Lilith might have said something in response, but Corinne ignored it. She was already sprinting, set in a dead-straight line for the bundle of grey feathers and silver-stained skin. If she got the chance to stick her blade into Khalida's heart on the way, then all the better.

Yet before she could reach either of them, her legs were whisked from under her.

The world tilted, then jarred as her shoulder crashed into the hard floor. She barely had time to snatch a lungful of air before a knee smacked into her ribs, her attacker's weight shoved mercilessly against her to keep her pinned there. The hot breath of a laugh tickled her forehead. Instinctively, her nose wrinkled, disgust begging her to recoil more than was possible.

Raksey's grin might as well have stretched from ear to ear for how repulsive it was. The lights painted his bared teeth in an unflattering reddish tinge. "Finally," he crooned.

His knife pushed into her chin, stinging as it drew blood. Blades had always been his favourite and his speciality. As far as she could gather, he enjoyed the closeness they granted him, the easy view he was granted of his victims' pain and suffering, the physical contact that left his hands and face often streaked with blood. Corinne had wished him dead many times before, and that grim desire rose to the surface now. With a hiss, she gathered her strength and jerked aside, throwing a slash with her own knife that tore through his arm. Her elbow jabbed into his stomach. The impact made him unsteady, and it was enough to grab him by the shoulders and flip him around.

They rolled. His back hit the floor with a sharp thud, though she didn't get time to properly right herself before he was tackling her again. His grin was unfading, his eyes seeming to narrow to slits in the blur of their entangled battle. Snake-biter was a name that targeted all of Khalida's followers, anyone stupid and cruel enough to nibble on the bait she cast out for them and drink up her poisoned words, but Raksey's image formed the pinnacle of it. Hatred coursed through her veins.

After all, it had been his knife that glittered with Micah's blood in the first place. He was the reason Micah now lay on the ground, bandages swallowing his torso, his life half-drained. Her hiss became a growl.

With a hard kick, she broke free, tumbling away from him and coming up on one knee. Challenge shot through her, narrowing her gaze. Raksey smiled easily back.

"Remember those days, Corinne?" He sighed. "We used to wrestle all the time, don't you recall?"

She didn't care enough to answer. The memory was a lump of coal that burned in her chest, ashes sifting beneath her skin. She leapt to her feet at the same time he did and charged.

He attempted to force her towards the wall, but she spun him instead, pushing him back. He skidded out of the way of her strike, his laughter still tripping out in breathless bursts. "What a duo we were back then. Mistress Rajan's twin shadows."

She swung her knife at his chest. He blocked the strike with his forearm, twisting so that the blades met with a high-pitched clang. Entirely unnecessary. He was playing.

"I liked you so much more then." He stepped back, the red patches on his clothing gaining a dusty glow as he slid beneath the full glow of a ceiling light. "You actually had something about you. Now you've gone all soft and pathetic, and for what? A naive little brat?" His laugh was abrasive, coarse as it rubbed at her flesh. "I thought you were supposed to be--"

Corinne moved on instinct. She barely knew what she was doing until she felt him jolt beneath her grip, trapped against the tavern's wall. Her fist tingled with the echo of contact. His next laugh wheezed, but the humour in it hadn't suffered in the slightest.

"There we go," he forced out between gasps. As he caught his breath, the words settled into their usual slithering drawl. "I missed that look in your eyes."

She gritted her teeth, her nails digging into her palm at her side. "Hypocrite. You're the most pathetic brat there is."

She thrust her knife for his throat. He caught her wrist, and they both strained, battling against one another. He grinned. "Oh, I'm sure I am a brat."

A sharp pain cut into her side, and her mind blurred, the adrenaline pumping through her veins wild with the edge of panic. Slowly, surely, the blade edged towards her neck. Her arm ached with protest as it was bent against her will. She struggled against it, but she could feel her strength slipping, exhaustion making her all the more aware of the gap in skill that yawned between them.

"But I'm a smart one," he added, the glint in his eyes taking on a blood-coloured shine.

"Hey!"

The shout jolted abruptly into Corinne's awareness, unfamiliar, stuck together with trembling scraps of courage. Raksey's gaze leapt over her shoulder to follow it, and his smile crawled wider.

"Don't you want me?" the voice called.

Corinne took hold of her curiosity and wrenched it aside, forcing herself to focus. Raksey hadn't relinquished his grip on the knife; he still held it firmly in place even as his head cocked to get a better view of the unnamed speaker. But his previous knife dug in just above her hip. His fingers rested on it loosely, no real grip there anymore. Still, she'd have to be quick.

"Of course," he said, smooth and taunting.

