“Enough of this,” Dimitri interrupts, taking another step forward until he’s between us. “We need to get Violet back to the arena before her hour is up.”
“Does this mean I beat the second round?” I can’t help but ask, and when Dimitri nods once, I release a deafening squeal. “Fuck, yes! Violet for the win!”
Dracula pinches the bridge of his nose—the gesture reminding me eerily of Vin—and shakes his head sadly. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Nothing, because you chose me and you can’t return me now.” I stick my tongue out at him.
“I wouldn’t want to,” Dracula says, surprising me with his earnestness. “You’re my daughter, and I love you.”
My heart stutters to an abrupt halt at his words before taking off once more with a vengeance.
“I don’t know what the third game is,” Dimitri cuts in, lips tightening into a thin line. “They haven’t told me any details about it, which only makes me more suspicious. You need to keep an eye out, Violet. A lot of the people here—including the monsters in charge of the Roaring—would like nothing more than to see you dead and Dracula punished.”
“What’s new?” I ask dryly. “They—”
I never get to finish my sentence.
The room around me begins to rattle, pictures flying off the walls.
“What the hell?” I squeal as my chair topples to the side, propelling me to the ground. Immediately, Dimitri is crouched protectively over my body just as the room explodes in flames.
Red and orange consume the entire room, spouting like errant fireworks. They hiss and stutter as the room begins to vibrate. Smoke enters my nostrils, and I bring my shirt up to cover my mouth and nose. Dimitri remains on top of me, his body protecting me from wayward objects. Each grunt and hiss of pain destroys a fundamental piece of me.
And when he goes silent, my entire heart shrivels into a messy ball of emotion.
“Dimitri?” I whisper, my throat burning from the smoke. The ceiling above shows nothing but a myriad of flames, each one creeping closer to where I’m lying.
With Dimitri’s body over mine, I can only move my head, and I can’t help but turn to where I last saw my father.
Dracula’s eyes are wide with terror, his lips slightly parted. In the center of his chest, protruding from his heart, is a god-blessed dagger.
My sob gets lodged in my throat as I begin to tremble all over.
“Dad?” I whisper, tears cascading down my face. “Daddy?”
The flames are getting closer and closer, and I know with painful certainty that I’m going to die. Very few things can kill a vampire. God-blessed items, for one. Beheading. A wooden stake through the heart. And…fire.
Hands trembling, I cup Dimitri’s pale face, noting the blood on his forehead from where a wooden beam has hit him.
“You stupid asshole,” I say softly as I brush away the flyaway strands of his white hair. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t look perfect. He looks dirty and disheveled and broken. “Why did you protect me?”
I press a chaste kiss to his forehead as I wait for death to claim us all. Unbidden, my eyes travel back to my immobile father, and the tears begin to fall faster. A gripping, consuming pain wraps around my heart like a coil of barbed wire. With each consecutive squeeze of the organ, the points dig into the flesh until I’m weeping blood.
I vaguely see men in black entering the room from a shimmery portal, but sleep is threatening to drag me under. It’s impossible for me to resist the seductive pull.
One woman stands out from the rest, her features so familiar that I can’t help but blink repeatedly up at her. Her tall, slender frame pauses above me as her snakes slither and hiss.
“Medusa,” I murmur sleepily, and her smile grows.
“Child.” She crouches so she’s at level with me, her eyes spewing pure malice. “We need to talk.”
Epilogue
Mason
The walls continue to close in on me as I rapidly spin the dial on the combination lock.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I murmur to myself. Blood drips from an open wound on my arm, and my face is littered with nasty scratches. One of the walls reaches my side, its sharp prongs digging into my ribs, and I release a pained yelp, stumbling away. Of course, that only makes my back hit a wall made entirely of burning red embers.
Time is running out. I know that as surely as I know that if I don’t get the combination right, I’m going to die in this fucking room.
I refuse to leave Violet—after all, I’m nothing if not a stubborn asshole.
Finally, I place the last number in the lock, and the walls immediately stop moving. To my left is a wall made up entirely of keen nails. To my right is one laden with knives. Behind me is my favorite—the burning one—and in front of me is one dripping in poison.
The air around me begins to spin rapidly, like a silver tornado has plowed through the room, and I release a breath of relief when I’m deposited back onto the stage.
“Fucking hell,” I murmur dazedly as the audience chants my name. I’m not gonna lie, hearing their cries does wonders for my ego. With a cocksure grin, I raise a fist into the air, and the crowd practically creams their pants.
Mr. Pumpkin shuffles to stand beside me, his face red and blotchy and dripping with sweat. I’m surprised it’s not Dimitri here to greet me, but I can only assume that he is with Violet.
Which means my girl has finished the second challenge.
Relief like no other washes away the tension from my shoulders.
I need to find my Pinkie pronto and finish what we started yesterday. If that means I have to see Vin’s cock, then so be it. Hell, I’d even be willing to stare at Frankie’s garden hose if that’s what she desires.
Speaking of the devil…
Frankie waves me over from the side of the stage. After Mr. Pumpkin announces my victory, I saunter after him with my hands shoved into my pockets. Vin is already leaning against the Academy wall, covered in soot and looking worse for wear, but otherwise fine.
“You were cutting it close, Mason,” Frankie says, shifting uncomfortably on the grass. Unlike me and Vin, Frankie doesn’t have any cuts on him that I can see. A part of me is sort of jealous that the bastard is basically impenetrable.
“How much more time did I have?” I glance towards the audience who is cheering as another competitor—this one the Bog Monster—materializes on the stage.
“Less than two minutes,” Vin snaps. He repeatedly runs his fingers through his dark hair as his eyes glare at a spot on the wall.
“What’s your problem?” I finally ask, his agitation causing me to become jittery. I don’t even know what’s the matter, and already, I’m thrumming with excess energy. The tension that had previously dissipated has returned with a vengeance.
“Violet hasn’t returned,” Frankie murmurs, and I swear all of the blood drains from my face, leaving me cold and empty.
“What?”
“She hasn’t fucking returned yet,” Vin snaps. “Most of the competitors did ages ago, including Vanessa, but Violet hasn’t arrived yet. Even Cal and Barret made it out a few minutes ago, but I have no idea where they disappeared to.”