My heart flutters. He reaches into my soul, and for a minute, I swear he can just take me from this cursed, dying body and carry me forever. He can protect me. We can simply exist as one.
“This world is something different from the one I did not know I was creating,” Cyrus continues to speak. He doesn’t look away from me. I stare into those dark, dark green eyes. Green as the forest. Green as the deep parts of the ocean. “This is a new world. And I am so very, very old.”
His words, they send a shock through my heart. Like it beats a little too big, suddenly. A little too hard.
A tiny shot of fear and adrenaline shoots through my blood at his words.
My eyes widen.
His do, too.
And I can feel it. It’s a confirmation, that yes, this is what he’s doing.
“I am done,” he says only one second later. His head whips to the side, and he pins Henry with his gaze. Henry, who faces us, studying Cyrus with curious, surprised, doubtful eyes. “With all of it. With my quest for the incredible. With this species. With the crown. I’m done.”
I…I…
I have no words. My heart thunders. I’m floating. I’m buried twenty feet under.
What he’s saying…
Cyrus climbs to his feet, though he doesn’t let go of my hand.
“You may say this cure will not do enough for Sevan,” Cyrus says. “I don’t know if you’ve even decided to help us. But I offer you a bargain.”
“Cyrus,” I say, but I don’t know what else I have to say. I can only squeeze his hand, a question. Are you sure?
He squeezes back. Yes.
Henry doesn’t move a muscle. He stands there with his hands folded in front of him, staring Cyrus down like he can read all of his truths from his soul.
“Give me the cure, Henry,” Cyrus says. “I’m done with it all. Give me the cure. Save Logan. And we will walk away. From all of it. And you will never hear from me again.”
I smell something in the air.
I feel it. It’s cold. It’s like death.
It’s like life.
It’s light and heavy.
It’s the universe creeping in, coming to watch.
I feel it like it is a physical, real thing.
Cyrus stands a little straighter then, his eyes flicking around the room, and I know he can feel it, too.
Even Henry’s eyes search the room.
There’s nothing to be seen.
But we feel it.
“Give me the cure,” Cyrus says. And this time, he’s begging. His voice comes out desperate and quiet. “I’m done, Henry. Let me live out my life with my wife.”
The room feels too quiet. Like every flow of air has stopped. Like the world stopped existing outside.
The entire world is holding its breath, listening to the words it has taken Cyrus two thousand years to find.
Henry takes three steps forward, and a fearful sweat breaks out on my upper lip. I don’t know what he’s going to do. I don’t know what he’s going to say.
He stops right in front of Cyrus, only two feet away.
“I can almost see you as a man right now, Cyrus,” he says. “I can almost believe you are not only a heartless tyrant.”
I feel desperate inside. I want to convince Henry that Cyrus is good. He is beautiful inside. He may be imperfect, but he is worthy of a second chance.
I take in a breath, but it’s a mistake, because it only gives more oxygen to the fire inside of me. It sounds raspy. It sounds like death.
My husband squeezes my hand.
“Please,” Cyrus says quietly, his voice filled with emotion.
And that word alone should be enough to convince Henry to do it. I have never heard Cyrus say that word to anyone but me.
“I just need one thing from you first,” Henry says. His jaw is set hard, and he stares at Cyrus with such intensity, I’m surprised he is not a black melted pile of tar on the floor.
“Court had wanted to bring in a member of the Conrath family for centuries,” Henry says. He does not look away from Cyrus, but somehow I feel his words are for me. “Not long before I moved to America, my wife conceived. She brought forth a son. We named him Nicklaus.”
There is something familiar about this story in the back of my brain. Something back from my life as La’ei. But I can’t remember anything other than the name.
“You took him,” Henry says. “You tried to woo him with your castle and your willing human feeders, with the easy life.”
I hear the pain in Henry’s voice, and I know how this story ends, even if I was not around to witness it.
“And when he told you no, you killed him.”
He’s fractured. Broken. I hear it in Henry’s voice. He broke a long time ago, and I don’t think he ever put himself back together.
Alivia had a half brother she missed meeting by centuries.
I had an uncle.
“You killed my son.” Henry’s voice is little more than a whisper.
For the first time, Cyrus lets go of my hand. He shifts closer, nearly nose-to-nose with Henry Conrath. He takes both of the man’s hands in his.
“I am sorry, Henry,” he says. His voice is rough. As if it’s been lashed with one hundred whips. “I am not a good man. I have been manipulative and selfish and a tyrant. I’ve taken what I wanted and used others to entertain myself. I am not a good man.”
There are tears rolling down Cyrus’ face. I have seldom seen this kind of emotion on my husband’s face, and I’ve had two thousand years to study it.
“I lost my own son,” he says. He’s laying himself raw before Henry. Because Cyrus does not talk about our son. Ever. “I lost him even when he was a boy. Perhaps it was my utter failing as a father. So when I lost him, when I had to kill him, it ripped me to pieces. But I also felt relief.”
It’s a confession. A terrible truth.
But that’s what it was.
A relief.
We were relieved when our son was dead.
