Chapter 12

12

ROMAN

T he blade pierced the device. I felt it malfunction, grow hot and shoot jolts of pain around my chest.

"Fuck," I wheezed.

The dagger was buried up to the hilt, golden sparks spitting around it. I tried to touch it, getting a sharp electric shock for my efforts.

He'd betrayed me. Us. Butterfly was a turncoat.

Man, I should've seen it coming.

I stumbled back, losing my footing. I landed on my backside so hard I was convinced I broke my tailbone. Thankfully, I didn't. Not that it mattered. Any moment now, I'd die. The fact I managed to go through life without a real heart was miraculous enough. Without anything to keep me breathing, my minutes were numbered.

Man, what a way to go—by the hands of that purple-haired prick. He should've been slaughtered first.

"Well done," Ismael said, coming up beside him.

"He is too dangerous, Your Majesty," Butterfly answered, bowing at him.

My body jerked, more sparks fizzing around my chest. Any minute now, I'd black out and be gone.

Right?

Ismael folded his arms. "Clearing up your mistakes, are you?"

More demons circled us, Tanith slithering behind her king.

Past Xavier was nowhere to be seen.

Was he dead like his present self?

"Yes, My King," Butterfly answered. "I wanted to help Roman, to find a way to reverse time to make things better. Even at my own expense. Yet when I saw him kill the intriguing rat, and then his lover, I understood the gravity of this situation. Remembered who I am. I did this for revenge. I did this for a second chance." He held up the jar, the storm inside as vibrant as ever. "I have played with time enough."

"Then destroy it," Ismael commanded, eyes on me.

So much for them being enemies.

Take me back ten minutes, I tried.

The device sputtered, clawing at my chest. No demon died, my power broken.

"It cannot be destroyed, Your Majesty," Butterfly responded. "And I will not risk opening the jar in case Roman is given a chance to use it."

"He still lives," Ismael said. "Stab him again."

"No. It is too much of a risk," Butterfly warned. "I believe his power is now muted. Doing anything else to him may undo that. Keep him alive for now."

Ismael didn't look happy. He gave the order to have my throat cut.

A demon obliged as Butterfly protested. The prick dragged a jagged blade across my flesh. I waited for the pain, to feel my skin slice open, for the blood to gush like a morbid spring. But nothing happened.

The demon grunted and tried again, getting nowhere.

What the hell?

"Kill him!" Ismael roared.

"I'm trying!"

Ismael charged forward, snatching the deadly sharp blade from his minion's hand. He stabbed at my neck, not even making a tiny scratch. Went for my eyes, my belly, everywhere. Nothing landed, didn't even bounce off me. It was like he attacked air.

"Why won't you die?" the king screamed in my face, attempting to gouge my eyes out again.

I winced with each strike, bladder ready to give up. The blows might not be making contact, but that didn't stop them being terrifying. I waited for the moment I turned into a pincushion.

The device fizzed, releasing a series of painful tremors into my bones.

Fuck this. I tried getting to my feet, my limbs having none of it. All I could manage was sitting up, fighting the spiral into all-consuming grief.

Xavier and Darcy were dead. By my hand. Why did I have to be alive? Why couldn't that blade hit an artery? Let me bleed out, suffer the pain, then lights out. No more of this.

I'm done…

"Die! Die! Die! Die!" Ismael's calm aura had completely faltered. His pale complexion flushed with crimson rage, his eyes deadly white flames. He spat in my face, tried slapping me.

No contact. Nothing. Somehow, the device worked to keep me invincible. And Butterfly had triggered it. Intentional on his part? Or was he just as pissed off? I couldn't tell. He watched on without a hint of emotion on his face.

"Allow me to try something."

I gasped at the sound of Xavier's voice. For a moment, hope returned, only to die when the shirtless spider demon appeared. Without my Xavier's scar on his chest, without the love in his eyes.

"You're alive?" I managed to ask. "But?—"

Ismael grinned, stepping aside. "Surprised?"

"The rules are not as we believe them to be," Butterfly said.

Past Xavier cracked his knuckles. "May I, My King?"

Shit. What now?

"Of course, My Love."

"Do not take any risks," Butterfly protested.

Ismael dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Mean Xavier grabbed the handle of the dagger in my chest.

