CHAPTER40
The monster doesn’t movelike the others. It seems almost conscious. The shadow of the man it once was still lives in its gaunt, haunted face. My gaze drags down its horns to the voids where its eyes once were.
Am I looking at the remains of King Solos?
I imagine him chasing after Loretta. Even though she told him not to come. I wonder if the curse consumed him while he was down in these forgotten halls—the passages that he hid her within ended up being his tomb. Abandoned. Left behind. Left for dead as he still wandered.
But whomever this creature was, Solos or some other lord who made it as far as I did chasing Loretta’s trail before the curse got them, it doesn’t matter. He’s still a Lost now. And he’s still coming to kill me.
I adjust my grip on my dagger and slowly lean down. I need to charge it again. I could use my own blood, but the elixir is stronger and I don’t want to risk Ruvan’s wellbeing again.
I’ve made a terrible choice.
The Lost moves as fast as the wind. In a second he’s behind me. I don’t have enough time to charge the blade; I swing wildly, spinning. I slash into his arm, little good it does. The creature seems more curious than hurt. At least its curiosity gives me a moment to get away.
I drop to the ground clumsily and scramble backward. In the process I rake my dagger along the elixir-coated stone. Red light shines once more, but I’m not fast enough.
The creature descends on me. Teeth and claws. I try and get away, but I’m not fast enough. Its fangs dig into my shoulder. I let out a scream that echoes through the castle and my head spins violently. I bring up my dagger and slash across his chest. He reels back, letting out a sound akin to dragging a sword across metal. It makes my hair stand on end and temporarily freezes me in place.
Blood pours down my side, soaking my clothes. I’m already dizzy from the loss. I wipe my dagger in my own blood, summoning the light once more. I wish I had spent more time studying blood lore, instead of just the metal applications of it. If I had, maybe I would’ve harnessed my dreams sooner; maybe I wouldn’t be here now. All those hours with Callos, wasted. The light of the dagger does nothing to the Lost. I see what Ruvan meant—this creature is something different, not vampir, not human, not even one of the other monsters of the curse, just evil and hate, spun together by magic.
“All right then,” I snarl. “If this is going to be it then I will take you down with me. Come at me, fiend!”
As if he can understand me, he obliges.
I duck, avoid his first strike, and slash up across his chest. The creature reels, roaring. I use the opportunity to wipe the blade on my shirt again; it soaks up my blood. I take another jab at his arm. If I can somehow incapacitate his arms, I might get the upper hand.
The creature moves, proving that I never had a chance with one mighty flap of his wings.
The Lost launches himself forward, gliding across the ground and slamming into me. We crash through casks of elixir. Inky blood flies everywhere. My dagger is glowing again, little good it does me when I’m pinned against the far wall.
This monster is going to be the last thing I see. I lick my lips, stretching my tongue, ignoring the foul taste of the liquid for whatever power this forgotten elixir can give me. I’m not going to die here. I won’t let myself die here. I have so much left to do. Ruvan flashes before my eyes. So much left to say.
I dig up strength I didn’t know I still had. There’s a well in me, deeper than I ever thought or imagined. I draw from that power. I bring up my knees, kick, and pivot. Just like grappling with Drew, I use training and leverage to throw the beast off me. I bounce to my feet.
Blood loss is another battle I’m fighting and losing. I put a hand against the wall for support. The monster is already getting up. The beast doesn’t feel pain, doesn’t know exhaustion, all it knows is instinct. And that instinct is telling it to kill and consume me.
The monster lurches. I brace myself.
A mighty roar fills the space. There’s a blur as an object crashes into the Lost. The two tumble. At first, I think somehow a Fallen has come to my aid against all odds. I realize that doesn’t make sense and get a better look.
It’s Ruvan.
My heart seizes.
He rears back with a silver sickle, going to hook the creature’s neck. It moves. He misses. Ruvan grabs and descends with his teeth. He catches the monster; it squirms away.
“Killing you to end your nightmare might be my duty as the vampir lord.” Ruvan slowly stands. He spits up blood. I search for a wound on him until I realize it’s the Lost’s blood. “But it will be my pleasure to kill you for laying a hand on her.”
Ruvan lunges for another attack. The two roll, scramble. I’m too stunned for a moment to do anything. Then I think of that putrid blood filling Ruvan’s mouth. The curse. He was already teetering on the edge before.
Panic spurs me to move. I jump back into the fray. The Lost is fearsome, but for a time it seems like we’re gaining the upper hand. Ruvan and I move as one body rather than two separate people. I can sense his intentions, his movements, before he makes them.
I plunge the dagger into the Lost’s stomach, all the way to the hilt. The beast grabs for my hands, catching me with its claws as I pull away. I’m not about to let it take my weapon. The monster stumbles back, looking worse for wear but still moving. Still lethal. “How are we going to kill this thing?”
“I’m going to have to use my blood lore.” Though Ruvan doesn’t seem happy about that in the slightest. I think back to what he did to the Fallen and how much energy that took from him.
“What can I do?”
