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𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 : 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃

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John's letter told me this much: meet his associate at midnight, get the cure for Crow or he'll die and/or kill you. As simple and as horrifying as that. Whatever John had done to Crow had made sure if he ever closed his eyes, he'd be taken over by the indescribable need to murder me with his own two hands. But with no sleep meant exhaustion, which meant straining his body to even survive. The cure would relieve him of all murderous tendencies while also granting him the desperation he so craved to heal. John had left him suspended in his own horrific limbo on the bridge of fully healing but never quite reaching the end.

But that would all rely on the fact if I survived the night with whoever John decided to send in his stead, and I had an awful feeling it'd be Conner for a rematch of even Ace, just to laugh in my face. But, considering he sent Jonathan Blood to scare the shit out of me in Clandestine, I wouldn't be surprised if it would be him, either.

There were too many options and I spent the day weighing them with a pros and cons list while trying to hide from Crow.

Eric Conner, pros: I got away from him before, he's arrogant, if he starts talking he doesn't stop.

Conner, cons: I needed help defeating him and it wasn't a real defeat because the two people who helped were on his side pretending, he's stronger than anyone I've ever fought before, I don't have Spiorad for extra help this time.

Ace, pros: none.

Ace, cons: all and above.

Jonathan Blood, pros: I got away from him the first time.

Jonathan Blood, cons: he wasn't there to kill me, I know nothing about him and his fighting skill.

Rubbing my face, I tried to wish the worry away but I would be screwed either way. No matter who showed up, it wouldn't be good.

"You're fucked," a little voice whispered in my ear, threatening me with a headache but not sending me into the gray.

"I know," I muttered at the island, my uneaten breakfast sitting in front of me from hours ago. "You don't have to sound like..."

"A know-it-all?"

"Yes," I grumbled under my breath before Pandora laughed and her presence left my shoulder. I was startled to hear the bedroom door close and Crow approach, I hadn't been aware he'd been standing in the hallway for some time until I heard the sound.

"Talking to yourself?" he asked, cautious in the way he was looking at me. There was no hint of blackness to his eyes but he looked exhausted, bags under his eyes a pretty shade of purple, and his skin paper white. He hadn't been sleeping after I'd given him a passive comment about how he shouldn't close his eyes for a while. But I could tell he'd been sick recently from the black-gray matter against the corner of his mouth. He saw me looking and wiped his lips.

I wasn't sure how much longer her could survive without fully healing. It was only the afternoon and I'd be leaving around ten or eleven. It was too long for us to wait around and do nothing.

"Not to myself," I said, tapping my pen against my lips as I stared down at my paper to avoid looking at him.

"Then with who?"

"Um..."

"Tell him," she whispered to my ear. She liked coming and going like this, startling me in real time, never truly appearing. "Tell him I say he looks like shit."

"Funny story, actually," I sighed, scratching the back of my neck. I wished Pandora could be here, in person with both of us in the room. I wish she could speak to him face to face outside of the veil. She'd never spoken to him before, much less seen him while alive.

"How funny?"

"Not really."

"Should I be worried?"

I shook my head and put my pen down. "I found Pandora."

He sat down slowly across from me, easing himself into his seat with a frown. "She showed herself?" The furrow in his brows deepened as he added, "After all that time...why?"

"Remember what John was telling us? Down in the tunnels?" I asked and he nodded. "About spirit possession?" Realization slowly dawned on his face as I tucked my hair behind my ears and forced a smile. "Turns out Pandora found a host body that you and I are both very fond of."

"The night you got shot..." said Crow, trailing off as he rubbed the corner of his mouth. He was piecing it all together like I had the night Pandora showed me visions of blood and of a woman I did not know. A grandmother? "She saved you?"

"Mostly." I rubbed my neck again, I'd been sitting hunched over my notes for a while now. "John told us his demons suspected she'd gone...somewhere. We just didn't know where until later that night when everything went crazy. Pandora needed an adjustment period and she gave me these visions of her life I didn't understand but..." I glanced back and towards the wreckage of my car still in the front lawn.

"Pandora did that?" he asked, gesturing to my truck.

I nodded. "She took my body for a joyride."

"She could've gotten you killed."

"She killed someone, just not me."

Crow dropped his head into his hands. "How much have you still not told me?" he whispered, shaking his head as he looked back up. "What else has happened since I've been gone? What else do I need to know?"

You're going to die. You're going to be killed–

"That doctor from town, Hex, is dead. Cass and I found his body at the barn the night you were taken and his ashes are spread out through the backyard," I explained in a quick voice as I added, "and Detective Ronaldo is dead, too. Murdered, by Conner and Ace–"

"Fuck."

You will die for me. You were born to die, just like me, just like all those before me.

"I missed so much," he whispered, shaking his head. "I knew I would but...hearing all of this makes it real."

"Then help me with this, it can distract you from all the horrible things you didn't get to witness," I muttered, trying to offer him a smile but he could not return one.

He leaned forward on his elbows and asked, "What is it you've been working on all this time?"

"Since you've been sulking in your bedroom?" I mused and he glared, eyes narrowed with almost a pout on his lips. "It's a pros and cons list, actually." He peered down at my writing and everything felt so normal, just for a second. Like this was something we did every morning together, if only it had been a crossword instead. "You were with them for a week, is there anything you can tell me that I should, well, prepare for?"

"Are you going to be seeing one of them soon?" asked Crow in a tone that told me he had a pretty good idea of what John's note had told me earlier. But we weren't going to discuss it. Not yet.

"Maybe, yeah."

"Then I'd vote for Jonathan."

"Any specific reasons or just because he worked for you?"

Crow didn't look amused, rather annoyed. "Conner is an asshole and so is the Dolion kid. They're trained in torture and manipulation, but Jonathan? He's a skilled fighter but can become sloppy. It's easy to distract him."

