Page 149 of A Debt of Darkness

Henry spirals as Marcus hits hard, and I gasp, drawing Marcus’s attention. His eyes narrow and he moves fast. Too fucking fast and I duck, narrowly avoiding him as he flies over my shoulder. I turn and draw a blade, bringing my other hand up for balance as I focus on the snarling vampire racing toward me.

I’m pulled back, yanked out of the way as Henry barges past, intercepting Marcus and fighting with an intent as clear as fucking day. Marcus thought I was a weakness and the threat rouses Henry, letting him find reserves he didn’t know he had.

And he’s wielding them without mercy as he attacks Marcus. Blood spurts and screams ring out, reverberating with the violence in the room. Henry keeps striking, keeps moving, hitting harder and harder and constantly moving, always searching for that final opening. That one mistake that’ll cost Marcus his life.

Marcus is weakening and his body buckles as Henry brings his weight to bear, forcing Marcus to the ground. Teeth slash and Marcus splutters, gasping as his claws draw blood and he frantically rails against Henry’s strength, trying anything he can to hold back the inevitable.

They roll on the ground, still fighting as Marcus’s time runs out. The clock is counting down to his demise and the room senses his end is coming. Henry’s too damn strong, too damn certain. He’s inflicting too much damage and Marcus’s light fades as the curtain begins to draw, casting his eyes in a shadow from which they won’t emerge.

I step forward, relishing this moment.

It’s the revenge I’ve wanted. The retribution my soul craves. This is what I fought through the night to make happen, and this victory is as much mine as it is Henry’s. I held my own. I refused to cave. My battle wasn’t the same and my strength brought a different kind of power. One that’s a quiet scream of determined rage that will not succumb and won’t surrender. It won’t bow or break, and it’s not going quietly into this or any other night. It's the cry of a thousand lost souls. It’s the anger of the masses and the rage of the oppressed. It’s the voice that speaks up, that stands up. The line drawn in the sand that only fools dare to step across. It’s the righteous silence that refuses to cower, and it’s as potent as any poison and as destructive as any weapon.

Marcus snarls and Henry dips his head, going for the jugular. Marcus slams his fists into Henry’s chest, pushing with every ounce of fight left in him, sending Henry tumbling back. It’s swift, decisive and my mouth falls as Marcus races for me, snarling like a predator homing in on his kill.

There’s no time.

There’s nothing to do.

There’s only instinct and I lean forward.

Pain erupts as he slams into me, tackling me to the ground. I gasp and splutter, unable to catch my breath as I stare up, still and surprised. Marcus’s eyes meet mine, darkening as they blink, confused and as uncertain as I am. I try to snatch another breath and can’t inhale, breathing in water instead of air.

Except it isn’t water and my mouth opens and closes, useless as blood trickles down my neck.

Marcus doesn’t smirk. He doesn’t claim his victory. It’s enough to make me blink and then his face starts to crumble, breaking apart as ash falls like snowflakes on a winter’s morning, gently floating to their final resting place. Theweight on my chest eases as dust clouds form and Marcus’s eyes hold my stare until they’re all that remains.

I blink and they’re gone.

It's as if they never existed, as if the vicious hatred and the nightmare they contained were nothing more than a figment of my imagination. A dream I dreamt in an illusion of reality. A catastrophe I imagined and a horror I never endured.

I’m clinging to the last few seconds of my life, watching the lights above me as the priests cast flecks of candlelight into the air. This is the peace Ryan found, the tranquility that comes from knowing your sun is setting and everything is well.

It’s fine.

It’s going to be fine.

Henry’s going to be fine.

He won’t be, but he’ll live through this and my death will gift him life. It’s a price I’d pay a thousand times over and I rest content, certain these few weeks are all the time we’re allowed and they are more than enough. They’ll never be enough but they’ve brought me more than I knew before and the mayfly’s life is brief and fleeting, burning brightly before it extinguishes.

I blink and Henry grabs my shoulder, pleading with me to stay with him. He’s terrified, as pale as ivory, screaming at everyone to do any-fucking-thing to save me. His voice contains the panic I knew when I first met him and I stare up, as calm and controlled as Ryan was when he almost passed.

I want him to know peace. I want him to know this gift.

I want only good things for Henry and I don’t want us ending on a note that leaves him with the bitter taste of regret.

“Ivy, don’t…”

I try to smile as he slashes his wrist, pouring his bloodonto my neck. It won’t heal fast enough, and we both know it’s too late for desperate measures to hold back the tides of death. I’m drifting on their currents and stare at Henry, holding him in the middle of my vision as the darkness closes on me. My breathing splutters as I choke out my remaining seconds and the colors of the dimly lit chamber fade until there’s nothing left but darkness and a final spark of pain heralding my end.

42

EVERYTHING YOU WANT

HENRY

Another scream pierces the quiet and it’s a cry of devastation and pain. It’s a cacophony of hurt, a symphony of sorrow. It’s the howl of the wolf that’s lost its pups. It’s the crash as the world splits apart when not all the men who went to war return. It’s a thousand wails of grief and it’s coming from my wife.

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