Page 146 of You’re So Vein

I swallow. “I’m going. If they kill you both, then someone needs to look after Hannah.”

Augustin swallows, nods. Neither of us says what we’re thinking.

If they haven’t killed Hannah already.

“Let’s get this over with.” Dante leaps onto the causeway. “First one to the castle is the handsomest vampire alive.”

He strolls off, whistling a tune, as if he’s not heading to his annihilation.

Augustin steps up after him. He turns, his eyes flickering with unease, and offers me his hand.

His long fingers stretch towards me, and the edges blur with forlorn, foolish hope.

I ignore his outstretched hand and scramble up on my own. Beneath my feet, the stones are solid. But I can’t help the sliver of fear rolling down my spine. I don’t trust vampire magic. “This isn’t a trap? It’s not going to collapse beneath me when I’m halfway across? I warn you, I’m a good swimmer.”

“You are safe with me,” Augustin says.

The words work the edges of the raw wound around my heart. I wanted to be safe with him. But after everything we’ve been through together, he still can’t see a future for us. And I understand. Hannah comes first. He’s Augustin, he can’t see anything else when he’s thinking of her. I love him all the more for that. But I can’t allow myself to be drawn in to what might never be.

It’s time I stopped relying on other people for my happiness. I need to figure it out for myself first.

“No,” I whisper. “I’m not.”

He falls into step beside me. The ocean roars in my ears as waves slam against the causeway. I squeeze Dora’s spell bag in my fist. I’m no longer so afraid of the dark, but I sense the edges of a panic attack creeping closer. I’m very afraid of vampires, and of dying, and of Augustin breaking my heart again.

But I’m more afraid of losing Hannah. I have to be strong for her.

We arrive at stone gates that appear completely solid, flanked by towering statues of old men. “Pythagoras and Empedocles, two of the founders of Dusk Court,” Augustin explains as he touches his hand to a glowing stone beside the gate.

The stones swing open with a groan like they’re auditioning for a horror film, revealing a vaulted entry hall beyond, illuminated by flickering torches. As I step inside, I cast my eyes upwards, biting my lip as I face off against hundreds of stone faces. Statues of old men holding occult implements tower over us, while stone monsters seem to cavort along the pediments and leer down from high passages leading who knows where. My feet splash in puddles of saltwater, and the air bears a sharp tang of ancient stone, salt, and magic.

It’s a Piranesian prison come to life.

The gates slam shut behind us.

Yelping, I jump and clasp Augustin’s hand.

Why did I do that?

He gives me a gentle squeeze, and despite everything, I can’t bear to let him go.

Please let Hannah be inside. Please let her still be alive.

Dante has disappeared up ahead. We walk together through three more empty rooms filled only with stone monsters and flickering torches. One contains an ancient altar carved with a labyrinth of concentric channels. “Etruscan,” Augustin says, giving the altar a wide berth. Something about it makes me do the same.

In the final empty chamber, we stop. There are no more passages here, only more statues, including a towering colossus of some old Greek dude. Dante is nowhere to be seen. Augustin drops my hand. I hate how bereft I feel, how my chest aches for something that is salted over.

“Wait here. Don’t touch anything.” Augustin steps up to the statue, touches its hand, and disappears.

Wait, what?

I wave my arms through the air where he stood only a moment ago, but all I succeed in doing is wrenching my shoulder awkwardly.

Bloody magical vampires.

I walk a circuit of the room, trying to figure out what this place is. It’s majestic. Terrifying. But it’s also lonely in the way that cathedrals are lonely, built for a god who has outlived every echo. Beneath my feet is an inscribed labyrinth – a circular path mirroring the channels on the altar.

One path, one goal.