I wrote that down and Crow watched me as I worked, his eyes following my hand across the page. I liked him watching me, I liked him just there in general. I had just begun to get used to being alone in the cabin but hearing someone else here with me, rustling around in his room or wandering through the kitchen for something to eat, left a once unwelcome comfort but now a relaxing feeling came over me.

"But I wouldn't put it past John to send the Dolion boy," said Crow, refusing to say Ace's name. "It could be shocking enough for you to be startled and perhaps even distracted. Jonathan Blood is your best shot at making it out alive."

"And Conner?" When Crow didn't answer, I looked up slowly from my paper. "What?" I murmured. "Is he worse than before?"

"If all he did was break your nose the first time, you got out lucky."

"And the next time?"

"You'd be happier if he killed you."

I scribbled down, rather die than go against him, before looking up and meeting Crow's dark eyes. He wasn't the same as he had been before John took him but, at the same time, he was exactly as he had been. As he'd always be.

"You're still not going to tell me what the note said." Not a question but an accusation of truth. "Even if it could get you killed."

I lowered my pen to the counter, trying to steady myself. This didn't have to be an argument if I didn't want it to be. "I need to do this on my own."

The hermit card was staring me right in the face. This was something I needed to do on my own, figure out and fight for myself. Nothing Crow could say or do would change my mind on going. My friends lives were at risk and so was his. He needed the cure.

It'd taken me so long to understand the cards, to feel their influences. Pandora had been my death, the card I could not move on from and refused to. As had been Cage and his death, my main motivation to where I am now. They were all at play, working and moving together behind the scenes, forcing me to live out moments that had been destined from the start.

But what cards had I not seen yet?

The lovers. The hanged man.

Love and sacrifice. Temptation and surrender.

"You're sick," I whispered to him, feeling his cold stare. "You need help and if I can get help from whoever John sends, then I'm going."

Couldn't you see? This was all for you?

"And I'm not going to hear anything about it otherwise," I told him, feeling firm on my decision. "I'm going."

"And there's nothing I can do to change your mind?" There was a shimmer of fire in his eyes, like some heat building and building.

"No," I whispered, even though there was something that could easily deter me. He'd been my weakness from the start, when the phone calls began and when we met in the morgue. It'd been fated. Like everything.

"I wish I could heal you," he murmured, "then you could have some advantage." His eyes fell from my face and the cut on my cheek burned. He'd been so scared he'd truly hurt me, that he could've been able to commit such an act. It'd sent my heart into my throat but I refused to be scared of him. "If something were to happen to you while you're gone–"

"I'll be fine."

"But what if, Blaire?" There he was, saying my name like a prayer again. "You don't know who could be waiting for you, you don't have Spiorad, and no one will come get you."

"I could get Macabre or Monroe or Eva–"

"But not me." He sounded wounded. "I should be able to come when you call. I should be able to help you, save you–"

"All I need is for you to be here waiting for me to come home," I whispered, feeling emotion creep up my throat on the word home.

How long had it been since I'd felt like I was finally home? That I wasn't running from something in my future and past combined? It had been before my mother's death and I hadn't felt it after until now. Until this little cabin in the woods began to feel more like home ever did.

My phone buzzed on the table and I picked it up, giving Crow a glance as I read the caller I.D. and answered, "Calling to make sure I didn't die?"

"So, the package arrived?" asked Macabre and I was positive Crow could hear his voice from the phone by my ear.

I nodded. "Yup, and he's sitting right across from me."

"He?" Macabre sounded skeptical but I could hear hints of hope in his tone.

"He's missed you," I whispered in a teasing voice, "and wants to speak to you." Crow's eyes held joy, true joy, and I passed him the phone across the counter.

He let out a booming laugh and said, "Vic! Don't tell me you've already forgotten I've existed and have taken over the church entirely?"

I heard Macabre respond, faintly, "No such thing, old friend," as I stood up to head back to my room. Crow would give me my phone later when he was done and until then, I wanted to lay down and get more sleep before I'd be up half the night wandering the woods.

~

I woke to banging on my door, aggressive and angry, nearly wood shattering. I'd been smart to lock it before taking my nap. I'd had the sinking feeling I'd need the protection of keeping something between us. From the sound of his body slamming against the wobbling door, I knew I had been right.

He'd given me my phone back after he'd ended his call and gone into his office to search through files on what John could've done to him. He must've fallen asleep. He must've just closed his eyes for a few seconds because he was at my door, like a hound sniffing out prey. I could hear him grunting, desperate to close the distance between us as I sat up in the bed, knees pulled to my chest.

I couldn't let myself be scared of him. I never wanted him to see fear in my eyes when he looked at me.

I think that's why I didn't bother hiding or running when the door finally did crack open against the wall. I kept myself in my bed as he breathed heavily, stalking into the room and taking up the space with dark shadows cast against the ceiling. When he turned to look at me, eyes coated black, I didn't move.

"Crow," I murmured, feeling something sad pull at my heart and lips. I only needed to wake him up, force him to truly open his eyes.

He wrapped a hand around my ankle on the bed and yanked me towards him. His fingers felt like claws, digging into my flesh, ready to peel and pluck me. He nearly had me in his grasp entirely but I fumbled for one of my textbooks on the bedside table. My biology book. I had it in my hands and swung up towards the side of his head before he could toss me to the floor.

He jostled to the side with a strange yelp as the book struck him across the face, hard enough for him to drop to a knee and rub his temple. His muscles relaxed and the black faded from his eyes as he groaned out, "Dammit."

"I told you not to fall asleep."

"Hard not to when you're fucking exhausted," he mumbled, using the dresser behind him to stand. "Did I...?"

I shook my head. "Busting open my door was as far as you got."

"I'll get you a new one."

"And maybe an industrial sized lock, too." My ankle burned from how tightly he'd gripped me and I wondered what other parts of me would've felt like if he'd touched a searing hand there too.

He rubbed his head and I wondered if he would even get the chance to heal. The smallest amount would ease the tension further from his body, it would heal the marks on his chest that I knew still pained him. He would be left with scars but it was better than seeping and bloody infections trying to crawl its way into his bloodstream and brain.

