“Crowe, I’m a compassionate guy,” said Darek. He walked over to Crowe, who was now on his hands and knees, his head hanging, and grabbed Crowe’s hair, pulling his chin up. As he did, I could see the golden skeins of Crowe’s magic sliding up Darek’s arms, being absorbed by his dark power. “I really want to help you get through this.”
“It’s not real, Crowe,” I whispered, then huffed with frustration. I’d meant to scream it, but Killian still had a hold on me.
“Make it stop,” Crowe sobbed, not resisting as his enemy siphoned away his magic, too caught in the illusion of his own personal hell. “I would never hurt them. I didn’t mean to do it!”
“Make it stop?” Darek asked, turning to me. He pressed his hand to his bleeding shoulder and whispered an incantation, and the wound glowed golden as it healed. “Should I make it stop, Jemmie?”
“Crowe, it’s not real,” I said, louder this time.
Darek’s smile fell away. “Try harder, Killian. Don’t disappoint me.”
Instantly, the ribbons of crimson animus tightened around me, stabbing into my ears, stealing my voice once more.
Darek’s grin returned as he watched my mouth snap shut. “Much better. Now,” he said, turning back to Crowe, “you wanted me to put an end to all your suffering.”
“Please,” Crowe whispered, his eyes locked on the imaginary horror. “I never meant to do this. I don’t ever want to lose control again.”
Darek approached Hardy. Ash and cinders hit my senses as he touched the side of Hardy’s face and siphoned his magic. “Oh, wow.” Darek stumbled back, his aura tinted orange with invictus. “It’s awesome to be you.”
He ambled back over to Crowe as I waged a battle in my own mind. I could see Darek’s strength growing with every step, along with his intent to kill. Crowe knelt, helpless and in the grip of overwhelming grief. How Darek had known to hit him with this—not just the deaths of the people he loved, but by his own hand—I didn’t know. It reeked of an evil and cruelty I hadn’t known existed before that moment.
“I’m going to make this stop for you just like you asked,” Darek said, leaning over Crowe. “You ready to join your old man in hell, big guy?” His fist shot forward and slammed into the side of Crowe’s face. Crowe’s head snapped to the side and he fell hard, blood pouring from his mouth, his body landing right on the edge of the hole in the floor.
Love and determination surged inside me. It was as if I could feel Crowe’s newly shed blood calling out for me. I didn’t know if it was how I felt about him or the blood magic we’d created together, but it was as if his heart beat in my chest. I was not about to watch him die. My hand rose from my side, and my fingers, sparking blue with locant, encircled one of the undulating ribbons of Killian’s magic. It felt silky and loose as I yanked it away from my body.
As Darek stood over Crowe, preparing to kick him into the pit, I whispered protective incantations as I whirled around and let my locant tear Killian’s crimson magic to shreds, ripping it away from Killian himself, who shuddered and staggered.
“Help me,” I said. “Don’t let this happen.” I’d freed the two of us, but it was clear that all of Darek’s intended victims were still held in helpless oblivion.
“Dammit, Jemmie,” yelled Darek. As I spun around to face him, I saw that he’d left Crowe lying right at the edge of the hole and was running back to the trough. He bent over and pulled something from inside the basin—a hunting knife. With a cold glint in his eye, he quickly moved to my mom’s side, and with sharp, brutal slashes, slit her outstretched arms from the crook of her elbow to her wrist. Her blood flowed into the bowl, streaking it red.
“No!” I screamed. Killian and I both ran forward as Darek deftly cut Alex’s wrists, too, and then pivoted around and cut my dad’s.
“I should never have protected you,” Killian roared as he slammed into Darek, his animus magic winding around his nephew. They hit the floor between Dad and Katrina, who stood by, calm as sleepwalkers.
As Darek and Killian wrestled for control of the knife, I sprinted for the only person I knew could save my family—Crowe. I grabbed his shoulders and dragged him away from the edge of the pit, just far enough so he couldn’t accidentally roll in. With clawed fingers and all the love that was in me, I muttered another protective incantation and ripped away the sickly green curse, leaving him groaning and blinking up at the fractured roof. “It wasn’t real,” I said, bending over him as Killian and Darek struggled by the trough.
Crowe’s eyes met mine. “Jemmie?” he asked weakly.
“Yeah. I need your help.”
“I killed you.”
“Nope. Get up. How much magic do you have?” I yanked on his arm, trying to get him on his feet.
Blood dripped from his mouth as he swayed, trying to keep his balance and get his bearings. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “He took a lot.” From the tortured tone of his voice, I knew he wasn’t just talking about his magic.
As we started for the trough where my parents and Alex stood, their blood spilling into the basin below, Darek let out a laugh, and Killian screamed. Before we had a chance to intervene, Darek rose from the floor, the dripping knife in one hand and Killian in the other, bleeding from a terrible wound to his gut. Orange strands of invictus magic wound around Darek’s arm, and he hefted his uncle upward before dropping his entire body, limp and bleeding, into the trough.
“You aren’t worthy to call yourself a Delacroix,” Darek said, then spit on Killian, who shuddered and went quiet, the blood from the others Darek had cut flowing over him.
Darek raised his head and saw me and Crowe standing between the pit and the trough, and then his blue eyes skimmed the people around the bloody basin, as if calculating. A tiny smirk pulled at his lips, and he lunged for Katrina.
He was going to try to complete the curse, and if he did, there would be no stopping him.
Crowe began to move forward, but I grabbed his arm and turned to him. “No,” I said quietly, taking his face in my hands. “You heal anyone who’s been cut, and hurry. You aren’t the monster today.”
Tonight, I was the monster. It had to be me.
Crowe looked down at me, and I watched the same love and determination I had felt spark in his eyes. I wondered if he sensed my heart inside him, too. He crushed his lips against mine, quickly, hungrily. Did he know this was the last time? Did he feel it, too?
“Go,” I said quietly. “Save them.”
Magic surged inside me. It coiled in my bones and in my veins. I charged Darek, calling forth a vault hex. Too late did I sense the glittering blue shield around him, stolen from my father as he bled. My hex bounced off him. Before I could stop my momentum, Darek lunged for me and jammed the blade of his knife into my stomach. Blood poured down the front of me, soaking my shirt and my jeans, squishing in my boots. My insides burned. It wasn’t just a physical pain, but a mental and metaphysical pain, felt to the root of my soul.
“This is what you get for hurting me,” Darek said with a low sob. He grabbed my shoulder, and with his other hand, drove the blade up, hitting bone when he reached my rib cage. A reedy, wet gasp escaped me.
Crowe roared my name from the other side of the trough, but Darek threw up a barrier around him, imprisoning him inside.
I dropped where I stood, my entire body on fire, a strange whispering in my ear, calling to me. Mom had collapsed to her knees, her lips blue and her skin pale, but her arms were still held out. My dad bled out into the trough, too, though he was starting to sink to the floor. With Crowe trapped, beating his fists against Darek’s barrier, Darek quickly sliced the wrists of Boone, Gunnar, and Hardy before going to the other side of the trough to cut Flynn and Jane. They stood helplessly, growing paler by the second, as their blood—and their magic—drained from them.
I closed my eyes. I was so tired, and so cold. “Don’t do this,” I whispered. “Please.”