His blade slices through her neck in an instant.
A scream rips through the darkness as she falls to the floor, but it’s not Anna’s voice.
It’s mine.
I drop to my knees and scoop her into my arms, but it’s too late. I can feel her life force leaving, her blood soaking my hands.
Seconds later, she vanishes, leaving only a dark pool of blood behind.
“Put down the blade,” Lala says to the Dark Magician, her tone firm. Her horror washes over me, but she’s focused on her former beloved now, desperate to diffuse him before he kills one of us.
But for him, it’s like she’s not even there.
“I told you to come back with a better offer, Starla,” he sneers, his blade dripping with Anna’s blood.
She saved me. Anna Trello—Justice, my parents’ oldest friend, the woman who promised my mother she’d keep me safe at all costs—took the death blow that was meant for me.
“I told you I’d be waiting for you,” he says.
I nod. Take a deep breath. Nod again.
Inside me, the dark fire surges back to life. Consuming. Demanding.
The Sword is on the ground at my side, and I grip it tight, relishing in the power that surges up my arm.
“You did,” I say. Then, with everything I’ve got left, I jump to my feet and shove the blade into his chest. “And I told you,fuckface, wait for your death.”
Lala sucks in a sharp breath of surprise, but she makes no move to pull me away now. No utterances about love and light.
I reach out for her energy, expecting to feel shame and disappointment. Anger, even.
But I find only acceptance. And there, shimmering just beneath it, a hint of pride.
“Light and shadow,” I whisper, parroting the Dark Magician’s words. “That is our interplay.”
He sucks in a wet, pained breath and stumbles backward into the wall, but I’m not letting him get away so easily. I follow him, twisting the blade deeper.
“For my parents,” I say, my voice unwavering. “Connor and Melissa Milan.” Another twist. “For Luke Hernandez, and the pain his death has caused his mother, Rita.” One more, this time with a swift jerk upward, making him sputter. “For Anna Trello, Justice Arcana, Trump Eleven and Headmistress of Arcana Academy.” Another twist, and the flame inside me grows brighter. Hotter. “Forallthe witches and mages you sacrificed. Their deaths were not in vain. And unlike you, theywillbe remembered, honored, and cherished.”
“But…” he wheezes, his eyes going glassy. “I... I… I—”
“Iam the Star,” I say, loud and clear, my earlier helplessness evaporating. “Trump Seventeen of the Major Arcana of the sacred Tarot.” I jerk the blade free from his chest and watch him fall to the ground. “And your days of darkening the realms are over.”
“But I am…” he pants again, refusing to give up. “I am the One… the Magician… I am...”
“Youare already forgotten.” I toss my Sword onto the table and turn on my heel, and he sucks in his last ragged breath.
The dark flame inside me surges once more, then fades, finally sputtering out.
Lala nods solemnly and holds out her hand.
I take it gladly, gratefully, and together we walk out into the light of a better place.
Twenty-Six
STEVIE
We walk down a long corridor glowing with tiny lights that look like stars. The walls are such a deep black, it feels as though we’re walking through outer space.
