knock, a knock at my husband’s door, my wish to join him, I implore. This last knock, this final knock, at the door, will he hold me, nevermore?”
Emily giggles at this, her childish rhyme. “Join me, Thornley! It feels so lovely and free! You cannot imagine! I want you with me so.”
Thornley has picked up one of the wooden stakes and is absentmindedly rolling it around with his fingers, his free hand scratching her bite marks on his neck. He reaches down and pulls open the door. Matilda grabs at him, her hand latching onto the collar of his shirt.
Emily stands there, her skin aglow. She looks more ghost-like than human now. Her eyes glow a deep green, and her skin is as pure as that of a newborn child. Bram had always thought of her as beautiful, but she is breathtaking now, enchanting. “We have not lived, Thornley, not yet. But we can live now. It is not too late. Let me in and I will show you, I will show you everything.”
“You cannot,” Vambéry says in a hushed tone. “And you cannot go out or we will lose you, too.”
Bram reaches down and takes the stake from his brother’s hand. “We will find another way.”
Thornley’s gaze remains fixed on his wife, his eyes lost in hers.
Behind them, the body of Deaglan O’Cuiv jerks on the table, his hand grabs at Vambéry’s arm and with a sharp spasm tightens around it.
Vambéry cries out in pain.
When Deaglan releases him, Vambéry thrashes about and stumbles back into the wall. His eyes roll back in their sockets and go white, a guttural moan crawling from his throat. Then he screams. The scream sharpens and tapers away until he falls quiet, his eyes jumping from person to person but seeing no one.
Bram is the first to get to him, catching him as his legs give out.
Vambéry turns to the now-still body of Deaglan O’Cuiv, then to Patrick, then back again, struggling the whole time to break free of Bram’s hold.
Then Bram suddenly understands. “What did he show you? It’s not true, none of it. It’s—”
When Vambéry’s glare bears down on Patrick O’Cuiv, all the muscles in his body tense. “I banish you from this house!”
“No!” Bram cries out. But there is nothing he can do.
Some unseen force reaches into the small house, takes hold of Patrick O’Cuiv, and rips him from it. The large man flies through the door and out into the night on a soundless wind. He crashes to the ground, and before he can stand, the other undead are upon him, their sharp fingernails and teeth tearing him to pieces in a feral feast.
Maggie shrieks and tries to run out the door, but Ellen catches her and pulls her back. “You can’t go out there! Not like this! He is trying to turn us all against each other. Twisted manipulations and visions, nothing more!”
Ellen holds Maggie close, the girl sobbing. She glares at Dracul through wind and rain. “Is there no end to your madness?”
“They plan to kill us all,” Vambéry tells Bram. “Do you not see? We are an offering meant to buy her freedom.” He gestures towards Ellen. “Her and the lot of them.”
Ellen takes a step back, her eyes pleading. “That is not true. I would never—”
“This is why she brought us here. Why else?” Vambéry glares at Ellen. “I banish—”
Bram punches him in the jaw, and the man crumples to the ground. “Enough! Mind games, all of it! You must be stronger!”
Maggie swipes at Vambéry with razor-sharp nails as he falls, but Ellen holds her back. The girl’s eyes burn with fire, glaring down at him with fevered anger.
Matilda, who had remained mute through most of this, aims her revolver at the head of Deaglan O’Cuiv on the table. His head and limbs are fully reattached now. Fresh skin has grown over the muscle, veins, and tendons, still raw and pink but restoring him to a whole man.
Dracul steps to the door. “Pull the trigger, and I will grant you safe passage from here;