She pulled the sword from his chest, watching his black blood gush between her fingers. Black vampire blood coating her hand, as she pressed against the wound. He wasn�
��t human yet.
Valerie couldn’t have been out for more than a minute or two, she realized. Fear coursed through her. How much longer did Lucas have before he became human? He reached up to her with a blood-coated hand, wanting to touch her face. But he was weak, and his arm fell back to his chest. “You’re okay,” she said. “You’ll heal before you become human. You will.”
He gave her a sad smile—one without promise. As if they both knew that she was lying, and he wanted to keep it that way. His eyes closed and opened again slowly, as if even blinking was hard. Lucas’ blood was under her, around her. So slick and cool that it seemed impossible for more to be in his body. How could he heal himself when he’d lost so much blood? She put her wrist to his mouth, his lips cool. “Drink, dammit!” Valerie begged him.
Lucas frowned and met her gaze, staring at her tear-stricken face as though it were amazing. And then he bit down hard on her wrist, his fangs piercing into her flesh, the pain sharp, white-hot. He swallowed repeatedly, as her blood poured into his mouth. He released her, lying back down on the ground with his eyes closed.
“It is all right, my Valkyrie,” he said.
He sure as hell didn’t look all right! His face was pinched with pain, his breath rattling, and Val couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. She had lost her mother and her father, and she didn’t know how she would still live if she lost him too. Knowing she was going to lose him. She bent down and kissed him. “I love you,” she said. “Please, please don’t leave me.”
He licked his lips and coughed, blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. Why wasn’t he healing? He blinked, focusing on her. “I love you, Valerie. I would spend my life with you given the chance. For your kindness and intelligence, your beauty and grace.”
She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Oh shit, you are not going to die on me. I don’t have grace! Don’t say that like this is some crappy goodbye where you tell me stuff that isn’t true.” Valerie cried and kissed him again, begging him to stay with her mouth, and the press of her lips.
She pulled back from him, stroking her hand down his face, memorizing it. “I would not lie to you. That is why I left out your cooking.” He coughed again. “And your colorful language. Both of which are truly atrocious.”
“If you really loved me, you would stay. Heal faster!” she demanded.
A wisp of golden smoke snaked up his body, circling his neck and head. Another small tendril appeared, the magic hovering above him, as if it were figuring him out before striking. It was too soon. He wouldn’t survive getting out of here and making it to the hospital.
“Hospital!” Val said as the idea came to her. “Take yourself to the hospital while you still can!” His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes, more of the mist settling over him.
Very slowly, as if every movement were painful, he said something to her, but it sounded like the word Royal and that didn’t make any sense. And then he vanished. Valerie patted the ground stupidly as if he were still there, but invisible.
Someone grabbed her, pulling her out of the pool of blood and to her feet. Dumbly, she turned, surprised to see that it was Jack standing next to her. He pulled her into a hug, and she stayed limply in his arms.
“We have to get out of here. Where is Lucas?” Rachel asked, coming up behind them. She was out of breath.
“I don’t know,” Jack answered for her.
“Well, he sure as hell didn’t dance out of here, so where is he?”
Valerie’s voice was tinny, “He was injured as a vampire, then the magic came, and he just vanished. I told him to go to the hospital, but he was so weak that I don’t know if he made it or where he would have gone or….” Her words turned into a sob.
She could hear the frown in Rachel’s voice. “Well, he didn’t die as a vampire or else his blood would be gone too. Human bodies don’t go poof. What hospital did you tell him to go to, maybe he’s there?”
Her body was numb, but she felt a glimmer of hope trying to unfurl inside of her. Valerie squashed it down, wanting to focus on the here and now. Both of her parents were dead, the man she loved had been a vampire, was now human, and probably dead too. Valerie didn’t have good enough luck for her to get her hopes up.
“I didn’t. I didn’t say which one,” she whispered, and felt tears spill over her eyes. It hadn’t occurred to her to tell Lucas the hospital. “Where are we?” Valerie asked.
“Outskirts of London,” Rachel said.
What if he had said Royal? Could he have tried to take himself to the Royal London Hospital?
“The Royal London Hospital. We have to go check!” Valerie demanded.
Rachel and Jack exchanged a look, but Valerie didn’t have the emotional energy to think about what it might mean.
“There should be two cars outside with keys in them.” Rachel held up a hand, to stop them asking the inevitable question. “I’m a planner. I figured there was at least a five-percent chance we might make it out of here alive, and need some way to get around. You can thank me later. Don’t scratch the paint.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Jack asked.
