Page 133 of The Shadow Bride

Dimitri is dead.

Death has won.

As soon as I think it, a hand seizes my hair, wrenching me upward by the scalp. Though I twist, clawing at Death’s wrist, he does not hesitate this time; he does not pause to listen, to look, to speak. Eyes blazing, he simply loops the silver chain around my throat and pulls.

White-hot fire erupts across my skin—a pain so consuming it obliterates all else—and my scream splinters the grotto.

“Yes,” Death hisses through clenched teeth, and with a jerk of his chin, revenants spill through the veil into the grotto.Dozensof them, one after another after another. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

I can only claw at the chain in answer, heedless of the blisters ravaging my fingers, my palms—because I am going to die. He is going tokillme, and the last thing I’ll ever see is Michal’s panicked face—

No!I shout through the bond as Michal lunges, as revenants rise to meet him, as Death laughs again and pulls the chain tighter, splitting my skin and cutting off my scream. Hot blood pools around the metal, and Michal stills instantly. His face anguished. His eyes wide.

“Finally”—Death yanks me flush against his bare chest—“you’re beginning to understand what’s at stake here. Ah, ah, ah—” His face snaps toward Odessa, who circled to our right when Michal lunged, bending her knees to spring. A handful ofrevenants swarm around her too. “Don’t get any ideas, or Célie’s head will soon join your brother.”

Though Odessa straightens slowly, her entire being burns with vitriolic hatred. “Stop this. Stop itnow. You do not want a war with vampires.”

“Do you knowwhat, Odessa?” he asks loudly. “I don’t think Iwillstop. Indeed, I don’t think I’ve even gotten started, but I do like this little playacting of yours. What a brilliant performance.” With long, furious strides, he drags me from the water by the silver chain. Though I dig my heels into the rock to slow us down, it does no good. Though I scrabble to slide my blood-soaked fingers between the silver and my skin, he holds it too tightly. I cannot find purchase, and the chain slices deeper into my skin. Blood spills down my chest in another sick parody of All Hallows’ Eve. “What do you think, Célie? Shall we use the stage you’ve already set? I have a new theory I’d like to test.”

“Let her go,” Michal snarls.

“Oh, I plan to,” Death says with a vicious, perverted sort of joy. “Your darling mate—such adisgustingword, by the way—will be the star of our second act. No need to look so grim, my love.” Pulling me higher, he wrenches my cheek against his while I choke and splutter, my toes sliding upon the ground. “It’ll be quite easy, in fact. You pretended to resurrect Mila—and I quite like the idea of re-creating that second maelstrom—so let’s get to it, shall we? Who here do you love most? Is it your lover?” He tips our faces toward Michal, and the chain cuts a little deeper. “Is it your friend?” Next he forces me to look at Lou, who burst through the curtain with Reid, Jean Luc, and Brigitte at the soundof my scream. Blood drips from her eyes and ears, from Reid’s nose. “Perhaps your fiancé? Heisan unexpected surprise.”

At that, Jean Luc sweeps his Balisarda from its sheath, but Death scoffs, jerking his chin toward Filippa; she strikes with lethal speed, twisting the sword from his grip and smashing its hilt against his skull. When he crumples instantly, Brigitte shrieks in rage—drawing her own weapon—but she cannot match Filippa’s preternatural strength. Within seconds, she joins Jean Luc upon the ground. Spinning both weapons in unison, Filippa levels them at Lou’s and Reid’s hands. “Do not move,” she warns, “or I will cut them off.”

Neither of them dares disobey.

More revenants move to surround them.

“Orperhaps”—Death continues as if Filippa did not just single-handedly debilitate four people—“it is your darling mother you love most of all. Shall we take a closer look?” With a warning glance at Michal and Odessa, Death stalks across the grotto, still holding me against him by the chain at my throat. He forces me to my knees in front of her before leaning over me—thrusting my chest to the ground—and poking her brutally in the forehead. “Hello? Are you still in there?”

Her eyes flutter open at the assault, and it takes all my resolve not to snarl and rear backward, driving my head into his sneering face. “Don’t”—I choke—“touch her.”

“But why not?” Death asks softly. “Iownher.”

Her eyes flutter open as his words wash over me, and when she sees the silver chain around my throat—Death’s hands as they slowly decapitate me—all the blood drains from her already ashen face. And her eyes themselves—how didn’t I notice them before?Once a deep emerald green, they appear almost gray now. Faded. Like part of her already exists in the spirit realm. She inhales a rattling breath. “Célie.”

She looks a bit peaked, don’t you think?

“Mother,” I whisper.

Though I reach for her, Death gives a vicious tug, and I fall backward as she pushes herself into a sitting position. She presses a hand to her forehead. “What is—what is happening?” Her voice is weak, however. Too weak. Despite our proximity, I can hardly hear it, yet still her gaze drifts to Death’s face above mine before sharpening slightly. “You—you will release my daughters this instant.”Daughters, not daughter. My chest tightens at the word, but Filippa says nothing—doesnothing—as I scrabble anew at the silver chain. “Do you hear me? Let themgo.”

Death crouches beside her, swiveling the chain around so it bites into my neck instead. It forces me to bow. Then he pinches her cheek as he would an errant child, hard enough to bruise. Then— “No,” he says simply.

And he shoves her face away.

She pitches backward with a gasp, and now Idomove—I lunge for her as Death rips my throat backward, jerking my body around just in time to see Filippa flinch in shock, in anger, before her expression abruptly empties once more. Her knuckles still clench white around her weapons, however. Tension radiates from her shoulders.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Death points a finger at Filippa, triumphant. “See, that isjustthe thing! That look on your face. That look right there—Ikeepseeing it, Filippa darling, just like I saw it outside Mathilde’s cottage.”

Filippa remains completely still. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Youliar.” Laughing as if delighted, Death pulls the chain higher, and I rise with it, refusing to gasp. To react. Through the wall of revenants between us, Michal’s gaze does not waver from me. And his rage—I can feel it building through the bond, dark and powerful andsentient, just waiting for the right moment. It dare not strike yet—not yet—but it tracks every drop of blood from my throat, every step of Death’s behind mine. It wills Death to approach the shore once more. To approachhim. He’ll need only seconds to evade the revenants, to rend Death’s arms from his shoulders, but I’ll need to be free of Death first. I’ll need to break the chain, perhaps snap his wrists, and flee before he can hurt me again.

He will never hurt you again.

The words belong to Michal, but they still pulse scarlet in my mind’s eye, casting a bloody haze over my vision.

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