Page 96 of Roses & Ruin

Delia freezes. Her face falls blank, her lips going tight and white. “I know what you’re trying to do. I’d be careful if I were you, Caldwell,” she says, dangerously soft.

My cheek throbs as I look at Hayden in horror. Please, no, I think. Please don’t do this.

“You know I barely had to try?” Hayden grimaces, staggering to his feet and wiping his mouth. “It’s harder to kill a rat than it was to rip off Nico’s stupid face. My theory? He couldn’t stand you. He wanted to die. He hated you.”

All around us, lightning erupts, exploding every stained-glass window in the church. Shards scatter around us like deadly rain, and the stormy blizzard bursts in, knocking over crosses, ripping tapestries from the wall, guttering out candles.

Delia has Hayden by the throat, digging the large, sharp cross into his jugular. Her face is a monstrous mask of wrath and pain.

I know this is the part where I’m supposed to run. Hayden’s giving me the window of distraction I need, the barest, most desperate hope. But even if I could ever outrun a vampire, there’s not anything in this universe that could convince me to leave Hayden right now.

“No!” I shriek. I drop the knife, realizing Delia’s thrall is gone. “Delia.”

But she’s pressing close to Hayden’s face. Her hair whips violently around her in the fierce wind, her eyes entirely black. The angles of her face are sharper, and she looks like a different species entirely, something that thrives and hunts in the dark.

“Don’t wanna play anymore, Hayden William Caldwell? Fine.” Delia drops him to his knees. A gale of wind knocks him onto all fours. She tosses the large cross to the side with a clatter. “Just remember. You asked for this.”

Delia turns her head slowly to me. When her mouth barely crooks in a cold, gleeful smile, understanding dawns on me.

“No,” I breathe. Hayden’s head jerks up, and when he gets it, horror and regret flood his features. Delia’s eyes never leave mine.

Rose, she says sweetly in my mind. Pick up the cross.

I throw myself to the ground, fighting harder than I’ve ever fought in my life. Sweat breaks out over every inch of my body. Tears squeeze out of my eyes as I push up onto my knees. I spend an excruciating moment begging my body to slump back down, lie inert, do nothing.

“No,” I grate out. I’m sobbing, and I can hear Hayden’s voice in the background.

“It’s okay,” he’s saying, his voice shaking. “Don’t fight it, beautiful. It’s okay, Rose, it’s okay.”

Alright, go on, get up now.

“No,” I moan as I rise to my feet and stagger toward the cross. “No,” I wrench out as I pick it up off the floor. “I won’t.”

You will. Go stand in front of Hayden.

“Rose, it’s alright, don’t fight it,” Hayden says tenderly, lovingly, as I take halting, abortive steps to where he’s kneeling before the altar. “I love you. I’ll love you forever.”

Delia throws her head back and laughs. “Well. Until death do you part, at least. So, like, for five minutes?”

Every muscle in me is cramping. Fighting. My bones feel close to shattering. I can’t do it. I won’t. I can’t. I can’t.

But then I’m standing in front of Hayden, and I’m pressing the sharp tip of the cross against Hayden’s bare chest. He gives me a soft, adoring smile, his impossible, infinite eyes shining with lifetimes of our love.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I love you, Rose. It’s okay.”

Rose, Delia commands. Close your eyes. Stake Hayden.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

My wrist convulses. My stomach. My heart. Sweat pours down my forehead, stinging my eyes; my mouth floods with blood from biting my tongue and spit from the nauseous effort. But I don’t push the cross forward.

Stake Hayden, Rose. Come on. Delia’s voice caresses my brain, massages the lonely, aching parts within my skull, and I’m desperate to give in, sure I’ll die if I don’t.

“I love you, Rose,” says a deep velvet voice. It cuts through the cotton-candy haze of Delia’s command, and my grip on the cross loosens a little.

Shove the cross into his chest. Now, Rose.

Desperately, I cling to the smooth timbre of Hayden’s voice, the devotion in his words. I remember the first time I heard his voice in this life, how my marrow absorbed it like vital nutrients, how hearing it distantly felt like coming home.