Body shaking, Jean-Claude breathes heavily through his nose. Then he pulls me close, and the nanosecond before I feel him give in and break my skin, the door blows open and a wash of heat comes barreling down the stairs.
The count leaps out of the way, yanking me with him and I can feel the wind on my face as we dematerialize through the air. Flame consumes the stairs and chars the stone walls. We land at the bottom of a cellar, the count twisting his body to make sure I land on top of him—which proves he’s still in there, fighting to protect me.
Dark, stale air chokes me. Though there’s no light, Grim jumps down from the top of the stairs, holding a flame in his hand, illuminating the stone room, with Riddle flying just above him.
It’s maybe a second that Tor crashes down on top of him. The two fall to the ground and grapple with each other for control. They appear equally matched. Elemental against doppelganger. Fire versus flexibility. One might think fire would have the upper hand. Apparently, not so. Tor and Grim are evenly matched. For every fireball Grim throws, Tor dodges it.
Riddle flies towards me, threatening to tear apart anything in his way. But the count lifts a hand and Riddle stills in the air. The count throws his arm to the side, and Riddle flies across the room and into the wall with an audible squish.
“No!”
The golem drops with a thud and stays there.
“What did you do to him?” I spin around and glare at Faunus as he looks at me through Jean-Claude’s eyes. Then I do what any sensible girl being held against her will would do: I knee him in the groin.
The count stiffens. His face strains, leaking pain through his mask. This is my chance. My only chance. I break free of his grasp and run to Riddle. The count isn’t far behind me. But as I grab my golem, I hear the count on the wind. He’s just beside me. I dodge to the left and take Riddle with me.
I run right over a bench and go sprawling, chest first, onto the floor. I can only hope I haven’t crushed Riddle.
The count, whip-fast, recovers and whirls around. He’s still after me.
My brain works faster than my thoughts, and I see the pale face and hair of an elf. Faunus. He looks almost peaceful lying where he is, on top of what appears to be an altar. The price of a necromancer taking over another’s body is full concentration. And that’s exactly what Faunus is doing here—concentrating. His body is in a sleep state while his mind works through Jean-Claude.
This is my only chance.
I grab Riddle’s largest claw and hold it up to Faunus’s throat.
“Don’t come any closer,” I yell at him.
The vampire stops immediately. “You don’t want to do that, Everly.”
“Why not?” I hiss. “If you’re gone, then Jean-Claude is free of you. We all are.”
His smile is evil and knowing, enough to make me doubt my own knowledge.
“If you kill that body,” Jean-Claude says and motions to Faunus’ body. “All it means is that I sever the coil that ties me to myself and my soul takes this body… permanently.”
“What do you mean?” I demand.
“I would become Jean-Claude indefinitely.”
I grit my teeth. He’s lying. He must be. There’s no way he wants to sever his connection to his own body to possess Jean-Claude forever or he already would have done it.
Unless the count has been fighting him and Faunus hasn’t been able to fully possess him. Maybe Faunus severing the tie between his soul and his corporeal body would make him stronger within Jean-Claude? I don’t know. And I don’t like it that I don’t know because I’m not sure what to do now.
I inhale deeply as Faunus takes a step towards me.
I poke Faunus’s neck—the real Faunus—with Riddle’s claw. “Back off.”
I’m stuck. If I let up for half a second, the count will be on me. If I don’t kill Faunus, he might remain inside Jean-Claude forever. Or if what Faunus said was true, and I do kill his slumbering body, then he might take over Jean-Claude completely.
What do I do?
Kill Faunus or don’t kill him? Ugh!
“Everly,” The count says as he takes a step closer to me. I open my mouth to speak but another voice interrupts me.
“Stop.” The command spoken in the middle of the room makes my stomach fall out from underneath me.
Riven.
The fighting between Grim and Tor halts. The count pulls himself up to his full height and turns to face the headmaster. “You’re late to the party, Riven.”
Riven stares at the count with narrowed, angry eyes. “Let them go, Faunus. This is between the two of us.”
The count smiles, and the expression is cruel and malicious. And I realize this harsh, dispassionate expression isn’t a façade. This look belongs to the count, to Jean-Claude. I can’t say how I know that, except for the fact that Jean-Claude and I were linked for an afternoon, and in that time, I was able to understand him in a way I otherwise would never have been able to. Regardless, this count, with a hard marble face and cold eyes, is authentic. A mask the count has worn in a different lifetime. This look is natural. And that frightens me more than Faunus ever could. Because it means something inside Jean-Claude has cracked.
“Actually it’s not just between us,” Faunus addresses Riven.
Riven sighs, dramatic and long. “Let them go, Faunus, and
