Chapter 68

Seconds before Mihnea reached Lynda, Pierre, and another vampire yanked him backward. His snarls and howls raked across her soul. She wanted to die at hearing his sorrow but if he was let loose, he’d feast on everyone’s blood and still not be sated.

Dracula held Mihnea by the back of the neck like a rabid dog. His eyes met hers. “Go and heal Andrei.”

“Wha—”

“Go!” Dracula raised his voice.

She scrambled to stand and limped toward Andrei. Quickly, her heart racing, she wiped at the fresh wound on her neck, then pressed her bloody fingers into his mouth, coating his tongue with her blood. Three times she repeated the gesture, her breaths lodging in her chest as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Damn you, Andrei! Drink!”

His shuddered gasp startled her.

“Andrei?” Would he be all right? Or would he return a blood-raged monster like Mihnea? Please work, by all the powers of heaven and hell, please.

For a moment, his eyes fluttered open. Crimson met hers, and she let out a sob. He was awake but blood-lust crazed like Mihnea. All her hope snuffed out of her like an extinguished candle flame. Both Andrei and his brother were immune to her blood healing them. Her heart banged painfully against her chest and she pressed a hand to her breastbone. What could she do for them now that she’d run out of solutions? The witches hadn’t been able to remove the blood-lust and now she couldn’t either. Her throat tightened painfully as she longed for her lovers, her men, her loves.

But then his eye color shifted back to the light brown as before. Joy soared through her so fast she thought she’d fly.

He blinked as though not believing what he was seeing. “Lynda?”

“Yes!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed.

He coughed. “Did you bring me back only to choke me to death?” His teasing voice filled her heart with joy.

“No, sorry.” She backed up, her legs buckling.

Shit! Her blood loss must have been more than she thought.

“You’re injured,” Andrei snarled, breaking the bonds that had held him in the wheelchair. “Drink.”

“Not so fast,” Boris yelled from across the courtyard. He held a wooden spike at Pierre’s heart. “Heal her and I kill your brother.”

“Let him go.” Dracula stepped forward. At his side was Mihnea who spared a glance her way that was dark and full of sorrow and regret.

He was healed! She’d done it. Both of her men were back to normal. Now she just needed to stop Boris. But she had no more magic or strength. She glanced around, only a few vampires and half-vamps remained standing or even alive. No witches among them. How were mere vampires going to stop a magic-using vampire? She needed help. And she knew exactly what to do…except she’d no idea if it would actually work. Her magic didn’t always do what she wanted. But she had no choice.

“If this doesn’t work, take care of each other,” she whispered to Andrei.

“Lynda,” he grasped her hand, “Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t.”

Before he could talk her out of her decision or stop her, she jerked away from him. She slammed her palms down onto the dirt, concentrating on tendrils of her magic shifting out. Her memories of the building she’d made collapse and the grief of what she’d done she let ride her.

Magic snaked out from her fingertips as her tears mingled with her blood and the soil. Her body shook. She was a fucking necromancer! No way would she allow Boris to hurt anyone ever again! Gasping, she cried out, “Bring my foes to justice.”

She collapsed. Through heavy-lidded eyes, she stared at Boris. But he didn’t fall down dead. In fact, he laughed, the spike he held against Pierre slipping down her lover’s neck slightly. She held her breath in hope that the sharp, wooden end would move just a fraction more, enough for Pierre to escape. From the corner of her eye, she watched helplessly as both Andrei and Mihnea raced toward Boris. The evil glint in Boris’ gaze told her he welcomed their attack. He was going to kill them…all of them. Wipe out the enemy. Neither Dracula nor his sons would survive. She felt the truth of this down to her soul.

“Please—” she pleaded. “Don’t.” Using every fragment of magic and strength she had, she unleashed her power. It struck Boris in the chest and he stumbled backward.

“What is this?” He chortled. “Pathetic. Time had diminished my sister’s gift. I’ve more power in my finger than you have with your entire small life.”

Energy surged through her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. She couldn’t escape the pain as it lashed her. Her muscles convulsed and Boris’ laughter rang in her ears.

Across from her, all three of her princes and Dracula clasped at their throats as though an invisible enemy choked them.

Struggling to sit, she couldn’t get her muscles to move. She had nothing more to give. Her blood loss and using her magic left her weak and vulnerable.

“I will skin each of you alive and mount your skulls on my wall,” Boris’ words echoed in her mind.

No, she wouldn’t die like this. Not at the hands of a madman. But what could she do? If only Ekaterina had told her how to use her magic better.

When Boris lifted her by the throat, she struggled to free herself. Her kicks barely grazed his thighs.

“Stupid girl. You swore a blood pledge to me, remember? No way could you ever harm me.”

He threw her. She sailed across the courtyard, her back smacking into the altar. Her whizzing inhale and lancing pain told her that she’d broken something.

