CHAPTER 55: PICKING UP THE PIECES
“That need of theirs to dominate, to rule; it shows how cowardly they all are. Vampires seek control over everything around them because they think that makes them safe. Fools, somehow they live for centuries and forget a lesson most of us learn as children. You can’t control everything, or even most things, just yourself. But that doesn’t stop them from trying, and Gods help us all survive their efforts.” - High Templar Abram of the Silver Shield Order.
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Cole stared down at the wriggling husk that had once been a holy warrior. Fragments of scorched bone and green sparks followed the Dullahan like a slug’s trail as it hauled itself over cracked stone. Without arms or functioning legs, the headless hunter still moved towards Cole, driven by the implacable magics animating it. The wretched sight proved a keen reminder of how dangerous the creature was. Once a Dullahan’s flames had tasted someone, it could track them across continents; stopped only by true death or if they moved too far from their skull.
Great-axe drawn, Grettir moved closer to the headless hunter, a rough whisper escaping the werewolf. “Is…is that a jagging Dullahan.”
Nodding, Cole circled around the remains of Marcus, watching as it tried to reposition itself in his direction. Feeling the burns upon his skin, Cole knew he was the Dullahan’s target, it had been commanded to kill him and tried to fulfill those orders even in its broken condition. Despite Cole’s promise, he’d been unable to free the former Pankrator in battle, and would need to call upon another’s aid.
Glancing at the tower and the golden light shining from inside it, Cole asked. “Do you think Sera Deborah could free him?”
Grettir seemed momentarily bemused by Cole’s use of the honorific afforded to the Seraphilim. “Maybe? That sort of thing is more your territory I’d wager. But sunbeam always has secrets up her over-sized sleeves; perhaps she can do something.”
For not the first time, Cole wondered how someone like Grettir ended up the bodyguard to a living saint like Deborah. Drawing his knife and feeling for his power, Cole slowly approached the desecrated remains. The magic barely came to Cole’s call. Helping Mina destroy the Reaper’s shard cost him much of his strength, and what little remained was further hollowed out by his terrible physical state. He really would need to ‘reset’ himself a few times in the near future to be anyway useful, and the debacle that entailed was more than daunting. Still, a faint silver glow escaped the edge of Alia’s gifted knife even without the prayer beads. It was a paltry showing but considering the Dullahan’s state and Grettir’s presence, it should be enough.
With an armored boot, Cole rolled Marcus onto his back and prepared to drive his knife into the Dullahan’s partially exposed spine. But before the Paladin could further cripple his unwilling enemy, a grating voice punctuated by cracks issued from the damaged bones. “Paladin, wait!”
Even distorted by death, Marcus's words carried a frantic energy. Hesitating, Cole frowned, not expecting enough of the old soldier to be intact for such a plea. The flames around the Dullahan’s neck grew the tiniest bit, a vague impression of a face visible in the dancing sparks. “Wolfgang has fled?”
Cole nodded and then, considering what he spoke to, said. “Yes, he did.”
The green motes composing Marcus’s visage grew brighter. “Did he capture the stone? Or…or your paramour?”
It seemed Marcus wasn’t aware of Isabelle or her importance; something Cole wasn’t going to rectify. “No, he ran when the battle turned against him.”
A laugh like wet wood popping in a fireplace escaped the Dullahan, the sound going on longer than living lungs would allow, turning sinister with length. Clearly disquieted by this, Grettir brought his axe to bear, ready to splinter what remained of Marcus. With a gesture, Cole told the werewolf to pause, something about the way Marcus asked these things felt… familiar. As his laughter finally died away, Marcus asked. “Tallclaw, Shortooth, they are both dead?”
When Cole confirmed this, another bark of crackling laughter escaped the mad rattler. Shifting slightly, so the spark-voids he called eyes met Cole’s, Marcus said. “As the sole loyal survivor of this expedition, I am bound to Duke Umbria’s word. He commanded me to assist Lord Aloyius Wolfgang in acquiring the sage stone and eliminating the Homunculus Knight. With Wolfgang failing those tasks and acting against my liege’s interest, another duty falls to me.”
