All eyes fell on me and I welcomed the stares with a raised chin. The people on the grass raised their heads up from their prayers; they smiled because they knew who I was. Funny how they didn't get the memo that I wasn't on her side.

"John," Abigail spoke through gritted teeth, "weren't you sleeping?"

"Was." I nodded. "I had a lovely nap, thank you. Spent some time with Charlotte, you know. The normal behavior of a truly caring person. Strange that this has started, considering I'd received a special invitation."

The circle gripped their candles tight; some, so tight, the candles snapped from their hands and fell into the dirt. Bits of fire clung to the grass that could burn, brightening the shadows at their feet.

Abigail stood straight, her glass in hand, and narrowed her eyes at me. I pretended not to care—despite my raging heart—and looked back inside the manor, as though I looked for someone.

"Ah, right." I looked back at her with a cocked brow. My top lip twisted up as I held in my growl. "I saw Nate on the way here. Care to explain?"

The male members of the circle stepped forward, passing their candles off to the female Evergreens at their side. Without spoken orders, they stood in front of her, blocking my path. At least three pulled daggers from their belts. Ron joined them, knife in hand, just like them.

I admired their determination, but for once, I was clear minded and sane—and aching to kill.

"Your friend lived in sin," Abigail barked behind her human shield, "and bringing him to the blessing would have been pointless. Our Lord would have set flame to him the second our blood touched his lips!"

"Our Lord," I mocked, and stepped in front of Ron, locking eyes with him but spoke to her still. "Your Lord is the Devil," I nearly shouted, grabbing the attention of the group waiting to be cleansed, "you're worshiping a false god, to be stricken with a strain of the Bubonic plague."

"What?"

The word echoed within the crowd, even amongst the Evergreens. Some of the men that stood with the human shield looked back at Abigail for answers, but her angry eyes were stuck on me. Too bad I didn't look at her; I was too busy staring down her top dog.

"Hear me, Ronnie," I sucked my teeth, "you're just a walking plague."

"Lies," he hissed. "You're just mad because I took your fucking place."

"Oh?" I stepped forward, making him step back. "You can have it. You're more than welcome to it, because all of you are going to die."

'What?' Again, the word echoed.

"What he means is, death can come to us all. We're not free of it, and it will find us one day. Immortality is a lie." Victor's voice came through the trees before he did. He still wore the same shirt, stained with Nathan's blood. He walked past his sister and through the shield, to stand at my side. He looked at me and nodded; I did the same.

"Your friend is—"

He started to ask, but I shook my head quickly. "I don't know," I said as Ron switched is knife to his other hand, "but I gave him a chance."

"Ah," Victor nodded, understanding, "good."

"Good?" Ron cracked his neck, his eyes flowing bright. Three men beside him did the same, and each squeezed their weapon. "What's good? What'd you give him?"

Those who prayed stood and ran into the manors. The women within the circle broke their stance and ran to Abigail's aid. They covered her, shielding her from my view, and I knew why—they knew, like she knew, that I wanted her dead. Her, Ron, and anyone who tried to stop me.

"Where are the ones on your side?" I asked Victor quickly as I ripped away the bloody towel from my hand. I flexed the soreness from my fingers and took stance; I eyed the five of the men who approached, and Ron, with his scowl.

"Inside." Victor spit on a pile of dead leaves. "Didn't think you'd make it here so fast."

"Hm." I chewed on the inside of my lip. "Didn't think you'd come through the trees."

He laughed and looked at me with my blue eyes. The glow of his mixed with the glow of mine as he stood beside me. He clapped his hand against mine, my blood staining his sleeve. "I'll grab the brat," he said, nodding his head at Ron's direction. "You get the others, and then she's yours."

"Take all the fun," I smirked, looking back at the men who inched closer.

Without warning, Victor moved forward, faster than I could blink. He pushed his hands down into the dirt, using it to lift himself up off the ground and into the air. One man stood in front of Ron, and Victor caught him by the neck. He screamed, pushing his dagger into Victor's thigh, but that didn't stop him. The yell that escaped my old man echoed so loud, the women tightened their circle around Abigail in fear. He pulled up, the veins and muscles around his neck straining; I heard the crack of bones before the pop.

The man dropped, beheaded and gone, and his blood puddled on the dirt; Victor landed on his body, staring at his frozen face. He held the head in his hands for a second before tossing it and lunging for Ron next.

"No!"

Ron jumped back, but the men with him moved forward. Two came at me, weapons out and ready, but I disarmed them both. Their daggers met my hands, my fingers grasped them; with a flip and a turn, I plunged the blades deep into their necks. Blood sprayed in my face as I sucked in a breath. Warm copper tasted on my tongue; I swallowed and enjoyed the taste.

The third man ran before I could grab him. The fourth fell at my feet, his hands lifted up in prayer. He pleaded with me, sobs clouding his words. "Please!" He grabbed my pant leg, looking up at me with trembling hands and red eyes. "I don't want to die!"

I don't want to die—how many times had I heard that before? How many times had I believed it?

I grabbed him by his neck, lifting him up above my head. He gagged, tears sliding down his cheeks as he gripped my wrists. The flutter of his heart beat revealed his fear, and it made me sick. "Go," I hissed, dropping him down at my feet, "and don't ever come back."

He didn't wait to see if I'd say a word, nor did I stay to watch where he'd run to. Like light, he was gone through the trees, and I turned my gaze on Abigail's shield of protectors.

"If you don't kill her, John, I will!" Victor yelled, pinning Ron by the neck under his knee. The two were covered in blood, both wounded, but I couldn't tell who bled more. Ron's face was crimson red, and he clawed in the direction of the knife he could not reach.

"Yes, father," I said as I raised my head. He took the time to smile at me—I could feel it—and I did the same. The moon hit my face and I took in its light, like Charlotte would do on those nights we were on the road. Guide me, I thought up to the stars, make me victorious tonight.

"You'll never get her!" A tiny woman ran from the group, pulling her white cloak up from over her head. On her waist were daggers, just the same as the others; she pulled them free from their sleeves and leapt in my direction.

I jumped back enough to catch her legs, sending her head crashing onto the ground. She cried out, dropping her weapons, and two women ran forward in her defense. They reached down for her blades, scooping them up elegantly into their hands. They spun around each other, like dancers, and in unison, flipped up into the air to attack me.

Perhaps I was mesmerized by their movements or the bright glow of their yellow eyes, but I caught a dagger in the shoulder. I cried out, dropping the woman in my hands further onto her head.

"John!"

I had no time for games. As quickly as the dagger broke through my skin, I ripped it free from my body and I threw it straight between the eyes of the woman who got me. She dropped, without a second breath; I reached for the second woman, who screamed in terror when I yanked her forward. "No," I hissed, declining her silent plea to be free.

I'd done one too many already.

With a twist, I snapped her neck, and let her body fall into the blood of her fellow Evergreen. The splatter caused the remaining women to shriek and cower away from my approach. All, but Abigail, who kept her head high, her glass still tight in her grip. I prided her, and her lack of fear, but she saw the revenge in my eyes.

This fight has been long overdue.

"Abigail," I said as the women dispersed into the crowd, fearing for their lives. It was good that they weren't entirely brainwashed by Abigail and her horrid ways; God can only get you so far.

"John." Abigail drank her own blood, licking it clean from her lips before she dropped the glass. She tossed it towards the bottom of a tree and rolled her head around her shoulders. "Can I ever be forgiven?"

Hm.

"No," I said, flatly, "never."