Page 44 of Captive
Before I could finish my thought, a blur pushed past me on the right. Somehow, Alistair had broken free of the trance, and the moment he tackled the witch to the ground, I regained control of my own body.
The witch’s once almost serene face contorted into a mask of shock, then rage as he fought back, socking Alistair in the jaw with a glowing red fist, but on the second punch, the vampire caught his hand.
Alistair’s face twisted into a furious snarl and for the first time, he actually looked like the fearsome monster he was. As his lips parted, revealing fangs sharper and longer than I’d imagined, the witch scrambled back, narrowly missing his next lunge as panicked students parted around them like the Red Sea.
The witch was clearly no match for Alistair on a physical level, but when he leapt to his feet and crackling flames wrapped around his hands, singing his crimson suit, I knew I had reason to be afraid Alistair was going to be badly hurt. And on my behalf.
Alistair seemed to have no such concerns. He ran at the witch and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. A fiery explosion engulfed the two men, but when it cleared, Alistair had the upper hand, covered in soot and his fangs in the witch’s throat as the struggling witch scorched him everywhere he could reach. His silver blazer and shirt hung in tatters off his shoulders, baring his charred skin, but his wounds were healing almost as quickly as they were inflicted. He was cringing in pain, but he wasn’t letting it stop him.
I could only look on in stunned silence, still slightly affected by the trance, as Alistair moved to deliver the killing bite. Only then did the witch’s entire right arm glow white, and his hand and forearm morphed grotesquely into a shining silver blade.
“Alistair!” I screamed, suddenly finding my voice.
He threw the witch to the side moments before the blade could bury itself in his chest. The witch slammed into the refreshments table, folding it in half as everything spilled on top of him. This time, Alistair didn’t rush at him, pacing instead like a tiger as the witch slowly got to his feet, his blade readied.
Where the fuck were the wardens?
They were all gone. There wasn’t a single one in the room.
We were completely on our own. But why?
And where was Dean?
As the witch advanced on Alistair, his throat bleeding freely and darkening his red blazer, the two men began to circle each other, keeping a wide berth between them.
“Stand down, vampire,” the witch said steadily, a stream of blood trickling from the corner of his lips. How he was even alive if he was bleeding that badly was beyond my comprehension.
“Never,” Alistair growled.
The witch wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “This isn’t what you think it is. I’m here for her. No one else.”
“That’s the problem,” Alistair shot back.
The witch stepped closer, readying his blade. They continued to circle, but I knew the fight was coming to a head, and I knew if Alistair made the wrong move, he was done.
My heart seized at the thought of watching him bleed out on the floor. It was only then I realized the truth that had been burrowing in the back of my mind for days, maybe even weeks.
He meant more to me than I ever wanted to admit. Maybe I even loved him. My emotions were too raw and tangled for me to sort out myself to know for sure, or if I was even capable of that, but if I was...
Before I knew what I was doing, I bent down to pick up a glass seltzer bottle by the neck. Somehow, in all the chaos, it hadn’t broken. As the men circled around and the witch drew nearer, his back to me, I charged at him with an enraged cry and brought it down hard on his head.
He crumpled to the floor as the bottle dropped from my hand and I staggered back in disbelief. For a split second, my eyes met Alistair’s before he rushed forward and caught me in his arms.
“You’re hurt,” I said, my hands trembling as they traveled over his exposed flesh, brushing away the last of his singed clothing.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, taking my face in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”
Before I could answer, a loud humming sound across the room drew both our attention. Across the room, along one of the walls the student council had covered in snowflakes and paper mâché, a glowing red swirl was beginning to eat away the paper. In seconds, it formed an oblong shape with a reflective surface, almost like a mirror. It stretched from the ceiling almost down to the floor, and before I could process the sight before me, the same sound that had accompanied the first portal came from behind me.
There was another forming on the south wall of the gymnasium, then another several feet away. More faint glows of red were cropping up around the room, totaling a dozen at least.
“Get back,” Alistair snarled, pressing his back to mine and stretching his arm out to get in front of me. Despite his efforts, we were now surrounded on all sides, and when shadowy figures began to step through, I realized I’d been right after all. They were portals, and there was something sickeningly familiar about the figures that stepped out of them, even if their crimson robes had been traded for more mundane clothing.
Several of them had flames lapping at their hands like the ones the first witch had commanded. They must have sent him ahead and were here to finish the job.
“It’s them,” I said hoarsely, my voice wanting to stick in my throat.
Alistair cast a bewildered glance over his shoulder. “Who?”