Grettir grunted in surprise at the oddly clipped, nearly contractual nature of Marcus’s words. Cole simply stared at the Dullahan, realizing his earlier hunch was correct. Marcus hadn’t been totally broken like most undead servitors of the vampires. They’d not hollowed the former Pankrator out, instead leaving his memories, personality and sense of self intact, or at least mostly intact. Cole didn’t know why Marcus was spared the mind-rape most sapient undead suffered before being drafted into service; but he could appreciate the effects. Given the opportunity, Marcus had helped Cole in his duel against the strigoi, undermining them via blunt obedience. Now, alone and broken, the Pankrator was seeking another such opportunity.
“Aloyius Wolfgang fled the field of battle after squandering multiple opportunities to achieve his goals. He is a craven, a deserter, and unworthy of his blessed blood. As Duke Umbria’s loyal servant, I am tasked with locating and executing Wolfgang before he can do more harm to my liege or his own sire,” said Marcus, continuing in the flat tone of a barrister at work.
Those words hung in the cavern, their meaning soaking into Cole’s pain-addled brain. Once the parts of him still functioning sorted through the implications, Cole almost smiled. If the Dullahan’s words could be trusted, then by absconding with Isabelle’s skull, Wolfgang had betrayed his master, Duke Umbria. An act that engendered reprisal in the form of a headless hunter. The half-smile on Cole’s face grew as a mad-idea came into being.
With trembling fingers, Cole pulled the rib he’d collected from Wolfgang’s ‘scraps’ and held it out before the Dullahan. “If you were to burn one of his ribs, could you track Wolfgang?”
Marcus stared at the cracked bone for a moment before saying “No.”
The freshly rekindled sparks of hope died within Cole, his shoulders slumping as the miracle he sought was snatched away. Then, with a wet pop, Marcus said. “But I don’t need to. I’m already bound to him. He’s roughly forty kilometers east of us.”
Cole dropped the rib in sheer surprise, staring at Marcus, not knowing what part of this revelation he should be most shocked by. After a moment, he decided the incredible act of teleportation could wait. “Of course… You’re bound to his skull instead of your own.”
A Dullahan was intrinsically connected to their skull, but some of those properties could be transferred to another with the correct rituals. While Duke Umbria held the original bone relic and with it Marcus’s collar, the metaphysical leash binding him to the skull had been given to Wolfgang. That meant Marcus could not stray too far from Wolfgang and would always know where to find him. Damaged as he was, the Dullahan couldn’t hunt his former charge, but he could guide others to Wolfgang. The ruined husk of bone and fire lying before Cole wasn’t his foe any longer; now he was his compass.
A thought forced Cole to temper his growing hope. During the fight, Marcus seemed eager to die. What changed? Cautiously, he said. “We might be able to free you, Pankrator, as I promised. Why do you want to help us hunt Wolfgang, instead of ending your suffering?”
The Dullahan was silent for a long moment before saying. “I haven’t earned my death yet; too many sins rest on my shoulders. Now that I can’t hurt anyone else, there are other priorities than my liberation. Wolfgang… he… he gave me orders that must be answered for.”
Brittle iron entered the broken Pankrator’s voice. “I will face judgment, that is certain, but not until the Black Fly faces his.”
Cole could imagine what horrors the bound Marcus must have been forced to perpetrate. “Alright, I will take you into my custody and use your link against Wolfgang.”
Grettir shifted uncomfortably. “Is this a good idea? I know our motley band already has multiple crimes against nature among it, but he’s under the enemy's control.”
Marcus made a grinding noise of agreement. “The magic binding me is potent, even if I’ve managed to… twist it for now. I’m also not a threat, damaged as I am. Even if I wasn't, my strength is paltry with Wolfgang so far away. It's taking all I have to speak with you, and will continue to do so until I’m closer to that cur.”
