Snarling with rage, she tried to grab me. I had never trained with a sword, but I had been taught to fight with any makeshift weapon I could find. I used the sword to keep distance between us, my motions clumsy but effective for the time being.
White fangs flashed in her mouth. "I am going to make you- "
"Suffer, pay, regret I was ever born?" I suggested.
I remembered fighting with my mom, how I'd been on the defensive the whole time. That wouldn't work this time. I had to attack. Jabbing forward, I tried to land a blow on Elena. No luck. She anticipated my every move.
Suddenly, from behind her, Isaiah groaned as he started to come around. She glanced back, the smallest of motions that let me swipe the sword across her chest. It cut the fabric of her shirt and grazed the skin, but nothing more. Still, she flinched and looked down in panic. I think the glass going through Isaiah's heart was still fresh in her mind.
And that was what I really needed.
I mustered all my strength, drew back, and swung.
The sword's blade hit the side of her neck, hard and deep. She gave a horrible, sickening cry, a shriek that made my skin crawl. She tried to move toward me. I pulled back and hit again. Her hands clutched at her throat, and her knees gave way. I struck and struck, the sword digging deeper into her neck each time. Cutting off someone's head was harder than I'd thought it would be. The old, dull sword probably wasn't helping.
But finally, I gained enough sense to realize she wasn't moving. Her head lay there, detached from her body, her dead eyes looking up at me as though she couldn't believe what had happened. That made two of us.
Someone was screaming, and for a surreal second, I thought it was still Elena. Then I lifted my eyes and looked across the room. Mia stood in the doorway, eyes bugging out and skin tinged green like she might throw up. Distantly, in the back of my mind, I realized she was the one who'd made the aquarium explode. Water magic apparently wasn't worthless after all.
Still a bit shaken, Isaiah tried to rise to his feet. But I was on him before he could fully manage it. The sword sang out, wreaking blood and pain with each blow. I felt like an old pro now. Isaiah fell back to the floor. In my mind, I kept seeing him break Mason's neck, and I hacked and hacked as hard as I could, as though striking fiercely enough might somehow banish the memory.
"Rose! Rose!"
Through my hate-filled haze, I just barely detected Mia's voice.
"Rose, he's dead!"
Slowly, shakily, I held back the next blow and looked down at his body- and the head no longer attached to it. She was right. He was dead. Very, very dead.
I looked at the rest of the room. There was blood everywhere, but the horror of it didn't really register with me. My world had slowed down, slowed down to two very simple tasks. Kill the Strigoi. Protect Mason. I couldn't process anything else.
"Rose," whispered Mia. She was trembling, her words filled with fear. She was afraid of me, not the Strigoi. "Rose, we have to go. Come on."
I dragged my eyes away from her and looked down at Isaiah's remains. After several moments, I crawled over to Mason's body, still clutching the sword.
"No," I croaked out. "I can't leave him. Other Strigoi might come...."
My eyes burned like I desperately wanted to cry. I couldn't say for sure. The bloodlust still pounded in me, violence and rage the only emotions I was capable of anymore.
"Rose, we'll come back for him. If other Strigoi are coming, we have to get out."
"No," I repeated, not even looking at her. "I'm not leaving him. I won't leave him alone." With my free hand, I stroked Mason's hair.
"Rose- "
I jerked my head up. "Get out!" I screamed at her. "Get out, and leave us alone."
She took a few steps forward, and I lifted the sword. She froze.
"Get out," I repeated. "Go find the others."
Slowly, Mia backed up toward the door. She gave me one last, desperate look before running outside.
Silence fell, and I relaxed my hold on the sword but refused to let it go. My body sagged forward, and I rested my head on Mason's chest. I became oblivious to everything: to the world around me, to time itself. Seconds could have passed. Hours could have passed. I didn't know. I didn't know anything except that I couldn't leave Mason alone. I existed in an altered state, a state that just barely kept the terror and grief at bay. I couldn't believe Mason was dead. I couldn't believe I'd just summoned death. So long as I refused to acknowledge either, I could pretend they hadn't happened.
Footsteps and voices eventually sounded, and I lifted my head up. People poured in through the door, lots of them. I couldn't really make out any of them. I didn't need to. They were threats, threats I had to keep Mason safe from. A couple of them approached me, and I leapt up, lifting the sword and holding it protectively over his body.
"Stay back," I warned. "Stay away from him."
They kept coming.
"Stay back!" I yelled. They stopped. Except for one.
"Rose," came a soft voice. "Drop the sword."
My hands shook. I swallowed. "Get away from us."
"Rose."
The voice spoke again, a voice that my soul would have known anywhere. Hesitantly, I let myself finally become aware of my surroundings, let the details sink in. I let my eyes focus on the features of the man standing there. Dimitri's brown eyes, gentle and firm, looked down on me.
"It's okay," he said. "Everything's going to be okay. You can let go of the sword."
My hands shook even harder as I fought to hold on to the hilt. "I can't." The words hurt coming out. "I can't leave him alone. I have to protect him."
"You have," said Dimitri.
The sword fell out of my hands, landing with a loud clatter on the wooden floor. I followed, collapsing on all fours, wanting to cry but still unable to.
Dimitri's arms wrapped around me as he helped me up. Voices swarmed around us, and one by one, I recognized people I knew and trusted. He started to tug me toward the door, but I refused to move just yet. I couldn't. My hands clutched his shirt, crumpling the fabric. Still keeping one arm around me, he smoothed my hair back away from my face. I leaned my head against him, and he continued stroking my hair, murmuring something in Russian. I didn't understand a word of it, but the gentle tone soothed me.
Guardians were spreading throughout the house, examining it inch by inch. A couple of them approached us and knelt by the bodies I refused to look at.
"She did that? Both of them?"
"That sword hasn't been sharpened in years!"