Chapter 43

RED

T he Chief kneels at my feet, pulls a sticky, pale red thread of hair back from my face. Her expression is soft. Caring. But I don't trust her. Not anymore.

"Oh, Red, sweetie. I'm sorry this happened to you."

"Sorry?" I splutter and blood and spittle spray her chest. I shake my head, my vision blurring as one of my eyelids swells shut.

"You need to drink human blood, it's the only way," she says.

My one remaining eye widens. I'm such a fucking idiot. "You planned this," I say.

"Of course I did. All these trials were planned by Cordelia and I."

I must lose consciousness because I open my eyes to her stroking my cheek with someone new knelt next to her. A young girl who can't be more than seventeen.

"No," I say. "You knew what I was. You wanted me broken so that I would have no choice but to transform. To drain an innocent and become what you and everyone else want."

She mocks a gasp. That manipulative bitch.

"I won't do it."

Her face darkens. "You have to. Or you'll die."

"But at least dying will be my choice, for once. You've taken everything from me. My death is the one thing I can choose."

"Don't be stupid, Red. You have to drain her."

I smile and laugh, it's crackly and filled with bubbles of blood which splatter out in a pretty pattern. "I don't have to do shit."

Every word hurts. Hot pain, ice, wracking throbs that course and sear through my body. My legs, my face, my ribs and my back are all broken.

Sadie appears in my field of vision. She signs at Eleanor. "Give me a moment with her." The Chief narrows her eyes. "Trust me, I can convince her."

"Be quick, her heart rate is dropping. I do not want to lose her," the Chief says and backs away, exiting the ring.

Sadie inclines her head as she crouches down and places her hands either side of my shattered skull. I wince as more bolts of pain lance through me. I black out for a moment.

But it doesn't matter because her words filter through my subconscious. "It's your choice what you do, Red, but I made you a promise. And I always keep my promises. You were never good enough for Octavia. You should have chosen her. You're going to die knowing that all along this was your fault. You hurt the one woman who could have saved you, and now you've ruined her chances of winning the only thing she ever wanted."

"Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

"To you?" She huffs, it's a strange, silent sort of sound, as if there should have been volume and it got sucked away. "So arrogant. So selfish. Even now you think this is about you. You're all the same. Everyone thinks Dahlia and Octavia are the only ones in this fight. That it's brains or brawn that will win. But it's the quiet ones you need to watch. Didn't you read fairytales as a kid?"

I cough, blood splattering the ground. But finally, I pull my eyes open again and take in her face as I ask, "What do you really want?"

"I want what's mine, Red. What I'm owed. And I want Cordelia to pay for what she's done."

"For locking you up? Caging you away for a hundred years? Until you screamed your own voice away?"

She smiles, her eyes razor sharp as they lock onto mine and I can see that this is all it was about. A poxy hundred years in an immortal vampire's life. Gods, could I have been more stupid?

My body relaxes the moment the compulsion slides over my consciousness. Like silk and velvet, it caresses the furthest depths of my brain.

And then my mind unlocks, and I am flooded with a tidal wave of memories.

Surge after surge. Because she did it too. Not only did Sadie only give me half my memories, but she intentionally only gave me half the story.

The night in Elysium rushes back to me. Octavia telling me I was the first human to ever truly look at her. The hours of making love, the way she cradled me and caressed my wound. The way she asked to see me again, the innocence and desperation in her voice.

The moment I awoke from the blood lust. I was awful.

"I've made a mistake. You're a mistake. This was a terrible idea," I say, panic-stricken and thinking only of my sister.

"What? No. We… I thought," Octavia says, her beautiful red eyes filled with wet tears. Bile claws at my throat in real time as all the memories of everything I should have known wash over me.

Octavia has her arms wrapped around her legs as I crawl across the floor next to her. "I'm sorry," I say. "I really am, but I have to look after my sister."

But she can't bring herself to look at me, "You're like the rest of them. What was this, monster kink? Fuck the city villain and tell all your mates about it?"

"It wasn't like that. But I can't. We… Gods, Octavia. I'm not just any hunter. I'm the head of security and you're… Mother of Blood, you're one of the original three. Can you imagine what this would do to me? To my career?"

