hands clutched at her throat, and her knees gave way. I struck and struck, the sword digging deeper into her neck each time. Cutting off someone's head was harder than I'd thought it would be. The old, dull sword probably wasn't helping.
But finally, I gained enough sense to realize she wasn't moving. Her head lay there, detached from her body, her dead eyes looking up at me as though she couldn't believe what had happened. That made two of us.
Someone was screaming, and for a surreal second, I thought it was still Elena. Then I lifted my eyes and looked across the room. Mia stood in the doorway, eyes bugging out and skin tinged green like she might throw up. Distantly, in the back of my mind, I realized she was the one who'd made the aquarium explode. Water magic apparently wasn't worthless after all.
Still a bit shaken, Isaiah tried to rise to his feet. But I was on him before he could fully manage it. The sword sang out, wreaking blood and pain with each blow. I felt like an old pro now. Isaiah fell back to the floor. In my mind, I kept seeing him break Mason's neck, and I hacked and hacked as hard as I could, as though striking fiercely enough might somehow banish the memory.
"Rose! Rose!"
Through my hate-filled haze, I just barely detected Mia's voice.
"Rose, he's dead!"
Slowly, shakily, I held back the next blow and looked down at his body- and the head no longer attached to it. She was right. He was dead. Very, very dead.
I looked at the rest of the room. There was blood everywhere, but the horror of it didn't really register with me. My world had slowed down, slowed down to two very simple tasks. Kill the Strigoi. Protect Mason. I couldn't process anything else.
"Rose," whispered Mia. She was trembling, her words filled with fear. She was afraid of me, not the Strigoi. "Rose, we have to go. Come on."
I dragged my eyes away from her and looked down at Isaiah's remains. After several moments, I crawled over to Mason's body, still clutching the sword.
"No," I croaked out. "I can't leave him. Other Strigoi might come...."
My eyes burned like I desperately wanted to cry. I couldn't say for sure. The bloodlust still pounded in me, violence and rage the only emotions I was capable of anymore.
"Rose, we'll come back for him. If other Strigoi are coming, we have to get out."
"No," I repeated, not even looking at her. "I'm not leaving him. I won't leave him alone." With my free hand, I stroked Mason's hair.
"Rose- "
I jerked my head up. "Get out!" I screamed at her. "Get out, and leave us alone."
She took a few steps forward, and I lifted the sword. She froze.
"Get out," I repeated. "Go find the others."
Slowly, Mia backed up toward the door. She gave me one last, desperate look before running outside.
Silence fell, and I relaxed my hold on the sword but refused to let it go. My body sagged forward, and I rested my head on Mason's chest. I became oblivious to everything: to the world around me, to time itself. Seconds could have passed. Hours could have passed. I didn't know. I didn't know anything except that I couldn't leave Mason alone. I existed in an altered state, a state that just barely kept the terror and grief at bay. I couldn't believe Mason was dead. I couldn't believe I'd just summoned death. So long as I refused to acknowledge either, I could pretend they hadn't happened.
Footsteps and voices eventually sounded, and I lifted my head up. People poured in through the door, lots of them. I couldn't really make out any of them. I didn't need to. They were threats, threats I had to keep Mason safe from. A couple of them approached me, and I leapt up, lifting the sword and holding it protectively over his body.
"Stay back," I warned. "Stay away from him."
They kept coming.
"Stay back!" I yelled. They stopped. Except for one.
"Rose," came a soft voice. "Drop the sword."
My hands shook. I swallowed. "Get away from us."
"Rose."
The voice spoke again, a voice that my soul would have known anywhere. Hesitantly, I let myself finally become aware of my surroundings, let the details sink in. I let my eyes focus on the features of the man standing there. Dimitri's brown eyes, gentle and firm, looked down on me.
"It's okay," he said. "Everything's going to be okay. You can let go