The Queen whirled around, leaving a thin burning gash across Raleigh’s chest with the motion.Her entire left side was soaked, dots of red marring her skin.Then she started to smoke.
Yann stood at the base of the stairs, the satchel Father Leon had given me strapped over his chest.He had a glass vial clutched in one hand.I knew, then, that its twin had been the source of the shatter.Holy water.
The Queen lurched towards him as the left side of her face began to melt.She couldn’t vanish as she had at court.She was slow, vulnerable.
Yann threw the second vial.She swatted it away, sending it shattering uselessly against the wall.His other hand was back in the bag.But she was upon him.
He pulled out the Orlfen crucifix and pressed it hard against her chest.
In the fleeting second when I caught a glimpse of the silver, I realised why Raleigh hated it so much.The shape was meaningless;a weapon made to kill and an ornament made to worship were incomparable.That cross had witnessed the lives of every soul who’d ever lived in Orlfen.For centuries it had stoically absorbed the hope of christenings, the joy of weddings, the sorrow of funerals, and every last moment had been drawn into the very silver itself; it was a blazing beacon of life.And every second of it burnt white against the Queen’s chest as it burst into flame.
She shrieked.Fingers clawed at the growing cavity, but Yann only held tighter, even as his fingers blistered.
My ankle screamed as loudly as the Queen as I forced myself to my feet.I staggered.One step.Two.The reek of melting flesh filled the air.Horror from the presence of Yann’s crucifix made me want to retch, but I raised my dagger.
And buried it in her back.
The Queen gave one final ear-shattering scream.Then I was staring into Yann’s startled eyes as she burst into ash.
It was over.
Her ash fell between us like putrid snow.Yann threw the burning crucifix aside, unable to hold on any longer.The flames extinguished as it clattered to the ground, and I hurled my coat over it to smother the repellent it emitted.
And then the world was still.Stiller than I knew it could be.We’d won.Raleigh was free.Raleigh was—
‘Clara …’
I spun to face him, and all joy went dead.
Raleigh was still on the ground, clutching his stomach, crimson pooled around him.
I rushed to his side, skidding to my knees.What was happening?He should have healed more than this by now.Yes, it was a silver blade, but the wound had been in his stomach, not his heart.It shouldn’t be fatal.Not for a vampire.
The blood rushed from my head.
The Queen was dead.Raleighwasn’ta vampire.
He was human.And he was dying.
Thirty-Two
‘RALEIGH!’IDROPPEDto my knees and brushed the hair from his eyes.The rich sweetness of his blood hit me then.My throat felt dry.‘Raleigh, stay with me.’
He was utterly still, unmoving save for the faintest flutter of his pulse: weak, faltering, but still there.With my heightened senses I could hear it, feel it.And I desperately wanted to taste it.
Bile rose in my throat.I pushed away the horrible new nature surging through me, burying it as deep as I could.
‘Clara …’
I’d forgotten Yann was there.I snapped my head to face him.‘Find Moira.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘If she’s still alive, find her and bring her here.’I didn’t recognise my own voice, the panic and fury behind my words.Yann blanched and fled to obey, leaving me alone with Raleigh.‘You have to hold on,’ I said to him.
With great effort he opened his eyes and smiled.He lifted his shaking hand to my cheek and I clutched it there as my visionblurred.For the first time I could feel the warmth of him, the touch of a palm full of life.The life that was slipping away.
Somehow, despite everything, he was smiling.