Rachel nodded shallowly and looked at the ground, her voice lacking conviction. “I have to get things settled here,” she said, “The bodies and stuff.”
“We need to talk,” Jack said to Rachel.
“Take Valerie to find Lucas. We’ll talk later. I promise ” Rachel didn’t meet Jack’s gaze.
Valerie mumbled a thank you and went towards the stairs, ready to get the hell out of that crypt.
They found the car parked outside of the crypt, complete with a navigation system that told them how to get to the Royal London Hospital. The drive had taken an hour, and Valerie and Jack had barely spoken to each other the whole time. Each of them lost to their own private thoughts.
“Do you think she’ll come to the hospital?” Jack asked, startling Val out of her morbid thoughts.
“She said she would. She promised.”
“I thought you didn’t trust her.”
“I don’t. Leave me the hell out of it.” Val felt bad for her unsympathetic response. “But she clearly has feelings for you, and if there is anyone she won’t lie to, it’s gonna be you, right?”
Jack made no response, and the rest of the drive had passed in agonizing slowness.
*****
“Do you want another sandwich?” Jack asked. Lines of fatigue were etched into his face, and Valerie knew she didn’t look any better.
“Sure. I guess. But no pickle, that was disgusting.”
Lucas had made it to the hospital, appearing out of nowhere in the entryway and scaring everyone half to death, apparently. He was in surgery for hours. When the doctor finally came out, he looked grim, and asked a lot of questions about what could possibly have caused such strange wounds.
The doctor told her it looked as if he had been run through with a sword from the front and the back, but somehow missed the heart. She couldn’t tell the doctor that his heart must have healed before he became mortal, but that he hadn’t had enough time to repair the less vital skin and muscles around the wound.
“Is he going to live?” Jack asked bluntly.
The doctor sighed heavily and stared down at his clipboard, as though he’d written it down somewhere. “He lost a lot of blood and was seriously injured. It’s going to be hard, but he looks as if he knows his way around a fight.”
That was almost 24 hours ago, and as Valerie sat by Lucas’s bedside, waiting for him to wake up, all she kept thinking was that he was a fighter. He was willing to fight for her, to die for her. Now she just had to hope that he was willing to live for her too.
Epilogue
Two years later
MOLLY WATCHED the house from under the camouflage of a nearby tree. And thank God for that because it was fucking hot, and she’d been waiting around forever. Lucas was outside with his brat, pushing her in a red plastic swing that hung from a tree branch.
The child was fair, with golde
n hair and pink cheeks, as well as the fattest legs Molly had ever seen. Every time the little girl came down towards him, he tickled her feet. The kid loved it, and she could hear the thing squealing like a pig from across the street.
It was fucking disgusting.
Molly didn’t want to see him. Despite his appearance as the doting father, she knew what he’d been. Ruthless. Now he was a philanthropist, and spent his days giving money to children in need. How barf-worthy. The idea that he was happy no longer being a vampire, but procreating and living a boring life in suburbia, was just stupid. But no surprise since her damned Aunt Rachel felt the same way. Happy to be powerless. Ready to die like a normal person.
Well, I’m not.
In what seemed like an eternity later, the door opened, and Valerie peered out. She said that it was dinner time, and Lucas took the little girl out of the swing and held her close; the baby’s chubby arms wrapped tight around his neck. Her name was Kate. She was cute if one liked that sort of thing. Molly thought Rachel had told her the kid had just turned one, but she couldn’t remember. Rachel was always blathering on about something. Molly just had to tune her out.
Lucas went inside and Valerie came out, walking towards the mailbox. Molly grabbed her backpack and jogged across the street, intercepting her just as she pulled down the lid.
“You’re Valerie Dearborn, right?”
“Um, yeah,” Val said, smiling cautiously. Valerie’s brown eyes were scanning her from head to toe, curiously, head tilted to the side while she waited to hear what Molly wanted.
“I’m Molly.”
The polite smile froze, and Valerie looked around the street, perhaps wondering if she were alone, or if Rachel was around.
“Hi, Molly,” she said, smiling. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Do you want to come in?”
“No. I want to know what happened to Cerdewellyn,” she said, and studied Valerie for the minutest change in expression. After all, whatever she said was probably going to be a lie. Everybody lied about everything unless somehow it was more valuable to tell the truth.
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