I’ve just managed to whip up cheese-and-mushroom omelets for everyone and am halfway through eating when an almighty, bloodcurdling scream tears through the house.
It’s a blade of pure terror that slices through me, cold and merciless. A wave of ice rushes through my veins, bursting out across my flesh in goosebumps. The fork slips from my fingers, clattering uselessly against the plate.
We all jump to our feet at once. Chairs scrape back so violently they crash to the floor, dishes rattle, the sharp clatter of metal and ceramic punctuating the chaos. And still the screaming goes on—one giant wave of terror crashing after another, endlessly battering the air. The sound roots itself in my bones. It’s a sound I never want to hear again.
We bolt for the stairs, pounding down them two at a time. My chest is tight, my heart hammering like it will tear right out of me at any moment. It takes mere seconds to get downstairs but in that time I have imagined every single worst-case scenario. The most prevalent of those being that Maximillian discovered where we are and has come to finish off the job.
We burst into the chamber, and I scan the room for any threats. There are none.
Victoria thrashes in her coffin, so violently the wood groans like it might split beneath her. Her eyes are wide and wild, gleaming with a feral edge, blood tears streaming down her face. Her whole body shakes, trembling in spasms that seem impossible for her small frame to contain.
I don’t think, just move. I rush forward, desperate to get to her, to still her, but the moment I reach out, her fangs snap down with a vicious hiss, claws flashing through the air. She looks like a cornered wolf, ready to tear apart anyone stupid enough to close the distance.
“Be careful!” Esmerelda shouts, lurching forward, but Minerva is faster. She locks an arm around Esmerelda’s waist, dragging her back up a couple of the stairs, keeping her clear. I see the fear in Esmerelda’s eyes even as she struggles, but Minerva doesn’t let go.
I turn back to Victoria. “Hey, hey.” My voice comes out hoarse, unsteady, but I force it into something calm, something grounding. I raise my hands slowly, palms out, in surrender. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
But she doesn’t hear me. Every time anyone shifts a fraction closer, she recoils harder, pressing herself against the coffin like she’s trying to vanish into the wood. Her sobs rip out of her, jagged and feral, the sound of something tearing apart from the inside. And it’s worse, so much worse, than the sounds she made when her body was burning alive.
The thought slams into me so hard I nearly stagger. She doesn’t remember. All she knows is what her body tells her, that she has been through something unspeakable, something that shredded her. Waking in pieces. No context. No memory. Only terror. What must that feel like? To open your eyes and find only strangers and silence, to not know who lived, who died?
I can’t imagine. I can’t even think about it.
“Victoria,” I say, gentler this time, like speaking to a skittish animal. My voice shakes, but I force it steady. “Look at me. Just me. Breathe with me. Inhale… exhale. Inhale… exhale.”
At first she only cries harder, crouched down and ready to spring if she gets the opportunity. Panic radiates off her in waves. But slowly, painfully, her chest hitches, then steadies. She mirrors me, ragged inhales, sharp exhales. Her gaze locks onto mine as if I’m the only thing tethering her to the world.
“That’s it,” I whisper, lips twitching into a smile I don’t feel but give her anyway. “Stay with me. You’re going to be okay. Keep breathing for me, all right?”
Her voice breaks, raw, small, fragile. “What… what happened?”
I swallow hard. My tongue feels like lead. “Your brother attacked your coven.”
The words detonate inside her. Her face flickers through emotions—confusion, recognition, horror, pain. It’s like watching a reel of devastation play out frame by frame. The truth slams into her in a single word:
“Maximillian.”
The name itself seems to undo her. Her body convulses, trembling violently, teeth chattering so hard I fear she might snap them.
I shrug off my jacket, my fingers clumsy, and edge forward slowly, carefully, like coaxing a wounded bird out of the trap. “Here. You’re in shock. Let me cover you.”
This time she doesn’t fight me. Her fingers close over the fabric, pale and trembling against the dark blue, clutching it like it’s the only anchor she has left.
“Victoria,” I try again, soft as I can. “Do you remember everything that happened?”
Fresh blood tears spill down her cheeks. “Where is everyone?”
Silence as heavy as a graveyard descends upon the room. My ears ring with it, my chest squeezing so tight I can barely breathe. She looks at each of us, her eyes pleading. But none of us speak. Because how do you tell someone they’ve lost everything?
Finally, Esmerelda comes forward. She moves slowly, her body angled like she’s approaching a wild thing, her voice low and steady. “Augustus and Dorian didn’t make it out. Your father led us to safety. He made sure we got you here. His last thoughts were of you, Victoria. Only you.”
The words strike, sink, and then they break her.
Her face crumbles, and the scream that rips out of her is inhuman. Raw, primal, unbearable. It carves through me like a blade. She bolts from the coffin, her foot catching on the edge of the wood. When she stumbles forward, I lunge to catch her, but she shoves me away with strength only despair can give and makes her way up the stairs.
By the time we catch her, she’s collapsed on the grass outside. Her arms lock around herself, her body rocking with sobs.
I drop to my knees beside her and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She doesn’t resist, but my comfort is useless. I fear no comfort will ever help me after what happened to my family, so why would it for her?
