Cold. Numb. Rebekah nearly dropped the crossbow as she stared at Harrison, disgust crawling up her back like spider’s legs. How had she never noticed?

  How had he never said?

  What was he?

  Duke Clyde Slate shook his head, the motion continuous, as if couldn’t stop. “No, no. I killed all those monsters. The curse should be dead. I’m sorry. This never should have happened to you.”

  The words chilled Rebekah as she watched the unfolding scene, unable to move, mind moving too slow to truly question. Curse?

  “Put the blade down,” Clyde said, pushing himself slowly off the chair. “I can put you out of your misery. I can end this. You don’t have to keep going like this—”

  Harrison laughed, a bitter, crawling sound rattling around his broken chest. “You think I came all this way for you to fix what you did? No. I’m here to make you pay.”

  He kicked out, sending the man back into the chair with a cry of pain, and sprinted around the room. Rebekah let out a cry, body suddenly unfreezing as he grabbed the little girl by the hair, tipping her neck so far back she cried out in pain.

  Harrison flipped the blade around, setting it to the child’s neck. “You killed my daughter. I’m here to kill yours.”

  Clyde Slate cried out, sliding out of the chair and sinking to his knees. “No, please. She’s done nothing to you! Kill me. It was my mistake. One mistake. Please.”

  Rebekah’s ears rang with the words, repeating again and again in her mind. One mistake. She found her grip on the crossbow once more, hands clammy against the wood.

  “You killed my son,” she said, hardly audible.

  He shook his head. “It was the curse,” Clyde slate, planting his hands against the floor, eyes never leaving his daughter. “A cursed blade, feeding on the souls of the living to sustain the dead. They stabbed me with it. I had to find something else to feed it. Please, this is my mistake. Kill me.”

  A calm settled over her body as Rebekah reached to her sheath of bolts and drew one out, placing it in the crossbow. “Who killed my son?”

  Harrison turned his head, light glinting off his eyes as he looked at her.

  No.

  “You told me he was the monster.”

  She cranked the lever on the side of the crossbow, straining against the weight of it as she fought to load the weapon once more. Why had she fired at the Duke? Of course he wasn’t the one who’d killed her son. Harrison had all the answers. He had a good story, a good plan, a man to kill…

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  And all the while, he was the one who killed her son.

  “He turned me into this,” Harrison growled, lifting his knife. The Duke shied away from it, flinching back from the jagged edge.

  I need to get that knife away from him.

  Baring her teeth, she cranked the crossbow again, muscles burning. She needed time. Needed to kill him.

  “Why?” she asked, raising her voice to a shout. “Why did you kill my son?”

  Harrison didn’t answer.

  “Because…” Clyde breathed hard, panting as he shuffled backwards away from Harrison, pushing his daughter behind him. The girl had grown silent, frozen against the wall as she stared at the man turned monster towering over them both. “Because that blade is cursed, and it’s hungry. Starving. Once it tastes blood, that’s it. You’re done. And if you don’t feed it, it feeds on you. I don’t know what it does if you’re dead.” Horror broke his voice as he stared at the monster he’d created. “Why aren’t you dead?”

  Rebekah cranked the crossbow again. Harrison lunged.

  He shoved his daughter toward the door, croaking out a “run” before taking a knife to the throat.

  The blood immediately stopped flowing, draining into the knife as the hero who’d protected her land her entire life and caused all this pain shriveled into a husk before her eyes.

  One last crank on the crossbow, and the bolt clicked into place.

  She raised the weapon, aiming at Harrison as a final thought flit through her mind.

  I never wanted to be a killer.

  She plunged the trigger.

  Jerked aside at the last second, the bolt sunk deep into Harrison’s hand. He cried out as the weapon dropped, blade clattering to the floor, rattling discordantly against the stained wood.

  She leapt forward as Harrison released an inhuman growl. The moment her hand touched the hilt of the blade, a jolt raced through her body, impulses dark and bitter transforming from a spark to a bonfire. She would burn this place to the ground.

  Harrison leapt across the room, slicing at her with the crossbow bolt in his hand. She staggered back, not in time to avoid a gash to the face. Blood poured down her cheek, hot and metallic, leaving her nauseous as she backed away from the man.

  “No!”

  The girl’s voice caught her attention as she backed toward the door, and her fingers snagged on the back of the girl’s dress. She dragged her close, small body pressed against her knees, one hand entwined in her nightgown, the other resting on her shoulder, blade gripped between sweaty fingers.

  She was bleeding too much. Her energy waned, chest heaving as she pressed it up against the wall. Across the room, Harrison crouched like a caged animal, his eyes wide.

  He pulled the bolt from his hand, throwing it across the room. She flinched even as it hit the ground, clattering to her feet.

  “Give me back the blade and let me kill the girl,” he whispered. “A life for a life. His daughter for mine.”

  Her grip tightened reflexively at the words.

  I could kill her, whispered a voice in the back of her mind. She could kill the girl and use that energy to kill Harrison. That would put an end to it all.

  Wouldn’t it?

  The knife slipped from her grip as she stepped away from the girl. “What am I thinking?”

  Harrison moved, but before he could reach her, she stomped on the knife, pinning it beneath her boot. She wouldn’t let him touch it again.

  “No,” she said, towering over the man, pain pouring from her in waves. It was as though every piece of anger she’d carried since finding her son’s bed empty had evaporated, the bandage over her gaping wounds gone. Now she bled freely, staining the ground around her. “He’s dead. You killed him. That’s enough.”

  She kicked the knife away. “I’m done.”