“Of course,” Darius says, his tone sending an ice-cold dagger into my heart. “So you’re aware, the king won’t trust to turn you until he sees the baby on the altar. Even then…”
My wand trembles in my hand. To hear these words from Darius’ lips shreds any sense of control I have left.
You’re a monster.
Hatred pushes out the pain and betrayal, leaving nothing but rage toward this man I once loved with all of my soul, who I allowed to become myself, to inhabit my very being. The anger is maddening, and it’s finally pushed me too far.
“Sebhely tűz!”
I scream the first fire spell that comes to mind, one meant to maim but not necessarily to kill. A thin line of light darts out of my wand, sparks flying from the tip. As fast as the blast leaves my wand, Darius is somewhere else. It would appear vampires move faster than the speed of light, and we hadn’t covered paranormal speed in my witching lessons before the attack. Poor planning, I guess.
Before I can plot my next move--having barely thought out my initial attack--I feel a burning rope wrap around my body. Timót has seized the opportunity to wrangle me, as a bright cord extends from his wand and tightly binds my arms to my sides. I look down to see my hands trapped at my thighs, my wand uselessly pointed at the stone beneath my feet.
Looks like my first instinct to keep my shit together and not lose my cool was the right call. Now I’m helpless and hopeless, with a screaming baby pinned even more tightly to my chest.
There’s no longer any chance of keeping my emotions at bay, and tears roll down my cheeks and dampen Rain’s little hairs. Through my blurry eyes I see Darius and Timót moving in my direction. They stand next to each other, two men who I thought were on opposite sides of this war and in opposite spectrums of my affection. Things haven’t made sense for a long time now, but this is the most incomprehensible development.
“You’re powerful,” Timót says. “There’s no question of that. But you’re not prepared to fight the forces at odds with you.”
“Let’s go,” Darius says, his black pupils looking more hollow than fierce. I don’t think I even recognize this man anymore.
“Not until everyone is ready,” Timót says, his eyes narrowed as he glares at the vampire. They’ve clearly agreed on the basics of a plan, but implicit trust is definitely lacking in this partnership.
“I don’t want any foul play from the young witch. And, let me remind you,” Timót says as he points his wand toward the sky, “that you’re quite outnumbered.”
The tip of his wand brightens, but instead of sending out a flare of light, it emits a deep, pulsing hum. The sound reverberates in my ears for a few moments, and then my eyes dart from side to side as various figures appear around us. Some wear cloaks like Timót, others are dressed in unfamiliar styles, and some don’t look human at all. It’s an eclectic assortment of men, now forming a circle around us and making a bad situation feel infinitely worse.
“There was no shortage in disenfranchised people and creatures wanting to join a greater cause,” my father says as the strangers draw closer. “These men understand the real damage the witch’s prophecy has brought. Someday you will both see what they see.”
As Timót’s army appears, Darius’ stare never waivers from mine, though a quick blink shows me his hesitation. Whether he’s trying to decide an action or swallowing his pride, I can’t tell.
That momentary lapse gives me a glimmer of hope. Perhaps this is all part of a ploy--lead Timót on long enough to make him complacent, then rip him apart. After all, Darius wouldn’t break a sweat killing this Érintett leader, I don’t care how powerful he is or what army he’s brought. There’s no way any of these men can match the strength and cunning of the vampire prince.
The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that this is the moment my love will return to me. Timót will feel protected by his men, and that’s when Darius will strike and rip his wand away. Then I’ll be free to use my magic and we’ll send the dragons and the Érintett followers running for the hills.
My hope strengthens with each second. Darius is conflicted, but not about what to do, just how to do it. Is it really this simple? All of Timót’s careful planning laid to waste by trusting the wrong vampire?
He starts to walk toward me at a slow, steady gait. He’d move faster if he meant to disarm or hurt me. The pace will allow him to pick his moment, kill the lot and carry me to safety.
Any second now, he’ll move at an imperceptible speed and plunge a dagger into my father’s chest. Or snap his neck. Or cut his throat.
Any second now.
Any…
Second.
Darius reaches my side, his eyes devoid of feeling as they stay locked with mine. I sense the same steady stream of anger inside him, but I can’t understand where it’s directed. For all I know, all the hostility could be aimed at me.
He reaches up and wraps his fingers around my wand, his cool touch passing through the piece and into my hand.
Then the sensation--and my wand--are ripped away.
He walks back to Timót and unceremoniously hands over the beautiful, rare, exquisite wand I worked so hard to make. Timót grins and slides the stick into the sleeve of his cloak.
“Thank you,” he says to Darius.
The vampire nods and steps away, his gaze still on me. If his plan was to kill my father and save my child, he’s just made it infinitely more difficult. As for me ever forgiving him, he’s made it all but impossible.
“Now we may go. Come, my sárkányok,” Timót says, and with a wave of his arm the dragons descend to the ground around us. All of the soldiers that were just revealed begin climbing on the beasts’ backs, making it clear we’re traveling as a pack. The strangers throw sideways glances at me and Rain, but I can’t be bothered to pull my focus away from Darius and my father. I glance between the two, not knowing who to hate more. In their own ways, both gave me life, and now it feels like they’re both trying to take that away.
Timót points his wand at me and mutters úszó, sending me and Rain floating a few feet above the ground. “You’ll ride on Agoston, Bernadette. She’s the oldest of the thunder.”
I feel a warm, scaly body slither beneath me as I’m lowered onto the creature’s back. Agoston is bright orange with purple markings along the edges of her wings. I wonder if she was also stolen from her mother in the deep caves.
The warm tether that had just been wrapped around my torso now snakes around my legs as well, strapping me to the dragon’s back. As I study my mythical transportation, my gaze drifts back to AJ’s body. I have no idea if she’s alive or dead, but I can’t bear to leave her either way.
“Please,” I say. “Can’t we save her? Or at least bring her so I can say goodbye?”
Timót, now mounted on a dark blue dragon, looks at my fallen friend, his expression skeptical. Before he can answer, Darius speaks.
“If she’s not already dead, the vampires would kill her quickly. Chances of survival are better if she stays here.”
We’re in a different world, in the middle of nowhere, with no idea what kind of help AJ might need, and he thinks it’s best to just leave her? If there had been a tiny flicker of hope left that my Darius still existed, it just got snuffed out.