“With pleasure,” says the redhead.

  With every ounce of determination I have, I clench my grip on the Devil Killer’s handle—but she plucks my fingers away like limp hot dogs and picks up my sword.

  “Ooh, this is pretty. I love black.” Smoke wafts from under her grip. “Ouch. Guess it doesn’t like me back. Suppose I should get this over with quick before my hand’s on fire.” She points my sword at my face. “Bye.”

  I scream inside my head, ordering my body to move.

  But the only thing my muscles want to do is twitch.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Too Late For Me

  The redhead slides her foot under my shoulder and kicks me over onto my back, exposing my heart. She gives me this patronizing little smile.

  My body still doesn’t want to move. Shit! I think of my kids and send a thought of ‘I’m sorry,’ bracing for my express train to oblivion. Redhead draws her arm back to thrust the blade—my blade—the sword Azrael gave me, into my heart.

  Azrael.

  Angels.

  Wait!

  My body isn’t moving, but my wings aren’t made of meat.

  It’s a little cramped in this corridor to stretch them out, but I’m not trying to fly. My wings bursting out of my back props my limp body up a little. Redhead pauses, caught off guard by the bizarre sight. I’d grin if my face was capable of it, but alas, no. Channeling the power Azrael gave me, I command the wings to glow as they did back in Alaska, focusing a brilliant sunbeam down the hall, mostly on the redhead.

  She recoils, shielding her eyes. The light hurts her, but the ascendant have beat the sun thing, too. Not a surprise, the guy grabbed the creator, Zandra, in broad daylight and didn’t seem the least bit distressed.

  Pins and needles wash over me. Lightning sparks snap from my hands to the floor, the paralyzing charge from Elizabeth’s spell grounding out of me at last. I roll forward to my feet, grab the Devil Killer from the distracted woman, and swing for her neck. She can’t see in the glare, offering no defense. My strike is clean. Her head falls to the floor, trailed by a long ribbon of red hair.

  Dammit. I reacted by reflex, not thinking. Beheading her won’t send her back to the Origin. Gotta hit her in the heart. I recover from the grand slam decapitating swing and start to thrust at her defenseless body—when another lightning bolt from Elizabeth strikes me in the torso.

  I stop sliding a few feet away, smoke rising from my once-again paralyzed body.

  Oh, I’m really starting to freakin’ hate lightning.

  Elizabeth laughs, casually raising her hand to feed me another one.

  A glowing yellow energy bolt from behind blows out Elizabeth’s left knee. She rocks back, arms flinging up—and the second lightning bolt passes over me instead of going up my nose. Growling, Elizabeth glares at me as if to say ‘you can wait a moment.’

  She extends her fangs and turns to face Allison. “I’m not going to kill you. No, I have something better planned.”

  Skinny and Pierre blur, appearing on either side of Allie in a fraction of a second, grabbing her arms. She kicks, struggling to escape, but mortal strength doesn’t move the two ascendants holding her.

  Elizabeth saunters over to Allison and traces a fingertip down her cheek. “I think I’m going to take you for my own. Another witch out of the cycle. You will serve me as a vampire. Yes… your combination of psychic talents and magic will serve me quite nicely. I’m afraid you will need to be kept in shackles until the dark master has full control.”

  “Fuck you.” Allison spits at her. “I’m stronger than you think. You’re going to be waiting a long damn time.”

  “Time is meaningless to me.” Elizabeth leans in as if to bite her on the neck.

  Allison struggles to get away, screaming, “Sam!”

  By sheer force of determination to protect my friend, I force myself to move despite the paralyzing magic. It feels as if my muscles are peeling apart. With all the grace of a drunk zombie, I sway to my feet... and summon a fireball of my own. Compared to the masters of magic around me, my attempt is pathetic at best. But it does the trick, smacking into the back of Lizzy’s head as surely as if I had slapped her with an open palm.

  Growling, she pulls her face away from Allison’s still-untouched neck. But instead of turning towards me, she looks down an intersecting corridor—and flings herself back as a silver crossbow quarrel flies through the space where her head was a second before.