The Dullahan put a strange emphasis on his words, conveying a deeper meaning Cole could guess at. Marcus was playing a dangerous game, dancing between the lines of whatever orders he’d been given. For now, Marcus could help them hunt Wolfgang, but if circumstances were to change, the power controlling him would force a betrayal. Crippled and captured, the best the Dullahan could serve its master was guiding another to execute Wolfgang. Yet that would change the moment a better opportunity presented itself. Marcus would be powerless against the bindings if the chance to claim the sage stone presented itself.
Kneeling down, Cole pulled his prayer beads from a pocket and said. “I understand; I won’t let you harm anyone else.”
Working quickly, the Paladin pulled apart the remnants of bone plate, exposing Marcus’s twitching spine to the cool cave air. Emerald embers slithered up and down the ivory column, crackling their displeasure as Cole cut the spine free. Like some armored serpent, the vertebrae thrashed in Cole’s grip, the green sparks furious insects trying to sting him. Carefully, Cole wrapped the prayer beads around the spine, watching the Dullahan’s fire dim to near nothing as bitter cold soaked into the bone. Examining the now quiescent spine, Cole nodded to himself and marked the bitter irony of all this. He was trading a lover’s skull for an enemy’s spine.
Another surge of the deep fear and fury that consumed him before pulled at Cole’s mind, but he pushed it down. He’d failed Isabelle again, that terrible truth and the emotions it entailed were too much for him. Shaking his head violently, Cole set his eyes on the tower. Falling apart wasn’t the answer, helping those he could was. Yes, he needed Natalie; he needed to go to her and apologize.
Spine in hand, he approached the tower, then after a moment's pause he looked left and realized his duty wasn’t done. Ignoring Grettir’s confused questions, Cole went to the pile of sun-baked soil and bone that had once been the two demons. Examining the stretched and mutated skull that once had been Ranger Olkar before his post-mortem possession, Cole sighed. Running burnt fingers along the warped bone, Cole shut his eyes and felt with other senses. Olkar’s soul still clung to the bones, having been ‘shielded’ by the demon's banishment. Calling upon his dimmed power, Cole let holy magic flow into the skeleton, snapping the brittle connection between corpse and soul. A vague sense of confusion, fear and faint gratitude wafted through the Aether, tickling Cole’s worn mind. Nodding to himself, Cole used his dagger like a trowel, digging into the soil, hunting for whatever remained of Masga. The poor Bonekeeper had been right to fear the undead, just not the right ones.
Finding a few putrefied strips of flesh, Cole focused his power again. As he did, his stomach twisted into knots as the sixth sense granted by Master Time reported something disturbing. Masga’s soul was badly damaged; pieces of him had been ripped away, leaving a tattered remnant. Hanging his head in defeat, Cole freed the scraps and let them fade into the Beyond with a whispered apology. The demon had partially digested Masga, tearing parts of his essence away like meat off a bone. Setting his jaw, Cole stood up, feeling a sense of shame add to his already tumultuous emotions. Another tragedy created by his compounding failures. If he’d been stronger Masga might have lived, if he was stronger Isabelle wouldn’t have needed to act, if he was stronger she’d never have been taken and bindings upon the demon would have stayed intact.
Squeezing the knife so hard its handle squealed its displeasure, Cole approached the tower; his heart a storm of pain and loathing. Entering with a silent Grettir following behind him, Cole found Mina and Natalie sitting together, both looking exhausted. Yara hung in the nearby shadows, watching as Deborah worked her magic upon the most grievously injured. Elsewhere in the chamber Cole saw patches of ash and bleached bones that had once been mutilated trolls now freed by the Seraphilim. Cole’s arrival was greeted with pregnant silence, and the Paladin knew many difficult conversations were due before the night was out.
