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I closed my eyes tightly, willing myself to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Charity continued, “Or you can be a good girl and beg me nicely, and we’ll let your boy go. He’ll have to watch you die, of course. Otherwise he wouldn’t believe us. But we’ll let him live. On my word.”
The crazy thing was, I believed her. Charity believed in bargains and debts. Also, she was a sadist. If she were simply going to turn me into a vampire and then kill Lucas anyway, or have me kill Lucas anyway, she’d say so and take pleasure in watching me scream. No, I had a real chance to save Lucas’s life. That meant I had to take it.
Slowly, I forced myself to say, “Please.”
“Bianca, no!” Lucas thrashed in Shepherd’s grip, but there was nothing he could do.
Charity gave me the most tender smile, like I was a prodigal child who had come home. “Please?”
“Please—make me part of your tribe.” Was that enough? No. I hated every word. Every single heartbeat felt precious, because I knew I wouldn’t feel that much longer. Brokenly, I thought that I would die on my birthday—just like Shakespeare, I remembered. My life was being stolen from me, and I had to beg. For Lucas, I would beg. “Please turn me into a vampire.”
“Do you want to stay with me forever?” Charity’s hands framed my face. “Will we be sisters? Then Balthazar will see that you’re mine instead of his. We’ll show him. Please say yes. Oh, please say that’s what you want.”
That was why she wanted me to beg; so she could convince herself it was true and that she was building a family again. She didn’t want me to get back at Balthazar; she wanted me to replace him.
I’d begun shaking so hard I felt like I couldn’t stand up, but I managed to say, “Yes. That’s what I want. Please.”
She stuck out her bottom lip, a spoiled little girl. “If you really wanted, you would plead. You would go down on your knees.”
It was impossible for me to hate anyone more than I hated her at that second. I thought of Lucas and sank to my knees. The broken tile floor scraped my skin, and I put one hand over my coral bracelet, the last token of love Lucas had given me. “Please, Charity. Please take my life.”
“There,” Charity said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She smiled at me sweetly, and her fangs were out. It wouldn’t be long now.
“No!” Lucas shouted. “Don’t! Bianca, you can fight, forget about me!”
I tilted my head backward, looking up at the metal rafters. Cobwebs drifted lazily, like wicked clouds. My throat was bared to Charity, and I knew this was the end of my life.
I’ll be a vampire now, I thought. Please let my parents be right. Please let it not be so bad.
As Charity cupped her hand around the side of my throat, I saw a strange flickering in the rafters. Like light reflecting on water in a pool—though there was no water in the pool—
My eyes opened wide.
“It won’t hurt much,” Charity promised. “Really it won’t.”
The blue-green light brightened and spread, covering the entire ceiling as it coalesced into something that looked like clouds. A cool breeze flowed around us, making a summer night into winter, and I shivered.
“Charity!” Shepherd cried. “What is this?” All the vampires were staring upward now, and even Lucas had stilled his struggling.
Charity gasped. “Oh, they wouldn’t dare. They wouldn’t dare.”
Sleet began to fall. Sharp pinpricks of ice rained down, jabbing my skin and crackling against the floor. Charity skittered back from me, and I got to my feet, wishing I could run. Maybe I could escape, but I couldn’t leave Lucas behind, not even now—not even during an attack by the wraith.
The sleet thickened, silvery curtains that blurred our vision and made Charity cry out in pain. Ice fell so hard that it hurt. I winced, and then gaped in astonishment as one of the silvery curtains grew more solid, more distinct, and a face formed in the sleet. Though the ice kept falling, the face and form remained.
Even more shocking: I recognized him. He was the first wraith who had ever spoken to me. His long, dark hair flowed loose, and he had a beard. Although his clothing was indistinct, it looked old-fashioned to me—like something from a couple of centuries back, with a long cloak and high boots. The frost man, I thought. It was the only name I’d ever had for him.
In a voice made of the sound of breaking ice, he said, “This one is not yours.”
“She is mine! She is!” Charity stamped her foot. “You heard her! She said she wanted to join us!”
He tilted his head, curious and disdainful, then punched forward. His fist went through Charity’s gut.
She opened her mouth as if to scream, but no sound came out. Her entire body shifted color, turning the same pale blue as the wraith. I realized he was freezing her—and apparently, even vampires could be frozen to death.
Charity jerked her head upright and shrieked, “No!” She pulled back, which seemed to take all her strength, but she staggered away from the frost man’s fist. There wasn’t any blood. Stumbling, she cried, “Get out of here! Everyone, out!”
