Secret Worlds (31 page)

But that was no excuse. I’d lived alongside my mother in that world for years, and no one else with his diagnosis had attempted the things he was attempting.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” I murmured, my hands pressed against Abram’s barely living body.

“Is that a joke, Char?” Dalton grinned. “Because we both know there’s nothing you can do to stop me, and lover boy over there doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to rescue you this time.”

“I can take care of myself,” I said through gritted teeth, echoing the conversation I had with him my first day back in New Haven.

“You keep saying that.” He shook his head, pacing toward me slowly, as though he had all the time in the world. His hands were claws, stretched out and ready to tear me apart. “I can smell you from here.”

My hands balled into fists against Abram’s chest. I would have liked to have said there was some marked improvement, but his breaths were just as shallow and infrequent as ever. No, if we were going to survive this, it would be on me to make it happen.

“You’re gonna wish you never came back here,” I said, my voice surprisingly strong and steady.

“You gonna strike a pose at me, Runway Girl?”

I stood, angry, scared, and totally devastated. This would likely be my last stand. Before the sun came up, I would probably watch the last bit of life drain from the man I loved and then feel the last bit of blood drain from me.

Meanwhile, Dalton would no longer have to worry about mounting hospital bills. I could almost envy him that.

Still, if I was going to die, I would go down kicking. I owed Abram that. I owed my mother that. I owed myself that.

I spied Satina from the corner of my eye, which sparked an idea. I didn’t know how to use my magic … but
she
did.

“You’re gonna be really sorry,” I repeated, this time with renewed vigor. Sticking my still bloody hand out for her to feast upon, I motioned to Satina. “Let’s finish this.”

“I’m afraid not, Supplicant,” she said, and she might as well have added, “I hope you’re wearing clean underwear, because the cops are gonna see it as they’re scooping you up.”

My entire body jerked toward her. “Excuse me?”

“This battle does not belong to me. It never has. The end must be the end, no matter how difficult it is.” She leveled her gaze at me. “The object of pain is not to avoid it, but to outlast it.”

“How very Dr. Phil of you,” I muttered, feeling my pulse speed up to about ten times its normal rate as Dalton neared us.

“You can’t trust a Conduit, Char.” He chuckled loudly. “Figured your boyfriend would have warned you about that.” His eyes flickered to Abram’s unconscious body. “You know, the first time I caught his stench on you, it took me a while to deal with it. I really thought we had something special, me and you.” He made a fake pout with his lips. “Turns out I was wrong. Oh well, just makes the prospect of tearing his throat out that much more satisfying.”

“I won’t let you touch him,” I said, my voice nearly a growl.

“If you really want to save him, then step away from him,” Dalton said sternly. “After all, you’re the prize, baby doll. You’re what the whole spectacle has been about. I’m sure you love that, vain as you are.”

“And if I do step away?” I asked, a tremble in my voice. “If I went to you willingly, you would really let him go unharmed?”

“Come to me and let me lap up that precious blood of yours, and I give you my word as a gentlemen and a scholar that I won’t touch a hair on his big bad head.” He winked at me. “He’ll have a good life, Char. Who knows, maybe he’ll find some new precious little flower to desecrate.”

“
Take the sword
.” Satina’s voice went directly into my head, bypassing my (and presumably Dalton’s) ears. Her command only made my anger burn hotter in my chest. Lord knew she wouldn’t be any help—she’d told me as much herself. But I’d saved Abram without her, hadn’t I? If I could trust Dalton about anything, it was that I couldn’t trust Satina.

“It’s fake,” I answered, eyeing where she had placed the sword by Abram’s side earlier. Did she really think I would fall for that? For all I knew, she was on Dalton’s side.

“Take the sword,” she repeated.

“I’m not an idiot,” I choked out. “It’s plaster and wood.”

Dalton’s determined gaze turned curious. Skeptical. Maybe even a little worried. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Satina’s gaze burned into me. “
Touch
the sword, you stupid girl!”

“Oh, the hell with this,” Dalton said, shaking his head like a bull. “Offer’s off the table. I’m gonna kill him, Char. I’m gonna rip apart everything you love and bury it in places man will never touch again. But I like you, and I’ll kill you first so you don’t have to watch. You’re welcome.”

