Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

My team watched me like a hawk. I held my breath as I grabbed the Mirror of Aethereal's handle.

"Please show us our next task." I couldn't hide the weariness in my voice.

Damon and Justice glanced at each other as if to say I wasn't up to the task. But they were wrong. I had to go on this challenge. Only all six of the Chosen could accomplish it. Even though I wanted to sleep for a week, I was going. I'd find the strength somehow.

The mirror rippled again, and Edinburgh Castle appeared. My mother's voice spoke again. "Deep in the castle, in the last cell in the dungeon, you'll find a stone with a marking on it. It requires the Chosen's blood to open. Inside, you'll find this."

A shimmering, jeweled dagger appeared, then disappeared just as quickly.

I flicked the covers off and slid to a sitting position.

Justice flicked his gaze over me. "You're not well enough to travel."

I held my chin high. "Neither were you on the last task. If I don't come with you, you'll fail, and Maci will win. Is that what you want?"

Brody's brow furrowed, his gaze sharp with determination. "We've got a situation on our hands," he announced. "Intelligence suggests the lower levels of the dungeon are off-limits to the public. It's a complication but not insurmountable."

He straightened his posture, shoulders squared as he continued. "We'll need to adapt our strategy. This isn't only about sneaking in. It's about upholding our mission while respecting civilian boundaries. I know it's not an easy task, but I have faith in this team. We've overcome worse odds."

His gaze swept the room. "We'll need to be smart, be vigilant, and above all, work together. Every one of you has unique skills that will be crucial for this operation. Who has a plan to get us into the dungeon?"

I rubbed my forehead. "Lisa will have to conjure a spell to hide us as we slip in. It's the only way."

He nodded. "I'll find her and Zara. We need to move immediately before Maci attacks. Brady, Scott, and Garrick are fortifying the Manor. I'll ask Lisa and Zara if they have protective spells to keep Maci and the demons from penetrating here."

I nodded, weariness seeping into my bones. He quietly left.

"You're not up to this," Justice reminded me again.

Damon snorted, his gaze fixed on me with worry and exasperation. "You're about as strong as a dandelion in a hurricane right now, sis."

I didn't want to admit he was right, but fate had dealt the cards, and there was no way around it. "I'm going, so stop trying to talk me out of it. Both of you."

Damon ran a hand through his hair, a habit I recognized as a sign of frustration. "Look, I get it. You want to be Super Girl and save the day, but you can barely keep your eyes open. You try to fight like this, and you'll be demon chow before you can say ‘exorcism.'"

I scowled, a surge of frustration burning through my exhaustion. My jaw clenched so tight that a headache built at my temples. "Damon, I'm done with this conversation," I snapped. I turned to Justice, my gaze challenging. "Justice was beat up when we went to the Grove of Whispers?—"

"But I'm a vampire," Justice blurted. He leaned forward, his cool hand grasping mine. "I'm stronger than a human."

The touch of his skin sent a shiver down my spine, but I steeled myself against the distraction. My free hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into my palm.

"Done," I repeated, the word coming out a growl. I drew a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "I'm going, and that's final."

With a burst of energy I didn't know I had, I sat up straighter. My muscles protested, a dull ache spreading through my body, but I ignored it. I lifted my arm, pointing toward my bedroom door with a finger that trembled slightly with the effort.

"I need both of you out of here so I can get dressed," I declared.

Damon opened his mouth as if to protest, then snapped it shut. His jaw worked, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he swallowed whatever retort he'd been about to make.

Justice's hand lingered on mine, his touch a silent plea. I met his gaze, seeing the worry in the lines around his eyes. With a barely audible sigh, he finally released me and stood.

As they approached the door, I felt their reluctance in every step. The door closed behind them, and I released a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

Alone at last, I slumped against the pillows, allowing myself a moment of vulnerability. My body felt like lead, every movement an effort. But as I closed my eyes, gathering strength for what lay ahead, I knew I had no choice. Ready or not, I had to face whatever came next.

With a groan that seemed to come from my bones, I forced myself to move. My joints creaked and popped as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the sharp pains that shot through my body. The room tilted alarmingly as I stood, and I had to grip the bedpost to steady myself.

I stumbled toward the bathroom, my feet feeling encased in concrete. The cool tile under my bare feet sent a shock through my system, helping to clear some of the fog from my mind. I gripped the edges of the sink, my arms trembling as I leaned in close to the mirror.

The face that stared back at me was pale and drawn, with dark circles under my eyes that looked like bruises. I splashed cold water on my face, the shock of it making me gasp. After drinking some from my cupped hands, I scrubbed as if I could wash away the exhaustion along with the grime.

After several deep breaths that made my chest ache, I straightened, water dripping from my chin. My reflection looked marginally more alive but still far from ready for battle.

Back in the bedroom, I reached for my leathers, their familiar texture oddly comforting. As I put them on, each movement was deliberate, almost ritualistic. The leather softly creaked as it settled against my skin like armor preparing for war.