Shit, why hadn’t her ancestor given her words of power or a spell to stop Boris? All she’d done was sacrifice herself to send Lynda back to the land of the living. Wait. Could Lynda do the same? She couldn’t attack Boris directly because of the promise, but maybe someone else could. Someone who was already deceased, but was resurrected by a necromancer.

Lynda hissed out a breath as she slid down the altar. Stars dotted her vision, but she spat on a bloody stream of spit on the ground, then clawed her hands in the dirt beside the altar. “Those dead now live all who are my friends and foes to Boris, rise again.”

At first, nothing happened as Boris stomped closer. “You dare cast a hex against me? You die now, bitc—”

Natasha rose from lying dead on the ground, shaking her head. “Don’t call my friend a bitch you fucking bastard!”

“No, no, you can’t...the blood oath, you’ll die.” His face turned ashen.

“That was before you killed me and my son. Death has released me from your bondage and it’s time you paid for your evil.” Natasha threw her hands up, a ring of orange flames chewing on Boris’ flesh.

“Cunt! I should’ve killed you and your brat a long time ago.” The fire wavered like it would go out.

“Let me help.” Grace stepped forward, raising her hands and the flames flickered to life.

Two more witches rose from the ground with faces covered with blood. For a moment, they staggered, rubbing their eyes and glancing around as though surprised to be alive. Then they too added their power to Natasha’s and Grace’s.

The force choking Dracula and his sons vanished and they leaped forward. Pierre grasped one of Boris’ arms, Mihnea the other. Andrei wrapped his arm around Boris’ neck while the Russian screamed curses at them.

After taking a short bow toward Lynda that made her gasp, Dracula lunged forward and jerked Boris’ heart out through his chest. Then each of his sons ripped off a body part. Andrei tossed the head next to the heart. More witches rushed forward, now concentrating their magic on destroying the still-pumping heart and head.

“Lynda,” Natasha glanced her way, “We need a necromancer’s power to ensure this bastard can never return to the land of the living.”

Andrei and Mihnea rushed to her side. “She needs healing. If she uses any more power, she might not recover.”

There wasn’t time. If she didn’t do this now, Boris might overpower the witches and glue himself back together. “Take me to his heart.”

Mihnea cradled her against his chest and carried her over while Andrei walked beside them glowering at her like he wanted to strap her to a hospital bed.

Mihnea clutched her tighter like he never wanted to release her. She couldn't blame him. If they could run away together, she and him, Pierre, and Andrei, then she'd buy the one-way tickets. But she’d never back down from a bully. Without her power added to the witches, Boris could reanimate. Already one of his arms twitched then crawled across the ground.

She shuddered.

“You don't have to do this,” Mihnea whispered in her ear. His breath tickled across the side of her neck.

“Yeah, I do.”

He set her down beside the heart which still beat as magical flames chewed on it. There was no way she had enough strength to do this. But she had no regrets. She'd found love and wished to all the gods old and new that she could have an eternity to show her men how much she loved them. At least this way, they’d be safe without Boris hunting them.

Natasha nodded.

Here goes everything. Lynda thrust her hands out toward the heart. She pictured it turning black and curling in on itself. Imagined it exploding into ash. Her wounds on her hand and neck stung.

She gasped. All of her injuries reopened along with the stabbing pains. Her blood trickled down onto the ground, pooling around her feet. Even her chest, where Boris had knifed her before, throbbed in a cold sharpness like it was a new, fresh wound. What was happening?

Boris’ laugh grated inside her mind.

“I'm taking you with me, witch.”

No! Her cry strangled with a gasp. She felt her soul being jerked from her body like she was being ripped in two. Every atom in her splintered.

“Lynda!” Her mom's voice rang through her. “Surrender to me. I'll protect you.”

But despite what she'd learned, Lynda's old habits of not trusting her mother surfaced and she fought to stay in the land of the living. Stay with her lovers, her life.

“Daughter, you will die. Don't make the mistakes I made blind you,” she pressed. “Let me do this.”

No. What if this was a mistake? Her mom had never done anything good. Then Lynda remembered her mom holding back the other spirits so Lynda could get the circle closed. Maybe she had changed. God knows Lynda had made plenty of mistakes in her life. Reluctantly, Lynda relaxed. Her magic fizzled like a used candle.

“Got you now,” Boris shouted.

Had she chosen wrong? Lynda opened her eyes. But her mom stepped between Boris and her.

“Leave my daughter alone you son of a bitch!” Her mom shoved her hands into Boris’ spirit-like body.

At the same time, he grasped her mother's heart. “I will kill you entirely for your interference.”

“Mom,” Lynda choked out, her insides twisting.

“Enjoy your life, Lynda. Even necromancers only get so many.” Her mom blew her a kiss. Then closed her eyes.

“No, Mom, no!” Tears stung her eyes as Lynda rushed forward. Where her mom stood, a force exploded knocking her soul back into her body.

Was it over? Her body trembled so hard that her teeth chattered.

“Hurry, she’s going into shock.” Mihnea’s voice was the last thing she heard before everything turned dark.