Chapter Twelve

The clock had struck ten when the group filed into Stefan's chamber, sullen and tense with worry. Andrew placed his son on the bed by the window, noting the familiar surroundings with a pang of irony. He had laid there once, in another time and place, having been brought from the brink of death to embrace his destiny. Now he watched as his only son screamed himself hoarse, his body convulsing in agony. What was once a place of serenity now took on the face of something horrid, an unspeakable fate that hung like a noose around Derek's neck. As Stefan ministered to him, Andrew paced the room, his eyes flickering between the bed and the window, the curtains closed. Andrew could make out the earth and moon, their pale glow passing in and out of the clouds. The pounding of the ocean's waves could be dimly heard outside, and the once beautiful sound now repulsed him. He resented its calm, tranquil surface, while his heart was in the throes of a tempest. From its depths came the greatest joy he had ever known, and yet by the same cruel stroke, it seemed he would lose him the same way. So consumed was he with these thoughts; he barely heard the conversation going on around him.

"She's bluffing," Mina said from across the room. Her elegant hairstyle had loosened from its pins and now hung in snarled curls down her back. "There must be something, some kind of loophole to this curse."

"I doubt it," Darien answered, his eyes narrowing as he watched Derek struggle. "It's clear she's more powerful than she was letting on. That stunt she pulled took serious sorcery, and as she stated, she's had thousands of years of practice. She wants revenge for what Andrew took from her, but I never thought she'd use Derek's life to accomplish it."

Mina looked to her husband, whose gaze was still fastened to the window, and the sea beyond.

"Don't tell me you're actually considering giving in to her?" When he closed his eyes, she shook her head and went to him. "Andrew, she's a madwoman! If you give him up, she will make sure you never see him again!"

A pair of dark and stormy eyes met hers. Of all the emotions coursing through him, anger was readily at his disposal, and he didn't care whom he thrust it upon. "And I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he snapped, turning to her.

"Excuse me?"

"I seem to recall you telling me bringing him here would be a big mistake. Congratulations, dearest wife, because it looks like you're getting your wish. One way or another, Derek will be gone, and it'll be you, me and Crystal again, just like you wanted!"

"That's not fair and you know it," Mina argued, tears welling and smearing her makeup. "I love Derek as my own, and you know it's killing me to see him like this."

"Don't give me that," Andrew growled. "You pull this pathetic pretense, when secretly you'd love nothing better than to have him at the bottom of the sea with his bitch of a mother!"

One would have expected Andrew's brother to be the one to step into the breach, but it instead came from the darkness of the bed.

"Stop it," Derek choked. "Stop it…please…"

Andrew was beside him in an instant, taking his face in his hands. "Derek, it's going to be alright do you hear me? You're going to be alright."

Derek shook his head despite Andrew's hold on him. "I should've gone…with her. I should've…never come here…"

"You listen to me," Andrew told him firmly. "Whatever happens, you are not to blame for this. Demara's choices are her own. You're family now, and I'm going to do my damndest to make sure it stays that way, so don't you even think of giving up. Do you hear?"

His mouth twitched in an attempt to smile. "Yes sir."

It was all he could manage before another coughing fit seized him, and Andrew stepped back from the bed, the hopelessness of the situation beginning to engulf him once again. He eyes swept the dim room, looking for a beacon to aid his drifting heart, and he found it in Darien's eyes.

"Please help him," he begged. Darien was Derek's last hope, and Andrew clung to it like it was he who was dying. Darien gave a silent nod of understanding and approached the place where Derek lay.

"I'll do what I can."

Crystal had heard enough. She had watched from the doorway since her father had carried Derek in, and watched the horrific scene unfold with a grim fascination. She was like a witness to a car crash, her eyes fixed on her brother's grotesque transformation, yet unable to look away. She beheld his shredded clothes and the blood-splattered sheets, and was filled with a sudden determination. It would not end this way, in this dim room cloaked with sadness and despair, and she would make certain of it. With the image of Derek burned in her mind, she fled the room. Picking up her skirts, she ran down the vacant passageway to the banquet hall. Her weapon lay in the armory, but there was little time to fetch it now. If she were going to find Demara before sunrise, she would have to act quickly. Checking the corridor for servants, she opened the door and slipped inside. Despite the warm evening, the chamber was colder than a tomb, and she suppressed a shiver. Her father's sword still lay forgotten at the foot of dais, the moonlight glinting off the silver hilt. Hefting its weight, she buckled it to her slender waist and ventured back into the hall. Fortunately there was no one about, given the hour and the hush of depression that seemed to hang over the castle. She made quick work of the stairs and was about to enter the open garden when a flash of movement caught her eye. Swiftly turning, she saw a cloaked figure a few yards from her. She immediately recognized him as the man who stood by Demara at the party, and could be the only one who knew her whereabouts. When he caught sight of her, he turned and fled, which only fueled her anger.

"Stop!" she yelled, and took off after him. She chased him through the shadowed garden, cutting through the shrubbery to head him off. Wheeling around the corner, she caught the hem of his cloak, and when he halted she slammed him against one of the ivory columns.

"Where is she?" she demanded, her chest heaving. When he didn't answer, she shoved him harder.

"Answer me!"

Marek raked his eyes over her, smirking at her appearance and the belt that hung crookedly across her hips.

"I'd be careful if I were you, princess," he rasped. "Wouldn't want you to cut yourself on daddy's sword now would we?"

In the next breath, she drew the blade and pressed it to his throat, her eyes cold.

"Don't screw with me," she hissed. "My brother is dying and if you don't tell me where Demara is I'll slice you eight ways from Sunday and feed you to the dogs! Now tell me where she is!"

Marek winced when the sword made a shallow cut along his neck, and his head spun from lack of air. He met the princess's icy stare, and knew he had little choice but to tell the truth.

"In the center of the forest," he choked. "There's a lake with a waterfall…"

Realization dawned on her, and she suddenly knew exactly where she had to go. Without a word she dropped him and raced down the cobbled path, her form soon disappearing into the shadows. Marek slowly got to his feet, pressing a hand to his neck. Desperation would quicken her journey to Demara's lair, and there was no time to warn his beloved of the danger. Cursing, he re-entered the palace and headed straight for the armory. Without hesitation he snatched a bow and quiver from the wall and barreled into the night. He'd been fooled once, and he wouldn't make that mistake again. Nothing would stop him from protecting Demara, and he'd make damn sure that by the time dawn broke, his arrow would find its way through the princess's heart.