Page 62 of Marrying Bluebeard

She nods, her wispy arms already wrapping around Adelaide’s drooping form. The other wives join in, combining their strength in an effort to keep her upright. Anne tosses her blonde ringlets to the side as she levels me with a glare. “Straight through the heart. We’ll do the rest.”

I relinquish my hold on Adelaide and snatch the iron post with one hand as I whirl to face Celeste, whose outraged screeches cease as the wives whisk Adelaide out of the way. They’re replaced by a bloodthirsty snarl as she stares me down—a lioness on the verge of pouncing.

A single twist, and the post wrenches free of the bed frame, the metal cool against my palm as I stare my tormenter down. Her crimson eyes flare bright, but it has all the effect of a parlor trick. The only one with a hold over me now is Adelaide.

I can see the surprise creep into Celeste’s expression as I take a step toward her. It bleeds into fear as her gaze drops to my hand and the weapon it’s clutching. She stumbles back as I prowl forward, a grin spreading across my face.

“You can’t kill me with that,” she hisses, coming to a stop as her back hits the wall.

“Is that so?” I raise the iron spear, aiming the tip at her heart. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.” I thrust it forward, but it stops an inch from her chest as Celeste’s fist clamps down around it.

“Destroy me, and you’ll never drink my blood again,” she warns, her voice taking on a frenzied edge. “You’ll go mad with thirst, and it won’t be just your precious bride who suffers. The entire village will mourn the devastation you rain down on them.”

I think of the runes inked across my skin with grim satisfaction. “Not if I can’t leave.” I lean into the spear, and the tip pierces her skin.

Outrage flares in her eyes, and her mouth warps into a snarling visage of teeth and fangs. “You think you’re stronger than me? Fool! I’m more powerful than any creature alive.” Her knuckles whiten as she pushes back, inching the spear away from her heart. “I am⁠—”

Her voice breaks off with a startled cry as Adelaide—my relentlessly, wonderfully stubborn angel of a wife—appears at her side and smashes a teapot over her head. The pitcher bursts into shards of porcelain that slice ribbons across Celeste’s face until she’s a mess of oozing blue streaks.

I renew my efforts, taking advantage of her distraction as I press the spear forward.

A scream fills the tower, and the spear is yanked from my hand as I go sprawling back onto the floor. Celeste’s white hair is blown out in a gravity-defying halo around her head, her body rising up so that only the tips of her toes brush the floor. When she speaks, her voice is a booming baritone.

“I am Celestula, born of witch and vampyre blood. No magic nor mortal can keep me from what I desire.”

Her head snaps to the right, and she holds out a hand. I surge to my feet with a roar as Adelaide flies into her grasp. She kicks at Celeste’s legs and claws at her face, fingers slipping through rivulets of blue blood, and I charge forward, barreling into Celeste’s chest with my shoulder.

Adelaide falls to the floor as Celeste releases her, and Celeste wraps her hands around my neck, instead, squeezing with inhuman strength.

“You can’t kill me like that,” I wheeze, gripping her wrists as I attempt to loosen her hold.

“I don’t kill naughty toys,” Celeste taunts. “I break them into tiny pieces and paste them back together. Over and over until they’ve learned their lesson.” Her fingers dig into my flesh. “Have you learned your lesson, husband? If you have, I’ll let you eat some cake.”

A shadow looms over Celeste’s shoulder, and a gush of blue blood showers the room as the tip of the wrought-iron spear bursts through her chest. Adelaide plants a foot on Celeste’s back as she falls to the floor, her entire body shaking as she wipes a sapphire streak from her mouth.

“He’s not your husband.” Her gaze drifts upward, and my heart bursts into flames from the heat of it. Her lips curve into a feral grin. “He’s mine.”

“Adelaide.” I take a step forward, only to be brushed to the side by my dead wives, whose hands are full of some sort of translucent chain. They wrap it around Celeste’s body.

“These will hold Celeste until the end of time,” Genevieve explains, “but her constitution will keep her from dying and being reborn. Her reign of terror is over.” She looks at me and nods. “Consider your debt repaid.”

“Thank you, Genevieve.” I swallow as I look past her to the others. “All of you.”

Their expressions are solemn as they nod in return. Joining hands, they lift their faces to the ceiling and close their eyes as a beam of glittering gold light surrounds them. It reminds me of a day not that long ago when I watched Sister Mercy depart the abbey ruins.

The day I first fell in love with Adelaide.

I drink in the sight of her, the way her blood-soaked figure trembles with fatigue. And yet the look on her face is fiercer than any I’ve ever seen. My glorious angel of night.

Eternity is going to be torture without her.

I take a silent step forward and pull her into my arms. Memorizing the feel of her before I say goodbye and bind myself to this place forever.

Adelaide grips the front of my shirt. “Bertrand, I…”

“What is it, love?” I run my hands up and down her arms, hoping to stir some warmth in them. She needs to eat and drink soon. She’s lost far too much blood for my liking.

She looks up at me, biting her lip. “I think I may have…”