Page 87 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

Gritting his teeth, Issac turns to me. “I guess we should move things along,” he says coldly.

I barely have time to register the knife, and at first, my brain can’t really comprehend the enormity of what he’s done. It feels like he’s punched me in my side.

I dimly hear Sam scream, and my side begins to burn with an intense pain. My vision wavers as my gaze slides from the bloodied knife down to my body. Blood spills down my side, soaking my trousers.

He’s stabbed me. Am I going to die? Is this how it actually ends?

Issac pulls back the knife, now covered in my blood, then wraps his fingers around the sharp blade and slices through his own palm. Drops of crimson splatter across his white robe as he drops to his knees and mutters loudly, pressing his bloodied hand to the centre of the demon trap.

The intricate designs of the trap burst into flames and the floor shakes. The whole building seems to rock on its foundation. With a loud, cracking sound, the bloodstained wood under my feet begins to break open, splintering up and out like something is trying to push its way through.

My whole body is trembling, most likely from the blood loss. The next thing I know, strong, warm arms wrap around me. Despite the strength, they cradle me gently. I blink, realising the warding around the circle has collapsed, and I fight to consciousness as the familiar scent of Sam encompasses me.

Safe.

My vision blacks out for a second before a searing pain in my shoulders jolts me back. It’s all happening so fast, and I’m fighting to stay awake as the pain threatens to drag me under. I’m aware we’re moving and then I’m being set down on the cold, hard floor at the edge of the room. I try not to hiss at the flash of pain that cuts through the now constant throb when someone wipes the blood pooling at my torso.

“Roll him to the side,” Tristan orders, and another sharp stab of pain slices through my body as I’m turned. “Okay, it went straight through.” I assume it’s him now pressing a cloth against the wound. “We need to get him to a hospital, but he might be lucky. I think Issac managed to miss skewering anything important. He’s losing a lot of blood though.”

Sam removes the magical ropes and tosses them aside, hissing when he sees the welts and blisters on my burned skin. I hear Tris mutter something, but before I can figure it out, the floor gives an almighty heave beneath us. Ceiling plaster rains down as Sam shelters me with his body.

There’s another ominous cracking sound, followed by maniacal laughter. Pushing my eyelids to stay open, I twist my head back towards the circle and the devil’s trap at its centre, where Issac kneels beside a huge chasm that has opened up in the floor.

“You’re too late!” He laughs gleefully. “You’re too late! I’ve waited decades for this moment, and it’s finally here! He comes, and the world as you know it will never be the same.”

The second the trap opens fully, my body jackknifes. Power floods my blood as I absorb some of the demon’s magic. Sam clutches me tighter, his face filled with concern, but I can’t breathe, can’t think. I feel every single emotion the demon does: elation, cruelty, malice, and a million other things that scare the hell out of me.

In that second, I realise just how much Issac underestimated the demon. Feeling the power and immensity of his presence, the theory I’ve had that he was using Cordelia only to further his own agenda begins to solidify.

Suddenly, the smile slips from Issac’s face and his eyes widen.

“No!” he gasps as he tries to scramble back from the opening. “NO! NO!”

A long, glowing limb shoots out and grasps Issac around the waist. He screams and tries to clutch at the ruined floor to slow his momentum, but the limb drags him across the splintered wood. Whatever has him in its grip is too strong. It drags him over the edge and into the burning chasm, and even over the adrenaline-fuelled pounding of my heart, I hear Issac’s terrified screaming get fainter and fainter for an uncomfortably long time.

I suppose that’s at least one problem solved.

“Harrison,” Tris says urgently, “is there any way to close the trap?”

Despite the fear, I feel a strange sense of calm. There is a way and I know the price that comes with it. And although I don’t want to die, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to save them.

“Yes. One,” I whisper, and wince as I try to push myself up. “Help me up.”

“What? Why?” Sam scowls. “You’ve lost too much blood. You need to lie down until we can get you to a hospital.”

I shake my head, swallowing slowly. “It was my blood that opened it. It can only be closed with my blood.”

“Harrison, no,” Sam growls. “You’ve already lost too much blood, it will kill you.”

“If I don’t, we’re dead anyway. At least this way you’ll survive.” Unable to stop myself, I cup his beautiful face and fix every detail of him in my mind. His blue eyes, the scar which leads from the corner of his eye and wrinkles when he smiles, those soft, inviting lips. “You have to let me go.”

“I can’t.” Sam’s face twists into a mask of agony, and it hurts my heart. “Ask anything of me but that.”

“There’s no other way.”

“No,” Tristan interrupts resolutely. “No way. We’re the fucking musketeers, all for one and all that shit. No one is fucking sacrificing themselves. We just had my dad’s funeral, and I’m sure as hell not losing anyone else today. Stay out of the fucking light.”

“Uh, Tris,” Danny murmurs with wide eyes. “It looks like a giant naked man may be climbing out of the floor.”