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Slade was slow in her descent. Lomos had already reached. Although he shifted and picked up his crying son, he carried the boy, refusing to approach Margarite’s body.
As soon as Slade touched down, she brought her hands to her face. Margarite hadn’t deserved this. No one deserved this.
Lomos was in tears once he built up the courage to approach. “Mar.” He fell to his knees, his face buried close to his crying son.
Blood everywhere, Margarite lay back with eyes wide and empty.
Slade struggled with something to say. This was Trixie, that was Trixie.
When she finally opened her mouth, nothing came out.
This isn’t the worst of it, Legion warned.
“What could be worse?” Lomos wailed, “What could be worse than this?”
Slade touched her own lips, shocked that she’d spoken Legion’s words. Something was happening. She couldn’t even notice that she’d talked.
A car came to a halt and moments later, Manny stopped beside them. For once, he had nothing to say.
Instead, he crouched down, examining the body. “The harpy did this?”
His genuine shock was met with silence.
When he looked up to Slade for guidance, she blinked back tears. It was then that she felt the dried blood on her cheek and chin, first from the dwarf, then the centaur. There was no telling how long the runes would last or if they were enough.
“My Legion said stand back,” Manny said, rising to his feet. “But I don’t know why.”
Margarite rose to her feet, eyes still hollow. When she blinked, she regarded them in confusion.
A shadow fell over her and Slade gasped at the sight of the hole in her chest closing.
“What? What is this?” Lomos stood as well, hopeful. “She’s not dead?”
With considerable effort, Margarite turned her head to cry out to him. “Lo, something’s got me.”
Once Margarite was on her knees again, her arms raised up. A pale figure approached her. The angel. But not...an outline of her. It resembled a ghost or a phantom.
It was translucent but moved exactly the same as Trixie. The actions echoed that of moments earlier—she held Margarite’s face, guided her to stand, and rammed her hand through the woman’s chest before tossing her body.
Lomos stifled a sound.
Manny extended his arms and guided them back. “Wait. Don’t say anything, and don’t interfere.”
“Don’t interfere? She’s killing her—”
“She’s already killed her,” Manny concluded. “But she didn’t remain that way.”
Slade looked at him, hopeful, “Because she needs human blood?”
Her brother shook his head. Margarite fell at his feet, body sprawled out exactly as she’d been when he’d first arrived.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
They stood on that hillside, watching Margarite’s body rise, her wound heal and the phantom angel kill her yet again. No one understood it but the suffering was clear.
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“She feels it each time,” Slade said. “It’s like she’s on a loop.”
Manny surprised her by crouching to examine the undead Margarite when she lay on the ground.
It was then that Slade recognized Trixie’s jacket he wore.
As strange as that was, the scene replaying itself concerned them.
“It won’t stop,” Lomos quieted his son but wore a look of woe as he watched on. “She’s in pain each time.”
“Do you know Sisyphus?” Manny asked.
Slade tore her eyes off Margarite’s agonized gaze. “What?”
“Look at her. This is magic, and it’s repeating.”
“For how long.”
Manny cocked his head and said, “An eternity?” He looked up at his sister and laughed. “This is rather amazing, isn’t it? All this time, we have this sniveling servant. And she was quite literally the harbinger of death right under our noses.”
Slade kicked him in the face. “You dumb fuck! This isn’t amazing, cool, or fucking fascinating.”
Having landed on his back, Manny opened his eyes and looked up at her.
She readied for him, expecting an immediate attack. Instead, her brother sat up and watched Margarite rise yet again.
Screams carried from the distance and Slade rubbed her face. “You wanted to pick a fight with a god, now look where we are.”
Manny lumbered to his feet, the egg still securely on his torso.
“Well, can’t say we’re not going out in style.”
“Sir....” Lomos met him, tears in his eyes when he pleaded, “This is a rune—this is magic keeping her in this endless loop. You—you said that egg could absorb runes. Could you...could you put her out of his misery?”
Margarite’s cries morphed into, “Please, no. No, no, no!” when her body rose up and reformed of its own volition. She wasn’t addressing Lomos’s words but in fact pleading to the heavens not to be remade and cut into once more.
Even Manny observed her, saying, “I think it does kill her. Look. You can see when the light leaves her.”
Slade turned to perhaps strike him again but his expression spoke of seriousness. They watched on again, Slade forcing herself not to look away at the impact.
Margarite did die. Again. And again. And again. Each time, the wound got bigger, and each time, her pitiful cries came sooner.
“Do it,” Slade begged her brother. “Try the egg and see if it will stop this.”
“Are you certain that is wise?” Manny looked at her. “Because this is a death played out endlessly. I do not think she can recover once the rune’s absorbed. Everything in me says that if this rune magic fades, the next death will be a proper one.”
“Do it.” Lomos didn’t look up from the blood on the ground.
Manny fished the egg out and sighed. “Very well.”
“Wait.” Slade glanced from Lomos to her brother. She didn’t want to entertain false hope but she had to. “Can we try to save her?”
“How exactly?” Manny asked, annoyed. “Do you happen to have an angel expert safely tucked away?”
“No. Just...can you absorb the rune before she’s killed?”
Manny eyed Margarite’s death yet again. “That would have been easier five minutes ago. As you can see, the phantom angel no longer approaches. It’s just there now.”
The span of time from rejuvenation to painful demise shortened. As Manny surmised, the next cycle had Margarite and the phantom closer together. There was no advance or touching of her face, just a hand at her chest.
When it shoved through, Margarite fell then rose immediately.
“Now!” Slade called.
Manny held the poor woman’s head, eyes closed as he whispered the incantation. But the phantom’s hand was already at Margarite’s chest. It thrust and faded.
Margarite collapsed to the ground in the pool of her own blood. Lomos shoved the baby into Slade’s arms and rushed to hold his lover’s face.
Once he rooted up her shirt, he sagged back. Four dots, red and searing, indicated the fingertip marks outlining where her injury would have started. Otherwise, her body was intact.
Lomos held her face. “Mar. Mar!”
Two brown eyes opened. At the sight of him, Margarite curled into a ball, crying. Never had Slade heard a grown woman bawl like that. It answered all questions of whether or not she remembered each death. Everyone of them appeared worse than the last.
She was alive at least, and Lomos wrapped his naked body around hers, genuinely thankful.
“Sovereign, I owe you...I owe you so much.” Lomos patted the woman’s shoulder one last time before standing to pick her up. “If it’s all the same, I’ll return to the manor. Then I’ll come join the fight.”
“No,” Manny said, surprising them. “I don’t want the angel to know we can neutralize her. Keep to the manor. I still need Louis III. Now you’ll have no quarrels when I come for him. Correct?”
Silent, the brigade captain lowered his gaze.
Margarite was inconsolable when Lomos put her into the limo. He returned for the child and Manny caught his arm before he could take him.
Their eyes met and the vampire said, “You run, you even think of running, and I’ll make it my single mission in life to find you and put back that rune on her any way I can. Are we clear?”
Stunned, Slade opened her mouth to protest but words failed her. That was the woman Manny once loved and if he could find no compassion for her now, there was simply none there.
“I understand, sir.” Lomos waited, and when he was allowed to retrieve his son, he bowed low then hurried back to the car.
The tires cried out as he turned sharp, heading back to the house as promised.
A time or two he nearly shifted while driving. Slade concluded that was his brain realizing that any attempt to leave now with a shocked lover and baby, would be an impossible task for a wolf. Each swerving of the car on the road grew shorter until it steadied and he could drive on. He was on board. There was no running for him. His loyalty was solidified.