I forced myself to focus on a pinpoint of light at the end of the tunnel until it ballooned out into a scene of me laying in an unmade hotel bed, Christian and Brandon's room to be exact.

Curly strands of hair lay like lifeless snakes against the stark white of the hotel pillows.

A vein pulsed in Christian's throat while he talked.

It was the only thing I could focus on through the black tunnel in my vision.

Waves crashed over me, relentless. If I stopped fighting them, if I didn't kick my legs and wave my arms, surely these dark waters would swallow me whole.

Christian and Brandon stood by the balcony doors, arguing about something while I struggled to stay afloat.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Whatever they were bickering about clearly wasn't helping me escape this place and I knew I had to act fast.

There wasn't much time left.

I could feel it.

And the last time I'd been kicked out of my body by Elizabeth, I remembered stubbornness had filled me.

A stubbornness to live, the only thing that had helped me make my way back out of that place.

So where was this damned stubbornness now?

I searched within myself, the kicking of my legs stopping momentarily.

I wondered if this life of persecution and violence was even something I wanted to go back to? Was it even worth the struggle?

The darkness reeled me in closer.

I was a fish, caught on a hook.

I kicked again and flailed, desperate to hold on, a new anger overtaking me.

But maybe that was just what I needed now to survive—anger, a fuel, a fire.

And heaven knew I had plenty to be angry about.

I was angry at Luke for dying.

Angry at Christian for his mixed signals and lies.

Angry that Stefan was my father.

And if I was being honest, I was pissed with myself for wanting to give up.

Because succumbing to the darkness now would have been easier but it would have been a coward's death and I was better than that.

I, Aimee Mathews, deserved to go out with a bang.

So that left only one option: to fight like hell. I had to communicate with Christian and Brandon and help them find a solution.

I zeroed in on their chatter, straining my ears as if I were tuning a radio to just the right station.

After a moment, I got some static.

"Do you have any idea what this is?"

It was Christian who spoke, with Brandon responding right after.

"A side effect of using too much spirit, maybe? I don't know for sure. I've never seen anything like this before."

"Not even with...Milagros?"

A shadow passed over Brandon's face and he looked down to the carpet.

I saw him swallow hard before responding.

"No, nothing like this ever happened with her."

Christian pinched the bridge of his nose and looked out the window.

"What about your connections? You must know someone who can help."

"Chris," Brandon said sternly. "You and I both know that there are only two people who can help her now. It's up to you which of the two is the lesser evil."

"The faes or my father." Christian sighed.

"You know taking her there won't end well. For you or for her." The voices grew clearer the longer I focused on them but nothing they were saying made sense.

Taking me where wouldn't end well?

To Christian's father, the King who supposedly wanted to keep me safe or to the Faes, whoever they might have been?

"Give me another option."

"I don't have one." Brandon responded gently. "And I'm afraid I can't make this decision for you. You've gone and made a mess of things, cousin and I really think you should have heeded my warnings from the very beginning. Hybrids are muses, Chris, take it from someone who knows—"

"Yeah, well, I've never been a very good listener."

"And that, my friend, might be your down fall. What are you going to do?"

"Well, we can't just let her die, now can we?"

"No, we cannot."

"Um, hi, yeah, not letting me die would be fantastic," I cut in, my patience finally exhausted. "What's the plan beside standing there and arguing?"

I waited for them to respond but Christian only resumed his pacing while Brandon sighed.

"I need a drink."

Uncrossing his arms, Brandon headed over to the mini bar.

He opened the fridge, pulled out a tiny bottle of liquor, unscrewed the cap and took a long swig.

He held it out to Christian who waved it away.

"Hello, assholes, I'm talking to you guys."

"I've gotta make a phone call." Christian said abruptly.

"Hello?" I tried again.

Either they were purposely ignoring me or...they really couldn't hear me.

It didn't make sense. When Elizabeth had kicked me out of my body, Christian had heard me warn him of an oncoming arrow. Or maybe he'd just seen it on his own...maybe I'd just assumed they could hear me.

Internally, I deflated.

Somehow, the prospect of being stuck in this state of limbo, hearing what was going on around me but unable to respond seemed worse than if I had died altogether.

Christian stepped back in from the balcony and made his way to where I lay. He stood over my body, his face stoic. His bright blue eyes zoned in on my face. I could feel his cold stare in my bones even if only my ghostly form could see them.

"There's been a change of plans."