  Bright orange light floods the hallway. Pierre and Skinny continue holding Allison, though they make ‘WTF’ faces into the branching corridor. The reason for their expressions appears soon after—The Fire Warrior.

  Anthony strides up to Pierre, raising a broadsword surrounded in a glowing halo of golden light. Where the hell did that sword come from? Pierre lets go of Allison’s arm, diving out from under the first attack—but not in time. Anthony’s sword cuts him in half from shoulder to groin, leaving both pieces engulfed in fire.

  Pierre—still apparently alive despite being severed vertically—screams in agony, his pieces twitching. Skinny lets go of Allison and runs away. Pierre stops screaming. White glowing light rises from the smoldering remains, racing off into the distance and upward.

  Hmm, okay. Anthony’s sword didn’t suck up the ghost vapors like mine does. Guess Elizabeth is right about returning to the whole fifth dimension thing. Light Warriors charge in behind Anthony. Dormund backs up, raising his arms in a feeble defense as a barrage of silver-tipped crossbow quarrels strike him all over the head and chest. They barely pierce in enough to stick, though seem to be rather painful. The Fire Warrior strides toward him. Dormund roars a war shout and charges. For reasons I cannot explain, the sight of such a big, muscular ascendant vampire trying to kill my son doesn’t fill me with panic. It’s no more stressful than watching him go against a meaner kid in sports. A group of Light Warriors spill into the hallway, most hastily reloading their crossbows, except for Yasmeen and Olivia who clutch glowing crystals in each hand.

  Elizabeth thrusts her hands straight up.

  Allison, Yasmeen, and Olivia all do something magic at her at the same time.

  Suddenly, our surroundings change from a fairly tight corridor to the huge open courtyard across the street from the castle entrance. We’ve all teleported out of the castle. Elizabeth, wide-eyed, looks around with a manic expression. The bitch definitely didn’t expect to do this. Allison’s thinking she tried to teleport across the world, fleeing. It appears the Light Warrior mystics interfered with the teleportation spell, redirecting it to the courtyard and expanding the magic to grab everyone within 200 feet.

  A chaotic mess of true vampires—obvious since they’re already catching fire from being out in the sun—exalted, ascendant dark masters, Light Warriors, and a few ordinary soldiers erupt in a frenzy of fighting since no walls, stairs, or doors are in the way anymore. Allison giggles inside her head at seeing the exalted and true vamps, because ‘vampires come in both smoking and non-smoking varieties.’

  Ugh.

  Yasmeen, Olivia, and Madelyn focus on Elizabeth while chanting magically. Nothing obvious happens, though the fear in Elizabeth’s eyes hints they might be doing something to stop her from teleporting again. She points at them. Several ascendant dark masters and numerous exalted all rush at the three women.

  The Fire Warrior sprouts bright white wings, also wreathed in fire, and fly-leaps to stand in front of them. Say what? When the hell did he get wings?

  Not sure they came from hell, thinks Allison. I sense her winking.

  Will figure it out later. No time to worry about my son sprouting extra body parts right now. I rush across the courtyard toward Elizabeth, fighting my way through exalted and true vampires. The vamps are pretty freakin’ worthless out here in the sun. This is exactly why my staying in HUD would’ve been a horrible idea. In the light of day, vamps are mostly blind and have the reaction time of senior citizens overdosed on valium.

  I try to finish off the true vamps with thrusts to the heart as often as possible. The exalted, I mostly punch, backhand, or kick out of my way. The ascendants are ripping into the Light Warriors pretty bad. Even with their magical boosts, the dark masters in a pure physical form are just too damn powerful for mortal humans to deal with.

  The Fire Warrior plays goalie for the three mystics, cutting down ascendant and true vampires with relative ease. The ascendants claw or stab him a few times, but superficially. Whenever he gets his hands on an exalted, Anthony grabs them by the throat, holds them up for a few seconds, then throws them aside… the wispy black energy of a departing dark master soul gliding away.

  What the frick? How is he de-possessing them like that?

  Not gonna argue. Damn neat trick, though.

  Not a trick, Mom, says Tammy in my head. I’ll explain later. Just please stay alive!

  Planning on it.

