45. Amber

With a burst of strength,I lash out, catching Lucas off guard and nicking his cheek.

He staggers back, a hand flying to his face, where a thin line of blood—his own this time—wells up.

“Amber,” he growls. “You don’t want to do this.”

“I absolutely do.”

In the split second it takes Lucas to realize he doesn’t have the hold on me that he was hoping for, I dodge out of his way, channel my dwindling reserves of magic, and shoot it in a concentrated beam at the guard standing off to the side.

It strikes him squarely in the chest, sending him flying back into the benches.

He lands with a thud, and I can smell his flesh burning from here. He’s not dead—it’ll take a hit to the heart to do that—but it should be enough to hold him down for a bit.

Lucas lunges at me, dagger in hand, his face twisted in rage.

I dodge to the side, using his momentum against him and throwing him off balance.

He conjures his air magic and throws it at me.

It hits me harder than I expect, given he’s not known for being the strongest magic user, knocking me back a few steps. But I stay on my feet and move with it instead of against it, not allowing it to force me to the ground.

Then, I charge, dagger poised to strike.

Lucas is quick to sidestep and block me with his blade.

Our weapons clash, metal ringing out in the silent night, and his expression twists, his anger morphing into something more dangerous. A determination to end this, one way or another, tonight.

Unfortunately, thanks to the blood loss, my fading magic, and the decades of training he has on me, Lucas has the upper hand here.

I need to do something different. I need to weaken him for long enough to give myself a firm advantage. I need to somehow amplify my magic.

Suddenly, as he comes at me again with his dagger, it hits me.

Metal conducts heat.

If I can get the timing right…

I barely have time to think before his blade connects with mine again. I just gather every bit of my remaining magic and act.

Pouring every ounce of it into my dagger, I transform the weapon into a conduit as fierce and scorching as the heart of the sun itself. My magic courses through the metal, a crackling, blinding light traveling from my dagger into his like a bolt of lightning.

Lucas’s eyes widen as the electric current hits him. It travels over every inch of his skin, trapping him in its deadly hold and searing his flesh.

He opens his mouth to scream, but his body convulses, cutting him off before he has a chance.

And then, as quickly as it began, it’s over. I’ve used the last of my reserves. There’s no more magic to hold onto.

The light dims, and Lucas collapses, scorched and smoking. The remnants of my attack crackle over his skin like residual lightning. I think he burned the wooden planks of the stage beneath him, too.

But he doesn’t turn to ash. Which means he’s down, but not dead.

I raise my weapon, ready to spear it through his heart and end it once and for all.

Right before I can, a scream echoes through the air.

The guard.

The air around him whips into a frenzy, forming a gust aimed directly at me.

With no magic left to counter it and my body weak from blood loss, I’m thrown backward in a soaring arc, landing hard near the back of the stage. I gasp as the wind is knocked out of me, and for a moment, I can’t breathe, can’t think. All I can do is drown in the sharp, jarring pain that radiates through every part of me.

No. I have to shake myself out of it.

I can’t let him win.

Struggling to my feet, I clutch my dagger that’s already out in one hand and reach with my other for the one stored in my boot.

The guard’s upon me in seconds, moving almost too fast to track.

On instinct—and thanks to my training—I dodge, duck, and weave through the air currents he sends my way. My daggers are extensions of my arms, blocking blows and making calculated strikes that nick his skin and force him to keep his distance. Because he might be the size of a football player, but I’m smaller. Faster.

I can hold him off. I can beat him. I don’t have any other options here.

But with each passing second, my muscles scream in protest, and my breaths come in ragged gasps. The ground beneath me sways and tilts with my growing dizziness.

I’m weakening. If I keep this up, I’m not going to win.

Time for a change in strategy.

And so, I stand up, take a deep breath, and let his next blast of air hit me. Hard.

Again, I’m sent flying back.

However, unlike last time, I roll into the fall and recover in a second.

Before the guard can realize what’s happening, I throw one of my daggers at him, aiming it straight for his heart.

The world slows down as the blade spins through the air.

My breath hitches as I wait to see if all those hours of practice are going to pay off.

The guard, still confident in his magic and overestimating the harm caused by his attack, doesn’t see it coming. He’s too focused on summoning another gust, his eyes narrowed in concentration, oblivious to the immediate danger flying at him like a speeding bullet.

The dagger finds its mark, the blade burying itself deep into his heart.

Bullseye.

He just stands there, a statue carved in horror, and collapses to the ground without a sound.

His body disintegrates into ash.

My first vampire kill. Which, somehow, feels like a mix of victory and betrayal. Because with the vampires—with Damien’s clan—I’ve found a second family. A home.

This vampire, however, wasn’t part of Damien’s clan. He was our enemy. He killed Yannick. He was going to kill Abigail, and Cassandra, and me.

I did what I had to do. And I don’t regret it for a second.

Then, there’s movement in the corner of my eyes.

Lucas launches at me, fangs bared, and crashes down on me, slamming me to the ground. He’s on top of me in a second, using his weight and a surprisingly strong gust of wind to pin me down.

I struggle against him, but he’s fueled by rage.

His feral growls sound more like the ones made by zombies than anything I’ve ever heard from a vampire. It’s like my attack fried his brain, turning him into something more ruthless than he already was.

Time slows around us. I push, and push, and push, but his teeth are an inch away from my neck and getting closer by the second. I try to call on my magic, but it’s an empty well. There’s nothing left.

Just as his fangs are about to pierce my skin again, an eerie howl fills the air, sending chills to my core and making the hairs on my arms stand on edge.

Shadow souls.

They’re here.

They’ve found me.

And I know with sinking certainty that everything I’ve worked for these past few weeks has all come down to this.