"To you?" She laughs and yanks her arm out of my grasp. I wasn't even aware I'd touched her.

"Octavia, be reasonable. I saved you, you saved me. We had a good night."

How could I say this to her? Of course it would hurt her.

"You don't get to treat me like meat. You don't get to take a piece of me and then leave. If you don't want all of me, then you can't have any of me."

She rounds on me.

"Please, don't," I beg. "Don't hurt me." Those words ring like déjà vu in my mind, only this time, I have the context.

"Hurt you?" she snorts. "You were meant to be different. All because you looked at me, really, truly looked at me. I'm pathetic. You're no better than anyone else. You're never going to see me for who I am. So fine. You don't need to see me at all."

The memory plays again, just like before the trial. Octavia grabs me by the scruff of my shirt and wipes the night from my memory.

Only this time, I understand.

She's never felt like she was enough. Never felt like she was worthy of anything because no one ever loved her unconditionally.

Until me.

Until I fucked it all up.

Until I took the one thing that meant everything to her.

Memory after memory floods my mind and each one gives me another piece of the truth, the full narrative.

The one I should have always had.

But then the memory of the night Amelia was turned filters through my mind. Though this one plays in reverse, taking me back to early that evening.

To an argument between Amelia and me. I don't remember this.

"Amelia, see reason. I beg you not to go out tonight."

"Lighten up, Red. You're always so uptight. It's a party."

"I don't like him. I don't like his values. You always make bad calls when you're with him."

"Well, it's a good job I'm the one with him then, isn't it? Besides, if anything goes wrong, you're not far away. It's not like you've ever let me have a fucking night out by myself, is it? You always come find me at midnight, like the prisoner I am. It's already eight, how much trouble can I get into in four hours?"

But I'm tired. I'm weary in my bones and in my heart and I can't take it anymore. I've spent years looking after Amelia. I was always the sensible one so she didn't have to be, and tonight I'm exhausted. I want to be free for one night. Free of the worry.

I sigh. "If you go, I'm not coming after you, Amelia. I mean it. We're both adults now. You're the one who begs me to let you live free. So fine. Go. Make your own decisions."

She rolls her eyes at me. "Yeah, yeah. See you at midnight."

And with that she skips out of the house, she doesn't even kiss me goodbye. And I am so fucking tired. I uncork a bottle of whisky and I take it with me in a carriage to find Octavia.

The memory rushes on, we're in the St Clair territory, in one of her mother's spare properties. This one happens to be near Dahlia's mansion. Of course, Octavia paces the cottage, livid that she can hear their antics and the music blaring.

But I decide to take her mind off it.

I distract her the best way I can—with sex and orgasms.

The memory plays on, tugging me closer, closer to the ending I fear is coming. My stomach swills and I'm not sure if it's the fact I've lost too much blood or if it's the anxiety I hold in the memory.

Octavia gets off the bed and pulls her clothes on, her brow creased.

"What's wrong?" I say as she rushes to the window and peers at Dahlia's mansion across the way.

"I… I'm not—" she freezes halfway to pulling on her shirt. "Oh, gods."

I sit bolt upright, already hauling my clothes on. It's then I notice the music has stopped. Only, Octavia has superhuman hearing. If there's no music and she looks this worried, then she can hear something going on.

"Octavia, you're scaring me. What the fuck is wrong?"

Her chest rises and falls, her eyes wider than I've ever seen them.

"OCTAVIA?" I bark.

"Amelia."

One word, and it shatters my entire world.

Octavia is already gone; she's speeding across the small field between the cottage and Dahlia's house. I'm out the door, I don't even shut it, I leave it swinging behind me as I run faster than I've ever run. I pump my arms so hard that goosebumps fleck out over my skin.

Octavia has vanished inside the house, and I want to scream.

I want to pray to the gods to have her speed and strength. Because I swear I'll slaughter anyone who hurts Amelia.

I run harder, faster. I push my body until my throat dries and I'm convinced I'm going to suffocate. Still, I dig deeper, until my vision greys.

