Page 211 of Victorious

Sydney looked up and met his gaze.

“First,” she said, “we have to find Victor.”

XIINOW. THEN.

VICTOR swore through gritted teeth as the shard sank deep into his side, glass scraping against bone.

Eli’s hand was still wrapped around the other half. He twisted the jagged piece, and Victor groaned, his heightened nerves turning the ache to agony. He tried to share the pain, make Eli feel what he did. But for once, it didn’t seem to be enough.

“Still having fun?” Eli flashed a feral smile, one that now had too many teeth.

Victor thought of shooting him again, purely out of spite, but he kept track of every shot he’d fired. Which was how he knew, he only had one bullet left.

And he was saving it.

Just then, the room shuddered faintly, sliding out and then back into focus as Serena’s dreamscape dropped away, leaving only the office as it was.

One less problem, thought Victor, finally dropping the dial on his nerves, until the pain vanished like a penny down a well.

His body loosened in relief.

Eli felt the change as well, and let go of the glass, stepping back as if to admire his work. His hands healed rapidly, though thick white scars now roped around the palms.

At least, thought Victor, he’d finally been able to leave a mark.

“Here we are again,” said Eli, crossing to the knife on the floor nearby.

“Déjà vu,” said Victor as he dragged the first shard of glass out of his side and flung it away. He pried the second from his shoulder.

His strength was ebbing, his chest tight.

One hand hung useless, blood dripping from his fingertips.

The gun hung limply in the other, as if spent. He felt his legs threatening to buckle and leaned back against the wall to keep from falling.

Eli straightened, considering the knife, as if gauging its weight. Deeming it worthy of the task, he made his way to Victor. “I’ll see you on the other side,” he said, the blade catching the light as he lifted it and—

“Wait.”

Gabriel’s voice cut through the room.

Not over the speaker, but in the doorway behind Eli.

Eli froze, the knife halfway to Victor’s throat, his body pinned by Gabriel’s command. Anger burned in his eyes as Victor met them and smiled.

If someone had asked him how sure he’d been that Gabriel would come, he’d have said 85 percent. He owed that to Alan and Martha Vale, to the eleven self-help books his parents had cowritten. The ones he’d only read in order to black them out. But the lesson he’d learned from each and every one was this: Never underestimate the power of a God complex.

“Give me the knife,” said Gabriel, taking a step into the room. “I’ll finish this mysel—”

Well, that’s what he meant to say. But he never got the last word out.

The moment he entered, Victor took hold of Eli’s body and pulled with all his strength, forcing Eli down, out of the way, so he’d have a clear line when he swung the gun up and fired his last shot into Gabriel’s head.

Red misted the once-green walls of the therapist’s office.

Dr. Gray folded, his brain gone before his body hit the floor.

Eli turned and looked at Gabriel, as his fingers twitched and his heart struggled to keep pumping, and in those final seconds between dying and dead, Eli shook his head, and looked back at Victor, amusement on his face.