"Barricade the door when I leave, okay?"

I nodded and we didn't speak for the rest of the day and well into the evening. It was only when I woke from my second nap far later than I had anticipated would we finally speak again.

I'd been more tired than I'd thought. My body needed the recovery, it was slowly preparing itself for my inevitable fight. Nearly ten-thirty, I forced myself out of bed and into warm clothes. Old jeans, a long sleeve with a thick flannel overtop, even thicker socks, and my leather jacket. The weather for tonight would be below thirty. I contemplated a hat and gloves but thought against it as I tied my boots tightly in the kitchen, my bag on the island filled with snacks, a bottle of water, a flashlight, and an extra knife, sadly normal. I already had my new demon blade tucked safely in my jacket pocket.

Crow stood over me, arms crossed. He hadn't spoken a word since I'd returned from my room. He still wasn't happy I was leaving and I couldn't even blame him. Was I being stupid? Probably. Would I regret my decision to go? No, not if it meant Crow would be okay. Even now, he seemed a little too pale and a little too rigid. I'd heard him in his bedroom, not long after I'd woken up. He'd been thrashing in bed, the sound of a man fighting with himself and his emotions. No doubt he'd fallen asleep again, like I had, and tried to slash and crawl his way free of his locked bedroom to get his hands around my throat.

"Are you just going to stand there and gawk at me?" I murmured as I used the counter to help me stand. "Because it's getting annoying."

"I'm angry with you."

"Are you going to let yourself be angry when this could be the last time we ever see each other?"

"Blaire..."

"I'm kidding but you know it's true," I sighed, picking up my bag. "Remember last time? There was a party? You were an asshole? I came back and nearly bled to death in your arms?"

He looked away and muttered, "Don't remind me."

"I have to," I said, "or you'll let me go off and you'll regret being mad at me for the rest of your slow poisonous life." He met my eyes again and I added, "Just hug me tightly and wish me luck, okay? You can be mad again if I come back alive."

"When," he tried to correct me and I ignored him. "When you come back."

He reached out and took me into his arms and pulled me tightly against his chest. I didn't waste a second before circling my arms around him and burying my face against his neck. He readjusted his arms to grip me tighter and I molded against him fully. We didn't know what to expect from tonight, we didn't know anything besides what John's letter had said and I was the only one who'd read it. There was a good chance I would be ambushed but it was a risk I had to take. If I came with backup and that cost me the cure, I would never forgive myself.

I was going to allow myself to be dumb tonight.

I breathed in deeply, catching the softest hints of Crow's cologne and I wanted to weep. He was home, he was warm, and he was alive. I had to keep him that way.

When I pulled away, he whispered to me, "Call me the second it's over."

I nodded, patting my phone in my bag with a smile. "I'll be in and out. Easy as pie."

You were always so good at jinxing yourself, Blaire Lake.

~

The drive was quiet. I couldn't focus with the music on so I drove Crow's car in comfortable silence. The only sound came from my beating heart and soft breaths. I considered rolling the windows down, trying to escape this stuffy feeling, but the wind was like ice.

I followed my GPS through winding roads, surrounded on either side by thick trees taller and taller as I went. Everything was dark save for my headlights. Once I'd gotten off the highway, the people who had been out, the late night stragglers or the ones just beginning their night, were gone. It was just me, the road, the trees, and the darkness holding whatever monsters that were waiting for me.

I turned left onto a dense part of the road and I watched as the concrete slowly turned to gravel and then to dirt. I'd gotten to my destination in just under an hour. Parking my car before the lake house, still hidden by trees in a tiny clearing opening up onto the muddy shore. The house stood in the lake like ones you'd find held up by stilts in Florida or even in the bayou. It was abnormal for something like this to be here, in this state. We weren't meant for lake houses or homes surrounded by water like floating castles.

I left my bag in the car as I got out, zipping up the keys in my jacket pocket as I stepped onto the soft earth. There weren't any other cars in sight, not the sound of anything living except birds and cicadas. I turned on my flashlight, the only thing I brought with me besides my knife. I didn't need anything getting lost when I walked out onto the boardwalk. Could I even call it a boardwalk? The strange wooden pathway that would lead me to the empty shell of the wooden home?

It wasn't even a real house, more like an open gazebo the closer I got to it. I stepped slightly into the bucking water as it splashed against its rocky shore. I knew it was freezing cold even through my boots. Everything seemed so much colder here and I wasn't sure if there were any lingering spirits or because of the dropping temperature. It all felt the same nowadays.

Thunder cracked overhead and I jumped, lurching forward and nearly hooking my toe in an uneven board. I steadied myself and my breathing before heading further down towards the open gazebo. I could smell something strange in the air and it wasn't the shifting weather or the water.

As I got closer to the gazebo, I could smell the gasoline more clearly now. It was thick and heavy in the air, making my head nearly hurt from the intoxication. Someone had come by long before me and doused the gazebo in the stench. The wooden panels inside were slick and I kept myself out and in the doorway. I patted my jacket for my phone, ready to call Crow and let him know someone had laid a trap and I was ready to leave as quickly as I could but I couldn't find it. I cursed myself for leaving it in the car and turned to jog back when heat erupted against my face and I stumbled back.

No longer was the night cold. It burned and blazed and scorched.

My back hit the boardwalk and I winced, nearly knocking the air out of me. I looked up through the drizzling rain as lightning struck overhead. A figure emerged from the rain with smoking clothes and a clean face.

"Surprised to see me?" he asked.

I shook my head, pushing myself backwards, nearly crawling.

"Scared?"

I shook my head for a second time. "You're not nearly as scary as my other two options."

Jonathan Blood gave me a cruel smile and laughed. But something was different here, I could feel it shifting in the air. No longer was it the smell of gasoline or fire or even rain. It was a hum I could've recognized even in sleep, even in death.

