To Be Obscure

| CH. 38

As though the soul leaving her body summoned an onslaught, the men and women of her Evergreen clan spun on their heels and ran for me. Victor and the others reached for them, grabbed them, and tugged them down, but they could not grab them all.

I retrieved the daggers and swung at those who came. Necks were severed, chests sliced; many men fell before they could catch me. Those who did, cut me, left welts in my arms and chests. Some caught my legs and I dropped to my knees with a growl of frustration.

As I looked at them, at their eyes that glowed in various colors, I told myself I wouldn't lose. I couldn't lose—I had a life to live with Charlotte, with Rosie

"John!" Victor slammed his foot down into the spine of a woman; he kicked her head hard enough to snap her neck. He tried to get to me, slid through the blood, but a man tackled him. I watched as he fell to the ground.

Don't, Victor. Just stay. I've got this.

A man lifted me from where I'd fallen, and I let him. He pulled me up by the collar of my shirt, his breath slapping against my face. I looked into the ice, cool eyes of a glance I remembered. The bags beneath them were new but the face wasn't; the lips that frowned were too familiar—no snarl, no laugh. "Brother," he said as I remembered his name, "you should have stayed forgotten."

Judas—we called him Judas. He'd aided Abigail and betrayed her far too many times. His moment of clemency was at the shores where I was to meet my death. It was he, the man I once called Brother, who held my face under the water. It was Judas who broke my bones.

Yet, his name wasn't Judas, but Joseph, and he had a wife and daughter that I'd stolen him from. He had a life that was destroyed because I forced him to down my blood in one gulp. He lived and outlived his family; I placed him in this Hell.

His hand slowly went around my neck. "Brother," I choked.

"You were free." He closed my eyes as the cries died down; many had fallen dead.

"You're free," I breathed.

"I can't be free," he said, looking at me with eyes so white my soul froze inside my chest. "This place, these people—it's all I have."

With a stronger force that I couldn't have anticipated, he threw me back against a tree. I felt each of the muscles in my back tear and bleed from the inside, and before I fell, I sucked in a painful breath. "Wait—"

"No." He lifted me up again, slamming my shoulders against the tree again, twice. "All I've ever done was wait. She—she gave me all I needed."

"She took from you." Not only did I not recognize my own voice, I couldn't see.

Still, I felt his other hand as he pinned me up, dangling my feet. "Brother," he said again, "why did you not stay forgotten?"

"Lamont!" Charlotte's voice broke the cloud that blocked my ears. I looked past Judas' shoulders and at the doors of the center manor. She stood there, covered in blood and frantic. Beside her, out with a rush, was Rosie, coated in blood just the same. It took them both a minute before they saw me, and it was Rosie who cried for me, mouth covered, and eyes red. Charlotte moved.

"No!" She ran through the crowd, dodging the bullets and knives. Her feet echoed as they slammed into the dirt and for the first time in the night, I heard sirens—the sheriff finally heard the commotion.

"No." Judas didn't look back at her and cupped my head. I wasn't sure why I couldn't move or think, really. Parts of me came to terms with an acceptance, fully aware of what was to come. I almost smiled, because I'd done what I was meant to do: I'd freed Charlotte, I'd saved Rosie, and exact my revenge. I didn't care about the church or its people, but saving a few lives tonight—it meant something, right?