"No!" Butterfly surged forward, only to be blocked by two burly demon kings. "Do not touch the?—"

The spider demon grunted as he yanked, the blade not budging an inch.

Oh. Interesting.

"Slippery witch," he mumbled, pulling again.

Ha! You wish it was slippery.

"What is happening, Xavier?" Ismael demanded.

"I don't know. It won't come out."

"Leave it."

"It might kill him if I can just?—"

"He might kill us if you do. I think we should listen to Butterfly."

Xavier stopped, his face close to mine. For a moment, I held his stare, longing for my version of him to break through and kiss me. Tell me everything was okay, that he didn't hate me for killing him because he wasn't really dead. Just a silly blip, all better now.

Instead, he snarled, "I hate what you did to me."

"Are you in there?" I whispered, fresh tears rising.

He blinked, releasing a shuddering breath into my face. "What did?—"

"Please tell me you're in there." Maybe his present soul would connect with his past one. Merge, make him the Xavier I'd fallen in love with.

He blinked again, his meanness melting away. "I?—"

"Get away from him!" Ismael barked.

The mean vibes returned. He growled. "Disgusting witch." He spat in my face.

The blob of saliva didn't hit, landing behind me.

Huh?

"I will discover a way to kill him, Your Majesty," Butterfly said.

Bingo! Traitor status confirmed.

"Safely," he added. "Without consequence."

Mean Xavier backed away, joining his king. Ismael kissed his cheek.

I want to kiss your cheek…

The demons holding Butterfly released him. "Thank you." He fixed his vile eyes on me. "You are the worst conduit, Roman. If only the original target had survived."

A young witch girl died before the device chose me.

"I hate you," I countered.

"I know. But I am sure you hate yourself more after killing two people you love."

I wanted to vomit then tear his head off his shoulders. "You?—"

"Save your retorts, Roman." He shook his head. "I had planned on wooing the intriguing rat. A true beauty indeed. Alas, he is gone. Because of you."

His words were darts, each one landing a perfect bull's eye. This torment was magma, everything too bright and harsh and cruel for me to live much longer.

But so was my rage. It simmered, ready for me to crank up the heat. I might be muted right now, but I'd find a way to take him out. If I couldn't have love and hope, I'd wrap myself in hate.

In revenge.

No giving up yet. Dishing out death came first.

"I'll destroy you all. I'll—" I stopped myself, having a brainwave.

Could I remove the dagger? Could I end my own life?

The demons laughed together as Ismael crouched before me.

Ugh. His face hurt my retinas.

"Kill us all, witch?" He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "Impossible. This is the end. I will find a way to make you die, even if I drop you into a volcano. Which sounds like a wonderful idea." He clapped his hands together. "Seize him. We are taking a trip to Level 222."

"Hot! Hot! Hot!" a few demons cried, sparking a round of laughter.

But no one managed to lay a hand on me, not even the dagger now. Their hands passed through me.

I was basically a ghost.

Ismael snarled in frustration. "I will not allow you to escape."

We'd see about that.

I grabbed the dagger's handle, channeling my inner King Arthur. Unlike for him, this blade didn't budge. No Sword in the Stone moment for me. It really wasn't going to budge anytime soon. Great. So, what now? I got to spend the rest of my days with it sticking out of my chest? Yeah, that would go down so well with airport security.

Only, there might not ever be such a thing as airports again once these demons spread into Earth. And I'd being going nowhere without the two most important men in my life.

There's no life when you're not here…

I couldn't bring myself to look at their bodies. I tried another wish, sinking deeper into despair. My tears stopped on the outside for the time being. I took my sorrow and spun it into determination. If I was dumped in this life to murder, I'd murder. Hard.

My violent epiphany seemed to work. Warmth flooded my veins, my limbs buzzing with new energy—all without a wish. I flexed my fingers, the device firing off some shocks. Ignoring them, using the pain as fuel to get me on my feet, I prepared to move. A cat ready to strike, these demons a bunch of mice primed for the slaughter.

Maybe one of them would manage to land a killing blow. Fine. I couldn't give a fuck. Just as long as I took out Butterfly first, possibly Ismael second, I'd die a happy bunny.

I'm sorry, Darcy.

