Luke. God, no, Luke. He couldn't be dead, but looking down, she didn't know how he could have survived.
Beleth may have been under Steele's control, but he was too dangerous a weapon to let live. She stepped forward, ready to end him once and for all, when the small piece of rock tilted under her feet, the midsection breaking from the weight of two bodies.
As if on a macabre see-saw, they balanced their lives on either end of the column as it tilted back and forth. Neither of them could move for fear of toppling them both into the rocky water. They locked eyes, fear filling Lucy, but not for herself.... She'd nearly lost Hunter too many times already.
"Don't move," she said.
She had split-moment visions of their lives together in the real world, where they didn't always stand at the edge of death: going to the movies, or out to eat; walking hand in hand down the street as they browsed shops.
His eyes reached across the distance and held her as if in an embrace. "Lucy, you need to get off. Run and jump, fast!"
"No! You'll fall to your death."
His green cat-like eyes, and handsome face with its boyish charm; the way that one shock of hair with the silver streak always fell out of place and into his face; his long fingers and strong hands—she absorbed these details, memorizing each bit of him, and then put him back together as the whole man who stood before her. The man she loved and could not lose.
He grinned, but his eyes were sad. "I messed up with the sphere, betraying you to steal it, but I'm not going to mess this up. I'm sorry."
He ran away from Lucy, forcing the column to tilt down in his direction, forcing Lucy to run toward the shore and jump, forcing her to leave him to the fall alone.
She ran and jumped to the cliff's edge.
As Hunter fell, he called to her. "Catch!"
She turned and caught his sword, flying hilt-first toward her, and without another thought—because she couldn't let her mind anywhere near thoughts about Hunter and Luke—she lunged at Beleth with every ounce of anger and rage and fear she could summon.
He parried and countered, but instead of blocking his attack, she tilted her blade, allowing his to glance off. She pushed and slashed, cutting his arm and his shoulder. He cried out in pain as black blood dripped from him. She focused, narrowing in her senses, ignoring everything else, and watched his every move as she counterattacked. Lucy looked for the most minuscule tell, and danced with him like a shadow, always there but always out of reach.
Still, Beleth didn't waver, didn't slow.
But she did. The adrenaline pounding through her body wouldn't last forever. The reality of pain awaiting her on the other side of this battle weighed in on her with each raised blade. He drove her back as her muscles shook from fatigue.
Beleth pushed her closer to the waterfall, attacking, but then his one tell appeared, his one opening—that moment as he pulled one blade back before the other swung at her.
She slid past the attack, moved around him with lightning speed, and shoved the sword in his back and yanked it free.
He groaned as spider legs erupted from his spine, grabbing her, pulling her.
They both fell from the cliff and into the waterfall.
Water filled her mouth and she choked, trying to find her way to the surface. Her lungs burned as she forced her body to swim out from under the torrent of water slamming into her. She made it to the shore, breathless and dripping, and pulled herself to land, still clutching Hunter's sword. The sphere pulsed in her pocket, warming her, healing her. It had to be what had kept her alive after the fall.
Mist surrounded her, and all stood quiet save the sound of the waterfall pouring into itself. She moved forward, peering through the white spray.
A figure approached.
She stood guard, pulse racing, wondering what new threat she'd have to face, assuming Beleth too had survived the fall, when....
"Luke!" She ran to him.
His eyes opened into slits, blue peeking through as he swayed on his feet. He didn't respond to her or look at her.
She reached for him, but something moved through the water, toward him—just as in her dreams. Luke. Stalked. Attacked. Dead.
No!
Black oil surfaced, rushing along the split in the water, and Beleth emerged covered in his tattoos, seeming to move with the mist.
"Luke, behind you!"
He blinked and turned slowly—too slowly—and his eyes wandered.
Could he see her? Could Beleth? Or did the mist shroud her in white?
Beleth gave no hint. He trudged through the water toward Luke—quiet, like Death doing his silent work.
Lucy raised her sword, hoping to throw it, maybe hit Beleth in the neck or chest, but she might hit Luke, and she'd lose her only weapon.
She mustn't be rash. She had to calm herself, still her breathing, and think.
Beleth closed in on her twin, bladed hands raised and ready to strike.