I reached for my quiver, gritting my teeth as I swung it over my shoulder. The strap dug into my already aching muscles, eliciting a sharp hiss of pain I couldn't quite suppress. Ignoring my body's protest, I adjusted the quiver, reassured by the sensation of the arrows against my back.

My hand dove into my pocket, fingers closing around the cool metal of the compass. I pulled it out, the familiar feel comforting in my palm.

Then, with trembling hands, I reached for my dagger. It slid into its sheath with a satisfying click that sent a small shiver of readiness through me. My fingers curled around the grip of my bow, the wood's texture rough and grounding against my sweaty palm. I tightened my hand, drawing strength from the weapon that had seen me through so many battles.

As I stood there, fully equipped and feeling anything but ready, I took one last deep breath. The air filled my lungs, bringing a surge of determination that pushed back against the exhaustion.

I opened the door, and Justice leaned against the wall, waiting for me. "Since you're determined to do this, you need to stay close to me. Understood?"

I thought about arguing with him, but why bother? We both knew I needed help, and I wouldn't turn down assistance from a badass vampire.

Then, Damon appeared on the other side of the door. His eyebrows shot up as he took in my battle-ready appearance. He whistled.

"Well, well. Look who decided to cosplay as Katniss Everdeen," Damon quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, when I said you looked like a dandelion, I didn't mean for you to go full Hunger Games on us."

He stepped closer, scanning me critically. "You sure you're up for this, sis? Because right now, you look about as steady as a drunk trying to ride a unicycle."

Justice gave him a cold stare. "Trust me, I can protect her."

Damon's gaze flicked to Justice, and he smirked. "And you've got Count Dracula here as your bodyguard? Great. It's like the start of a bad joke. A half-dead hunter, a wounded vampire, and a magic mirror walk into a bar…"

I sighed from deep within my chest. My shoulders sagged under Damon's concern, adding to the already heavy burden of my exhaustion. I tried to give my brother a brave smile, but I felt it wavering at the edges, more grimace than grin.

"Damon," I started. I had to clear my throat before continuing. "I know you're worried, but I can do this."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. You're stubborn as hell and about as easy to stop as a runaway freight train. But if we're doing this, we're doing it smart."

My fingers tightened around my bow. I stood straighter, ignoring the protest of my aching muscles. "If I don't go, you won't be able to retrieve the dagger."

"I get that." Damon's expression softened, concern breaking through his tough exterior. "Just don't go playing hero, all right? We need you in one piece. I'm not explaining to Dad why I let you get turned into demon chow."

When he said Dad, I felt a strange hollowness. I tried, as I had countless times before, to conjure up an image of what my father looked like or even a hint of how I felt about him. But there was nothing. Only a vast, empty space where those memories should have been.

Damon had told me stories, painting a picture of a man I supposedly regarded as a hero, someone I looked up to with admiration and love. Yet, try as I might, all I could retrieve was a blank slate. A void where a lifetime of memories should have resided.

I wasn't even sure how I felt about this absence. Should I feel grief for the loss of these memories? Anger at their theft? Or perhaps fear at the thought of what else might be missing from my mind? Instead, I felt a confusing mix of emotions. A vague sense of loss for something I couldn't remember, frustration at my inability to recall, and a strange detachment, as if I were mourning for someone else's father rather than my own.

The disconnect between what I knew intellectually and what I felt emotionally was jarring. It was like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing, leaving me with an incomplete picture I couldn't quite make sense of.

I glanced at Damon, wondering if he noticed the conflict playing out behind my eyes. Did he realize how strange it was for me to hear about a version of myself I couldn't remember? A version that loved and looked up to a father who was now nothing more than a concept, a story told by others?

The void of these missing memories hung over me, a constant reminder of the parts of myself that had been taken away. Yet, in the face of our current dangers, even this profound loss felt somewhat distant, another problem to be dealt with later. If we survived what was coming.

Damon's eyes, so like my own, were clouded with frustration and fear. A muscle in his jaw worked as he clenched and unclenched it.

My free hand reached out of its own accord to rest on Damon's arm. I felt the tension in his muscles, coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. "I know it's risky," I admitted, my voice stronger now, fueled by determination. "But we're out of options and out of time."

A wave of dizziness washed over me, making the room spin. I blinked hard, fighting to maintain my composure. My grip on Damon's arm tightened as much to steady myself as to reassure him.

"I need you to trust me. We have the compass. It led us out of the Grove of Whispers, and it will do it again," I told him, each word deliberate and heavy with meaning. "I need you to have my back like you always do."

I inhaled deeply, the air filling my lungs and bringing a renewed sense of purpose. Despite the exhaustion that weighed on me like a physical presence, despite the fear churning in my gut, I knew this was our only path forward.

"We're in this together," I insisted. "All of us."