Meeting Natalie’s concerned gaze, Cole shook his head as he walked over toward her. “Wolfgang escaped. Someone or something helped him take Isabelle.”
Eyes wide Natalie scrambled to her feet. “How!? If the tunnel collapsed on them then-”
Only then did she see the spine dangling from Cole’s hand and the dim sparks visible between its vertebrae. “The Dullahan? You captured it? Why?”
Holding out the length of bone, Cole sucked in a breath. “Pankrator Marcus is dead, probably killed by whatever happened at Harmas. Duke Umbria had him reanimated as… this.”
A sharp gasp escaped Mina, and Deborah stepped forward, golden power gathering about her form. Staring at the spine, the angelblood’s voice was tinged with sadness. “That is a terrible fate; I don’t know if I can break the curse but I’ll try.”
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Shaking his head, Cole explained. “Yes, eventually; but for now he’s agreed to help us track Wolfgang. Umbria bound them together and ordered Marcus to execute Wolfgang if he failed or betrayed him. The magic binding Pankrator Marcus tells him this ‘Black Fly’ is to the west. I’ll pursue him and recover Isabelle while you take the stone to Fort Erdom.”
Natalie bristled. “No.”
Cole had known this was coming. She’d not want to be separated, but too much was at stake. “Once the cure is at Erdom you can find me, we’ll figure out a way to track me and-”
Glaring at him, Natalie said. “No! We aren’t going to Fort Erdom. Besides, judging by what Master Time told Mina, I can guess where Wolfgang is.”
Coming up to Cole, Natalie conjured more of her craft-mark fire and jabbed his chest with one cold-blued finger. “I love her too and I’m not letting you run off alone to a jagging undead city without support. Besides, my uncle owes me for a long list of crime, Isabelle’s abduction being just the most recent.”
For a long moment, Cole stared at Natalie, trying to understand if he’d heard her correctly. “What?”
Natalie pursed her lips. “Well, it's a good thing we just got done putting all the parts of this disaster together.” Turning her focus, she added. “I suppose you should go first Mina, but if talking about the geas is too difficult, I’ll start.”
Eyes wide, Cole sputtered. “What?!”
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After twenty minutes, the repeated and revised account of events was laid out for Cole. As he added his own part to the absurd chronicle, Mina was relieved to know for certain she hadn’t pulled the knife from him. Voice apologetic, the Paladin explained his actions. “I feared the knife would… nghh, slow my resurrection or interfere with my mantle. I’m sorry for the…Ahh! the suspicion I accidentally cast upon you.”
Seated next to Natalie, Cole was being slowly peeled out of his armor with Deborah’s help. Mina could only watch with dull horror as ruined plate and burned arming wear was removed. Only the Seraphilim’s intervention prevented large sections of scorched skin from being peeled free as well. Again, Mina’s impression of a cooked corpse was validated as more of Cole was exposed. Deborah’s magic helped wash away the absolute worst of the burns, but they still left large red and mottled patches weeping pus and blood. Despite his horrible condition Cole listened intently and joined the conversation without much issue. Somehow that more than anything pushed the fact of his inhumanity into Mina’s mind.
Shrugging at his apology, Mina wanted to look away as a grim-faced Natalie and disturbed Deborah worked; but morbid curiosity stopped her as toxic silver rub and other slightly less worrying unguents were applied to his myriad wounds. Eventually, one of the questions that had been bubbling in her mind broke free as Cole winced while a few strands of leather were pulled from an abrasion. “Why hasn’t anyone noticed what your soul is before?”
Letting out a shaky breath, it was Cole’s turn to shrug. “Some have; horses and the Bonekeeper Seohal Tinfoot for example. But I imagine my emotions and mantle hide it most times. With the stargent knife in, me and my mind… frayed by everything, I guess my nature was more visible to those looking.”
Digesting this, Mina decided there was no point hiding from the next question, the one that burned in her gut like a hot coal. “Why didn’t you tell me? If Morri and Glynn know what you are, then why keep it a secret from me?”
