Page 84 of Barely Breathing

My hope is pointless and short-lived. A shadow brushes against the moon’s edge, subtle at first. The shift is so faint that I try to convince myself I imagine it.

For the longest time, all I can do is blink and stare. It feels as if the moon looks back at me through the century-old glass, a watchful eye in the velvet-dark sky. A weight presses down on my chest. The air thickens, and it’s hard to breathe. It’s charged with something unseen and ancient. The end is coming. I can feel it. The eclipse has begun.

That is when I realize Draakmar is quiet. He’s stopped whispering to me.

I finally manage to turn my head, only to realize we’re in an abandoned bank’s main hall. Moonlight spills across what was once a temple to mortalwealth and power, now transformed into a cathedral for monsters. The metal framework holding the dome’s glass in place creates shadowy fingers that stretch down the marble walls. Old teller windows have been sealed with spelled iron, and through the open bank vault door, I see tunnels leading into darkness.

I should have said goodbye to Costin.

He would never have let me leave.

My failure surrounds me. Part of me believed that with Draakmar, I’d find a way through any challenge. And here I am, a failure. I never would have thought my ego would be my downfall.

The moon’s glow softens as if some unseen hand is drawing a veil over it. Not dark, not yet, just dimming.

I need to fight through the residual magic clouding my head and think of my next move.

Mabel’s mocking words echo in my mind,“Did you think we didn’t know that lovesick puppy Peter was lurking around eavesdropping for sweet morsels to feed you?”

They’d played us all. They used Peter to give me exactly the information they wanted, knowing his ties to our family and Astrid would protect him. Even the timing was perfect, waiting until Costin would be trapped by daylight.

I was so sure I could rescue Paul, soconfident in Draakmar’s power. I thought I was protecting Costin from having to confront his sister by coming here without him.

But they’d manipulated everything, probably even letting Peterdiscoverwhich tunnels to use. My desperation made me an easy mark. Now, I’ve not only failed to save Paul, but I’ve also delivered the last piece they needed for their ritual.

Fuck!

I force my limbs into action as I push myself to sitting. Chains clank, and I find a manacle locked around my ankle. I wiggle my foot as I try to push it off.

I feel a draft coming from the tunnels and shiver. My throat aches where Mabel’s magic choked me, but the amulet pulses steadily against my chest, its warmth the only comfort in this cold place. As the haze of Mabel’s attack fades, I feel Draakmar’s presence returning.

The stone floor has been polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the moonlight and making the marble seem to glow from within. They’ve positioned me at one point of an enormous triangle painted on the floor in red. At the triangle’s center stands the altar from Thane’s sanctuary, its carved words, “Sanguis et Lunaria,” glowing with building power. The stains on its surface look fresh.

“Tamara?” Paul’s voice breaks through mydisorientation, and I squint to find him in the shadows. They’ve chained him at another point of the triangle. His arms stretch wide like some twisted crucifixion. Fresh cuts cover his chest, and blood trickles down to form grotesque patterns. His expression is frantic with worry as he looks away from me.

I push to standing and follow his gaze. My heart shatters. Diana stands at the triangle’s third point, wearing a white dress resembling a sacrifice from an ancient myth. Her dark curls have been braided with silver ribbons, and symbols are drawn on her bare arms in blood. She’s not crying, but her eyes are huge with a terror she seems unable to voice. She stands perfectly still, unnaturally so, and a soft red glow surrounds her like a force field. There is no indication she can see us.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Paul calls to her, straining against his chains until they cut into his wrists. Blood drips onto the stone. “Daddy’s here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Oh, do calm down. She can’t hear you.” Elizabeth emerges from between two pillars like a nightmare given form. Her leather-clad figure seems to absorb the moonlight. “The forgotten magic needs to stay pure. No corrupting influences.”

Elizabeth runs a finger downDiana’s cheek, activating the red force field, and I see the child shiver despite her magical paralysis.

“Don’t touch her!” Paul yells, struggling harder.

“Leave her alone!” I scream. I try to lunge toward them, but the enchanted chain around my ankle holds me in place. The metal prickles where it touches my skin, despite the amulet’s protection.

“Such innocent power. Do you know she still believes in magic? In good triumphing over evil? Even now, after all of this.” Elizabeth’s laugh echoes off stone walls. “How perfectly pure.”

I hear movement from the bank vault door, and I turn to see werewolves and vampires gathering in the shadows between pillars like spectators to a gladiator match. Their eyes gleam in the darkness, which is the only way I can tell some of them apart—gold for wolves, crimson for vampires.

The three Freemonts come to stand near the altar, magic crackling between them as they prepare something in a silver bowl. Smoke rises from their concoction. The pungent smell of herbs makes me gag. Chester smiles at me. His smug look is so superior that I want to punch him in the face. I can’t believe Uncle Mortimer wanted me to marry him. Francis has his eyes closed as he lifts his hands to the moon, all focus on his task. Mabel’s expression mirrors her son as she looks around to make sure all eyes are on them.

As the Freemonts begin chanting, the spectators join in. I hold my thigh and pull my leg as hard as I can. The metal bites into my skin. I look around for a weapon, but nothing is within reach. I jerk my leg harder, trying to dislodge the chain from the floor.

The shadows deepen as if the chants are calling them in. I look up. What was once a faint smudge at the moon’s edge now stretches across its surface, devouring the silver light piece by piece. It creeps, slow and insidious, like ink bleeding through parchment.

My heart beats faster in fear.

---