Page 189 of Eternal Surrender

“You gave up any right to bargain when you broke your word and came back,” Crowther said. “Now you can help me clean up this mess.”

Jacob was stunned into silence.

“We kill the vampire at first light,” Crowther said. “Father Roch, you can administer the last rites. Though I doubt it’ll do it any good.”

Chapter Forty-Three

When I came round, a hessian sack was covering my head.

The shock of being flung upon a cold hard surface brought me back to consciousness. An excruciating burning went over my entire chest as though the silver from the arrows was leaking into my flesh and spreading out, radiating down my arms.

For at least two days, I’d slipped in and out like this, having been tortured by Crowther’s men. Bled. . .

And I’d told them nothing.

The Gregorian chanting sent chills snaking up my spine, and struggling to breathe, I sucked in air but hardly filled my lungs. There was a clang of metal chains and the sensation of them being drawn across my body, securing me again. My arms were stretched wide and my feet bound taut and held fast. The chill of dawn and the squawking of ravens were a terrible portent of what was to come.

The hood came off, and I caught my breath when I saw the grand rocky gods of Stonehenge surrounding me, inexorably reaching toward the dusky sky and the outer circle of continuous lintels towering over me.

Their sacrifice.

Crowther’s face came into focus. “It is with truth and honor that I command your spirit into the afterworld, where you will be judged accordingly.”

The slice into my wrist made me flinch.

“It is within my power to grant you forgiveness.” Crowther held the goblet over my head.

“Do you repent?”

“Is that question for you or me?” I murmured.

His lips thinned and he tipped the cup, spilling the contents, his mouth twisted in hate. There came another cut and a trickling into the vessel—more of my blood.

Crowther raised the goblet again. “What do you plead?”

“For your death to be slow,” I whispered.

He leaned closer. “Death awaits you, vampire.” He took a gulp and his eyelids flickered, and he pouted in response to the rush. “Status Regal, this is indeed an honor.” He coughed off his reaction. Crowther’s eyelids closed as he savored the sensations.

“William?” A man’s voice came from behind me.

I took in the upside vision of the monk’s face, the deeply etched frown lines, the middle-aged jowl. I didn’t recognize him, and I was passed caring.

“My name’s Vanderbilt,” he whispered. “You understand what is happening? We have waited for this moment for too long.”

Crowther opened his eyes and offered Vanderbilt the chalice.

Vanderbilt ignored him and leaned closer to my ear. “You’re not alone.” He gave a subtle gesture to one of the other hooded monks halfway hidden behind a bluestone. It was Sebastian staring back at me.

“Shall we?” Crowther opened his palm and a silver tipped stake was placed within it. “This is your last chance to admit your sins.”

“I confess,” I muttered.

Crowther leaned into my ear.

“I confess. . . I never told her just how much I love her.” I closed my eyes.

Shutting out the world. . .