And with that, he sprung toward me in the air.

“The sword!” Satina’s voice boomed through my cranium now. “Touch the sword!”

Seeing as I didn’t have any better ideas, I reached for it, grabbing the hilt where Satina had tossed it minutes before. My hand, still coated in the blood from my own wounds, tingled as it touched the wood.

I lifted it off the ground and turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Dalton in full beast form, his mouth all fangs and anger, his eyes twisted and hungry. If there was any humanity left in the man, it wasn’t there to be seen now.

Shooting up a quick prayer, I closed my eyes and swung the sword, hoping the plaster would at least be hard enough to disorient him. The other, more likely possibility was that the plaster would shatter against his hulking body. And then I would die.

But there was no plaster. Instead, the sword whistled through the air, making a squishy
thwick
sound as it made contact with Dalton. He let out a yelp.

I opened my eyes to find Dalton on the ground, reared back and holding his gut. The sword in my hand shone brightly with blood and glinted strangely in the moonlight.

It wasn’t plaster anymore. Thank the good Lord above, it wasn’t plaster anymore! I couldn’t stop myself from beaming, even in my current predicament, as the revelation sent a surge of giddy adrenaline through me, replacing the sense of impending doom that had shackled me in fear just moments before.

My touch, my blood-soaked palm, had changed the fabric of reality. What was once plaster was now steel. What was once harmless and decorative was now deadly.

But that didn’t make sense. My blood could be used for magic, yes, but not by me.

“You bitch!” Dalton growled through pained and twisted fangs.

I stood my ground, hovering close over Abram. “I know I said I could take care of myself,” I rambled off quickly to Satina. “But I’ve never used a sword.”

“You’re destined for more than just taking care of yourself, Supplicant. Don’t be so self-limiting.” She began to shimmer with light.

Dalton was starting to get up now, though, and Satina’s riddles were of no help once he did.

“Okay, but what do I do
now
?”

“Outlast it,” she whispered through the wind, and then she vanished into nothing.

Dalton stood upright now. No sooner did I register him than he came toward me. His claws struck at my side and knocked the wind out of me. I stumbled backward, but kept two hands on the sword’s hilt. Swinging blindly, I came up with nothing but air.

His swing at me was much luckier.

He ripped into my forearm, spraying blood all over his claws and the ground. His affected appendage began to glow with golden ribbons.

“That’s the stuff,” he said breathlessly. “Now give Papa some more.”

Pain shot up my arm, and a throbbing sensation threatened to rob me of my weapon, but I had to fight. This was my one chance. This was my
last
chance.

“I’ll give you something,” I said, arcing the sword at him again. Missing again.

But the sword felt less foreign in my hands now, like it was speaking to me, telling me where to point it. Maybe the magic in my blood had something to do with it or maybe I was just a fast learner. Either way, I was open to any advantage I could get.

“Don’t make this hard on yourself, Char,” he said, circling me like predator. “I can make it quick. Drawing things out will only make it worse for you.”

“You’re just scared I can still kick your ass,” I said, jabbing the blade forward. It nicked his side, but he spun too quickly for the blow to do any real damage. “You always were a sore loser.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he said, almost foaming at the mouth. “You don’t have a chance here, and even if you did, you couldn’t kill anybody. It’s not who you are.”

“You have no idea who I am,” I cut out, narrowing my gaze at him.

I swung again. He grabbed the blade with his bare hand, and I yanked it hard, freeing it from him and slicing his palm on the way out. He yelped again and pulled back.

I may not have actually killed anyone before, but after this, after everything that had happened, I couldn’t tell you what sort of person I was anymore.

“Fine. Have it your way,” he said.

He jumped again, and this time his feet came at me. He kicked me hard in the shoulders, knocking me backward. I tripped over Abram and tumbled to the ground. My head hit hard against the ground, and my vision dimmed. Then, I was being lifted upward.