"You brought her with you?" I asked and Blood cocked his head to the side, confused. "You moron, you brought her here?"

I knew she was there, in his pocket, against his hip. Strapped and ready, drumming and humming for my fingers. Blood was an idiot and I hoped John would kill him if I didn't get to first for being so foolish. Bringing my own weapon to our fight? Idiot.

The flames illuminated the darkness around us because not even the moon was present behind the storm clouds. Blood had shadows casted against him but I could still see his face, I could still make out his dire confusion.

"Why are you here?" I asked him. "How come John didn't send Conner? Or even Ace?"

I got to my feet as he spoke, keeping the distance between us as the fire licked at his back and nearly singed his hair. "Am I not good enough for you?"

"Hardly good enough for anyone."

Blood ignored my comment. "Did you like our gift? At the cabin?"

"It was an unexpected kindness, I'll give you that," I said, watching black smoke billow in the sky as the roof of the gazebo began to collapse in on itself. Pieces splashed in the water and Blood didn't flinch.

"Did you expect us to send him back in pieces?"

"Yes, actually."

"We thought about it," he said with a shrug, pulling back his leather jacket and I saw the first true sighting of my knife. Spiorad looked beautiful and ready and willing. "But John thought it'd be better to send him home...damaged."

"And you have the antidote? Right?"

Blood patted his right pocket with a grin. "Your lover will get it, if you come with me."

I crossed my arms, the knife I'd brought with me heavy and unspecial against my side. "How do I know you'll even give it to him if I go with you? How do I know you aren't lying?"

"Faith?"

"Bullshit."

"You can watch me hand it over to him yourself," said Blood with a smile. "After you're safely in my custody, I'll drive to his home and hand it over myself."

"And if it's a fake?" I asked. "If this antidote isn't even the real thing?"

"John would never lie to you."

"Says you."

Blood shifted on his feet before taking a step forward as the rest of the gazebo collapsed and sunk into the water, casting waves against the boardwalk. He moved slowly, as if ready to blend back into the dying flames and the shadows creeping down around us. The fire was still going brightly, the gasoline spread against the water like murk. It was contained to behind him but I knew if the waves kept coming with falling debris, the flames would overtake even us.

"He doesn't want you dead, not yet."

"And why is that, huh?" I asked as the fire let me catch sight of a row of piercings in both ears. He was exactly as the description my mom wrote. Strangely spiked brown hair that was now sagging from the drizzle, a large jagged scar in his cheek, and even his nose was pierced. I was nearly positive, that if he craned his neck just so, I'd see tattoos.

"He wants to kill you when the moon is full." A shiver shook its way through me. "You know when that is, don't you?"

I didn't. Who tracked the moon cycles like that? I had other things to focus on, like my death, Crow's death, Crow's healing, finding a replacement knife, and now this. I hadn't even checked a calendar in months.

"A week and a half, Blaire." He was smiling again. I hated that he had nice teeth. "That's all you have left before he takes you."

"And that's all that's stopping you from killing me here and now?" I asked, feeling anxiety creep up through my chest. I could feel it all the way down into my toes and fingers. "Don't you want to bring me back like a champion? Like a man giving his king a prize?" I needed him to keep talking so I could somehow figure out a way to get inside his pocket.

"He wants to do other things to you, too," he purred and my stomach dropped. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

I took a step backwards and nearly fell back. Horrible thoughts crossed through my mind. My body tied up somewhere. John creeping towards me. Pain. Horror. Disgust. Disgust. Disgust.

"He wants to...?" I couldn't even bring myself to say it.

Blood grinned and said softly, "A virgin upon an altar." He mirrored my step by taking one forward. He looked so big now, all of a sudden, like a true predator. In the church, he'd seemed so large and strong but tonight it shifted to something even worse. "You've been saved for the devil, and he appreciates that you haven't gone off and ruined yourself for him. He likes them pure, untouched."

A horrible sensation washed over me. I'd heard this before, hadn't I? With Beatrice and Pandora while scouring through Crow's office, flipping through old newspaper clippings and photocopies of old books that had lost their translations over the decades. I'd heard this before. Through the consummation, the virgin necromancer's powers would be sealed to him, the devil. Consuming the necromancer in two ways, through her purity and through her blood.

He wants power so badly he kills the necromancer, he kills what he could've loved.

Fear, like nausea and cold sweat, rolled over my skin as I hissed, "First, he wants to kill me and now this? What else can he take from me at this point?"

"He took Pandora."

"Ace did, actually."

Blood ignored me again. "And he wants your blood. He wants you to douse the earth and him. He wants to be covered in you." He took another step and then another closer to me. "You will give him your power and he will finally bridge the gap between the worlds the way he was destined. Your people have given you power that was never meant for you. The great morning star was meant for power and glory, and you stole it from him and now..." He grinned. "...now he'll take it back."

He charged and I tripped, the heel of my boot slamming back against a crooked board. I was able to thrust my hands out and towards Blood but his force was too much for us both. I wasn't allowed the chance to suck in a breath before I knocked to the side and plunged into the cold water.

Coldness soaked into my bones and into my weary soul faster than the crack of lightning in the sky above us. Blood's hands clamped down over my face, pulling and shaking me through the water as we sunk. I kicked my legs, connecting with the bottom and then with his shins. My lungs were beginning to burn and I could feel water in my nose and throat.

Thrashing like an animal caught in a net. Only hand left me and I knew he was going for the knife so I took my chances with my hands and feet. I kicked as hard as I could, connecting against his side and then his thigh and then the spot I'd been desperately trying to aim for in the near stagnant water. He released me and I could almost hear his howl through the water as I pushed my feet off the bottom and swam to the surface.

I tried to ignore how cold I was as I broke the surface and spat up water, wheezing and coughing as I tried to make it to the shore. Everything felt like ice coating my skin, my breath cold against the air and my teeth chattering inside my skull. I could hear Blood behind me, splashing and cursing. I was pathetic in the water, it felt like quicksand, like mud, my feet slipping against the rocks and my arms flailing at my sides. I tripped and went sprawling through the water, my hands catching themselves against the muddy sand and I felt rocks tear through my jeans.

