Knocking On Heaven’s Door
My head banged into the fiberglass floor of the van as I jolted awake. The massive bumps in the road sent me flying, only making it more difficult to sit up as it aggravated the pains already raking throughout my body. But the sight of Blaine lying beside me gave me the motivation I needed. I shot upright, whispering his name as I shook his unconscious frame.
There was no one else in the back of the van with us, and the divider resting between the cab and the cargo space was shut. The only light we had came from the two small windows built into the back doors of the vehicle. I shook my arm, trying to get my runes to ignite, but they only let out a gentle hum. That powder was still blocking the energy from releasing. I continued to rattle Blaine, and to my everlasting relief, his eyes groggily opened.
“Hey.” I brushed the hair from his blood spattered face, seeing two gashes ripped across his cheekbone and forehead.
He looked around the van confusedly. “Where are we?”
“What’d you last remember?”
“Being on the road, and…” His eyes widened at the recollection. Blaine gritted his teeth as he wearily pulled himself up off the floor. Straining to hold his hands outward, he tunneled his focus toward the back doors, ready to obliterate them away. The van jostled, and Blaine barely caught himself against the wall as the vehicle took a sharp turn. His eyes fluttered dazedly, and before he could catch himself, his legs buckled beneath him.
“Blaine?” I knelt down beside him, seeing panic settle into his features.
“Something’s wrong…” He lifted his rope-bound hands up to his aching shoulder, and his jaw slackened. He felt along the top of the joint. “My runes aren’t even igniting.”
“What? Why?”
He leaned over, exposing his battered shoulder. There was something metallic jammed into the muscle beside his neck. It looked like a twisted iron rod, but the smoke seared from the wound. “It’s suppressing my energy.”
Even in the limited light, I could see how insipid his skin had become. And he was ice cold. “We have to get that thing out of you.” Struggling to prop him upright, I tried to grapple my hands around the small, warped piece of silver. I bit back my cries, feeling my palms searing at the simplest touch. It only worsened as my grip tightened, but I didn’t care. “At the count of three. Ready?”
Blaine nodded.
On my mark, I pried the device up as hard as I could.
His guttural yelp was nothing short of feral as he tried so desperately not to scream. “Stop…Stop.”
I let go, and he crashed back against the side of the van.
“It’s not coming out,” he gritted.
Blaine was right. I had given it everything I had, and the silver didn’t budge.
“What do we do?” Just as I spoke, the two of us got tossed about the cargo space like a couple of rag dolls as the van slammed to a halt.
“Hey, where’s the road?” called out a voice from the cab.
“This is as far as it goes,” replied another voice in the distance. “You gotta walk down the path if you want to get to the field.”
My pounding heart stopped.
Field?
I could hear the front doors open, and the weight of the van lifted as I suspected the men up front climbed out.
Blaine’s frozen fingers wrapped around my wrist. “Run.”
“What?” I turned to see his exhausted eyes boring into mine.
“The first chance you get, you run.”
“Blaine, don’t talk like that—”
He let out a pitiful laugh. “Look at me, Kat. I’m not going anywhere.”
“But—”
“You still have a chance. I’m gonna try to cause a distraction. The moment you find an opening, you run.”
“If you die, I die. Remember?”
“Not necessarily.” Before I could question him, he grabbed hold of my arms and drew me right up in front of him. His lips met mine, the touch so heartbreakingly gentle. “Vos autem semper quod digna id.”
“What?”
“You will always be worth it.” He murmured the words against my mouth, taking one final look at me, to study my face, to appreciate the shape of my eyes, to marvel at every shade in them, before he kissed me. Not like before. It was desperate and urgently strong, making my inside go flush as the phenomenon left me lightheaded and wanting more.
And I recognized the sensation immediately. Energy. His energy. He’d just transferred the rest of it to me… “Blaine,” I gasped. “What are you doing?”
The slightest smile tugged at his lips. “We all have to go at some point, right?” His left hand reached up to the shrapnel lodged in his shoulder. He poised his ring finger over it, and swiped it across the jagged edge until it drew blood.
I grimaced, feeling my own hand burn. The mating bond… Where it had been a solid band of intricately woven tendrils around my ring finger, a thin, naked patch of skin appeared, running down the length of the rune exactly where he had cut his own. Slowly, the black ink turned a metallic gray. It…It was severed.
“So long as they kill me before it has time to heal, you’ll be okay.” Those beautiful eyes glinted in the blaze of flashlights as the back doors yanked open.
I choked on a cry. “Blaine…”
“I’m sorry.” He sprang up from the floor, hurtling himself out into the sea of men awaiting us outside.
The first guy he reached tried taking him down, but Blaine slammed his elbow right up into the man’s face. As another guy grabbed Blaine from behind, he used his weight and kicked up. His riding boots jammed directly into someone else’s jaw. An all-out brawl of fists and feet and thrashing overwhelmed the spectacle. Everyone else moved in on the prince, attempting to secure him.