I'm sorry, Xavier.

My stupid brain decided to drag me through the key moments of my relationship with Xavier. From rescuing him from those silver-clad human creeps who wanted him to use The Word to free Ismael, to our first night in that French motel, and our date in the conservatory before everything went wrong.

My God, regret sucked. I knew that. I mourned the days I wouldn't get to have with Grandma, regretted not taking her to her favorite supermarket before her health began to fail. Kept making her promises, fobbing her off because of work. I mean, I had all the time in the world to take, didn't I? She was just poorly and she'd get better. My grandma wouldn't die. As strong as an ox, she used to say. And I believed that. Time wasn't my enemy.

Man, how the tide changed.

I'm sorry, Grandma.

I'll forever be sorry.

I shut down all thinking, becoming The Shadow. Alone. Ready to go out in a blaze of glory.

Wait. Where were Margarite and Lizard Guy? They hadn't made a peep and I'd kind of forgotten about them. Did my broken device change things?

I did a quick check, not spotting them.

"What should we do?" Past Xavier asked his king. "He can't even take the blade out himself."

Enjoy the show, did you?

"Try moving him," Ismael ordered a different king.

Hmmm. Was Ismael considered the big boss of the big bosses?

The other demon king couldn't get purchase on my ghostly body.

Tee-pissing-hee!

Ismael huffed.

"This is impossible, My King." Tanith's voice. She pushed through the monarchs, joining her two besties.

Her auburn curls stuck up all over the place, her dark green snake body flexing with scary strength. A real pain in the arse.

I caught a glimpse of Darcy's body. I slammed my eyes shut, patching up the hole in my defenses.

I'm The Shadow.

I'm The Shadow.

"We leave him here," Ismael began. "Seal him in until I decide what to do with him."

Dream on, dickhead!

I sprang to my feet, taking a swing at the king who tried grabbing me and passed right through him. He yelled, I spun, trying again.

Nope. My kick hit air.

Damn.

He came at me, joined by another king. They bumped into each other, me not even a little bit of a filling between them.

"I really am a ghost."

Ismael chuckled. "Indeed, you are." He came closer. "Did you kill him, Butterfly?"

"Fascinating," was all the insectoid wanker could say.

"I'm not dead," I protested.

"Between life and death, then," Ismael retorted. "Undead, if you like." His lips curled up in triumph. "Well done, Butterfly. You have certainly castrated this threat. He is nothing. He is useless. Doomed to exist until his body decides his time is up." The wanker slipped his arm around Xavier. "A slayer of his love. Useless. Nothing more than a wisp of cloud."

No. No. No. He was wrong. I was his fucking doom. Any minute now, I'd take his life.

Butterfly nodded, his eyes scrutinizing me as if under his microscope.

I snapped, my fury exploding out of me as a wail. I rushed him, cursing his name, throwing endless punches, kicks, even a headbutt.

It took me a minute to quit, bending over to catch my breath.

Dead things don't need to breathe! My inner words didn't offer me much comfort.

A chorus of laughter brought my tears back. I felt like a kid at school surrounded by bullies. Sneers and jeers, fingers pointed at me because I'd wet myself after Terry Stamper called me a bad word before punching me in the stomach.

Fuck Terry Stamper. I'd kicked his arse in that same moment, made him piss and shit his pants by the end of it. Landed myself in hot water for breaking his jaw.

"Useless!" Ismael cried, the laughter coming at me harder.

The raging part of me wanted to lose myself in flying fists and kicks, to try anything to land just one blow. But there wasn't any point in that. The other, more rational part of me got my feet moving.

Because what else was there to do?

I walked through the monarchs and their demon minions, feeling nothing as I passed through their flesh.

I battered myself with more words.

Nothing feels nothing.

I'm nothing.

Hopeless and done.

Hopeless and pathetic.

An oxygen thief, a piece of ? —

Hold on. One more card remained up my sleeve. I turned, halfway inside some demon's body, my focus snaring on the time jar. I might not be able to interact with anything else, but what about that? The rules were wonky, confusing, so maybe I could touch it.

Fuck it. I gave it a shot, rushing Butterfly. He jumped back, his shocked expression giving me a spike of joyful respite from the gloom. I loved seeing that panic.