I wasn't given the chance to scramble to my feet when big hands clamped down against my hair and wrenched me up and into the air. I felt like a dog, or maybe a cat being plucked up by its mother's teeth. He flipped me soundlessly and tossed me against the mud onto my back.

"Please–" I whimpered, holding my hands up as he descended upon me. He straddled my legs as I tried to kick him away but he was stronger. He'd always be stronger. "He told you not to kill me! Please, stop! What are you doing–?!" Every word shook from the cold and I hated how unaffected he was.

"He doesn't care how I get you back to him!" shouted Blood. "As long as your heart still beats, he doesn't care what state your body may be in!"

I fumbled with my jacket as he tried to grab at one of my wrists. I couldn't move my legs and I could feel panic seizing up in my throat and chest. I didn't like feeling trapped, I didn't like feeling as if I was suffocating. The air was trying to squeeze its way out of my body as he tried to wrestle me to stop moving.

"Stop–it!" I seethed, trying to fight him back but with his weight on me, it was near impossible. He pinned one hand down and I felt my flesh recoil and shiver against the muddy ground. Everything was ice here. Everything was a frozen prison. My legs were stuck in the water and I was beginning to no longer feel them from the temperature. This is what panic felt like to me. It felt like being trapped, closed in, sinking, drowning, gone, gone, gone– "John–he–he'll–need me whole for what he wants!"

He wants to become a god.

"He needs your blood," he snarled back, "and he needs your sacred promise, your chosen vow."

"I'm not going to let him touch me like that–" It made me feel sick, it made me feel twisted up inside. Even though I'd heard it through Beatrice, it still didn't seem real. It didn't seem right at all.

"This is what the fates have assigned for you!" he cried back. "Nothing you say will change the fact that you were made for the other. One part hell, one part earth, and one part heaven. You hold all three in the palm of your hand and John–he needs that. He needs it more than you could ever know!"

"But why!" I tried to thrust a knee forward but it didn't budge. I kept my free hand pressed up against Blood's face to keep him from getting closer. He didn't have my knife in his hand yet and I was scared that if he reached for it, I'd be stuck. I dug my nails a little into the fleshy part of his cheek and he ignored the way I scratched and clawed.

He wants to be a god. He wants to be a god. He wants to be–

"It was all supposed to belong to him," seethed Blood, turning his head to avoid my hand before snatching up my wrist and smashing it back against the ground, having me fully pinned.

You'll always be trapped like this.

"But he was cast out!" he continued, shaking his head as the rain poured harder. I could barely look up and see him through the darkness and the droplets catching in my lashes. "He's never gotten anything he's deserved and now it's time! If he has control of all three, if he can finally take back what was supposed to be his before he was torn out of the kingdom, the world will accept him!"

All we ever wanted was to be seen. To be accepted. To be known.

"He doesn't need anything from me to be powerful!" I countered, trying to move my hips, to rock back and forth and throw him off but I wasn't strong. If I could've just reached out and gotten by hand around Spiorad's hilt against his hip, I would finally have a jolt of strength. But you're powerful just on your own. "I'm nothing–"

"You have the power from centuries of necromancers," seethed Blood and he smiled so wide, I could nearly see his molars. "You have creation power, magic, witchcraft running through your veins. You are the treasure he's always wanted, if not in a bride then by a sacrifice. You were always meant to be his."

"Tace."

(Shut up.)

The command came spilling from my mouth and the intent was not what I expected. Blood reared up and released me as his hands went to his face, where his lips no longer were. A blank patch of skin replaced his mouth and he tried to move his jaw, his chin, his cheeks but nothing would open. I could see his tongue pressing against the flesh, even poking on his cheek but it was trapped inside.

I used his confusion to smash my hands against his chest and send him toppling off me and back into the water. He couldn't even sputter and curse as I got on top of him and tried to force his face down into the arctic water. But even without a mouth, he was still strong. I had my hand around my own knife, ripping it out of my pocket, readying to slam it down into his skull. But I wasn't fast here in the water and with the cold water-logging my skin and clothes. Jonathan Blood backhanded me easily, pain flashing across my eyes as I fell backwards, my knife lost from my hands and somewhere in the water. Lost.

I watched in horror as he rose from the water and tore his fingers into his flesh, pulling and ripping flesh until his teeth were returned and fleshy strands hung around his newly created mouth. Black blood spewed out of his mouth and he let it drip down his face as he pulled Spiorad from his hip.

My demon blade shone in the flash of lightning. Glistening, cruel, and sharp; my daughter, my savior, my salvation screamed and cursed as it came hurtling down upon me. Instead of my throat, instead of my heart and chest, he brought it down against my left thigh. A howl so animalistic came wailing up out of my throat, burning and seething through the air as he sawed and laughed, dripping black blood across my face and skin.

I felt like I was being painted. Like I was being washed away. Like I was being forgotten and erased.

He sawed at my skin, tearing through my jeans and into my flesh like I was made of butter or clay. I could hardly hear him over the roar in my head as he whispered into my ear, "One less leg might do you some good."

I struck at his chest, as his arms, but he kept working his wrist, working the knife back and forth. I felt my blade, my own knife, cut and cut, slicing through my skin layer by layer. It was like I was being pulled apart, something digging little jagged nails into my flesh and then my muscle. Not even a scream could reach my lips, only an open mouthed paralyzing agony that washed over me so deeply that my head began to spin.

Every stroke of Spiorad felt like I was one beat closer to some type of grief, some mixture of torture too far from what it was now. I was reaching nirvana, glazed over and harmonic with my ragged breathing. My eyesight was going, I could see blackness come crawling in. Hadn't I just gotten here? How did he capture me so easily?

