“Fuck!” I grit out at the unexpected pain. I rip free and launch myself at him, but an invisible force slams me back into a display case. Glass shatters around me as more power pulses from the artifacts, feeding his power.
“Run, Kara. Please run.”
Blood trickles down my back as I surge to my feet, the wound already beginning to heal with that familiar tingling sensation. Even after five centuries, I never quite get used to the strange feeling of flesh knitting itself back together.
Lucien’s next attack catches me in the chest, and I feel ribs crack. The pain is excruciating, but I force myself to stay conscious. Every second I keep him here is another second for Kara to escape.
“Your noble streak is pathetic,” Lucien sneers, hurling another blast that sends me crashing through a sculpture. “All this suffering just to buy time for a witch?”
I spit blood and laugh. “Better than being your puppet.”
More darkness coils around me, crushing, burning. I can’t match this level of power – not with all these cursed artifacts amplifying his strength. But I push through the searing pain that threatens to overwhelm me, launching another attack with every ounce of strength I can muster. My muscles object loudly, but I’ve endured far worse in my centuries of existence.
Just keep fighting. Give her time. That’s all that matters.
My body screams in protest as another blast hits me.
I sense Kara’s growing alarm. She knows something’s wrong.
She knows Lucien’s near.
“Don’t come back. Please, just get out.”I pray she’s listening. That she’s not stubbornly blocking me out still.
“Please, Kara. Run!”
The pain is excruciating as another blast of dark magic tears through me. I taste copper, feel my own blood trickling from the corner of my mouth.
“Pathetic.” Lucien’s voice drips with disdain. “The great Marcus Nightshade, brought low by love for a witch. What would your maker say?”
I struggle upright onto my knees, each motion pure torture. “He’d say it was worth it.”
“The Blackwoods will fall.” He circles me like a predator. “Starting with that pretty little witch of yours. Perhaps I’ll keep her around for a while first. Break her slowly.”
Rage gives me the strength to lunge at him, but another surge of energy slams me back down. My bones crack on impact. The artifacts around us pulse with malevolent energy. Lucien inhales deeply, as if sucking it in.
“Getting boring now.” He sighs theatrically. “Time to end this little dance.”
Darkness coils around my throat, crushing. My vision blurs as tendrils of black magic burn through flesh and bone. I don’t fight it. Every second he spends killing me is another second Kara has to escape.
“Run, love. Please run.”
“Any last words?” Lucien raises his hand, dark power gathering.
I meet his gaze defiantly. “Go to hell.” The rasp I hear doesn’t sound like my voice. But it is.
The blast hits me full force, a wave of searing agony that makes my bones feel like molten lead. Pain beyond anything I’ve experienced in all my existence burns through me, igniting every nerve ending until I’m nothing but white-hot torment. The world swivels and darkens at the edges of my vision as my enhanced healing struggles and fails against this assault.
For the first time since my turning, since that bitter winter night in Florence when my maker gave me immortality, I feel myself truly dying. My body, which has endured countless battles and wounds, is finally betraying me.
I wait, breath rattling through my ruined windpipe as I anticipate the final blow that will end it all.
It doesn’t come.
Why isn’t he doing it?
It doesn’t matter. As long as he’s still here, he’s not there with her. She might make it. She might.
I feel a familiar prickle in the back of my mind.