From a corner, Yara scoffed, and Natalie shot the thrall a warning glance. Mina truly disliked the red-headed woman and was nostalgic for when she’d been a timid shadow. It was bizarre that the thrall had become so brazen after nearly being eaten by Natalie. Refocusing on Cole, Mina saw tired sadness in his eyes then.
Licking cracked lips the Homunculus said. “I’d been debating telling you since we started, but could never find the moment or will too.”
The conversation she’d had with him on the road to Turul’s Tomb suddenly made much more sense. Crossing her stiff arms, Mina waited as Cole tried to pick his words. “But, I don’t like telling people if I can. My nature is a valuable secret that endangers those who know it.”
Chewing her tongue, Mina thought about that. He had a point; the Duchies were built upon the lengths people would go for a false blood-tinged immortality. Nations had burned for secrets less valuable than Cole’s nature. As that thought filled her head, a God’s request echoed with it. Master Time wanted her to help Cole retrieve Isabelle, and the full stakes of that task were becoming clear. Wolfgang was clever enough to make the jagging plague from Isabelle’s surviving notes. Mina shuddered at what he might do with the vampire herself.
Rubbing her eyes, exhaustion soaking into her bones, Mina asked. “Well, what now? I know we are headed for Harmas and whatever nightmare it’s become, but before that; is there a plan?”
Deborah nodded. “We ought to take a day to rest and regroup. The injured should be safe to transport to Azyge by then. Once there, we can plot out our next step. Harmas is our eventual goal if we are to end this war; and perhaps save the former Countess. I don’t know why Master Time thinks this Wolfgang will be in that cursed city but the Dullahan’s words vindicate him”
Upon her mentioning of the wounded, Mina’s eyes flicked to where Alia and the others lay in healing comas. Mina felt a lump grow in her throat. She desperately wanted to speak with her girlfriend, to explain all that had happened and beg forgiveness. She also felt the overwhelming urge to run and do everything possible to never see the woman she’d betrayed again. Slumping forward, Mina decided it wasn’t her better self that stopped her flight, but sheer fatigue.
As the final bandages were wrapped about him, Cole grunted. “Our supplies should be with the aardig’s husks.”
He tried to stand, clearly planning on setting up camp, but Natalie’s iron grip stopped him. Meeting her eyes, Cole nodded slowly as she silently insisted he was too injured to work. Grettir shook his head and headed for the door to start scavenging. “Strangest damned couple I’ve ever seen, but still a jagging couple, it seems.”
As Grettir and Yara got to work gathering food, and other necessities, Deborah paused her work and stared at Cole. Wearing only tattered pants and a shocking number of bandages, he looked more and more like the flesh golem Iron-teeth first thought him. Mina found some bitter humor in that musing; and how close her former captain had been to the truth.
Clearing her throat, Deborah slowly asked. “Did you know what your presence does to the dead? That your ‘soul’ drinks in pieces of them to heal and empower itself?”
Shutting his eyes, Cole nodded a jerky, almost ghoul-like movement. “In part. I knew I was absorbing something, but not the details. I…I checked to make sure I wasn’t damaging them, but didn’t want to know more.”
Mina hadn’t even considered that Cole might be ignorant of such details and the revelation was unsettling. That the Homunculus’s nature and powers were a mystery to him as well was concerning and forced another part of Master Time’s message to the forefront of her mind.
‘The Homunculus Knight must stand alone; no others can be kin to him, or this world will fall.’
A shudder went through Mina, a bone deep sense of dread that spoke of shifting fate and her unfortunate place in this axis mundi of destiny.
