Gabriel's chains dragged on the flagstone floor as he shifted, his wrists bleeding, his breathing ragged. The air in the dungeon was damp, thick with the odors of mildew and rust. Ghosts of shadow danced on the walls, formed by the dim, guttering torch in the corner.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the raw flesh burn, the metal biting into his bones. He had been here too long, felt the cold seep into his skin, heard the distant screams of the others who never made it out.
Not me. I'll make it.
He closed his eyes, picturing Margo. Her tear-streaked face, her trembling hands. The way she had looked at him as they tumbled through the portal, as she whispered his name in fear and defiance.
"No," he whispered to himself, the word barely a breath. "I'm not leaving her."
A groan. The door at the opposite end of the cell block groaned open. Three guards stepped in, their faces hidden behind bone-white masks. Their footsteps were slow and heavy.
Gabriel's muscles tensed, coiling. He waited, his gaze on them as they approached, their black cloaks rustling against the cold stone.
One guard drew back his chains.
Gabriel moved. He clutched the chain, sweeping it in a single smooth motion around the first guard's neck. The guy gagged, hands clawing at the metal, eyes straining behind the mask. Gabriel whirled and snapped the vertebrae, the weight thudding. He spun around and kicked the second into the chest, the second bouncing into the third.
Blood was sprayed up against the walls as he crushed the first guard's skull against stone, and parried a knife slash by the second. He trapped the blade, spun it inside out, and jammed it into the guard's belly. Heat flowed over his hands, the man gasping as his knees gave way.
The third guard quaked with fear. Gabriel smiled—a cold, bloody smile—and plunged. They hit the ground, and Gabriel slammed the man's head against the stone over and over, until the mask cracked, and blank, blank eyes flashed with extinguishing light.
Silence.
Gabriel lurched away, gasping, blood falling from his fists. He regarded the bodies, their contorted forms, and released a ragged breath of distorted satisfaction.
"I'm coming, Margo," he whispered.
He ran for the stairs, his bare feet slipping on the slick, bloodied stones.
As he reached the stairwell, another figure emerged from the shadows—tall, muscular, eyes gleaming with a familiar fire.
"Mike."
His brother's lips twisted into a crooked smile, his blade catching the torchlight. "You're not going anywhere."
Gabriel snarled and attacked. They clashed, flesh to flesh, bones crushing. Mike slammed him into the wall, hot breath on his ear. "You think you can just walk away? After all this?".
Gabriel punched Mike's jaw. Bone cracked. Teeth flew off the steps.
Mike's body went limp, sliding the rest of the way down the steps to the cold floor below, gasping raggedly, consciousness flickering.
Gabriel stood up, cradling his side, agony flashing through his ribs. He kicked the heavy iron door closed, the clang ringing through the stone passageways, imprisoning his brother.
Panting, he ran down the final corridor, bursting through the wooden doors out into the open air. He felt the sharp wind cut into his cuts, the moonlight burning into his bloody flesh.
Sally's mansion towered over, its many windows aglow with a bilious yellow light. But Gabriel didn't glance back. He staggered through the gardens, leaves slicing into his skin like warnings, branches grasping to drag him back into darkness.
Margo's eyes flung open. She sat upright in the huge, vine-covered bed, gasping for air.
The door groaned. Sally floated in, legs dangling, eyes empty and sparkling with a thread of cunning light. The animals in the corner—the snakes, the ghosty-white, blind birds—rose facing, all heads twisting to Margo.
"Don't scream," Sally said, in a voice like an old blade.
Margo stepped back, her heel catching on a root, her heart pounding. The birds flapped their wings, spitting. The snakes moved in, their tongues lashing out in excitement.
Margo ran to the window, trembling as she clutched the sill. She looked down—two stories, bone-shattering height.
Then she saw him.
Mike stood outside, his head thrown back, his bloody face a crumpled mask of desperation. He waved at her, his arm waving wildly.
"Jump!" he mouthed, his voice barely louder than the screaming.
She took a deep breath, then slammed her shoulder into glass. It shattering, its shards cutting her skin as she tumbled out. She tasted the wind rip past her, the cold night air cut through her flesh.
Arms clasped around her.
Gabriel's face appeared, eyes wild, blood still drawn across his cheek. "I've got you. Come on."
He guided her toward a metal ladder leaned against the side of the house. They went down, Margo's bare toes slipping along the chill metal rungs. The woods stretched out before them, a fence of black lines and whispering leaves.
"Run," Gabriel gasped, his fingers locked with hers. "Don't look back."
They vanished into the forest, shadows closing in on them.
But above, in the broken window, a figure stood waiting, her pale face contorted with fury.
Mara had witnessed it all. And this time, she wasn't being left behind.