Aubrey sat in the dim light of her cell, the flickering shadows from the oil lamp playing tricks with the runes on the bars. Her mind buzzed like a cheap radio trying to catch a signal, cycling through plans, contingencies, and maybe a few revenge fantasies. The Echo of Vitality had worn off, leaving her feeling as hollow as a bell after the last chime. She leaned back against the cold, stone wall, stretching her legs out and tapping her fingers against her knee.

If anyone asked, she was bored—bored enough to crack her skull against the wall just to see if it would rattle loose a decent idea.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, not the heavy clunk of the armored goons, but the clack of heels on the stone floor. From the recesses of her mind, an old memory bubbled up, the familiar sound stirring feelings of apprehension and annoyance in equal measure.

They were clipped, precise, and carried the faintest trace of impatience—the kind of walk that said, I’m too important to be kept waiting. She had heard that walk a hundred times before, usually accompanied by a lecture about focus or some pseudoscientific nonsense about harmonics and the delicate balance of magical frequencies.

Aubrey's lips curled into a half-smile, the kind that said she knew the punchline before the joke even left the comedian's mouth. The cell door clanged open, and there she was—Dr. Helena Voss, the grand dame of arcane harmonics, the woman who’d dressed her up in the trappings of genius while tightening the noose around her neck.

Helena's eyes were wide, too wide, and there was a flicker of something behind them—shock, fear, maybe just a dash of guilt. Aubrey could smell it like a dead rat under the floorboards.

"Helena," Aubrey drawled, her voice thick with mockery, "fancy seeing you here. You come all this way just for little ol' me? I'm flattered."

Helena’s hand twitched, like she wasn’t sure whether to grab the silver rod she always carried or to run her fingers through her perfectly coiffed hair. "Aubrey… how? You’re supposed to be—"

"Dead? Yeah, that’s what I heard. Funny thing about death—sometimes it just doesn’t stick." Aubrey’s smile was all teeth, a feral grin that showed just how un-dead she really was. "But I've got to hand it to you, Helena, you did a number on me." Aubrey shifted on the cot, feigning a casualness she didn’t feel. “But I’m tougher than I look.”

Helena recovered quickly, snapping back into that clinical detachment she wore like a lab coat. She didn't respond right away. Instead, she turned her gaze to the two men who had flanked her, each dressed in tailored suits and carrying themselves with the kind of authority that only comes from knowing how to use the pistol tucked into their jacket. They looked like they belonged in a corporate boardroom or a charity gala, not in some run-down basement in a shadowy organization's headquarters.

"Leave us," Helena said quietly. The men hesitated for a moment, exchanging a glance, but Helena waved them off with a flick of her wrist. "I’ll handle this."

They left without a word, their footsteps fading down the hall.

Aubrey leaned forward on the cot, her eyes never leaving Helena's. "So... here we are. What happens now?"

Helena stepped into the cell, closing the door behind her. The door locked with a decisive click. She faced Aubrey again, her expression guarded, her posture rigid.

Aubrey shifted her weight from one leg to the other, an unconscious movement as she sized up her opponent. The fragmented memories rose up like bile in the back of her throat—the tests, the probing questions, the constant needling for more, more, more. She could feel it building inside her, an anger that threatened to spill over if she didn’t keep it in check.

Helena took a step closer, the sharp click of her heels echoing off the stone walls. She looked Aubrey up and down, as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing. "This... this is impossible. I saw your body. You were... gone."

"Yeah, death and I had a nice chat, but we decided it wasn’t working out," Aubrey said, keeping her tone light. "I mean, I didn’t even get a goodbye kiss from you, Helena. Real classy."

Helena’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. "You're different. There's something about you..."

Aubrey arched an eyebrow. "Are you hitting on me, Helena? Because I'm pretty sure I'm not your type."

"No, not like that." Helena shook her head. "The color of your hair might be the obvious change, but your voice, your speech... it's changed as well. Your tone, your cadence, even your choice of words. And there's a... vibrancy about you that wasn't there before."

Aubrey held her gaze, a faint smirk playing across her lips. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Helena ignored the barb. She reached out, as if to touch Aubrey's hair, but stopped short of making contact. "Who are you? Are you really Aubrey Sinclair? Or is this just an Unhallowed wearing her face?"

