Chapter 42

Evangeline

THE WHIP LASHED out again, smacking into the ground by Evangeline’s bare feet, having kicked off her heels to run faster. She grabbed a handful of her ripped dress and tore it further, giving her legs room to move. The next time the whip snapped, her legs were free to jump away, but the tip sliced her shoulder. She yelped.

“Not nearly as entertaining as your friend was. She screamed on the first hit!” Vane laughed, his irises swallowed by black orbs. Her nightmares, her worst fears, came to life. Again.

Evangeline gripped the gun and fired. And fired again, and again, and again. The booms were nowhere near as caustic as the screams of agony around her. The bullets didn’t listen to her, dodging left and right, trying to find their actual target. King Calais, not Vane.

The gun clicked, but nothing more came out of it. No, no, no, no . . . Vane approached her, and she chucked the useless hunk of metal to the side, eyes searching the ground. She snatched up a dagger, but what in blazes was one dagger going to do against this beast? Run! Run! Run!

Her legs pedaled air. She didn’t care that she couldn’t see, that she could be slit open with a blade or a claw, or trip over the many bodies on the floor. She would’ve preferred that to—

Vane yanked her hair, and she sprawled backwards, her small blade skittering from her hand. Vane’s hungry gaze stared at her from above. “I can’t wait to hear your screams again.”

“S-Sehn! Can’t hurt me!” She fumbled for the words, ice needles swimming down her throat and pricking her insides.

His gray jacket bulged, brown hair crawling through the ripped seams. His tattoos glowed like Avana’s had, but these were purple, illuminating the surrounding smog. “You failed.” He licked his lips. “And now it’s time for me to clean up the mess.”

She scrambled to get away, but he snatched her throat and choked off her air. She struggled to breathe as he smacked her skull on the marble floor. The world spun. No! Evangeline gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay coherent as she plunged deep inside herself and raged against the darkness, trying to rattle it awake, but her hands slipped through it every time. Like it was blackened smog, intangible and unresponsive to her panicked pleas and internal screaming.

“And this time, there’s no one to stop me.” Vane’s face shifted; his teeth elongated. The beast was back, his dripping muzzle next to her face. Evangeline cried out, searching for a familiar face around her in the gripping fog. Ceven, Raiythlen, even Avana, please, help me. Help me. Someone help me!  

Vane lifted her again by the throat, and her cheek exploded in pain when he slammed it against the floor again. “Come on, scream! Fight!”

His fingers were gone, and she soared through the air before colliding with a wall. Her back splintered in agony as she rolled over, curling in on herself. Despite the chaos, only his boots crunching glass into marble rang in her ears. Closer, until he loomed over her. She gasped when his fist pummeled her stomach. Then her chest and her face. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move, everything hurt. His laughter surrounded her, and a hollowness sprouted in her heart. This was it. Nobody was coming to save her. Would she get to see Lani again?

The blows stopped, but Evangeline wasn’t saved. He gripped the front of her dress and jerked her forward. “How pathetic. Just like your friend, like every other human. Fight back, pet,” he mocked her. “Why don’t you fight back?” He slapped her, but it was nothing compared to the aching throughout her whole body. “Your friend wasn’t a fighter either, crying and pleading for her life as I broke every single bone in her right hand. Then . . .when she thought it was over, I moved to her left!” He laughed, but Evangeline’s world was spinning, whirling. He continued to speak, but she had already lost her grip on this reality.

Evangeline spat out blood, her hands around the hilt of a spear lodged in the dirt. Jaden was staring down at her, a chain wrapped between his fists and the bands of his arms.

“You’re slow, you’re not accepting yourself. Feel your body, your power, what you can do.” Jaden bent and whipped the chain out. She abandoned the spear, tumbling away, and quickly settled on her feet to draw the two daggers from her belt. Although the captain forced them to learn every weapon, she was most confident with her daggers. Jaden’s metal links strained and struck the ground where she’d been. The land cracked. A hole was left in its path.

Jaden twirled the chain again, and Evangeline lunged. He dropped the chain and pulled the sword from his back. Taken off-guard, she wasn’t quick enough to dodge the blade cutting into her side. She hissed in pain, but Jaden was ruthless, striking a fist at her face. She dodged, sliding backwards. He kept her on the defensive.

“Stop, no more.” She held up her hands.

He didn’t; instead, he recoiled the chain before lashing it out again. It hit her shoulder, and she yelped.

“On the battlefield, there is no mercy. They won’t stop, Eve. So I won’t.”

She rolled as another lash of the chains echoed in her ears. She clenched her daggers. Jaden had been to war. Forced to go to war. Meanwhile, she had been deemed weak. Not strong enough. She hated she wasn’t able to be by his side, but she hated being forced to kill even more.

He tossed the chain and charged her, sword drawn. She reacted in time to parry the blow with both daggers. This close, the fury in his eyes was unmistakable. The impatience. It pissed her off.

She surged forward, forcing him back, and his sword to fell to the side. Not losing momentum, she launched her boot into his stomach. He stumbled back. “I’m not weak,” she growled.

