For a Few Demons More(184)

“No?” Piscary said lightly, and I tried to push away, to get out from between them. “You aren’t strong enough to best me.”

My heart pounded, and I managed to find the wall, fingers scrabbling weakly as I turned to sit with my back to it. Lee’s body was gone from under the mirror, and I found that Trent had dragged it to the door, his tux’s coat covering him like a blanket. Lee is alive?

In the space between the table and mirror, Ivy dropped into a fighting stance. “Then I’ll die trying, and kill you myself. She’s my friend. I won’t let you hurt her.”

A smile of satisfaction blossomed over the older vampire’s face. “Ivy,” he crooned, “my sweet Ivy. You defy me at last. Come here, little fish. It’s time you leave the weeds and swim as the predator you are.”

No, I thought in horror, seeing that everything—the terror, the pain, the agony—had all been meant to manipulate Ivy into standing up to him, completing his vision of finding an equal in her.

“It will hurt like the sun,” Piscary warned, arms open to embrace her as she backed away, face white. “Your last blood will be sweet in me.”

Edden, again conscious, scrabbled to me, and I slapped weakly at him as he tried to look at my neck. “Shoot him,” I breathed, almost vomiting when I reached up and found my neck ripped open. “He’s going to kill her,” I whispered, but Edden didn’t seem to care. Ivy had defied Piscary. He was going to kill her so they could live an undead existence together. “Ivy, no.” I said, louder since Edden wasn’t listening. “You don’t want…this.”

Piscary raised one eyebrow. “Patience, witch,” he said, then reached for Ivy.

Terror overcame training, and Ivy backpedaled. She screamed, high and shrill, and the sound struck through me. He had her against the mirror, his mouth on her neck as he dug deep to end it fast.

She didn’t resist him. She wanted to die. It was the only way she could fight him and hope to save me. She was letting him kill her to save me.

“No,” I sobbed, trying to rise, but Edden had my arm. He wasn’t letting go. “No!”

A blond shadow darted to them. Grunting, Skimmer swung the arm of the paper cutter like an ax against the back of Piscary’s neck. It hit his flesh with a meaty thump.

Piscary jerked. He drew away from Ivy, showing her neck bloodied and torn. Blood flowed from her. He had bitten deep, a death bite.

Crying in fear and her fury, Skimmer swung again. My stomach churned at the thunk as it met the front of Piscary’s neck this time. His hands slipped from Ivy, and Skimmer swung yet again, screaming in a blind frustration as she angled to hit him in exactly the same spot.

The blade went through the third time, and Skimmer stumbled and fell sobbing to her knees as Piscary collapsed. The bloodied blade still in her hand rang as it hit the floor.

“Sweet mother of God,” Edden swore, his grip falling away.

Slumped against the mirror, Ivy stared at Piscary in disbelief. His severed head looked up at her, his eyes blinking once before the pupils turned silver black and empty. He was dead. Skimmer had killed him. Thin streams of red blood pooled from the ruin of his neck, slowing to nothing.

“Piscary?” Ivy whispered like a forgotten child, then collapsed.

“No!” Skimmer shrieked. Crying, she crawled to Ivy. Her hands went red as she tried to stop the blood from flowing from Ivy’s neck. “God, please, no!”

The door crashed open, the sound of the drill they used to open the door, fading away as people rushed in. Two fell on Skimmer. She fought them, but her movements were blind and easy to overcome. Three more descended upon Ivy, and I heard the rhythmic chants as they started CPR. Oh, God. She was dead. Ivy was dead.

I crawled under the table, forgotten as feet rushed about to pull Trent from his corner and escort Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong out. A sheet was draped over Piscary. Both parts of him.

Ivy was dead. Kisten was dead. Jenks…

“No,” I whispered, eyes filling as I slumped. Jenks, I thought in despair, throat heavy with an immovable lump. Where’s Jenks? Piscary had hit him.

The pain was easing, the heartache wasn’t. Jenks. Where was Jenks? My neck was cold, and I wouldn’t touch it. My breath escaped me in a sob. Oh, God, I hurt. From under the table, I saw shiny dress shoes and three people kneeling before Ivy. Her hand lay outstretched as if looking for her salvation. As if looking for me. She was dying, and nothing could stop that.

But Jenks was somewhere, and someone might step on him.

I crawled to the back of the room, looking for him. The focus lay forgotten on the floor in an open box amid the nest of black tissue paper. I shoved it out of the way to find the shimmer of fallen gold beside my bag.