I felt Ysabeau’s presence behind me. A rain of photographs fell upon the floor. Pictures of Philippe. Here. In agony. I shot a look of fury at Benjamin.
“I would like nothing more than to shred you to pieces with my bare hands, but I would not deprive Philippe’s daughter of the pleasure.” Ysabeau’s voice was cold and serrated. It rasped against my ears almost painfully.
“Oh, she’ll have pleasure with me, Ysabeau. I assure you of that.” Benjamin whispered something in Matthew’s ear, and I saw Matthew’s hand twitch as if he wanted to strike his son but his broken bones and shredded muscles made that impossible. “Here’s Baldwin. It’s been a long time, Uncle. I have something to tell you—a secret Matthew has been keeping. He keeps so many, I know, but this is a juicy one, I promise.” Benjamin paused for effect. “Philippe did not die because of me. It was Matthew who killed him.”
Baldwin stared at him impassively.
“Do you want to take a shot at him before my children send you to hell to see your father?” Benjamin asked.
“Your children won’t be sending me anywhere. And if you think I am surprised by this supposed secret, you are even more delusional than I feared,” Baldwin said. “I know Matthew’s work when I see it. He’s almost too good at what he does.”
“Drop that.” Benjamin’s voice cracked like a whip as his cold, unfathomable eyes settled on my left hand.
While the two of them were having their discussion, I’d taken the opportunity to lift the bow.
“Drop it now or he dies.” Benjamin withdrew the spike slightly, and the blood flowed.
I dropped the bow with a clatter.
“Smart girl,” he said, thrusting the spike home again. Matthew moaned. “I liked you even before I learned you were a weaver. So that’s what makes you special? Matthew has been shamefully reluctant to determine the limits of your power, but never fear. I’ll make sure we know exactly how far your abilities extend.”
Yes, I was a smart girl. Smarter than Benjamin knew. And I understood the limits of my power better than anyone else ever would. As for the goddess’s bow, I didn’t need it. What I needed in order to destroy Benjamin was still in my other hand.
I lifted my pinkie slightly so that it brushed Ysabeau’s thigh in warning.
“With knot of ten, it begins again.”
My words came out like a breath, insubstantial and easy to ignore, just as the tenth knot was seemingly a simple loop. As they traveled into the room, my spell took on the weight and power of a living thing. I extended my left arm straight as though it still held the goddess’s bow. My left index finger burned a bright purple.
My right hand drew back in a lightning-quick move, fingers curled loosely around the white fletchings on the golden arrow’s shaft. I stood squarely at the crossroads between life and death.
And I did not hesitate.
“Justice,” I said, and unfurled my fingers.
Benjamin’s eyes widened.
The arrow sprang from my hand through the center of the spell, picking up momentum as it flew. It hit Benjamin’s chest with audible force, cleaving him wide open and bursting his heart. A blinding wave of power engulfed the room. Silver and gold threads shot everywhere, accompanied by strands of purple and green. The sun king. The moon queen. Justice. The goddess.
With an otherworldly cry of frustrated anguish, Benjamin loosened his fingers, and the blood-covered spike began to slip.
Working quickly, I twisted the threads surrounding Matthew into a single rope that caught the end of the spike. I pulled it taut, keeping it in place as Benjamin’s blood poured forth and he dropped heavily to the floor.
The few bare lightbulbs in the room flickered, then went out. I’d had to draw on every bit of energy in the place to kill Knox and then Benjamin. All that was left now was the power of the goddess: the shimmering rope hanging in the middle of the room, the words moving underneath my skin, the power snapping at the ends of my fingers.
It was over.
Benjamin was dead and could no longer torment anyone.
And Matthew, though broken, was alive.
* * *
After Benjamin fell, everything seemed to happen at once. Ysabeau pulled the vampire’s dead body away. Baldwin was at Matthew’s side, calling for Marcus and checking on his injuries. Verin and Gallowglass and Hamish burst into the room. Fernando followed soon thereafter.
I stood in front of Matthew and cradled his head against my heart, sheltering him from further harm. With one hand I held up the iron implement that was keeping him alive. Matthew let out an exhausted sigh and shifted slightly against me.
“It’s all right now. I’m here. You’re safe,” I murmured, trying to bring him what little comfort I could. “You’re alive.”
“Couldn’t die.” Matthew’s voice was so faint it didn’t even qualify as a whisper. “Not without saying goodbye.”
Back in Madison, I’d made Matthew promise not to leave me without a proper farewell. My eyes filled as I thought of all he’d been through to honor his word.
“You kept your promise,” I said. “Rest now.”
“We need to move him, Diana.” Marcus’s calm voice couldn’t disguise his urgency. He put his hand around the spike, ready to take my place.
“Don’t let Diana watch.” Matthew’s voice was raw and guttural. His skeletal hand twitched on the arm of the chair in protest, but it was not able to do more. “I beg you.”
With nearly every inch of Matthew’s body injured, there were precious few places I could touch him that wouldn’t compound his pain. I located a few centimeters of undamaged flesh gleaming in the glow cast by the Book of Life and dropped a kiss as soft as down on the tip of his nose.
Unsure if he could hear me, and knowing that his eyes were swollen shut, I let my breath wash over him, bathing him in my scent. Matthew’s nostrils flared a fraction, signaling that he had registered my proximity. Even that little movement made him wince, and I had to steel myself not to cry out at what Benjamin had done to him.
“You can’t hide from me, my love,” I said instead. “I see you, Matthew. And you will always be perfect in my eyes.”
His breath came out in a ragged gasp, his lungs unable to expand fully because of the pressure from broken ribs. With a herculean effort, Matthew cracked one eye open. It was filmed over with blood, the pupil shot wide and enormous from blood rage and trauma.
“It’s dark.” Matthew’s voice took on a frantic edge, as though he feared that the darkness signaled his death. “Why is it so dark?”
“It’s all right. Look.” I blew on my fingertip, and a blue-gold star appeared on the tip of my finger. “See. This will light our way.”