Dalton’s claws dug into my back as he raised me over his head. I clutched the sword’s hilt tighter and made another swipe at him, but the angle made my attempt futile. Instead of doing any damage, it flailed back and forth ridiculously.

“I tried to warn you, Char. Really, I did.” He threw me, and as I passed through the air, I saw everything: Dalton standing there wickedly, Abram lying on the ground beside him, the full moon hanging in the sky and marking some horrible countdown to Abram’s curse.

And then there was the tree.

I slammed hard into its trunk. Something in my chest cracked as I slid to the ground. I tried to calm myself, to breathe, to ignore the pain. But it was no use. The entire world was spinning. Pain flashed through me, intense and damaging. I had been hurt. Badly. And it wasn’t over yet. I could see my own blood covering me, yet doing nothing to heal my own wounds. I still had no idea how any of this worked. All I knew was that if I lost this fight, Abram and I were both dead. And who knew how many more after us.

Through bleary eyes, I watched Dalton come toward me. I grappled for the sword, but it was nowhere to be found. It must have dropped it at some point between Dalton’s arms and sliding to the ground.

I tried moving, but a stabbing pain ran up my chest. Yep, I had definitely broken a rib or two.

“I really wanted to do this the easy way, Char,” he said, lumbering over me. “But you just wouldn’t let me, would you? Everything with you has to be a challenge. Always been that way. You know, not everyone wants a girl who plays hard to get.” His teeth shone sharply in the moonlight. His claws twitched by his sides, itching to rip into me. “I was gonna make it quick for you,” he said, licking his lips, “but at this point I’m about ready to hurt you, and I’m not going to feel bad about it.”

I searched his beastly body looking for a weak spot. Certainly there had to be something to exploit. Certainly there was an area that I could attack that, even in his current condition, might still be vulnerable.

I grinned a little as the answer came to me.

“Funny,” I muttered. “I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

And then I kicked him right between the legs.

Pain threatened to rip me right in half, but I still didn’t hurt half as much as Dalton did. The big lug keeled over, affording me just enough room to snake past him.

I stumbled away, holding my injured midsection. He would
be back on his feet in a minute. These beasts never stayed hurt for long. I thought about running, but reconsidered. Abram was here. I needed to do my best to keep him safe. Love me or not, he would’ve done the same for me. And that was what mattered.

Through my pain-filled gaze, I caught sight of the sword. It hurt like hell as I bent over to scoop it up, but something about its weight in my hands felt right.

An almost howl was the only warning I got before Dalton collided with me. He knocked me to the ground mere inches from Abram and flipped me over. The sword flew from my hands again, landing just out of reach.

He sat on my chest, all the bravado gone from him.

“I’m gonna make you wish you were never born, you fat bitch,” he snarled.

Thrusting his arm forward, he dug into my chest. Blood splattered everywhere as I felt an intense rush of heat and pain. Suddenly, my broken ribs didn’t seem so bad.

He dug again and again. The pain intensified and morphed into a strong and primal sickness. Bile rose in my throat, and my body began to wretch.

“This is where you die,” he kept repeating. “This is where you die.”

My blood was all over him now, and he shimmered gold in its presence. I turned my head, half to check the distance to the sword and half so that I wouldn’t have to actually watch Dalton murder me.

I stretched my hand out, but the damn thing was too far. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I was too weak, and this hurt too much. My vision blurred, the world paled.

Satina’s words rang through my head again.

Outlast it.

But that was ridiculous. Dalton ran a claw deep into me now. I could literally feel his fingers inside of me, claiming my blood as his own. There was no way I could do this. Let him take the blood. Let him take it all. Nothing was worth this pain.

But then I saw Abram lying there. He was still alive, even if just barely. If he made it through this, he would make the next century unlivable for himself, thinking about all the ways he had failed.

No. I would live for him.
He
was worth it.

And with that realization, the pain sort of went away.

It seemed I had outlasted it.

I stretched my arm as far as it would go, threatening to pull it out of its socket, but pain or not, the sword was still just out of reach. My fingernail grasped helplessly at the dirt, trying to pull myself just a little closer. Dalton’s weight on me made that nearly impossible, but I couldn’t die. I just couldn’t.