Page 34 of Sophie's Ruin
“You aren’t strong enough.”
“But you are,” I wept, clutching the hem of her cloak. “You’re strong, and so are the others in the village. We can go after him.”
“I will not wage a war against the clans.” Celeste brushed me off, yanking her cloak out of my hands. “Pull yourself together,” she instructed sternly.
I wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
“You don’t think you can prevail?” I challenged the witch.
“I am not willing to find out. It’s not worth the risk.”
He’s not worth the risk,I heard the meaning behind her words. And perhaps he wasn’t, not to her. But to me, he was everything. And I could do nothing.
I wasn’t sure what happened next. All the feelings I’d kept bottled up the last four nights rushed to the surface of my skin. I couldn’t contain them anymore, and I didn’t want to. My blood boiled, making it feel like I was being ripped apart. A keening scream tore from my throat as my magic exploded out of me, rippling like a wave through the woods around me. With a curse, Celeste threw her arms up, crossing them in front of her to create a shield. Her magic enveloped her in a protective barrier, molding to her body.
My outburst was powerful but fleeting, and when it was over, an unearthly silence followed, eerie and jarring all at the same time. A few seconds passed when nothing happened. Then, things began dropping all around me. Birds plummeted from the night sky like stones while other forest creatures fell out of trees, hitting the ground with dull thuds. The rain of death seemed tolast an eternity until all sounds ceased again. My breath sawed in my throat as I sat on the ground, surrounded by dead things.
Celeste’s eyes were wide when she reined in her magic, lowered her arms, and took a few steps back to put some distance between us. She swallowed audibly, her face as white as her hair.
“Listen to me very carefully, Sophie,” she said in a hushed tone as if she didn’t want the night to overhear.
“No,” I interjected, rising to my feet. “I’m done listening to you.”
“Sophie—”
“Stay away from me!” I shouted before I set off into a run, leaving the witch behind.
18
HENRY
So much pain. For the past four nights, I had been drowning in it. Tonight, had felt like coming up for air. She’d been there, in the Black Forest; I could feel it. Her proximity had helped alleviate the pain, but it had also made my chest strain with burning longing. The entire time on the border, my body had been pulled to the tree line to reunite with her, my heart beating within her. So close, yet out of my reach.
A part of me wished she hadn’t been there, seeing me leashed like an animal, powerless and weak. I wanted to be strong for her. I didn’t want her to worry about me, to feel like she had to do something. She didn’t need to do anything for me except survive and stay out of the clans’ clutches. They wanted her and the Tear, so they were making her choose between me and her people, the humans. I knew they were still her people. She was a vampire now, but humanity still burned bright inside her. It was one of the things that drew me to her—that light. Beautiful and powerful, it helped banish the shadows of my past. I couldn’twalk in daylight, but as long as I had Sophie in my life, I had my own personal sunshine. Turning her was still one of the worst things I had ever done, but I couldn’t deny that a tiny, selfish part of me was glad she had decided to become a vampire, because that meant we would never have to part. Or so I had thought.
The stir of air by the entrance to the cave snapped me out of my thoughts a moment before Moreau strolled in, a smell of wild excitement rolling off him. I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised he took such perverse pleasure in torturing me. He had always hated me; now, even more so after I had almost killed him two nights ago. One side of my mouth turned up at the thought.
“What are you smirking at?” Moreau snarled, as he approached where I was slumped on the floor by the wall.
“Just thinking about how close I came to killing you,” I snarled back.
The feverish craze in Moreau’s eyes dimmed just a fraction. The other side of my mouth turned up when the smell of excitement around him became tinged with fear.
“Yes, that was unfortunate.” He rubbed his neck.
My smile fell—there were no remnants of the savage wound I had inflicted because he’d fed and healed. My stomach spasmed at the thought, making me grunt in pain. Four nights without a drop of blood, not counting Moreau’s blood when I’d torn out a piece of his throat. Four nights that had felt like an eternity. I needed to feed. Desperately. Without blood, my flesh was drying out, turning me into a husk. I swore sometimes I could hear my skin stretching over my bones in the rare moments I was alone in this gods-forsaken place.
It was ironic that Stern’s lair was now my holding cell. The last time I’d stepped foot in here, I’d been with Sophie, and we had found the Tear in one of the chests. We had found hope. Now, all I felt was despair. In my weakest moments, I wishedSophie would use the Tear to destroy us all, because then the pain would be over. The merciless hunger would finally cease. But every time I thought about it, my chest constricted until my lungs were being crushed, and I couldn’t breathe. If Sophie used the Tear, would she perish like the rest of us? Or would the amulet spare her life since she was the one wielding it? With everything that I was, I hoped it would, because I wanted her to live, even if she was the only vampire left in this world.
“Let’s get to it, shall we?” Moreau drawled, pulling me from my thoughts.
He moved to the wooden table and began sorting through the torture instruments lying atop it. My breathing picked up as my muscles tensed. I was never prepared for the torture, even though I knew it was coming. Every time, dread surged, threatening to suffocate me. It was as if my body begged me to do something, anything to prevent what was coming, to save it from all the suffering it would have to endure again. The sufferingIwould have to endure again.
Seconds stretched as Moreau was trying to decide on his weapon of choice for tonight. By this point, I was well familiar with all the torture instruments he had laid out before him and even had some I preferred over the others. A soft exhale escaped when Moreau picked up the serrated knife. His gaze shot to me—he’d heard my subtle breath of relief.
Shit.
He smirked and lowered the knife back down. My stomach dropped when he selected the sickle blade instead. It was the worst of them all. The curved blade was perfect for tearing skin, ripping flesh, and hooking organs.