It's then that I reach the door, cursing my pathetic human heart for not being able to withstand a faster pace. For not being fitter and stronger. For not being more powerful.

This was the beat. The misalignment from the fragments that Sadie showed me and the altered version Octavia had given me.

This is the truth. I wasn't there for her because I was with Octavia.

I barge through the door. But it's too late. The me in the present recognises that Amelia is already mid-transition.

She rounds on me, screaming and shouting. "YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE. YOU SHOULD HAVE COME FOR ME. YOU ALWAYS COME FOR ME, RED."

She's hysterical, maniacal.

"It's the transition," Octavia says over Amelia's shrieking. "Red, get out. She might?—"

"Transition? NO," I shriek.

I fall to my knees, sobbing and shaking as I realise what's happened.

"What the fuck did you do, Octavia?" I'm screaming, I don't even recognise the shattered voice coming from me right now.

"I had no choice. I had to."

"YOU TURNED HER?" I scream.

And everything crashes down around me. I see stars. I lean forward and vomit. The one person I loved more than anything is gone from me.

All because of one stupid argument. One stupid night of sex meant I wasn't there for the one person who needed me. This is my mother all over again. I failed to save her. I failed to save Amelia.

"Amelia, I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry."

But my sister grabs me by the shoulders.

"This is your fault," she says, and her nails dig into my back. Blood sprays my face as she shakes me and my heart shatters into tiny, jagged pieces.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I should have been there. I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry. Please forgive me."

"Forgive you?" She laughs, high-pitched and shrieking. Then she bends over, dragging me down as she retches and throws up right next to where I did.

She snarls at me. "It's your fault. It was your fault Mum died. Your fault Dad abandoned us. You didn't make it to her that night, just like you didn't make it to me tonight. You're useless. You prance around on your high horse, making out like you're the responsible one, and you've never really looked after any of us."

"Amelia, please," I sob. Every word she says is like a knife to my gut. My heart is splintering as she screams in my face.

I can't take it, everything she says is true. I failed. I'm useless.

Amelia's face shifts and contorts. Her two incisors fall out as new fangs draw down. Her nose flares. She glares at me with nothing but hate. She's going to drain me; I'm going to be the human she drinks to complete her transition.

And I'm going to let it happen because she's better off without me.

Everyone is better off without me.

Amelia's fangs finish descending, and she sinks them into my neck. A blaze of pain so hot it blisters my core, courses through my body, as hot threads rush out of my neck. My sister is going to kill me and I deserve it.

I let it happen.

I want it to happen.

I don't want to be here knowing I ruined everything.

Octavia rips Amelia off me, throwing her backwards.

"Oh, Red," she says, cradling me. I'm weak. But I am also broken on a much deeper level than the blood loss.

I curl into her arms, and I break apart, sobbing. "I should have been there. I should have been there. I'm always there for her. This is my fault."

"No. Blame me. I am the one who turned her. I did this." But her voice is desperate, harried, and I don't believe everything she's saying.

"What happened?"

She explains. She tells me that Dahlia hunted her friends, drained Amelia. And with every word she says another piece of me withers.

I scramble out of her arms. Hysterical. I'm rocking. Screaming. "Make it go away. Make it go away."

"Red," Octavia pleads, desperately trying to get through to me. But I can't hear her, my mind is shattered. Hurt. Desperate.

"I killed them all. Everyone dies because of me, Octavia. I don't want to remember. Make it stop." I lunge for her. Grabbing her and pleading with her.

"I can't." She shakes her head. "I swore I'd never do it again."

"OCTAVIA. PLEASE. I can't live like this, I can't bear it. My sister is everything I despise because of me."

"You despise me?"

"That's… that's not what I meant."

But her eyes drop, the damage is already done.

She pulls away from me. "If I do this, if I take it away it's because you asked me to, not because I wanted to do it. This isn't the right thing to do."

But I'm sat rocking on the floor again. "I killed them. I killed them all. You have to take it all away. Please, take it away." It doesn't matter that I've hurt her. Nothing matters. I can't live with the knowledge of what I've done.