Hmm. What proof should she offer here? Something personal? Something only she and Aubrey could know? What was the one thing she always told her after those grueling experiments in the lab, when the nightmares chased her out of sleep?

The words came easily, like they'd been waiting all along for this moment: "Well, you know what they say about music and soul..."

Helena stared at Aubrey for a long moment, disbelief etched into every line of her face. But finally, after an excruciating stretch of silence, she spoke, her words little more than a whisper. "How? I watched you die. How is any of this possible?"

"You know who also watched me die? Julian." She pushed off the cot, stalking toward Helena. The shackles rattled with her sudden movement, but Aubrey barely heard them over the buzzing in her skull.

Helena backed away, raising her hands as if to ward off a blow.

"Oh, don't be like that, Helena," Aubrey crooned, advancing on her. The metal links of the chain connecting her wrists tautened as she drew them up, the runes glimmering in the flickering torchlight. "You knew I wouldn't hurt you, not here... not now. That's why you were okay with dismissing your two meat shields. That's why you were okay with being locked in here with me. You're not afraid of me, are you, Helena?"

Helena swallowed hard, but didn't look away. "It's that fear that brought your demise originally, Aubrey. Everyone had feared you, feared the power you wielded, feared what you were becoming."

Aubrey hummed low in the back of her throat, a soft tune that echoed in the stone walls. "And that's why you did it, isn't it? That's why you, Julian, and the other two decided that I was too dangerous to live."

"For what it's worth," Helena said, straightening her back, her posture slowly regaining its strength. "My fear was that... you had outgrown my ability to keep you on the level as you grew. You were... special."

Her gaze dropped to the floor, then darted quickly away again. "Unique," she said softly. "I didn't want to let you go."

Aubrey fought to keep her expression neutral, despite the bitter taste coating her tongue. She lowered her shackled fists and stood up straight, taking a step back from Helena. The rage still simmered there, deep in her gut. But unlike with Julian, it burned cold.

She turned and sat back down on the cot, the chains pooling beside her. "How touching."

"We could've made something beautiful, you know."

She stared hard at her feet, not willing to trust her temper if she met her eyes. Her voice was flat as she replied, "That's what people always say about art... right before they fuck it up beyond all recognition."

Silence stretched between them like spiderwebs, fragile as glass and twice as deadly.

Finally, Helena spoke again. "How did you come back to life?"

Aubrey snorted and shook her head, still focused on the stone floor under her feet. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"No magic known to man can accomplish such a thing." The sharpness returned to Helena's tone as curiosity edged past shock. "You died a human. Elias confirmed it. And yet..."

Bangs of Aubrey's hair concealed the crazed grin that crossed her lips.

Jackpot! A new name. A name of another one of her killers. The name was especially seething to hear.

Elias... Elias, Elias, Elias, ELIAS, ELIAS, ELIAS, ELIASELIASELIASELIASELIASELIASELIAS—

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Aubrey?" Helena prompted when silence reigned.

Aubrey snapped out of her trance, her eyes darting up to Helena. She forced her lips into a smirk, even though everything else in her felt like it was screaming, thrashing against her control.

Calm down! Breathe! Focus on the plan, focus on staying on task! There'll be time later for you to get your revenge and let off some steam!

"Sorry, I just zoned out. That happens a lot these days." Aubrey shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it. What did you ask again? I didn't hear the question."

A crease formed between Helena's brows, a furrow of concern or confusion. Or possibly both. "Killing you that night was the only mercy we could grant you. You were on the verge of turning into an Unhallowed that'd bring ruin to the world."

"Mmm... Yeah," Aubrey grunted, disinterest lacing the words.

Trying to validate her murder with some lofty justification, huh? Typical Helena. Well, let her do whatever she wants, as long as she helps with my original reason for coming here.

"We had to make the hard choice. As you were then and are now, you're a dangerous weapon just waiting to go off at the worst possible time." Helena paused as if to allow that to sink in. "The world is better off without you. And while I'm not one to believe in fate or destiny, it might be best if you remained that way. For the good of us all."