“So I cannot feel your grief as I should have,” Cyrus continues. “I took it too casually. But I have lost my wife, over and over. And with that pain, I apologize for taking your son from you. From the bottom of my heart. I am sorry, Henry.”
Neither of us gets a chance to react.
With Cyrus’ words, Henry raises his hand, and I don’t even see the tip of the needle before he sinks it into the side of Cyrus’ neck.
Cyrus gives a cry of pain as he sinks to his knees.
And there’s this…blackness that rushes from Cyrus. It fills the room, swirling, circling. It rushes around us, searching for an escape. It seeps out the cracks around the windows. It rushes out the door. It sinks down through the floorboards.
I blink. I can still see everything. The floor, the walls, the bed. I can still see Henry and Cyrus. But there’s this other…layer. That black. That dark.
As Cyrus screams, it pours out of him.
“Cyrus!” I cry, reaching a hand out toward him.
And where I was weak just moments ago, I feel strength rush back into me. I physically feel my muscle mass returning. The burn in my throat and my stomach are stifled.
I look at my hands, my arms, I feel my face, my eyes wide with wonder.
I feel it leaving me, too.
The dark. The blackness.
I can breathe.
I never knew there was a noose around my neck, slowly pulling tighter and tighter through every one of my lives. But it’s gone now.
Vanished.
Cyrus suddenly collapses to the ground. With a scream, I’m instantly by his side.
“He only sleeps,” Henry assures me.
And as I feel him, watch him, I do see his chest rising and falling.
I watch him, trying to reassure myself that he is, in fact, alive. He isn’t dead.
I can’t breathe. My organs freeze.
Because his smell changes. Just slightly. Just fractionally. But it changes.
It smells more human.
> “Holy shit.”
The words come out loud and harsh. They actually startle me and I snap my hand over my mouth, but with wide eyes, I look up to Henry.
“It’s working,” I breathe. “He’s…Cyrus…he’s turning human.”
Henry meets my eyes and nods. “I developed it specifically for him. It will work. He’ll wake in about thirty-six hours, and he will be human.”
Human. Human.
Cyrus human.
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
“I’m ready,” I say, climbing to my feet. I step desperately toward Henry. “I want it too. Give it to me. This is our chance, Henry. To have the life we were supposed to have together. Give me the cure, Henry.”
There are tears streaking down my face now. They’re amazed and a little scared, and so incredibly happy.
Henry reaches into his pocket and produces a vial. It’s filled with acid green liquid.
“Are you sure, Sevan?” he asks. “This. This is what you choose for yourself? For forever?”
Forever.
He says the word with absolute confidence. Like he knows.
And I know it, too.
Forever. This has to be my choice for forever.
Because Cyrus making that choice, saying all those words just a minute ago, he broke the curse.
His curse.
My curse.
If I take this cure, it’s done.
I’ll age. I’ll turn into an old woman, and Cyrus will become and old man. And we will die eventually. And that will be it.
For forever.
“Yes,” I say. And I smile when I do. I nod my head, and tears roll down my face. “Yes, Henry. This is what I want. More than anything.”
I see my confidence reflected in Henry’s eyes.
He gives me a nod.
He raises that vial with that green liquid.
And I give him one more nod.
And he plunges it into my chest, right into my heart.
A searing pain flashes through my entire body. Like all the heat of the entire sun was just shot into me. It’s so big I can’t comprehend even a tiny fraction of it.
So it only lasts a second or two before it consumes me, and I fall into the blinding white light and burn into nothingness.
Chapter 22
My body feels like it weighs six thousand pounds. My ears are mostly deaf now. My lungs quickly suck air in and out, desperate, craving it. When I roll over, every one of my muscles screams in pain.
I push my hair out of my face and blink my eyes open.
I’m blind now, too.
I kind of feel like I need glasses with a really strong prescription.
A dirty ceiling is above me. I feel a lumpy mattress beneath me. And as I roll, I feel a warm body beside me.
With everything I have, I roll toward it.
And there I find Cyrus.
His eyes are still closed, but his breathing suddenly picks up. His nostrils flare just a little bit.
I take in a deep breath.
Nothing. I smell nothing. I can’t smell his blood. I can’t tell if he’s human or vampire. I can’t smell anything.
Because I’m human again.
I’m freaking human.
“Cyrus,” I say as a smile curls on my lips. I prop myself up on one elbow and reach for him with my other hand. I place it on his cheek, caressing his face. “Cyrus, wake up.”
The breath comes harder from his lips, but his eyes don’t open just yet. I pull myself up farther on the bed, and gently, I press my lips to his.
A kiss brought him back once before.
If we’re going to step into this new life together, I want it to start with a kiss.
He lets out a breath, and I can’t tell if it’s filled with pain or desire—maybe both. But his hand comes to my hip, and I can tell it takes every ounce of strength he has to pull me toward him.
Cyrus kisses me, and even this feels different. This feels…real. This feels so grounded to the earth. This feels like the most natural thing ever. Like the entire universe formed so that just the two of us could have this kiss. Logan and Cyrus.