Blaine got lost in the pack, but as all eyes focused on him, he bellowed, “Go!”
The closest Reaper to me snatched a hold of my jacket as I leapt from the van, but I threw my arms back and let the fabric slip right off me as I darted past him.
“Grab her!” demanded one of the men as I sped off into the forest sprawling out in front of me.
I blindly thrashed my way through the tangled mess of bare tree branches clawing at me as I raced through the wooded abyss. The only source of light came from the sliver of the moonlight resting overhead, and it barely illuminated the outlines of the trees in front of me.
Multiple voices called out behind me as a gun blast detonated. Splinters of bark blasted beside my face as I sprinted past a tree.
“Don’t kill her!” barked one of the men.
My fingers burned with a familiar surge and I whirled around, ready to relinquish the energy. The air rippled as a wallop resounded from my mere palms turned outward. The men were instantly knocked back by the rush, and I didn’t waste a second as I whirled around to continue running.
“That is a wonderful trick,” laughed the man who suddenly appeared ahead of me. “But do ya’ really think it’s fair? Perhaps we should level the playing field.”
I crashed to a halt, raising my hands at the Irishman. His cheek still brandished the knick I’d given him, and he hadn’t bothered cleaning the blood from his face, only adding to his unruly demeanor.
The Irishman clicked his tongue. “Oh, that’s not very nice.”
Another blast erupted from my palms. He swiftly ducked the attempted strike, taking coverage behind a tree as it absorbed the impact.
“Not too shabby.” He sauntered back out into the open again and batted his raised hand to the side. As if my body was suspended by marionette strings, I was suddenly flung sideways, catapulting through the air until I slammed into the trunk of another tree. I crashed back down to the earth, feeling all the oxygen escape my lungs.
“Only problem, lass,” remarked the Irishman, “I’m better.” He skipped over to my beaten frame, kneeling down beside me. A low laugh followed as he rolled me over onto my stomach. “Forgive the informality, but there’s somewhere ya’ need to be, and we can’t spare the time in you dawdling.” The Irishman gripped the neck of my shirt and began dragging me through the woodlands as if I weighed nothing more than a backpack.
I tried bringing my hands up again, but the energy was gone. All my attention was focused on just trying to regain my breath. Every time I inhaled, it felt like someone was stabbing me with dozens of daggers all down my back and chest.
“Don’t die on me yet,” he laughed, taking notice to my condition.
Chanting echoed from afar, and the sounds grew louder the further he dragged me. My feet helplessly kicked at the foliage beneath me as I struggled to wrestle out of the Irishman’s hold. Vibrations at last coursed up my arm, but the relief was short-lived. The ground beneath me changed to ambient lit grass, and every last ounce of my magic went still. Cloaked figures soon came into view as the Mage dropped me. I looked up, seeing I was now ensnared in the middle of a circle made up of people. Reynolds’s coven. The embers from all the torches surrounding us crackled as everyone fell silent upon command.
Foliage crunched beneath footsteps as someone drew nearer. “Good work.”
The voice was cold, hard, clipped. Unfamiliar.
Fingers clutched me by the neck, and I was pried up to my knees. “What a ride, this one. Quite fetching,” the Irishman crooned.
A pitiful wheeze escaped me as I dragged my gaze up at the spectator as they approached, my heart clenching at the sight of the long leather duster.
Death.
I could see the hilt of the Sanctus blade peeking out over his shoulder, secured inside the scabbard strapped to his back. That’s why my runes had died out.
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but as he drew the deep-set hood back from his face, I shrank away. The Irishman snickered, his fingers digging deeper into my neck to the point that I nearly cried out at the applied pressure.
The Angel of Death.
Samael.
My father.
His square jaw was cut at hard angles, accessorized by his five o’clock shadow and goatee. Being as how he made up half my DNA, I’d expected him to share at least some familial features, but with his bronzed skin and charcoaled hair, I couldn’t say I did.
Leather-sheathed fingers extended to my chin, cupping beneath my jaw as to hold my bobbing head upright as he knelt before me. Those jade green eyes scrutinized every detail of my face. “You look just like your mother.” He let out a long, dissatisfied exhale, releasing his hold on me. “Pity.”
“May I do the honors, slitting her throat?” the Irishman tittered giddily behind me.
“I’m afraid the Prince will be the only one paying with his life, at least for tonight,” my father growled.
“What are you talking about? We need to spill her blood.”
“No, we only require one sacrifice to rebuild the ward. And unfortunately, she’s the only thing that could draw her mother out of hiding. I still need her alive. The blade will sever the bond, so Katrina won’t die with that cretin over there.”
“What are you going to do with her in the meantime?”
“She’ll be spending her foreseeable future in the crypts,” said Samael. It wasn’t even indifference in his voice. That was pure hatred.
“The crypts, ay?” Gratification laced the Irishman’s words as he leaned into me. “It appears you and I are about to get very well acquainted.”
Several of the cloaked figures around me stepped forward and took a hold of me. Still struggling to catch my breath, I batted weakly at them, but it didn’t do me any good. They bound my wrists so tight that the ropes cut off the blood circulation to my hands.