Aubrey's head shot up so quick her neck cracked audibly, the sound echoing against the stones. Her eyes flashed, a sudden burst of anger cutting through the boredom of her features. "Oh yeah? What about you? You think the world's better off without you too?"

Helena hesitated a beat longer than she should have before responding. "That's different," she said dismissively. "What I have done and still do, what I know... it has more value to this world."

Aubrey snorted softly in response, but it came out closer to a snarl. The chain's links chimed as she flexed her fists against the cuffs. "You really believe that, huh?"

"I have to," Helena responded in a whisper, sounding as if it pained her to admit that. "It's what enables me to keep going, keeps me working when all I want is to lie down and die."

"Well... that makes one of us."

Aubrey leaned back on the cot, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing them at the ankles. She couldn't resist tossing Helena a sidelong smirk. "To be honest, this little reunion of ours isn't exactly what I'd call 'enabling.'"

Helena inhaled sharply through her nose and looked away, avoiding Aubrey's eyes. "What happened to you after that night? Marcus and Elias were supposed to dispose of your body."

Yes! Another new name... the last of the four. Marcus.

If only she mentioned their last names as well. That'd make it even easier to find them when the time comes.

"I don't know." Aubrey shook her head. "I don't remember anything after I died."

"And yet, here you are."

Aubrey paused, trying to keep her voice neutral as she replied, "Yeah. Here I am."

There was a long moment of silence between them before Helena spoke again. "I still don't think you're the same person, not completely. Even if your memories survived the ordeal, it wouldn't account for your physical changes or the differences in your mannerisms. Having completely turned into an Unhallowed must have done something to you. Perhaps it's best if we consider you a new individual, one that's only partially based on Aubrey Sinclair's personality and memory."

That struck a nerve deep inside her, even if she couldn't explain why.

This bitch wouldn't know anyways.

Of course she wasn't the Aubrey of this world. She was Aubrey from Earth! The goddamn punk-rock megastar—the most sought-after vocalist in the damn world—with millions of fans across the globe! She was unique! She had risen up against all odds—against the stench of the industry, the bullshit expectations, and all those people who said she'll never make it! And she proved all of them wrong, with the raw power of her voice.

And Helena thought she was some sort of... what? A simulacrum?

Fuck. That. Noise.

It just meant there were two versions of herself. Two souls sharing the same body, with different sets of memories. Didn't they always say how people have alternate personalities or selves locked within their brains? What difference would it make? She just happened to wake up with one that has more vivid memories than the other? Who fucking cares? The important part was she was Aubrey.

And no one—absolutely no one—would take that away from her.

It took all her control to hold on to herself. The buzzing in her mind had turned into an insistent hum, like cicadas in high summer. Her palms throbbed where her fingernails dug into them.

She took a slow breath, willing away the worst of her anger. She let out a short, sharp laugh, but there wasn't any humor in it. "What, like a clone?"

Helena gave her a sardonic smile in return. "Something of that nature, yes."

"Well, you can believe what you want." Aubrey tapped her forehead with two fingers. "But I know I'm who I say I am, and all these memories swirling in my noggin' say the same. The things you did to me... the things others have done to me... the shit I've been through. All of that's real."

The corner of Helena's mouth twitched like she tasted something sour. Then she sighed. "I suppose it doesn't matter right now, does it? The end result will remain the same, whether you are Aubrey Sinclair reborn, or someone entirely different. You cannot be allowed to exist."

Aubrey's voice dipped low, cold as ice water. "So you're going to kill me again?"

"Personally? No."

"Then you're thinking of convincing these Twilight Cabal cultists to get rid of me?"

Helena's silence told her all she needed to know.

"But you know they won't," Aubrey said with a confidence she didn't truly feel. "These lunatics will just keep me here like a lab rat for them to dissect and examine. Kinda like what you used to do... or maybe still do. I saw all those ghouls and that chained-up Unhallowed in the asylum. Don't know if they were patients from before or after my time, though."

Helena pursed her lips and looked away, turning her gaze on the oil lamp that guttered on the table. The shadows jumped and danced along the wall, giving the illusion that they were swaying and writhing around her.

