I glance up at Collin. He is struggling against the tentacles and the tether, no longer gazing down at me, yet the golden door remains in place.
I then look behind, through the glowing wall and that scary-ass eye. Rafa’s mom is planted in front of Emma, her face iced into an impassive, robot-like mask, gun out at the end of locked arms.
All right. So, bulletscango through the barrier. But seems she’s out of those now.
And it doesn’t appear Valiente brought his own firearm to this party. Must not be room in his fancy form-fitting suit. He’s just staring at me from the empty stage he built himself, arms folded across his chest, like he’s hoping I might keel over at any second.
But unfortunately for him, I’m still standing. In fact, I feel almost fully healed, and I should have enough juice left to take him, Rafa’s mom, and the other five vampires out once I end this ritual. Which means he failed. He gaveit his last, best shot (literally!), and I’m shrugging it right off.
I might not be Sarah Stryker, but turns out, I’m plenty dangerous on my own. I’m not going to lie, that feels pretty damn good. Knowing that Valiente wasted his only chance to stop me, I’m super tempted to quote that superhero movie and tell him, “You should have gone for the head.” But I’m not stupid enough to taunt fate, so I just roll my eyes—right before I shoot the so-called King of the Vampires my scariest glare. After all, I’m a monster, too—and a much deadlier one than he is. I think I might actually enjoy ripping him apart once I finish setting Collin free.
If I was hoping to intimidate him, though, it doesn’t appear I’m going to get that satisfaction. He just continues to stare back, unmoved. If anything, he’s smirking a bit.
It takes me a full beat to realize he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the crumpled paper in my right fist—which I now realize I’d pulled in tight against my chest as I was being shot through the back.
Holding my breath, I quickly pull the incantation open to find the paper soaked top to bottom with my own blood. It’s got actual holes through it. The remaining paragraph is completely unreadable, and it’s not like I had memorized any of the crazy nonsense syllables.
Without Mom’s cheat sheet, I can’t finish the spell. I have no way to stop this ritual.
Which means I was wrong. About everything.
The Vampire King didn’t lose.
He won.
20
I smearthe blood over the last few lines with my thumb to see if there’s anything I can still recover. But the cheap printer paper has been fully saturated, and even if I could make out a syllable here or there, a bullet hole has removed a couple words altogether. There’s no fixing it.
I look up, stunned, and for the first time truly take in the children lined up opposite me on the far cavern wall. The ones I was supposed to save. There are seven of them on my side of the barrier, none older than fourteen. Four girls, three boys. They look like the youngest of the bunch, scratched and pale from being drained by vampires. Their oversized sweatshirts, cargo pants, and joggers hang on their haggard frames, torn and filthy. The short red-headed boy from the dungeon is directly across, lips still forcing out words against his will, tears sliding down the grime on his cheeks. Other than Emma, I assumed these kids were totally zoned out under Valiente’s power, but they aren’t. They’re aware of howtrapped they are. And that no one’s coming to their rescue now.
The monster part of me whispers that endingthemcould end the ritual. My muscles remain superhumanly strong, and it wouldn’t take much. But if it were that easy to stop this apocalyptic spell, Mom would surely have said so. Maybe they’re magically protected during the casting, or maybe once it’s started, he only needs a few. And either way, I don’t care how strong I am, I’m not going to be able to hurt a kid. I said I’d have to make hard choices, but I don’t have what it takes for that. I just don’t.
I can’t stop this. I’ve failed.
And I didn’t have to. I knew Valiente could use the other vampires against me. I had seen that Rafa’s mom was armed. I shouldn’t have just ignored her. Valiente waited for the perfect chance to turn things his way and caught me completely by surprise. The stupid incubus boy who thought he could be a hero. Who thought he could save the day. Who thought he actually had a vampire king empowered by a god on the ropes! If it wasn’t so pathetic, it’d be funny.
I’m so upset, so angry at myself, the paper shakes in my hands.
I look over to Valiente and fully expect to see him gloating. This is his moment. Might as well let this play out and get it over with.
But he’s not smiling. In fact, he’s not looking at me at all. He’s staring up at Collin with anger.
My sweet, wonderful guy is suspended in the air high above me, just a few feet under the golden door, and he is thrashing against his restraints like a wild shark. The tentaclesfrom the kids keep flying off him and, for a few seconds, he inches closer to that portal—but then the smoky tether connected to the watch on the floor yanks him back and the magical siphons reattach. He’s not giving up, though. He’s fighting.
I look back at the expanding section of the barrier behind me, the thinning gap between Earth and Hell. Instead of the continued slow stretch I was seeing before, the bulge has stopped growing. It even flickers a little when Collin gets completely free of the kids’ magic. Because of what he’s doing, the ritual has stalled.
The inhuman eye on the other side narrows.
“You have lost, boy,” Valiente says, his voice hate-filled gravel. “I have made sure you cannot free the Avatar. Eventually hewilltire, so I have every reason to believe my spell will complete—Ahh!”
The Vampire King cringes forward, grunting out in pain. He immediately forces himself upright, and I see sick gray tendrils pulse up his neck from under his starched white collar. They reach the top of his cheeks, before they recede back down under his shirt, and the Vampire King is able to exhale.
He cracks his neck with a resentful twist and straightens his expensive jacket, trying to act like it was nothing. But his arms still tremble slightly. He clears his throat. “That said… the great god Ah Puch does not believe in leaving important things to chance. His domain is the inevitable, so he has authorized me”—Valiente grits his teeth, clearly not pleased—“to strike abargainwith you.”
I scrunch my brow. “Wait. This evil god of death… You’re saying you can actually hear him?”
More cold anger. “I’ve always been able to hear him.”