“Then prove it.” He charged again.

She blocked his attack but wasn’t paying attention and felt the blow of his fist in her ribs. She crumpled.

Jaden was the best fighter out of all of them. He was a force to be reckoned with. She had never defeated him, never desired to. But she wanted to rise to his challenge. To prove to him she was strong, that she could beat him. But to do that, she needed to find his weakness.

Knocked to the ground, she swiped at his feet with her leg, but he dodged. He was precise and calculating in his moves. He rarely played defensively, but he didn’t need to, since his offense was aggressive enough. And his hits always landed.

 But he had a weakness. Her.

He raised his blade again, but this time, she let it hit her. She was used to the pain by now, the beatings from both their captain and the other soldiers. It was Jaden’s expression that told her how bad it was. He had expected her to dodge, and the glimmer of doubt, of panic, rose in his eyes. She grabbed it and ran with it.

She fell to her knees, gripping her side. The pain was dull, an annoyance, but she played her part well. “I can’t, Jaden . . . it hurts too much . . . I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Eve . . .” His grip on his sword became lax, and his doubt deepened.

He leaned forward—either to help her or scold her, she didn’t know or care—when she jumped to her feet. The tip of her dagger touched his throat, a steady stream of blood trickling down the powerful muscles of his neck. He blinked in surprise, and pride swelled inside her.

She smiled wickedly. “I win.”

Clashing metal, shouts, screams, and Vane’s rambling rushed back at her. So did the pain in her face, her chest . . . spitting blazes, it hurt everywhere.

“. . . and when I break your ribs, maybe I’ll take the time to shatter both kneecaps and . . .” Vane was looking at her, but not really. His expression was almost glazed, as if he were more enraptured by his own fantasy than what was happening. Evangeline coughed, feeling as if her ribs were already broken. But she wasn’t dead.

You’re slow, you’re not accepting yourself. Feel your body, your power, what you can do.

She wasn’t as powerful as Vane, not in her current state. But he had a weakness, she realized. One she could use to her own advantage. The first touch of hope flickered in her chest, and it gave her the courage to ignore the pain, the frozen shackles of fear.

Her eyes flicked to his belt, the array of knives he carried with him all the time. She only needed one. Preparing for the pain, she sat up and rammed her shoulder into Vane’s chest. He was taken aback, but then growled, his claws sinking into her skull. But she got close enough to pull out one of his knives.

“Is that all you got?” she taunted and hoped she sounded convincing. On the inside, she screamed, her instincts telling her to run.

Well, look where running got her.

She got the reaction she was looking for. He snarled and backhanded her. She whimpered, tucking the knife firmly into her hand, and cowered, shielding her weapon with her body.

He pulled back her head. “Or maybe I’ll just take a chunk out of you now . . .” His teeth entered her neck.

Her vocals stretched, a scream burning up her throat. With all her might, she threw herself away from his grip, but only managed to tear her skin.

Do it, do it now!

“Please, no,” she sobbed in earnest, as her sweaty palm squeezed the knife. She had one chance; she had to make it count.

He grinned, and her blood stained his teeth. He said something, but she couldn’t hear as she focused on his neck, the outline of muscle buried in fur. He leaned forward again, and without thinking, without doubting, just letting all her might, her power, her focus into this one move, she pushed the knife into the furred folds of his neck.

His eyes widened, the black rescinding to show brown once more. Blood spurted from his neck, and he reached to pull it out. The wound was already closing back up. In a panic, Evangeline shoved him back onto the marble floor. Her slick hands pushed the knife back into his neck as he struggled to breathe, to understand what was happening.

His weakness was his own hubris. And now a pathetic human like herself was going to kill him for it.

“I want you to suffer just like you made us suffer. Like you made Lani suffer.” Her voice sounded like she had been screaming for hours, rough and strained. “You won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.”

Like she’d always fantasized, the knife slid into his neck with ease. Images flashed before her. War. Blood. The woman whose neck gaped open at her. Evangeline embraced all of it, forcing the knife deeper . . . and deeper . . .

Vane gurgled, and his eyes rolled back. She realized he’d been clawing at her arms, but her grip remained firm. Powerful, she thought with a surge of warmth.

“It’s not so much fun, is it? Being on the other end of the knife,” she spat. “I hope the God of all Gods flies you up as high as he can, just to let you plummet to your death. Over and over again. For all eternity.”

Red-veined eyes came back and locked on hers, a mix of hatred and disbelief swimming in their depths. Vane’s lips curled back, mouthing the words, “I’ll see you there,” before he went limp, his hands falling to his side. Hair growing back into his skin. The beast fell away, back to the lean, shaggy Rathan it had been before. He looked truly pathetic, almost harmless, after all of his stolen power fell away. Power he stole from the lives of humans. From Lani.

Evangeline removed her hold on the knife. She was covered in blood. Vane’s blood. Her lips stung as she smiled, then laughed. Vane was right about one thing: she would see him again. On the path she was heading down, she would never see Lani in the afterlife. Not for a monster like herself.

“Who’s the weak one now?” she said to Vane’s corpse.