And then… Just like that, everything eases, and Octavia is whispering tales of hate and hurt, truth wrapped in lies. Tales of her betrayal. She played my villain. Gave me someone to hate because that was the only way to heal my mind. To stop the cataclysmic break that was my soul tearing in two.

She took it all away.

All because I asked.

And now, as I lay dying in the ring, Sadie walking away, the truth is finally mine.

And nothing is better because of it.

Everything is worse.

The truth is, I ruined everything, and now I've broken Octavia's heart as well as mine.

Sadie purposely manipulated the memories she gave me. Only showed me the worst bits in order to make me do her bidding. And I may never be able to get Octavia back because of it.

I want to laugh.

I want to cry.

But instead, I lie bleeding, the last vestiges of my life running free in the ring. I'll never get revenge; I'll never get Octavia back and everything was for nothing.

But that's the thing, isn't it. I've been full of moralistic vitriol while I've been in the background, letting everyone else control me. I wasn't in the trenches or fighting on the front lines of life.

I've been sat back, watching all of this play out while I refused to engage with what was happening to me. While I refused to fight back against those pulling my strings.

I was na?ve.

I was a fool.

And now I'm going to die because of it.

My vision spatters with grey. What a joke I am.

How little any of us really know about ourselves until we're facing the ultimate choice: kill or be killed. It's only in that moment that we truly find out who we are.

And here I am.

An old man I recognise kneels beside me, his red cloak soaking with my blood. The kind monk.

Oh no.

No. No. No.

I understand what he's doing. What he's about to do. This is what they wanted. This is exactly where the Chief and Cordelia have engineered me to be.

In front of a crowd of nobles and hunter elders so there can be no doubt. If I drink, everyone will realise who I am. What I am.

I won't do it.

"You have a choice to make," he says.

But I don't want the choice. He offers his wrist to me, but I turn away. If I do nothing, I let my body bleed out. Give up on myself, on Octavia, on Amelia.

Or do I give in to the one thing I've been running from?

Do I embrace who I am?

Accept that this is my destiny.

"You'll die," I sputter.

"We all die someday," he brushes his hand over mine.

I stare at the old monk offering his life for mine. I have to choose:

Do I betray every value I've ever had, take the life of an innocent to fight for Octavia's love? Fight to fix what I've done? To get the cure for Amelia?

Or do I stand by my morals?

Lay down my life to save this believer? Sacrifice myself to make sure no one else dies in pursuit of this cure? Let the door crumble and end all the fighting?

Either way someone dies.

The old man kneels beside me, sliding a knife into his wrist, the sharp scent of iron filling the air as he raises his dripping arm towards my lips.

I grab it, holding it away and preventing it from getting any closer to me. A shooting pain rushes through my hand where I hold him back.

Think, Red.

Think.

But my mind is addled, confused, swirling with delirium and blood loss. My eyes flutter shut. The old man yanks me, forcing me back to consciousness.

I need to decide.

I need to do it now.

Who am I fighting for? This city, Octavia? My sister?

Or me and my morals, my beliefs?

What or who is worth sacrificing everything I believe for?

My body cramps, the blood loss and lack of oxygen making my muscles spasm and draw tight like a dead spider's.

"Red," the monk pleads. "I will die now, no matter your choice. Will you really sacrifice us both?"

I glance up at him, knowing that whichever way I go, this decision will fracture our city. He blinks at me, his skin paling where his wrist bleeds out. His eyes bore into mine, drawn tight and desperate. The same harried desperation screaming through my gut. But there's something else in his gaze, a set determination that I recognise. Because there's only one question left.

Who do I want to save more? Octavia and my sister or myself?

I let that question swirl around my gut, carve its way through my consciousness. It throbs its way through my memories making my head swell and swim as I try to decipher the answer.

"Red," he hisses, this time it's him who sways under my grip.

It's in that moment that I know what I am willing to do. How far I'm willing to push. And what I'm willing to sacrifice.

At last, I've made my decision, and even as the weight of it settles in my gut, and the fog of unconsciousness bears down on me, the repercussions of this moment will change everything.

Nothing is ever going to be the same.

My last thought is: will they forgive me?

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