A whisper fell past my teeth and tongue, a voice that did not feel like mine. "Abite. Abite. Perge. Perge."

(Get away. Get away. Go. Go.)

Blood was knocked backwards by the wind and he splashed angrily in the water when the world went gray. My helpless, sad gray. If I died here, I was afraid I'd stay there forever. Lost, like them. Lost like them all.

I felt hands hook under my arms and I could barely raise my head as I was dragged backwards and out of the water. Someone had a hand propped up under my head and I found myself staring up into two faces instead of one.

"Looks like you needed some help," whispered Pandora as Beatrice wiped the hair out of my face and eyes. The rain had stopped in our astral.

"I–I need–" I couldn't even speak right. I needed my breathing to get back to normal. Beatrice helped me sit up so I could assess the damage. How was I going to get back to the car with my leg in shredded fleshy strands? Blood had been working his way to the bone before I'd finally spoken, or maybe the ghosts had spoken for me, I wasn't sure, and there was so much dark blood it was nearly black. A gash longer than my hand, thick and wide and oozing. My whole thigh trembled and shook, the blood was like lava, so hot it was cold.

"We're getting help," said Beatrice. "We're going to get Crow."

"H–how?"

"There are a lot of people on this side that want to see you live," said Beatrice. "They want to see you win."

"And what she means by that," murmured Pandora, kneeling before me and taking my face in her cold hands, "we have a way of getting him here in the blink of an eye."

Beatrice nodded, her gown untouched by the mud and rain. Pristine. Perfect. Frozen in death. "With the right amount of power."

"Just hang on a little longer," urged Pandora, touching her cold hand against my thigh and I seethed through a clenched jaw. "Five minutes, tops."

"Panda..." Her name came out in a croak as Beatrice slipped away from me and I nearly fell back. I wasn't strong enough to get through this, to somehow get to my feet and fight back. Everything Macabre had taught me had left the second I hit the water.

"Come on, red, just a little longer."

Her voice was leaving me, growing fainter with every word until both women were gone and I was left in the gray for a split second of peace before the rain touched my face and the downpour roared.

Blood was rising from the water by the time I was able to sit up. He looked confused to see me a few feet further than I had been when he'd gone under, but that confusion left his face as he twisted Spiorad in his fist and came at me.

I tried to rise with my good leg but any movement from the left made my body tense. Blood saw that, he saw my weakness easily and took me by the throat and pressed the tip of Spiorad under my eye as I slammed against the ground, trapped for the third time. Was it even the third? The fourth? The hundredth time I'd been pinned down by some psycho killer in the past year?

Spiorad hummed against my skin and I felt my first brief moment of relief. She wasn't cutting and she wasn't hurting, only resting against my cheek. I blinked and I could feel her tip against my lashes.

I took in a deep breath, felt it in my chest, expanded my lungs and stomach, before letting it go slowly. My great demon blade was not meant to hurt me and I refused to let Jonathan Blood continue to defile her. His hand brushed my throat and I realized he'd been speaking, but I didn't care. I didn't care at all.

Using what Macabre's lessons taught me, I struck my hand out as hard as I could and jammed it into Blood's throat. He choked, shock protruding from his eyes and he dropped my faithful blade as he stumbled back to wheeze and gasp. He hadn't expected me to be strong, to even be fast, but with Spiroad anything was possible.

I wrapped my hand around her hilt, one I'd thought I'd never touch again. She was purring, vibrating up my wrist and arm. I'd never felt as powerful as I did when I was with her, and she'd been gone for so long. We'd been forcefully separated, taken and snatched, and I refused to allow her to be taken again.

I still had to grab my wounded leg and move it so I could stand. Every move I made felt like the gash was opening further, like someone had their fingers digging into it and peeling and pulling. I knew the fucking swamp water was doing nothing good for it and any infection, because I could feel every throb like my heart was oozing out.

"You thought..." I wheezed deeply as I planted my feet against the ground. My necromancer blood would propel me as far as I could before I'd finally give out under the weight and pain. "...you could defeat me...with my own blade?"

Blood looked up at me from his knees. Lightning lighting the sky, the fires behind him still burning and dying as thunder erupted. We were in the center of the storm, where we would always be and he looked like a man kneeling for a god.

"You're a...a moron."

He was sitting in the water, one hand against his throat and the other by the shifting water against his thigh. Nothing was ever what it seemed, I knew that better than anyone. So, when he raised that lowered hand and I saw the knife I'd dropped reflecting in the strange firelight, I could only grit my teeth and ready myself.

"Give me the antidote," I said, the clearest I'd spoken that entire night.

Blood smiled. "You'll have to fight me for it."

"No," said a new voice, snarling out over the rain, "I don't think she will."

Like a god emerging from the black stood Crow. Even holding an old grocery bag by his side, he looked frightening. He set the bag down beside the car and walked out into the rain, coming down the small decline. He was wearing jeans. An old plain shirt. Boots I'd never seen before. It made me dizzy how normal he looked, so handsome and cruel while so mundane.

"I think," said Crow, his eyes like coals in the dark, "what you're going to do is give me the antidote and leave. You'll go running back to John and tell him how you failed. You're going to leave now, if you want your life."

"John chose me for this," snarled Blood. "I'm not going to run away–he–he chose me!"

"He chose a coward."

Blood's mouth gaped open as Crow pulled a long kitchen knife out from behind his back like magic. The two men stared at each other and I felt like I was in the middle of something private. I did not belong here with them.

"You were never strong enough," continued Crow and his presence behind me was like a shadow, like heat and warmth. I had forgotten about the cold, my shivering was second nature. "Never tough like Aiden or Conner. Never smart like Victor or Michael. Never had enough grit or motivation like Reed. You were my weakest soldier."

"You're a liar," said Blood, shaking his head as he got to his feet. "You're–you're lying! I bent the knee to you! I sacrificed my life for you! I was there for you!"

"And yet you chose John."

"He sees me for what I am!"