  I throw myself into a tangle of ascendants, Light Warriors, and Elizabeth near the center of the courtyard. She’s still trying to do something magical, either throw more lighting, mind control people, or teleport away, but it’s not working too well. She does fire off a few lightning zaps, but they’re far less intense than the ones she hit me with earlier and don’t paralyze anyone. Of course, she is blowing arms and legs off Light Warriors, so paralysis might be difficult to judge.

  My fingers go numb from the relentless shock of my sword smashing into other swords. I lose track of the number of superficial wounds, and not-so-superficial wounds hitting me. I’m still moving, so none of them can be too bad, right? Meanwhile, exalted and ascendant drop off to either side. I’m making headway.

  Finally, I get close enough to attack Elizabeth directly and leap into a lunging thrust for her heart. An ascendant swats my blade down so it pierces Elizabeth’s hip instead. The Light Warrior he’d been fighting stabs him in the back with a silver-edged sword. Damn fool. Lowered his guard to protect Elizabeth.

  She slashes at me, roaring in a blind rage. She’s so damn angry, her skill’s gone into the toilet but she’s also effing strong. It’s a damn good thing my sword is angelic metal or it would snap under the forces released each time our blades crash together. Sparks and acid fly again and again. I need to grab my sword in both hands to keep hold of it, lest she swat it right out of my grip.

  “Stop trying to take over this world and we don’t have to fight,” I yell.

  She slashes at my head.

  I duck, pop up, and thrust for her chest again.

  She scoops her blade under mine, lifting it away, razor edges scraping in a painful nails-on-chalkboard way. “This world is mine, Samantha! You are too late to change anything. Your precious Light Warriors are dying, and for what? A momentary delay. You’ve killed them all, Sam. You brought them here. This world was none of their concern.”

  Kingsley zooms by in a streak of black fur. Whew. Gotta love werewolf healing. I think he wants some revenge, since he appears to be focusing on true vampires who make for easy pickings. Some run for the cover of darkness inside the castle.

  Dillon charges Elizabeth from the left. She senses him coming, spinning into a slash across his chest. The attack is so blindingly fast, he couldn’t react to defend himself. He staggers, screaming past a clenched jaw at the pain of acid eating away at his insides. Elizabeth moves to follow up, intent on taking his head off—I lunge forward to defend him. She hacks down into my right knee, the killing strike on Dillon a fake.

  Ooh, bitch.

  My right leg gives out, dumping me onto the wounded knee.

  Yes, falling with all my weight onto a half-cut-through knee is uncomfortable.

  Elizabeth swings down at my head—her blade hits another with a loud clang.

  I cringe a bit at the noise and peer up at a gleaming silver falchion above my head, holding Elizabeth’s blade at bay.

  “Mother…” Max pushes Elizabeth’s scimitar away from me, forcing her back a step and putting himself between us. “Why are you doing this? Did you not learn anything from your centuries in the Void?”

  “Archibald…” Elizabeth sighs. “You are still a disappointment, refusing to claim the power that is rightfully yours.”

  I grit my teeth, forcing myself upright, all my weight on my left leg. No, I do not like the sensation of my right shin and foot dangling.

  “Mother,” says Max. “I have never given up hope the day will come when you return to the light.”

  They stare at each other for a few seconds as screams, roaring fireballs, and death surround us on all sides.

  “You always were an idealistic fool.” Elizabeth sneers. “Together, we could have been unstoppable. If not for you, the world would have been a vastly different place. This world is even better than the one you call home. Magic is so much more here.”

  “It wasn’t too late for me, Mother. It does not have to be too late for you.”

  Elizabeth looks down, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “That life is over for us. Would you think less of me if I admitted I missed it? You were such a bright, happy boy.”

  “I would not think less of you for that, no, Mother. There are none who are beyond redemption.” Max reaches to her. “Our goal is not to destroy you. I want to save you.”

  Elizabeth sniffles, dabbing tears. She cringes away, ashamed. “After everything, you don’t despise me?”

  Max… don’t believe it. She’s bullshitting you.

  I grasp his shoulder with my left hand.

  “How could I despise my own mother?”