"What do you mean?"

"We're not going to Henric anymore." Christian said as he effortlessly lifted me from the bed, swung around and started for the door.

"So you're taking her to the faes then?"

"Not the faes."

"Chris, wait." Brandon grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him. "If not the faes and not Grandfather Nandru, then who?"

"I'm taking her to Stefan."

I jerked away, hurt, while my physical body remained unmoved.

My metaphorical heart thundered in my chest. Maybe my real heart was thundering too. I hoped he could hear it, the bastard. I hoped he could hear how afraid his words made me.

What would possibly make Christian think that taking me to a man who had been hunting me for my powers would be a good idea?

The same man who had kidnapped my family and threatened to kill them if I didn't comply?

He doesn't know that part, the annoying, yet rational voice in my head interrupted. Sure, I hadn't exactly shared this last bit of information with him given that I'd been too busy trying to bring Hannah back from the dead, but still, he was the one who had warned me that Stefan only wanted me for my powers.

He must have known what Stefan would do with me. To me.

Oh how I wished I could slap him right then and there. The satisfying sound my palm would make against his skin. And he'd deserve it too, for betraying me this way.

For handing me over to my enemy when he knew I couldn't object, was powerless to defend myself.

"Chris, take a breath, man. You know that's not the smartest option."

Yes, please Brandon, make him see reason.

"You know what will happen if I step foot in Faerie and Grandfather Nandru..."

Brandon's voice dropped down to a hiss that I strained to hear.

"Maybe it's time to ask yourself how much longer you're going to keep playing both sides."

"I'm not—"

"You don't owe me an explanation." Brandon said, one hand held up to stop him. "Lie to yourself if you want to but I can tell your head isn't in this mission anymore. Maybe it's time to face reality."

Mission? Playing both sides? What was Brandon talking about?

What two sides was Christian playing?

Who was Christian really working for, if not for his father?

None of this made sense but I felt offended that he was still lying to me.

The bastard.

But then again, I should know by now that Christian was always playing an angle.

He'd omitted the part about Henric being his father.

Who knew what else he'd lied to me about?

I came to the realization that I didn't really know Christian.

In my desperate desire to save my family, I'd blindly followed him, believing everything about this world he'd told me.

And it became painfully clear right then and there that I was the only idiot here.

Maybe Christian was not a vampire with a white knight complex after all. Maybe Christian needed me alive for his own selfish reasons.

I'd bet a pretty penny that whatever this mission of his Brandon spoke of was had something to do with my powers.

Didn't it all tediously come back to that?

I sighed long and hard.

Though I wasn't really sighing at all.

Brandon's words came to me about not trusting anyone, not even my own shadow, and disappointment rushed through me.

This conversation, combined with this constant fight against the waves had aged me. I was exhausted and for the second time that night, the thought of giving up reared it's ugly head within me.

I sighed and looked down at my translucent hands. I was a ghost standing in shadows, everything around me in every direction painted pitch black, except for them.

I clung to their image.

Christian standing by the door with me in his arms. The way his eyes darted down to my face again, the coldness cracking.

Showing points of weakness.

Remorse was there perhaps, or maybe guilt, mixed with a hint of something else. Something similar to kindness.

What was he guilty of, this handsome, infuriating man?

I gasped when a hand clamped onto my arm, breaking the illusion. I didn't expect to feel anything in this state, this state of straddling life and death.

My eyes swung to the figure standing beside me.

It was Ally, except not really.

She was shrouded in darkness. Her eyes were two hollow, black sockets. No pupils or irises. Just black.

Her mouth was a thin, trait-less line while her entire appearance screamed monster. The stark white of her gown contrasted crudely against the black void.

Because it was a void. A vacuum. A black hole. And Ally's ghost was here to drag me into it.

I glanced from Ally's monster to the guys, so far away now, at the end of the tunnel.

Ally pulled.

In the tangible world, my body began to seize.

I shook in Christian's arms, my head lolling to the side.

This ghost world rattled and swayed like one huge earthquake had overtaken it while I struggled to keep my footing.

"Chris..." Brandon whispered from miles away.

"Aimee?" Christian set me down on the ground, my body floppy, while he inspected my face. He tapped my cheek while Brandon's worried face peeked over his shoulder.

"Aimee, wake up. Fight it."

Christian cursed and banged his fist against the door.

"Damn it." He growled. "Damn it, it looks like we're taking her to Grandfather Nandru's."