"A coward?" That word again, coming and going as easy as the water rocking back and forth and the chill floating in the air. Always there. Never leaving.

"A warrior!" said Blood. "A knight! A man! He sees me as a man!"

No emotion even crossed Crow's face as he said, "Pathetic." No ounce of anger or annoyance, just some strange abandon left in his tone. That not even this demon before him was truly worth the effort. "A real man doesn't turn a blind eye to his crimes. A real man doesn't coerce and kill."

"Then what does that make you!?" Blood took a daring step forward. "What does that make you then, fucker?!"

"Better," said Crow as I said at the same time, "A god."

Crow slashed with his knife and it struck Blood across the neck. Spluttering and choking, the demon took a staggering step backwards as Crow advanced. Blood couldn't even get a grip on his own knife, the blade fumbling in his grip and I had to force myself forward, dragging my leg behind me at a dangerous angle to reach the demon. My leg, near numb, still moved like a log. Blood was trying to grip the two folds of torn flesh between his fingers, to get a good swipe in at Crow.

His brows were furrowed and his hair hung down in strands by his face, dripping. He could barely concentrate as Crow advanced, but he swung his knife. It was a lazy swipe but the blade was too close to Crow, it was too dangerous to even risk. I stuck my free hand out and caught the knife in my palm and hissed at the slice.

Blood faltered, his elbow dropping as I squeezed my hand around the knife to keep him from moving any further. Blood soaked the blade and I watched my own crimson drip to the water in dark spatter.

"You were an idiot," I hissed, feeling my strength return only through Spiorad, "to bring my knife here, to believe John could ever trust you here with me."

Crow grabbed Blood by the shoulder, keeping him steady as I pried the knife from his hand. We'd never fought together before, never side by side, working ahead of the other with just instinct. It was reassuring to know he was in my corner and I in his.

"I'm his most loyal–" started Blood as his neck healed but Crow took him by the throat, shaking his head.

"We all know who John prizes over all others," said my demon, staring down at his old soldier. Disdain and darkness swirled around him like a predatory angel. "It's a shame you were so far down his list, you could've been something far greater than what you are now with me."

There was hope in Blood's eyes. "R-really?"

"No."

Not even a smile or hint of emotion crossed Crow's face before he held his hand out towards me. I passed over Spiorad without a second thought, handing my great demon killer over to be wielded. I'd never willingly given her over and I'd done it without a moment's pause.

Crow took the blade and didn't wait for Blood to speak or cry out as he thrusted the knife deep within Blood's gut and I dipped my hand into his pocket. It took only seconds for the man to erupt in dark golden light. It reminded me of an eclipse, his golden hue blocked by a dark shadow. I didn't need his spirit to go crawling and seeping through the floor to know he was going to hell. A dull light for an angry man, it felt deserving.

When the light was gone and the body no longer existed in our plane except for fallen dust being washed away on the shoreline, I allowed my leg to give out underneath me and for my exhausted body to collapse.

I landed roughly against my side, my wound exposed to the world like some juicy pomegranate, seedy and bloody.

Crow was by me but I couldn't register him fully. Maybe it was because Spiorad had given me a much needed adrenalin rush or that I was running on fumes and infection, but the world was spinning and the rain on my face and neck felt like a nice cold blanket.

A fire had returned to my leg, a throbbing beat of something poisonous. A strong hand touched my face, forcing my head up to look into their eyes. My head lobbed to the side and against his arm as his fingers dug into my cheek and jaw.

"H–hey," I mumbled out, a weak little smile coming to my lips as he shielded me from as much rain as possible. I forced myself arms to move, dropping my hand against his leg and opening my fingers. "The–th–the cure."

"Is this why you were so insistent on coming here? On following their rules?" asked Crow, plucking up the small black vial.

I nodded. There was nothing else to even say. The weight of it was already on our shoulders and chests. There was nothing else to say.

He uncapped the vial and poured it back into his mouth. I wondered if he was thinking the same as I was, that this was all some big trap and he was drinking venom. But he swallowed and tossed the vial somewhere behind him. He didn't immediately start to vomit and his eyes didn't go black with deadly need. He only continued to shield me from the downpour and brush my hair out of my face.

But he was only distracting me. Keeping me focused on his handsome face and the concerned expression so I wouldn't notice his hand sliding to my wound. Liquid fire lit up my thigh when his fingers touched the torn and swollen flesh. It bubbled and rippled and screamed with the pads of his fingers, coated in the blood I hadn't noticed him drawing with his nails.

He kept a firm hand on my shoulder to keep me from thrashing as he coated me with his blood. My leg tightened and shook, vibrating as howls left my chest and echoed. But he would not let up.

And still, nothing horrible happened to him as he tried to heal me. The wound was so deep, I wouldn't be surprised if it didn't heal fully for the next two days. I could feel the skin itching and burning, trying to move back together. I hadn't even noticed when Crow left to grab the grocery bag. When he returned, in a blur, he was wrapping my thigh with an old dish towel and duct taping it down to my pants.

"The wound is deep," he said to me, "and it'll be difficult to heal. I'll apply more blood when we get home, make sure the skin is clean." He helped me stand and I fell into him instantly. He wrapped an arm around my waist and put my own arm around his neck to hold me up. "God," he muttered, "you're shaking."

"It's fuck–fucking cold."

He walked us very slowly to the car and when we reached it, I collapsed against the hood, breathing deeply through my nose and mouth. He had a hand on my lower back, keeping me steady as I kept my palms planted flat on the ice cold hood.

"How did you get me here?" he asked.

I licked my dry lips. My whole mouth was like a desert. "Ghosts." I was never going to tell him that he was right, that I should never have come alone.

"The pans in the kitchen fell and I found this bag," he gestured to the bag he was throwing into the backseat, "with a note saying you needed backup."

I shuffled towards the passenger seat. I could feel the muscles trying to knit themselves back together and the pain was agonizing. Not even demon blood could numb it. "Pandora and–and the ghost from m–my house did it."