“I thought you were supposed to be all holier-than-thou,” I spat. “Since when do you work with demons and Mages?”
“The first matter is simply a means to an end. The second…” He surveyed the Irishman. “A Light Mage can still be corrupted by the darkness, but I’ve found ways to prevent that probability.”
“By hiring the craziest one you could find?” I scoffed. “Well done, Dad.”
His lips peeled back into a sneer at the mention, but my attention was ripped away from my father as coffee-hued hair and Victorian clothing landed in a heap to my left, just outside the circle. Blood marred the side of his head. I shot up in blind panic, only for the Irishman’s hold on me to tighten, yanking me back into place.
Reese.
“We found him with Sitri’s bastard brother. Ended up in quite the wreck,” one of the men laughed. “We tried to grab the other one, but he got away. Nearly took off Jenkins’s head in the process.”
Samael turned and faced the boy, bemusement riddling his features. “That’s not the one we need. Where is the Prince?”
Groans immediately howled in the distance, and no sooner did Blaine emerge from the woods with three other men flanking him. His cheek was still marred from the accident, accompanied by a collection of fresh bruises. My heart splintered with every step he took, his feet dragging along as he buckled over. They’d beaten him. Not just with the blows they’d exchanged while fighting him. They had thoroughly battered him, to the brink of death. And he seemed so resigned to it, all too willing to accept his fate.
Until his eyes met mine.
His boots dug into the ground as dread twisted his features.
“No.”
“No.”
“No.”
That single word kept echoing through my mind. The voice; it was his.
“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.” Mr. Reynolds entered my field of vision and approached my father as the other men fought against the Prince’s newfound vigor.
Someone slammed the butt of their gun into the back of Blaine’s head, and he at last crumpled to the ground as they threw him down into the edge of the circle not ten feet in front of me.
To my everlasting horror, my father unsheathed his blade…and handed it to Reynolds. There was not a single ounce of remorse as the Reaper turned and faced Blaine, the Sanctus blade in his grasp. “Time to pay the piper, my boy.”
“No!” The mere effort of my desperate, pleading scream had my lungs ripping apart as my broken ribs scraped against the organs.
“Sorry, lass, but he has a debt to pay,” the Irishman cackled behind me.
“Nathan, please!” I bawled. “Stop this. I’ll do anything you want!”
“It is because of this pathetic creature that any of this remains possible,” Reynolds spat, yanking Blaine’s head back by his hair. “The barrier will be destroyed because of the perversion your unholy kind brings to this earth.” He pinned the blade against my mate’s throat.
“Stop!”
“It’s too late.”
“Nathan, please, don’t!” The men holding me fastened their grips around my arms as I sprang up from the ground. “You don’t need to kill him to reverse the cast.”
“It requires a sacrifice,” my father snarled.
Blaine’s nostrils flared as the blade pressed into his skin teasingly.
“Then kill me.”
“No!” Blaine barked. “Stay out of this, Kat!”
I wouldn’t.
I wouldn’t let someone else die to protect me. “I’ll give you your sacrifice,” I said. “Just promise me you’ll let him go.”
Mr. Reynolds’s gaze snapped up to meet mine, feeling the Prince go still in his hold. “You would do that?” That wasn’t surprise in his voice. It was absolute disgust.
Unmoved by my plea, my father held up his hand. “Proceed.”
“Nathan, don’t!” I shuttled up from the grass again, only to be slammed back down. “I beg of you! Please!”
“I’m sorry,” Blaine’s voice whispered, only to me, brushing a warm caress through my mind one last time. I barely heard the words over my own screaming as Nathan brought the blade to the side of Blaine’s throat.
There was nothing merciful about it. He pressed the edge of it in until a small trail of blood trickled down his neck. The Reaper wouldn’t be swift about it. It wouldn’t be a clean death. He deliberately dragged the sword across the entirety of his neckline as slowly as he could, letting the blade’s cruel power sear the skin apart with its unholy fire. A painful gurgle erupted from Blaine’s mouth as the blade at last fell away, exposing the gaping wound.
My cries howled into my plea as I desperately thrashed, and bucked, and kicked, trying to break free from my captor, as if I could actually do something to help him. I was immediately slammed to the ground the moment I tried to rise, knocking the wind right out of me.
Mr. Reynolds released his hold on Blaine, throwing him down at his feet as others cheered. And all I could do was helplessly watch as Blaine’s hands grappled at his neck in vain. Red slowly painted his neck, his chest, his torso. I cried out again, tears clouding my vision as Blaine continued choking and gasping for air that wouldn’t ever come.
That everlasting warmth that promised me he was near…it leeched from my chest. The life drained so quickly from his eyes as he crumpled over into the ground, and I sobbed. My whole body convulsed as I buried my face, gnashing out an inconsolable scream that broke through the pain tearing into my lungs.
I was dying.
Not my body.
But my soul. It was being ripped in half.