  “Even after what I did to you?”

  “Even then. You are my mother.” Max smiles. “Take my hand. We have much to do.”

  Elizabeth looks up, her tearful expression heavy with surprise. She steps close as if to hug Max.

  … and thrusts her caustic scimitar at his chest.

  I expected it. I knew the bitch was lying. But she’s freakin’ fast.

  Simultaneously, I yank Max away from her while thrusting the Devil Killer at Elizabeth’s heart.

  For an instant that feels like a minute, the three of us stand there in a macabre tangle. My sword impaled through her chest, her sword impaling Max, though not in the heart. Me standing there stunned at having hit Elizabeth at all. It’s… almost as if she let me.

  “Such an idealist…” whispers Elizabeth. “It is too late for me.”

  Max collapses over backward, cradling his gut.

  Elizabeth’s sword slips out of her grasp and clatters to the stone. She throws her head back, arms out to either side. Spirit energy wells up out of the earth, whirling into a cyclone of glowing strands filling the courtyard. Pottery shatters at random. The exalted still on their feet blow over in the fierce, whipping wind. Kingsley stops chasing vampires and hunkers down to resist the gale.

  Allison clings to Yasmeen, Olivia, and Madelyn.

  Cracks race over Elizabeth’s body, revealing black vapor inside, as though she’d been a hollow porcelain shell full of shadows. Her expression of contentment is eerie. After all this, so many years, centuries even, what made her simply stand there? Did Max really distract her enough for me to land a strike, or did she give up and let me hit her? Is she expecting to go to the fifth dimension? Abandoning her plan to take over this world to resume plotting in the shadows somewhere?

  If so, I think she’s wrong.

  In that moment, she knows she’s wrong too. The look of contentment turns into one of terror and fear... and finally... peace.

  My sword shudders in my grasp.

  Elizabeth’s physical body explodes into a blast of wind and smoke, joining the cyclone battering the courtyard. Multiple threads of glowing energy connect the storm to my sword. The Devil Killer shakes like a giant is trying to wrench it away from me. It soon heats to the point my hands feel ready to catch fire.

  I can’t tell if it’s absorbing her soul or merely touching it. For what feels like minutes, every ounce of my concentration is spent trying to keep the sword from flying out of my hands. So much power roars around me, I fear the sword will fly into outer space if I lose my grip. A sudden explosion goes off in the air in front of me, slapping me flat to the ground.

  She’s gone. Back to the source. I know this much is true.

  Above me, cloudless blue sky.

  Around me, silence.

  Inside me, pain.

  After a moment of lying there enjoying the quiet, the scent of burned stone makes me turn my head to the right, staring down the length of my arm at my sword. Courtyard tiles have become magma under the Devil Killer’s blade. Whoa.

  Hey, at least it’s quiet.

  The fighting’s stopped.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Warrior of Light

  Max gurgles.

  I roll onto all fours and crawl to him.

  Blood bubbles out of his mouth on each breath, coating his chin and dripping onto his chest. The wound appears mortal but not immediately fatal. It’s unreal to see this man, Archibald Maximus, the immortal alchemist I’ve come to think of as a close friend, almost brother... damn near close to death. Throughout the supernatural oddity my life has become, he’s been there as a source of reassurance, comfort, wisdom. Even though he looks younger than me, his presence is old.

  Seeing him minutes from death is so damn surreal…

  This is the moment the phrase ‘I can’t even’ finally makes sense to me.

  Reflexively, I try to staunch the bleeding as much as I can, even though it’s pointless. We’re in a world so primitive they don’t even have surgical tools. The best doctor they have here isn’t going to be able to do anything to fix this. Desperately, I hold pressure on the wound while tears stream down my face. My voice won’t cooperate to tell him how much he means to me.

  Could turning him into a vampire work? I have no idea if it’s even something within my power to do anymore. My vampirism has nothing to do with blood, fangs, or biting—so even if I could do it, the mechanism of how is a blank. And I don’t have a dark master inside me. Pretty sure that’s a requirement to pass on the curse. Not to mention Max would refuse. He’s spent his life fighting the dark masters. He’d never want one inside him.