Chapter 212. Samhain IX
(Trigger warning... er... violence... with a sprinkle of blood? I think.)
Maisie
Last words.
I wondered if anyone who had been in the same shit position I was in had ever been able to think of anything besides, "I don’t want to die." "Please." "Please don’t."
If I could’ve spoken, I would’ve begged for more time.
I wanted mornings where I woke up tangled between all of them. I wanted nights where I didn’t have to pretend I was fine.
I wanted to argue with them and make up and do it all over again. I wanted to grow into someone who could stand beside them without feeling like I was constantly catching up.
I wanted to live. I wanted to tell them the things I was always too busy, too scared, too angry to say. I wanted to tell them... I loved them.
When all that left my lips was a senseless whimper, because the ash had stripped me completely of my ability to speak, Tessa smiled.
"Pity."
And I thought, this was it. Would it be slow? Would it hurt? Would it be swift? Would I take my last breath and simply cease to exist?
But Tessa glanced down at her watch and blew out an irritated breath. "You think the goddess might be slowing down time for her cunt little prodigy? Here I am twitching with excitement and we’ve still got a couple of minutes left with each other. How romantic."
Her grey eyes flicked from my face to my neck. And then, she got a strange look in her eyes, almost like an idea popped into her mind. Knowing Tessa, it couldn’t be anything good.
She flicked the dagger between her fingers and ran the tip along my pulse where Soren’s mark sat.
"I’ve always wanted to tear this off you," she said. "I suppose now’s as good a time as any. Consider this retribution for the fire."
She slammed the dagger home.
White-hot pain exploded through my neck as the dagger sank deep.
I couldn’t even scream.
My body jerked once, violently, and then went terrifyingly still.
Blood poured hot and fast down my chest, soaking into the black lace of my dress.
And then, Tessa began to... flay the skin off.
It might have been seconds, or a small eternity, but it was even worse than the pain of the ash pouring into me.
She twisted the blade once, then pulled it free with a wet pop. And then she went on to the next mark. Jericho’s. Her face twisted with hatred as she stabbed me again. "You know, the first time he called me ’malyshka’, I felt special. I thought... I thought I had finally gotten him to treat me like I meant something."
The sharp tip of the knife scraped against my skin viciously. "But he called me May. And then I tried to drown you in the bathtub. And he was still looking at you. He never looked at me that way. Every time we met, he didn’t even remember what my name was, even if we were engaged. This is for taking him from me."
When she was done hacking at my skin with the blade, her hand shook and something dark and twisted maligned her expression as she held the dagger over my face.
"And this," she spat at me, tearing rimming her eyes. "Is because I hate your stupid face."
The blade came down.
But it never reached me.
The sound of bone snapping and an alarmed cry echoed in the night, stopping Tessa. Her head snapped left, just as something--one of the rogues--slammed into Tessa from the side with bone-cracking force, like he’d been hurled by a god.
The impact sent us both skidding across the stone, toward the edge of the cliff. Tessa’s frightened scream tore echoed through the mountains as she landed just shy of the edge, but the rogue and I weren’t so lucky.
We both rolled over the cliff.
I felt the world tilt and then there was nothing beneath me but open air. This, I thought, was possibly better than being stabbed to death. Possibly. I’d hit the earth and my body would break and it’d be painful, only for a moment. And then, it would be peaceful--
"MAISIE!"
The familiar voice roared.
A hand shot out from the darkness above and caught the front of my dress in a brutal grip. The fabric tore under the force, but it held. My body jerked violently, the sudden stop nearly ripping me in half.
And I found myself staring into warm brown eyes like Jenny’s as the distant sound of the rogue screaming as he plunged to his death teased my ears.
Lyon.
He had thrown himself half-way over the edge after me.
I couldn’t tell if it was tears of relief, or of fear that rolled down my cheeks as I looked over his face. It was streaked with blood, bone-deep panic, and desperation as he held onto me with everything he had.
"I’ve got you--fuck," he gasped, squinting as he searched for purchase so he could pull me up. "Hold on--shit--shit. Shit. I just killed someone. Shit. Hold on, Mace."
My head emptied out when I saw Tessa regain her balance and move up behind him.
"Lyon," I tried to say, my chest rising and falling hard and fast. "Lyon, look out!"
My words came out in slurred gibberish.
He caught the panicked screaming in my eyes and looked back.
But it didn’t change anything.
Tessa lunged, slashing the dagger across Lyon’s back in one vicious arc. His entire body jerked, a small cry ripping from his throat, but his grip on me didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, even as blood splayed hot from his lips across my face.
"Let her go, you idiot," Tessa snarled, and when he instead tried hefting me higher, she brought it down across his spine a second time. I heard the thud and rip of flesh. Felt the tremors on his arm as he choked.
I was screaming in my head. Not again. Useless. Always so useless when it matters. I hated myself. Hated my life. I wanted to die.
Let me go! Let go! Please let me go! Lyon, let me go! Not for me! Let go. Please let go.
He stumbled forward, but didn’t let go. Even as Tessa brought down the blade the third time. The fourth, the fifth, the sixth.
Even as his blood splattered across the rocks and his fingers shook, and his eyes glazed over. I knew it as his eyes locked on mine. We both knew it. He couldn’t hold on for much longer. He had to let me go.
But he clenched his jaw and hoisted me one desperate inch higher. Like I was more important. Like my own life somehow mattered more.
Tessa straightened, her laughter wild and unhinged. Her face was wet with his blood.
"Very well," she said softly, but her voice carried over the wind. "Die with her."
She planted her feet against Lyon’s back and shoved.
We dropped into the endless chasm beyond.
The wind tore at my hair, my dress, my skin, and it shouldn’t have been possible, but Lyon caught me as gravity yanked at us, eager to rip us to shreds. He pulled me into his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other locked around my waist, holding me close like he could shield me from what was coming.
He smelled like cigarettes and blood.
His ragged, tired breath teased my ear and his voice was almost lost to the wind.
"Close your eyes, Bright Eyes," he whispered. "It’ll all be over soon."
He twisted us mid-fall, his body shifting beneath mine and he pulled back. My tears fell onto his bloodied face.
He struggled for a moment to get the words out. "Tell Jenny I’m sorry." Then he managed a pained, half-grin. "Still a stunning crier."
And then, we crashed.