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The moment Mina’s head touched her pillow, she was asleep. Her dreams were vague and ominous things, filled with bleak metaphors bleeding from psychic wounds. So despite her utter exhaustion Mina was roused easily by a strange noise. Some rhythmic tapping itched at her ears, digging Mina out from her slumber like a pick at rock. Bleary eyes peeled open as Mina tried to find the sound’s source. Only the dim embers of a fungus-fed fire lit the tower’s base level and in them Mina could just make out a figure hunched over her. Starting, Mina pulled back and scrambled with her blankets. Only then did she recognize the noise and its source. It was the sound of spoon against bowl, repeated over and over. The Priestess’s sleep-addled mind drank in the murky sight before her and forced a single croaking name from Mina’s mouth.
“Alia.”
Hunched over a bowl of the road porridge Grettir had cooked, Alia Cat-eyes stared down at Mina, her namesake reflecting the dim firelight. A bandana of treated linen covered much of the city-warden’s head, hiding her torn scalp and cracked skull. Pausing from her frantic eating, the catblood said. “This tastes like shit.”
Uncertain of what to say, Mina simply nodded. Finally, putting the bowl down, Alia let out a long sigh. “Well, I expect everything to taste like shit now.”
Finally finding her voice, Mina said. “Alia, I’m so-”
A raised hand stopped her. “The jagging angel told me what happened. I apparently woke up earlier than I was supposed to, so she had the fun job of explaining the gory guts mess this all was.”
Silence hung between them, and Mina tried to find the right words. Eventually she realized they’d never come and let the silence grow. Luminescent feline eyes dug into Mina’s soul and from that freshly cut well tears flowed free. Unable to meet her girlfriends, eyes Mina cried, deep shaking sobs escaping her. Something cool and soft was pressed into Mina’s hands and she blinked away tears, realizing Alia had handed her a filled waterskin.
Looking up at her partner, wet eyes brimming with questions, Mina was guided into drinking. Voice rough with emotion, Alia said. “You were crying in your sleep, and dehydration is an ornery sow.”
Mina hadn’t even realized part of the crust caking her eyes and face was dried tears. Wiping away sleep dust and stray droplets, the Priestess tried to speak, but Alia stopped her with a gentle hand squeeze. In the faint light of the campfire, Mina could see the exhaustion and sadness in her partner’s face. They locked eyes for a long moment but this time Alia was the one to break first.
Biting her lip, the catblood said. “You're not the first person I’ve loved who's tried to kill me.”
Scratching at her nose, Alia continued. “It’s part of being werekin, I guess. I had a brother, he… he lost control. The clan had to put him down, it was their duty. But…but I still love him, even after he went feral.”
Alia let out a long sigh and stared at the ceiling. “I’m doing this wrong. Look, what I’m trying to say is I need time. What happened wasn’t your fault, and if I can still love the fucking wereleopard that tried to eat me then…”
Slipping her fingers from Mina’s, Alia slowly stood up. “I don’t know how long it will take, but… but just give me time.”
Turning away, Alia walked towards the tower door. Mina’s heartbeat spiked with panic. “Where are you going?”
Looking back, Alia offered a crooked grin. “I’m not running off, don’t worry. I’ll be back soon, just need to get myself a new pair of boots.”
Drawing a hunting knife, the catblood’s smiled turned cruel, and she headed toward the lamia’s cooled corpse, ready to fulfill her promise to the monster.
As the door shut behind Alia, Mina let herself fall back into her bedroll. Time, Alia wanted time. Reaching to her neck, finding the holy amulet dangling there, Mina didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. While it was the most precious resource, time was also on her side, in a very literal way. Feeling a weight leave her shoulders, Mina shut her eyes, letting sleep come again.
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“I’m sorry.” were Cole’s words once he and Natalie were curled up together. Careful not to touch his burns but unwilling to be too far from him, Natalie stared at her lover, feeling the pain in his words.
Trying to find a safe spot upon Cole’s chest for her hand, Natalie replied. “It’s okay, you needed to find out what happened to Isabelle.”
Grunting, Cole found her hand with his own. “Still, you’d been through much and I shouldn’t have run off like that.”
