"You did enough. And I don't real y feel like giving you a history lesson. But speaking of brothers, I do know that you hurt mine. And I think that alone makes a rather strong case against us being friends, don't you agree?" he asked. His smile was dangerous, and I knew he was about to pounce. I closed my eyes, gathered my strength, and charged toward him, hoping the surprise of my action would catch him off guard.
But quicker than lightning, he wrestled me to the ground until I was pinned underneath him. With his face only inches from mine, I could smel human blood on his breath.
I twisted free and scrambled backward. He seemed to be everywhere and nowhere al at once, and suddenly, I caught the whiff of something burning. Our scuffle had upset a table, and an overturned candle had started a fire, the flames licking the dry pine wal s. The light from the flames danced on Samuel's angular face. Our eyes locked for a moment, and a faint smile crossed Samuel's lips. Then he lunged toward me, catching me unaware as he pushed me toward the hearth. I fel onto my knees.
"Get out," Samuel barked to Violet, who ran toward the door, leaving Oliver's lifeless body on the ground.
"You've lived for far too long," he said, quickly grabbing a chair and snapping it over his knee as if it were a twig. He stood over me, each foot on either side of my waist, one hand holding a broken chair limb, ready for it to serve as a stake.
But instead of driving it into my chest, he glanced at me in disgust, then spit onto my face.
"You're not worth kil ing; that's too easy," Samuel muttered, almost to himself. "I want you to suffer. You deserve it. In fact, that's the only thing you deserve."
I closed my eyes, not bothering to fight. Instead, I al owed my mind to conjure up Cal ie. Sweet, fierce Cal ie, with red hair and freckled skin and mischievous eyes. I knew this would be the last time I saw her, even in my imagination. She was surely in heaven, and I would soon be bound for hel .
With Samuel's swift motion, pain was everywhere. The stake had driven through my chest, but missed my heart. Pain radiated from the wound to my hands, my feet, my brain.
"Enjoy hel ," Samuel said with a laugh. Then he swept out the door, leaving me in the fire-fil ed cabin, a precursor to what I knew was to be my final resting place.
Chapter Eighteen
When death is inevitable, the passage of time both quickens and slows. It had happened the first time I died, when I felt a bulet rip through my body, and I felt it now. I felt the heat from the flames that raced along the perimeter of the cabin. I felt pain pulsing in my gut. I felt trapped, unable to wiggle the stake more than a few inches in any direction. But what I also felt was regret, anger, sorrow, and relief. It truly was as if a lifetime were passing before my eyes.
Or rather, both my lifetimes.
I hadn't accomplished very much, either as a human or a vampire. What I'd accomplished was death. And as much as I felt I was better than Damon, was I, real y? For in the end, we were both vampires. We both had a trail of destruction fol owing us. And I was so tired. I was tired of fighting when nothing seemed to work out. I was tired of hurting. And I was tired of always being a puppet in Damon's games. We were no longer children, the games had been deadly for far too long, and maybe my death was the only thing that would end our war. If so, I embraced it. I was ready to be consumed by an eternity of flames. That would be more peaceful than the life I'd been living.
The fire was taking its time, dancing along the seam between the wal and floorboards as if it were a cautious beau at a bal . I watched, entranced. The flames were made up of red and blue and orange and, from a distance, they reminded me of the bril iant fal leaves that would soon dot Abbott Manor. I'd never see that again.
Please don't kill them, I thought, thinking of the rest of the Abbott family, frightened, grieving, and so terribly, terribly betrayed. It was a habit, thinking others could read my thoughts. It had sometimes worked with Damon and me, but that had only been because our closeness as brothers meant we often could guess what was on each others' minds. I doubted Samuel and I were on any sort of familiar wavelength that would al ow him to receive a message like that from me. Not that it mattered. Hearing it would only further encourage his thirst for blood.
I didn't care about my own life, but I felt a tiny tug of loyalty toward Violet, who was now off with Samuel somewhere. She was a brand-new vampire, surely confused and overwhelmed. She needed guidance. And not the kind a cold-hearted kil er would give her.
I tried to move my arm, desperate to pul the stake out. A renewed vigor surged through my limbs. I wasn't ready to die. Not until I could save Violet from becoming a monster. I owed her that much after she was denied her choice. I tried to tear the stake from my chest as flames came closer and closer to my body. I heard the sound of the door creak, and I arched into the pain, ready to confront my fate.
"He's in here!" It was a girl's voice.
My eyes snapped open and I saw Violet's sister, Cora, her red hair flaming around her face and dark circles under her eyes. Her pendant swung back and forth from her chest, momentarily mesmerizing me. I closed my eyes again. Just one more person I probably couldn't save. When I was desperate to get Violet out of Damon's clutches, I had abandoned Cora.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the dream-image.
But then, I felt lightness in my chest, from where the chair leg had been. My eyes flew open.
"You almost got yourself kil ed, brother," Damon said. Before I even ful y comprehended what was happening, I felt warm liquid rushing down my throat. I gagged as I realized a red fur carcass was being shoved into my face. It was the limp body of a fox.