Satina rolled her eyes. “If you recall, it was your other boyfriend who freed me. The cutie in the police uniform.”
“In case you didn’t know—and I’m sure you did—he’s the beast that’s after me. But you probably planned knew that all along.”
I marched toward her, costume arsenal in hand. To her credit, Satina didn’t look worried. Given the fact that she was a one hundred and fifty year old witch, had already died once, and was being threatened by a woman who had never swung a golf club much less a sword, that shouldn’t have surprised me.
She just remained where she stood, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Calm yourself, Supplicant.”
“I’m as fucking calm as it gets,” I said through clenched teeth, tightening up on the sword’s hilt.
“You’re blaming the wrong people,” Satina said, cocking her head curiously to the side. “It isn’t I who is responsible for the death of your love, nor the mob who assailed him.”
“You could have helped him!” I yelled, lunging toward her.
“I did,” she said, a ting of annoyance in his voice. “I helped him achieve what he wanted. To keep you safe!”
“That wasn’t his call.” I had settled in front of her, sword still in hard, but it hung limply at my side now. Fresh tears swelled on the cusps of my eyelids. “That wasn’t your call.” I wiped my eyes with the back of wrist. “Damn it, fuck you both! It’s my life!”
“And his life was his,” she said, her eyes flickering past me. “And I’d dictated more than enough of it. He at least deserved to die with the honor he sought.” She shook her head. “Alas, I am afraid rest doesn’t always come so easily.”
I deflated at her words. Beating Satina to a pulp wouldn’t bring Abram back, and it wouldn’t stop Dalton’s crusade. It was over. I dropped the sword, letting it clang to the ground.
“You’re not worth my time.” I shoved her out of the way and moved past her through the threshold.
My empty shell of a body glided downstairs and out the front door. The night air punished me as I stepped outside, lighting up my skin and reminding me that it would never again feel the touch it yearned for.
My entire body shook as I neared the dark mass that was Abram’s body. It was a death march, the quickly vanishing line that led to my last moments of happiness—perhaps my last moments ever. Death was coming for me next, and I couldn’t think of a better place to die than by Abram’s side, where I should have been all along.
Dalton would be here soon, but damned if I wouldn’t say goodbye first.
I couldn’t stop the tears from falling as I settled over him. His body was large and rippling. His blood-soaked fur matted against his skin, and his mouth hung open, his fangs bared.
He certainly should have been a frightening sight, but he wasn’t scary at all. He was majestic and beautiful, even in this mangled, beastly state. Because I could see past it all. I could see who he really was, and I had never wanted to be near anything so much in my life.
I knelt down slowly, savoring the closeness. After today, I would never have this again. I lied on the ground, face to face with Abram. His eyes were closed, but I reached out, stroking his cheek. Sparks lit up my hand every time I touched him, and now was no different.
The tears scraped down my face like needles dragging against skin, leaving my cheeks raw and sore. But I settled my breaths. If these were to be the last moments I would ever spend with Abram, I would not to cry through them.
“This isn’t over, Supplicant.”
Satina was behind me, standing over me and robbing me of this, too. Intruding on these last moments, stealing my chance to say goodbye. In her hand, she held the display sword I’d threatened her with earlier.
“Leave me alone,” I muttered, defeated.
“And if I did, what good would it do? Fate has plans for you yet, plans that will take you to places near and far.” She inspected the not-so-sharp blade of the sword and frowned. “You have not yet seen what you need to see, not yet done what you need to do, and not yet loved in the way that will save us all.”
“Just shut up!” I screamed. I’d had quite enough of this. “Shut up and go away!”
“Why do you think Abram did this, Supplicant? Why would Abram go through this nightmare? Why would he give up so much for this crusade, for you? Answer that, and I’ll leave you … if you still wish me to.”
“I don’t know,” I answered, still sobbing painfully. I put my head on Abram’s chest, resting against his soft fur.
Satina stabbed the sword into the ground and rested her hand on it. “Yes, you do know.”
“I don’t!”
Her hand gripped the sword handle, and her gaze cut into me like a razor. “Answer my question, and I’ll leave.”