…hot, so hot…
He pushed it away… Better, but not for long. Slipping again…
—COLD, SO COLD—
He tugged.
—HOT, SO HOT—
He pushed, as hard as he could. He kicked. No shroud. No more shroud.
…pain, so much pain…
—PAIN, SO MUCH PAIN—
Time was an endless ocean of change. He drifted on the waves, was pulled under, struggled, was jerked back up, drifted some more…cold, so cold…and wondered…hot, so hot…if he’d ever find his way home. Home, where was home? The answer eluded him. Too much chatter, incoherent, bothersome. The pain had returned. But not the shroud. Thank you, God, not the shroud.
The ocean vanished in a sudden blink. He saw a cave, he hated caves now, saw himself, how sick and pale he looked, writhing, sweat pouring from him, washing away the blood that coated him, and he saw Victoria, how sick and pale she looked, lying beside him, thrashing, moaning, and he heard her thoughts, all her thoughts from all her life, so loud he couldn’t deal with them, couldn’t listen to them, there were too many memories inside his head, her memories, his own, her pain, his own, more than could possibly fit, and if something didn’t give soon, he would break, break into a thousand pieces and never fit back together.
He wanted the shroud back.
Then there was silence. Calm. They came, but they didn’t last. In the distance, he heard a roar. No, not in the distance. Louder…louder…closer…so close. Inside him. The roar was inside him, filling him up, nearly ripping from his pores. At least the chatter stopped. Hot…he was hotter than before. Burning, blistering, smoldering to ash. Reforming, weaving back together, harder, heavier, still hotter.
“Aden.”
Where was the cold? He wanted the cold to return.
“Aden, please.” The voice blended with the roar. “Open your eyes.”
His mouth was as dry as cotton, his gums and tongue swollen, his lips bruised. His muscles and bones felt like they’d gotten up close and personal with a baseball bat.
“Aden!”
His lids popped open of their own volition. He was panting, still sweating. A wan Victoria loomed over him, her dark hair falling like a curtain around his face. There were circles under her eyes, eyes that were glazed with pain, and she was clutching at her ears, cringing.
Was this a dream? Or had he died and gone to heaven? No, he couldn’t have gone to heaven. He still heard that godawful roar, still felt as if he were on fire, battered and bruised.
“Aden,” she moaned.
He jolted upright. Dizziness hit, then subsided. Pain hit, and remained. “What’s wrong?” The words were slurred, pushed through teeth he didn’t recognize. Through…fangs? He flicked his incisors with his tongue—no, no fangs. He wasn’t sure what that meant. Wasn’t sure what was wrong with him or what had happened.
Oh, he knew Victoria had given him some of her blood. Knew she’d tried to turn him from human to vampire in order to save his life. He hadn’t forgotten the conversation he’d heard. But he didn’t know any more than that. How was he alive if the change hadn’t succeeded?
He wanted to ask.
“The souls,” she said before he could. “I have the souls. Inside me. Talking. Why won’t they stop? And you…you, I think you have my beast.” As if she’d managed to maintain her strength only long enough to issue her confession, she collapsed, falling into his arms.
Unable to process what he’d heard, Aden gathered her close, held her tight. His brain hadn’t sparked back to life yet, his thoughts fragmenting quickly, fatigue beating through him. He eased to his back, taking Victoria with him.
They were alive. That thought was clear. Whatever had happened to them, they were alive. The rest could be figured out later. And whatever changes they’d experienced, whatever they would next need to do, they would triumph; he had no doubt. They’d defeated the witches and the death curse. They could get through this, too. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.
“Don’t let go,” Victoria said against his chest.
He was surprised she had roused, surprised but glad. “I won’t. I’ll never you let go.”
Yes, they had each other, would always have each other. They could handle what came next.
He hoped.