Aubrey leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees, the metal chains clinking softly between them. "Honestly, I don't really care what you and your people intend to do with your experiments," she murmured in an offhand way. "The truth is, we might not be so different, you and me. I understand the drive. It's like me trying to come up with a new song. I get lost in the creativity of it—the discovery of possibilities you can bring into existence."

She raised her gaze until their eyes locked once more. "We just take different paths to reach our goals. I'd say I'm more honest about it though."

The words cut deep. She could tell by the pained expression on Helena's face.

Good. Let this bitch suffer a bit. I wasn't lying—we might not be that much different from each other in terms of personality or desires, but she still murdered me. And there's no turning back the clock for a second chance.

Even if she did feel some sort of kinship, Helena would have to pay for her sins first and foremost.

But... maybe not today. Maybe not here. It would all seem very anticlimactic if she ended it now, without a song—without a stage.

Her element of surprise could be wasted if she let Helena escape and tell the other two what happened. They'd either prepare something nasty for her or go into hiding, making tracking them down more of a challenge.

But maybe that'd make the hunt a lot more satisfying. The thought sent a wicked thrill down her spine. She'd have to wait. Only a little while, at least.

Her head fell back against the rough wall as she gazed up into the darkness above them. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm herself again. She glanced over her shoulder at Helena. "Did you at least like my music?"

"What?" Helena frowned, taken aback by the abrupt change in topic. "Your music? Of course. Your compositions and voice always produced remarkable results."

Aubrey rolled her eyes as she faced the front again. "I wasn't asking about my 'value' to whatever it is you were using me for." She waved her shackled hands absently in the air. "You asked if I wanted to talk, well, there's my question. Did you ever truly enjoy it? It's one of the few things I've ever actually liked about myself, so..."

She trailed off as Helena made a thoughtful noise behind her. Her voice took on that distant, contemplative tone she used during late-night conversations over wine and research papers—usually with Aubrey at her side, listening to orchestral vinyl on some dusty phonograph while trying not to nod off too hard.

Another memory bubbled up like an unwelcome burp: A bottle of Merlot, half-finished, and Helena, her eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep or maybe alcohol. Aubrey hadn't asked which. She had held up a page filled with musical notation, her words slurred with drink and exhaustion, "If we had a full symphony, we'd see an increase of at least forty percent."

Aubrey snapped the memory shut with the ease of long practice. The room was too quiet without Helena's answer yet, even with the faint echoes of whatever was happening somewhere deeper within the Twilight Cabal's compound.

When the silence stretched too long to be normal, Aubrey finally looked over at her. "Well?"

Helena had her head bowed, arms wrapped around her ribs like she needed something to hold her together. When she raised her eyes to meet Aubrey's again, there was the ghost of something genuine there, like they'd shared a piece of themselves without meaning to. But it only lasted for an instant.

"Yes." Helena's voice cracked just slightly as she spoke, "I loved hearing you sing. I always will."

Aubrey huffed, like it didn't mean anything to her. "Thanks." She jerked her chin towards the door. "Now get out, before I decide you'd make a good chew toy after all."

A hint of defiance crossed Helena's features before her posture relaxed. She turned to leave but hesitated, her hand still on the cell door. "Did you already kill Julian?"

Oh right, that detail. She had forgotten about it in the heat of things. Might as well tell her now, so she could prepare herself for what's coming next.

She turned her head to look at Helena over her shoulder, that same unnerving smile from before making its way to her face. "What do you think?"

"You do realize that Elias won't hesitate to do what must be done, right?" Helena said, the words almost sounding like they pained her. "Marcus might be able to talk him out of it for the moment, but that won't last. His fear runs deep."

Aubrey stood slowly, rolling her neck from one shoulder to the other. A few soft pops eased the tension there. She let out a slow, tired breath. "Well then," she said at last, turning around so that her back was against the cell wall again. "That's the bed I made myself. Now go on and enjoy whatever time you have left. Because the next time we see each other..."

She gave Helena a feral grin and spread her arms wide, the cuffs keeping them chained together hanging from her wrists like a set of morbid earrings. "Let's say you owe me a duet."