“Logan,” he moans. And I can tell now, he’s definitely in pain. He breaks the kiss, and his eyes squint in agony as his head falls back to the pillow. “Does your body feel like it’s been buried six feet under an entire mountain for two thousand years, as well?”
I laugh. I’m not laughing at him, but I laugh.
“Cyrus,” I say as emotions once more come to my eyes, and they don’t even try to hold on. They slip down my face. “It worked. You’re…we’re human.”
He groans, flopping onto his back, his face contorted with pain. “I forgot. This feels… I forgot what it felt like.”
I roll over. I still hurt. But I feel myself adjusting. Slowly. It’s remembering that this is normal. “It won’t last,” I say gently, brushing my knuckles against his cheek. “Does this feel better?” I lean down and press my lips to his cheek, kissing my way down his jaw. I find his neck.
“Almost,” he says. Once more his hands wrap around me. They slip under my shirt, his skin touching my skin. “I think I’ll be all better in an hour or so.”
I smile wickedly. Even though I’m exhausted, even though I feel like I’m only moving at half speed, I climb onto my knees and carefully straddle his lap. I lean down, coming nearly nose-to-nose with Cyrus. My hair falls down around us, blocking out the light that doesn’t bother my eyes one bit.
“Do you feel it?” I ask, my voice little more than a whisper.
He knows exactly what I’m talking about. I see it in his eyes. “I had forgotten the weight that settled into my chest the moment I took that cure for death,” he says. “I had forgotten the tightness around my heart that has been there ever since I turned you against your will.” He shakes his head. And we both take a deep breath at the same time. “It’s gone.”
I smile and nod. “You did it,” I say softly. “You broke the curses.”
The craving of human blood.
Him never being able to die.
Me having to die over and over.
It began with Cyrus’ choices. They ended with Cyrus’ choices.
“I promised you I would make it right,” he says. He brings a hand up to my face, and softly, so soft and so soul-crushingly tender, he kisses me.
I love this kiss.
I love feeling tired.
I love feeling so utterly mortal.
I hear the footsteps only two seconds before they enter the room. The door pushes open just as I straighten up, but I don’t have time to climb off of Cyrus.
Henry walks into the room. He looks moderately annoyed to find us in the position he does, but he ignores us. He carries two bags that look familiar.
They’re the bags that Cyrus and I brought with all our things.
“The effects of the transformation will wear off in about twelve hours,” he says. He sets the bag down on the desk. “You’ll feel normal, if you even remember what that is, around then.”
He’s wearing all black. He almost looks…tactical. Like he’s about to go out and do some serious spying or maybe some hunting.
“Henry, it worked,” I say, in marvel, telling myself it’s no longer my business what he’s about to go out and do. A smile spreads on my face.
And a tiny one forms on his own. He gives just one nod, looking away briefly as I climb off of Cyrus. My poor husband pulls himself into a sitting position with a lot of pain.
Oh, it hurts to move. I pull myself to sit on the edge of the bed, facing Henry the same as Cyrus. It feels like I spent twenty-four hours at the gym doing the most intense workout imaginable, and now I’m paying for it with my life.
“Every day the world is growing more alien,” Henry says. He once more goes to the window and looks out at the ocean. “There’s now twenty-four hour news coverage of the war happening in Roter Himmel. No one seems to understand it really, none of the Royals have
stepped forward to explain. But the world knows it’s important. And they’ve confirmed one thing for us.”
Henry looks back over his shoulder. “Lorenzo St. Claire is still alive.”
My momentary happiness sinks in my stomach like a wet, cold stone.
Henry turns away from the window, blocking out most of the morning light. “I will hold you to your bargain, Cyrus,” he says, staring at the man who is every bit still capable of being a King, but is no longer one of them. “You will walk away from the crown. But first you must return to Roter Himmel and ensure Lorenzo does not continue to take breath after everything he has done.”
I hate all those words. Every one of them.
In my happy vision of the next few days, Cyrus and I would take some time to recover, and then we would disappear into the night. We’d go to Fiji. We’d take that trip we never got to take. We’d take off and live our happily ever after.
We’d get a damn honeymoon.
But the reality is that I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
I fought for that war in Roter Himmel. I can’t just abandon it.
We have to see this through.
“Lorenzo will die,” Cyrus says, nodding his head. With a lot of effort, he gets to his feet, and he meets Henry, eye to eye. “We will make sure he never takes another breath. And then you will never see or hear from me again. They will never find me, even if they look. I will keep my promise.”
He extends a hand, and after a moment of consideration, Henry shakes it.
“Take a quick shower, get dressed,” he says as he takes a step toward the door. “You two smell like you escaped death. I’m taking you to the airport. You’re going back to Austria in one hour.”
Chapter 23
The world as we knew it really is finished.
Security isn’t just checking bags and walking through a screening booth anymore. They check eyes. They flash lights in them. Anyone wearing sunglasses is greeted by an entire security team.
We’ve only been on Lanzarote for three days, and even something as small as airport security has changed.
We land back in Austria and as we walk the short distance between the jet and the helicopter, the pilot gives us a narrowed look. I see his nostrils flare. He smells us. We smell human.