Carefully, Natalie squeezed his fingers. “I’m not the only one, how are you?”
He shrugged with one shoulder. “I’ve suffered worse injuries.”
Rolling her eyes, Natalie amended herself. “I meant now with people knowing your secret.”
Cole was silent for so long Natalie might have thought he’d fallen asleep. “No secret lasts forever, that’s just the truth. I just… thank you.”
Frowning, Natalie asked. “For what?”
A long deep sigh escaped Cole. “For not looking at me like they do. I see it in everyone's eyes, Mina, Deborah, Grettir, and even Yara a little.”
Letting herself rest against Cole, Natalie said. “It's not fun, being feared.”
Shaking his head, Cole replied. “No, it's not fear; I’m used to that. It’s not even one of fear’s cousins, like doubt or suspicion. Well, those are there, but that’s not what hurts. I hate the question I people ask themselves. ‘Why do you get to come back when I don't?’ Everyone dies, everyone loses someone, everyone grieves, so people learn how to handle that truth. But then I exist, breaking those rules and it… it ruins things for them.”
Natalie could feel the open psychic wound these words were dripping from. The deep pain that Cole felt related to his nature, his… his guilt. He was ashamed that he survived when others didn’t. As that truth filled Natalie, Cole slowly said. “You must have thought it, right? Once I came back, you must have wondered why I got to live when your father or-”
With inhuman speed Natalie flicked Cole in the forehead. “Stop that.”
A hiss of pain escaped him and Natalie sighed with exasperation. “Don’t, don’t think that or go there. It doesn’t help anyone, least of all you. I didn’t ask to be a vampire, you didn’t ask to be a homunculus. We are what we are.”
In a shockingly small voice for someone so large Cole whispered. “Thank you.”
Hugging him the best she could with all his injuries, Natalie said. “You are mine, and I will not let you stew in such thoughts.”
They lay like that for a long moment, so much said and unsaid passing between them. Cole broke the silence, his voice brittle as glass. “Thank you for loving me”
It was such a strange sentence, Natalie could only stare at him as his cracked-crystal words continued. “I…I know I failed, both, you, Isabelle, and everyone else. So, thank you for still lov-Ahh!”
This time Natalie bit him, not hard, just enough for her fang’s sharpness to become known. “No, no no no! You didn’t fail, stop that.”
Sitting up, Natalie’s red eyes met Cole’s, and she jabbed a finger at him. “ You fought a trio of horrible monsters to a standstill and got a stargent dagger to the gut for your troubles. Then still managed to buy enough time for a literal miracle to save us. If that counts as failure, then what do you think my efforts were? I’m the one who lost Isabelle, I’m the one who needed Mina to dig a parasite out of their soul, I’m the one who could only lie on her back frozen while everything went to…to… goatshit!”
Natalie’s words trembled and broke with that final oath. Exhausted sobs escaped her, as she fell into the horrible dry crying of vampire-kind. She’d put on a strong face for Mina, and then Cole once he returned without Isabelle; but that mask wasn’t staying in place. Deep sadness and deeper rage filled Natalie. Cole was rebuking himself for failing, when it had been her who let everything fall apart. Isabelle was her mentor, her friend, her lover! And Natalie had not just exposed her survival to the enemy but let her fall into their hands!
Cole wrapped large arms around her, hugging Natalie tight, ignoring his own injuries so they embraced. Feeling a slight dampness upon her brow, Natalie realized he was crying as well. They were both exhausted and broken, having lost so much and finding no comfort in the fact they hadn’t lost more.
Soft words meant to help both himself and Natalie escaped Cole. “We’ll get her back. ”
Nodding her head, Natalie replied, “I promised I’d rescue you, and you did the same for me. So… so we’ll get stronger together, stop Wolfgang and make sure no one else can hurt us!”
Cole hesitated at that, a frown flicked across his tear-stained face but then his expression became harder. “Yes, together.”