“No, please,” I croak. I don’t know who I’m begging—Carter to leave or Nova to leave him alone.
Carter’s gaze flicks to me for a moment, sadness and resignation carved in his expression, as if he knew this end was inevitable.
“No, no,” I plead in my cracked and broken voice.
I expect him to grab for me, to attempt to pull me free. But instead, he raises his hand toward Nova.
Her confused expression matches my own.
I don’t understand what’s happening until she stiffens. Then blood spurts out of her throat and soaks her clothing in a jagged seam down her body. Horrible wet squelching sounds follow, as if she’s being torn apart…
Oh. Oh Jesus.
How is Carter doing—oh. Blood. So much blood.
War spawn. Carter. War spawn.
Rage contorts his face, that rare glimpse of emotion on full display. “Don’t touch her,” he snarls at Nova.
Carter is a War spawn. How?I can’t even process that revelation right now. Nova screams, staggering to one side, and her hold on me breaks. Pain and sensation return abruptly, tearing through me messily. I crash to the floor, gasping, legs as fragile as carved chalk.
Then, with as much effort as I have left, I drag myself out of the way to Devon’s inert form.
Nova reaches out, twisting her hand in that oh-so-familiar move in an attempt to stop Carter, to steal his life force before he can finish taking hers.
His eyes narrow, pale spots appearing on his cheeks, the only sign of his distress. But Nova’s spurting blood slows, and she slowly starts to straighten up.
Shit. She’s going to break him, and then walk right out the door.
I start to crawl over Devon to reach Carter, to help, if I can.
But my whole body is leaden, as if my muscles have turned to stone. It takes everything I have to move.
Nova staggers forward past me, toward Carter.
I’m not going to make it in time. She’s going to kill him, all of us, and shut the door on us. No longer an empty memorial, the cenotaph, but an honest-to-God crypt going forward.
“Hey, bitch.” Chessa jumps inside the vestibule of the mausoleum, like she was just waiting for this moment. She holds something up and a long steady stream emerges from her hand.
It’s the pepper spray. A wave of relief washes over me, only to be crushed almost immediately by the realization that she just fired pepper spray into a tiny enclosed space.
Within seconds, I can’t breathe, my lungs are on fire. My vision blurs with tears, and I can’t see anything.
There’s a loud thud and then coughing, choking, and swearing fills the mausoleum as everyone struggles for fresh air. I yank my sweatshirt up over my nose and mouth and swipe at my streaming eyes. It doesn’t help much.
But it’s enough for me to see a blood trail on the white floor,leading toward the door, and Chessa picking herself up at the entrance, holding her arm tightly across her chest.
Nova is gone. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I get to my feet, legs still wobbly and weak, and grab at Devon’s coat to drag him out with me. Carter comes over, his eyes red and swollen and streaming tears.
“No,” I whisper. “Don’t hurt him.”
But Carter ignores me, lifting Devon off the floor, wrapping Devon’s arm around his shoulders, and then pulling him toward the entrance. I follow, on my hands and knees, after them.
Carter has dropped onto the ice-encrusted grass, letting Devon collapse next to him. Chessa is bending over next to him. “Is he okay?” she asks.
I collapse onto the grass nearby, panting. Milk. We need milk. I think that’s what’s supposed to help.
