“Vessels,” he whispers. One word, and my world feels like it is spinning. I shut my eyes tight, willing the panic in my gut to calm down, but the word is a current in my veins. I focus on the feel of Dean’s heartbeat as I force myself to breathe.
Think.
We need our wits if we’re going to survive this.
It takes a moment, a practiced, steady breath, and I open my eyes, shoving the churning terror down to a manageable corner of my mind.
From the shadows dancing through the doorway on the floor, I know there are at least three.
And from their whispers, I know they’re still aware, still—conscious. The Crimson hasn’t reached the final stages for them yet. They move closer. Two shadows merge, and a wicked snarl rips through the room—one had gotten too close to the other. They are hunting together, but that does not mean that they are friends.
“You said you smelled them,” one snaps. It’s a woman; her tinny voice bounces off the walls like a pebble.
“The wind was from the east. I told you that before we walked up here. That breeze could carry a human’s scent for miles,” a man answers, his tone like the cracking of a whip. His voice has a wilder sound to it—almost like it’s pulling against the limits of his throat with every word.
“Shut up. Both of you,” another male says. His voice is lower than the others, but he sounds younger somehow. Crueler. “We don’t have time for this.”
We hear them walk away, their footsteps on the tile reverberating through the room. They stop, and the sound of sniffing fills the air. I shudder at the horrible noise. Dean’s breath is hot on my ear as he rests his forehead on top of my head. He is shaking. I am too.
I look down at the blade strapped to Dean’s boot. He follows my gaze, and his grip on me tightens.
With one free hand, I reach up, digging my nails into the skin of his forearm. You promised, it says.
The Vessels move to the next door, the dead leaves crunching under their feet.
Dean lets out a slow breath as he nods against the back of my head. He knows what I mean. It is the promise we’d made to each other when this first started. I didn’t ask it of Harlow, because I knew it would scar her more deeply than she already was. But I would rather be dead than be the husk of a person the Vessels would leave behind.
I’d made Dean promise that he would kill me before that happened.
He’d made me promise the same.
“Over here,” the female says, crossing the foyer to our side.
The Vessel’s breath rattles as she inhales, breathing in the air right outside our door. She runs her nails over the wood, and the scratching noise grates on my bones.
My head swims, and I grab Dean’s arms as he pulls me closer to his chest. He isn’t breathing now. I’m not risking it, either.
The metal of the blade looks so cold, its edges sharp. I wonder if I will have the strength to do it, if I need to.
But I know that if it is going to be the last few moments of my life, I am right where I’ve always wanted to be. In Dean’s arms, his heartbeat reverberating off my spine, the warmth of his skin under my fingers.
Then, as abruptly as she came, the female Vessel steps back, her footsteps fading, along with the others’.
Hope floods me, raw and painful, as Dean lifts his head, straining to listen.
We are quiet for a minute, then two. Three, not daring to move.
Dean’s arms drop, and he chances a peek with his mirror. He looks around, then back over his shoulder.
“They’re gone,” he whispers finally.
“That makes no sense,” I reply. And it doesn’t. Vessels are usually thorough in their brutality.
“I’m not about to second-guess a miracle. Are you?” he asks, motioning for me to follow him.
We creep into the foyer, careful to avoid leaves. The urge to run is thick in my veins, and it takes everything I have in me not to give into it. I want to sprint as fast as I can, shrieking until every last bit of terror that coats my lungs has been shaken off by sheer force.
In an instant, something shifts. The air feels charged somehow, like someone has flipped a switch. And everything feels wrong.
The hissing sounds like it’s surrounding us, but I know it’s just the echo, rolling over each other as it rocks off the walls.
Dean spins, pulling the daggers out of their holster, even though I know it’s useless. With just two of us, there’s no way we could take on one Vessel—let alone three.
I almost turn back to our hiding spot, but the footsteps are growing louder, and I know we won’t get lucky twice.
Then, Dean’s hand is in mine, and he yanks me toward the collapsed fountain. He steps in, swearing at the cold.
The muck in the water is dark enough to hide us from view, and it will mask our smell.
But I freeze at the sight of the small waves soaking the legs of his jeans. My chest seizes, and I shake my head.
“Get in the water, Char,” he pleads. “It’s the only way.”
I know that, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t get in the fountain. I’ll panic like I always do, and they will find us. They will find Dean—all because of my uncontrollable terror.
I can’t let that happen, so before he can grab me, I turn and dive behind a limestone statue of a lion tackling a horse and clamp my hand over my mouth.
The sound starts from outside the northern doors. Dean shoots me one more pleading look before he ducks gently under the water, careful not to make waves. The female Vessel marches inside, her steps decisive. I inch my mirrored bracelet around the corner of the limestone base.
She is beautiful, even in her heartless new form. She has a scar across her cheek, and one side of her head is shaved. The rest of her dark hair falls in waves down her back, and her lethal red eyes are upturned and lined with eyeliner. The mirrors can block the Crimson, but they do nothing against the naked fear that grabs me the second I see her hateful eyes in the glass.
“The orders can wait for one more fucking minute while I find them. I know they were here,” she snips, eyes roving the foyer. I pull my hand back. I thought it would make it less scary to see that she still looked human somehow. That maybe it would be better than being chased by a wraith draped in black robes.
But nope. It is just as scary.
The first male speaks as the female stalks to our previous hiding place and tears the door open. A ripping sound fills the room and echoes off the marble, and she hisses. She’s pulled the door straight off the hinges. She growls in irritation and throws the door to the side. It lands on the tile with a loud clap that makes me jump. “If we find the Chosen One, then we won’t need to scavenge like this anymore, Lemmere. You’re not seeing the big picture. And Caine won’t care if you see it or not. If we’re not back at the gate in two minutes, you’ll never be hungry again.”
The woman, Lemmere, hisses as she slams the door to the viewing room.
“If she even exists,” she bites back. “How many times have they thought they’ve found them before? And it all ended the same, didn’t it? A pile of bones, picked clean before the crows could even get to it.”
My stomach twists, and I clamp my teeth around my top lip.
I want to look over again, just to make sure that Dean is still there. I don’t know how long he can hold his breath, but I pray he can hold it a little longer.