Page 134 of Ever After

This is the man who killed innocents, who takes joy in separating lovers. He took control of my body and mind, and he used that power to hurt the person I love most in this world. And he did all that because it gave him pleasure.

“Yes, but what you don’t have is a Zippo,” I say calmly.

I flip open the lighter and spin the wheel. A tiny flame appears and I set it to the page.

“No!” Boynton’s scream is full of so much rage and wickedness.

The flame catches at the page’s edge and a hideous drawing of a body being tortured atop nails catches fire, blackens, and disappears. The heat catches my fingers and I drop the book—now engulfed in flames—on the ground.

The earth rumbles and shakes, and I fall to my knees, watching as the fire consumes the diary.

There’s a faint noise, like a cry, to my right. I spin toward it and see Blue.

He’s at the foot of the angel statue, and as I watch, he raises a hand to his face.

A sob tears out of me. “Blue,” I whisper, scrambling over to him. His eyes open as I throw myself down next to him.

“Levi?” His cough is the best sound in the world.

“Baby,” I choke out. “Oh my god, Blue.” I drag him into my arms, joy searing me and making me tremble.

His grip is weak, but he makes a soft sound of happiness. “I was on my own in the dark. I knew it wasn’t real. You didn’t leave me.”

“What?” I look at him, but his eyes are clenched closed. “I promised I wouldn’t,” I whisper, dropping a kiss on the shut-tight lids.

I look for Branok and Boynton and see them frozen in place. The vicar’s eyes glitter wickedly but he can’t seem to move.

The flames on the diary have died and its remains are a smouldering lump of black. Smoke suddenly rises up from it, grey and yellow and oily, like a noxious gas. The stench reaches us and I gasp as my eyes immediately burn.

“What the fuck is that?” Blue mumbles, forcing his eyes open.

“The diary.”

“Shit,” he whispers.

The smoke moves rapidly, as if blown by a sudden wind. Shapes erupt from it, arms and hands beckoning agitatedly. It billows up and Blue gasps. The shape of a horned figure looms above us and the smell gets worse.

“No!” Richard cries. The figure turns slowly towards him and the vicar cringes, putting out his hand imploringly. “Please, my lord.”

“Soon,” comes a sibilant hiss.

I tighten my grip on Blue as the smoke figure twists and reaches its tendrils towards us.

“Not him,” Blue shouts, curling around me protectively. “Fuck off.”

The smoke creature cringes and then seems to dissipate, becoming a hundred smaller shapes that rise to the dark night sky and then disappear.

The diary’s remains crackle, and a blaze of green and red sparks rises and flies straight at the vicar. He raises his arms to shield himself, but the sparks fly through him and around him, circling him in a shower of sparks. His left hand rises jerkily, like a puppet’s being tugged hard by a string. The ring on his finger flashes amidst the sparks.

“The ring!” Branok cries hoarsely, still frozen in place. “Now, Levi.”

My own hand rises as if compelled by a higher force. The ring on my finger catches one of the red sparks and the matching ring flies from Richard’s hand. It shoots toward my finger and then connects with its mate with a muted clink.

A second later there’s a tremendous bang, and Xander appears, rushing past us, a sword in hand. He comes to a stop near the other two ghosts.

“Xander,” the vicar pleads, getting to his feet. His face is full of a dreadful excitement. Xander looks at him and Richard cringes like a sick dog. “Please.”

Xander shakes his head. With his hair glowing gold in the light, he looks like an avenging angel—a real one, not a marble statue. “I have no pity for you, Richard. You have made your bed as the old saying goes, and now is the time for you to sleep there for an eternity.”