"Roman!" he bellowed.

That time jar was the key. Somehow, I had to crack it and devour the stormy insides. It was my glimmer of hope, a bright spark to keep me going.

I won't let either of you stay dead… I thought at the bodies close to my feet.

Unfortunately, my hand passed through the jar when I rushed Butterfly again. Once again, I felt nothing, not so much as a hum.

The demons laughed even harder than before.

"Pathetic!" Ismael roared.

Yeah. He didn't need to rub it in.

"Give up, Roman," Butterfly said. "At least you get to live for the time being."

Did he really just say that to me?

"Fuck you!" I snapped, stopping myself from ranting about this being his fault. Again. He didn't give a shit, having flip-flopped between regret and kissing Ismael's arse.

Fuck him. Fuck them. Fuck being a ghost. As hard as this defeat crushed my soul, I wouldn't give up. Somehow, I'd get my hands on that time jar. Maybe not today, tomorrow, this week, or even this month. But I would.

I promise…

Falling into a black hole of sorrow did nothing for Darcy and Xavier. It did nothing for the future. Giving up was too easy. I didn't do easy. I liked to fight, I liked a challenge. I mean, I didn't become king of the Sunday Times crossword for nothing.

And I loved. I wasn't pure death, I possessed more layers than that. If I didn't, I wouldn't hurt so much. I wouldn't mourn my grandma every day, I wouldn't have taken Darcy into my home or fallen in love with Xavier.

Yeah. It was love. Everything about him set my pulse on fire. I wanted to make sure he knew that again and again and again. I would confess my love, do more than give us the boyfriend tag. He had to know. He had to see. And when I fixed this, I'd tell him every day how much he'd saved my life in more ways than one. How much he made me see the brightest of stars.

Darcy was the same, in a friendship way. He was also my everything. I loved him just as hard.

I'm getting you back…

The heavy boot of determination pushed my grief face-down in the mud. Awesome. It meant I wasn't done yet. Not so empty, not so useless.

That demon laughter helped galvanize me. I loathed bullies, anyone who kicked someone when they were down. It made me want to give them the smackdown, to wipe smiles from faces, snuff out the smugness. Make them see they were the scum, not me.

Good. This was good. But first, I needed some help. And I knew who to approach first.

Keeping my fingers crossed for the best outcome, I walked away to the sounds of laughter, stepping into a room with a giant computer screen shaped like a tree. A demonic CCTV system, as Xavier said, showing many areas of the demon realm. Not that it meant anything to me. I had no clue how to navigate this place without a map or the demon I loved.

What I did have was the ability to walk through walls.

And so, I did, my tears hot and wild again. I passed through a strange, shimmering darkness until I stepped out into heavy rain in the middle of a residential street.

Back on Earth, Butterfly's dust falling with the rain.

I wiped my tears with my sleeve, drawing a deep breath. Where was I? Still in England? The architecture looked like it might be, but I wasn't exactly an expert on those things.

Man, the rain came down hard, soaking me through to the bone in no time. Great. Can't touch or be touched, but open to a drenching. Hmmm.

Must mean I wasn't dead, right?

Sniffling, I wrapped my arms around myself against the cold and to hide the dagger in my chest. Parked cars choked the street, some warm-looking homes boasting small driveways. It was like one long car dealership showing off its variety of automobiles.

Smoke curled from chimneys, most windows glowing with light behind closed curtains. God only knew what time it was. Possibly early evening.

I missed my dagger and Skele—my device for picking locks. And my phone. Not that I'd be able to use any of them in this state. At least, I assumed so.

I kept to the path, ready to dive into a garden to hide from any walkers braving the rain. But I saw no one, only a few cars driving past.

Alone. Shivering. Craving a pitstop to sort my head out and sharpen my focus.

Near the end of the street, as it curved to the right, I noticed three of the houses were boarded up. Metal sheets covered the windows and doors.

Bingo. This is where I'd crash.

I chose the first house, pausing as I clocked the number. 51, the same as my grandma's house.

Blinking free some tears brought on by my grandma's memory, I checked for any watchers then slipped through the front door into warm, dry darkness.

"Who the fuck are you?" a man demanded.

Shit. I wasn't alone.