"They summoned me?"

I nodded. That was the only thing that made sense. Demons and ghosts, they weren't too different. Only one was earth bound, but they still had similar abilities of floating between bodies on occasion.

He helped me into the seat. I sat down and he had to grip my leg, lifting it to put it in the car and I cried out far louder than I intended. My throat was raw, my face and eyes felt swollen. He looked down at me, hand on the roof and the other on the door, and for a moment it seemed like he would say something. His lips were parted but his hair hung heavy and low in his eyes, dripping and wet, I could barely read him. Instead, he closed my door and rounded the car, getting behind the wheel.

"When we get home, you'll drink some of my blood," he said and I ignored how that still made me want to laugh. It was so gothic horror of him to say that, much like how I'd felt when Eva offered hers to me. "I...I don't trust the shit Blood had yet."

"Do you–" I swallowed, thickly, my mouth like paste. "–do you not feel different?"

He shrugged, turning the car on. "I feel lighter but I can't tell if it's adrenalin." He reversed the car and did an elegant three-point turn before skidding back down the gravel and dirt. "I need you to tell me what happened tonight, before I arrived."

What was there even to say? I could see the dying fire in the rearview mirror as we drove away and I chewed on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from speaking. How did I tell him I was meant to be a virgin sacrifice?

"John wants my blood, gonna kill–me on a f–full moon," I said, stating the obvious. My entire body was shaking. The air coming out of the vents was still cold and it coated my wet skin in sticky sweat. "He wants–wants heaven or–or power." The only thing I could picture was John trying to take me back to some secret bedroom, his hands on my body, peeling back clothes and flesh. "He w–wants into the astral, he wants c–control over–over everything."

He wants your sacrifice. He wants a piece of you so sacred and promised.

My clothes were so heavy against me that I felt like I was sinking into the leather. I felt bad, leaving blood and stagnant water against his seats. There was blood smeared across my palms, soaked deeply into my torn jeans and still seeping through the towels. It was the only warm thing against me. The throbbing in my hand was distracting me from the hum and heartbeat in my thigh.

Crow's hand reached out and touched my own and my shaking subsided only for a beat. He raised his hand to my face and pressed his palm against my cheek and cursed under his breath. "You're freezing, turn the heat on–"

I reached forward, the movement straining my body in ways I could not describe. I turned the dial up and felt the air shift in the car, something rancid coming over me. Rot, perhaps, settling deep within my bones, shuddering and compelling. I could feel the water dripping off the ends of my hair, slipping down the back of my neck and underneath my disgusting clothes. I could feel everything on me; the cold, the heat, the pain still ricocheting.

You will be sacrificed. He will be dead and you will be left with nothing.

My stomach churned. "Pull over." It came out of me before I could stop myself, the words tumbling from my lips. "Pull–pull the car over now–"

"Blaire–"

"Do–do it, fucking now!"

He veered off onto the shoulder and I hadn't even realized we were on the highway already. How far out were we by now? Had I blacked out between his questions and now? He barely had the car stopped when I was throwing open the door and falling out onto the concrete, vomit spewing from my lips and choking me. I shuddered, my entire body on fire. I wasn't sure if it was from Crow's blood or from the horror still settling over me, but it made me sick. I spat a few more times, feeling Crow's hands on my hair, pulling it away from my face.

I pulled my hands to my face and sobbed, shaking so hard it felt like I would be sick again as my stomach convulsed and tightened. Images of Cage flashed in my mind, him telling me Crow would die, how I would die. And now, Blood's words haunted me, coating me in vile feelings.

My mouth tasted like blood as I whispered, "I didn't–I didn't tell you everything." His hands were on my shoulders, wanting me to turn to face him but all I could do was keep my eyes on the broken gravel crumbling near the grass. "Cage–he told me–" I swallowed, my chest tight. "He–he told me I–I was going to die and you–you were going to die too." Everything that was going to happen with John was bigger than all of us, bigger than this awful realization and truth. "I–I don't want you to die!"

I was hiccuping on my sobs and Crow's arms wrapped around me, pulling me to his chest. My tears and my blood were now the hottest thing against my skin as I shuddered like a wounded dog.

"And John, he–he–" I couldn't get the words out. I only wanted to scream and sink into an unknown abyss. A sob broke free from my lips, shaking and raw in my throat. "He wants me."

Crow's voice was soft as he said my name, like a lullaby, like a promise, "Blaire..."

"He–he wants me," I whispered, pulling back to meet Crow's eyes. "I'm–I'm promised to him, he w–wants to take me." I couldn't even get the real words out. He wants to fuck you. He wants to steal you from yourself. He wants to take the thing you've been saving for the right one, he wants to take it and twist you up inside. "I–I–"

Crow's eyes were on me and I felt the urge to kiss him. I felt the urge to beg him to take me instead, so I would never be promised to a creature like John. It wasn't a delusional thing to ask, it wasn't even something insane to think of. Having his eyes on me made me want to make a mistake, to have a regret for later. I was desperate for it but I wasn't sure if it was only because of what Blood had told me. Was this only because I needed to escape my twisted fate or because I truly wanted him?

You've wanted him the moment he first spoke to you.

"Please," I whispered, my hand pressed against his thigh as I tried to sit up taller. He was the one solid thing I needed to anchor myself to. "Take me home."

He nodded, his lips parted and his eyes on mine. He hooked an arm under mine and eased me to my burning feet. I ignored how tightly he gripped the steering wheel when he got back into the car or how his jaw was clenched.

His eyes didn't leave the road the entire drive back to the cabin.

i will probably go back and add some things here so....prepare yourselves for that actually

there r some moments here that could be fleshed out more, so that might happen in the future soon!!! but lmk thoughts...predictions....hopes for the next chapter LOL

blaire this entire chapter (she never catches a break):

 im struggling to finish chapter 18 but I have 17 down and ready (potentially AH it's an experimental chapter 100%)

pls pls vote / comment!!