"Then why don't you chase me?" Mischief tinged the end of the question.

The blade shifted closer to Corinne's neck. It was less than an inch from her skin now, and his eyes weren't even on it. She stole a hurried breath.

An eager glow captured Raksey's eyes. "I'd love that."

Her fingertips lingered just beside her hip. She hesitated.

"You best get--"

Agony spilled out as she snatched the blade free, but she paid it no regard. She had one second. It was enough time to flip the knife around and drive it into his chest.

Genuine shock blanketed his face. He met her eyes. She stared back, careful to hold his gaze as she twisted. Some dimly satisfied part of her wondered if he enjoyed the look in her eyes now.

His blade grazed the underside of her chin before she shoved back, his strength giving far more easily now. She yanked out her knife, and he slumped against the wall, steadily sliding to the floor. The rapid spread of a dark crimson stain looked quite natural as it seeped into his shadow-coloured clothing. Even so, she tore her gaze away. The thrashing urge to drag her hands over her coat, a vain attempt to wipe off the warm stickiness that cling to them, was difficult to pin down and destroy.

Raksey deserved it. It was better him than her. There was no need for any kind of regret or guilt, not this time.

A sharp breath disturbed the air behind her. She spun, suddenly remembering the reason she'd had the chance at all, and everything made sense.

Corinne had missed the smaller angel's name, but she was unmistakable. She jittered nervously in every limb, her leathery bat-like wings flicking in and out in long curves, her arms curled over a familiar glittering golden object. As Corinne's focus settled on her, she edged out a fidgeting step back. Fear spiked through her.

Corinne made sure her knife, covered in blood as it was, hung harmlessly at her side. "Thanks," she tried. "That was helpful."

The angel's emerald eyes sparked briefly with her quirk of a smile, short-lived as it was. Her mouth opened and closed without a word. Before Corinne could glance past her, she scurried forward, the useless Heart of Asariel clutched in her hands. She thrust it at Corinne. Bemused, Corinne took it, feeling the edges of the cracks she'd left behind sharp against her palm.

"It's not real," the angel said. "But it has traces of Asariel's blood." She glanced over her shoulder, her expression tight. "Save Micah, please."

Somehow, Corinne managed a nod, though she doubted the angel saw it. She broke away, darting right for the nearby door to the tavern and wrenching it open. A bullet pinged off the wall, narrowly missing her fluttering wings, before she vanished into the street outside.

Reeling, Corinne whipped her gaze around, immediately latching onto the woman that had fired. The girl. Eliza. Her pistol moved with the same speed. With little time to do anything else, Corinne braced herself, some part of her bathing in the dry, humorous realisation that she might die holding the very thing that had started this whole charade.

It's not real. Maybe it hadn't even been necessary.

Yet the following shot wasn't Eliza's.

She cried out, the pistol dropping from her grip and clattering to the floor as he clutched at her arm. Grabbing ahold of instinct, Corinne dived, letting go of the Heart in order to throw herself to the floor and snatch up the gun before Eliza could. She twisted, saw the fear shoot the girl's eyes wide, and reacted anyway. A bullet flew straight for her heart.

Without letting herself watch Eliza collapse, Corinne pulled the Heart under her arm and sprung to her feet, filling her mind with blank, empty space. She needed it, or her focus would crumble. Still, the image of a mirror flashed at the back of her mind, reflecting back that tight, emotionless expression Eliza had worn, before she forced it away and the thought shattered.

She tossed a glance over her shoulder. Lilith showed her a weak thumbs up, the rifle lingering in her hand from the shot she'd taken. Corinne didn't have it in her to call a thanks. She simply turned away.

There was only one snake-biter left alive and conscious. He was already bleeding from a gunshot wound to his shoulder, but he remained entirely focused on Rivo, who still cowered behind the bar out of sight. Shards of broken glass spilled over the countertop, several bottles behind smashed to the floor and spilling out their contents like miniature rentactments of murders. Lifting her newly stolen pistol, Corinne tensed her hand against its shaking and pulled the trigger.

The shot sliced harmlessly into the wall, but it got his attention. He whirled. At the same time, a dark shape vaulted over the bar, wrestled the gun from his hand, and threw a hefty punch at his head. The man collapsed.

More applause echoed in the resulting quiet, although this time it was solitary.

"You did it," Khalida announced. She'd risen to her feet, and now paced in a slow, stalking circle, the soles of her heeled boots painted silver as she walked through the pool of blood. Corinne jerked her gun to follow her. Across the room, Rivo did the same, edging a step nearer.

"You are good indeed." Smoothly, Khalida spun around, her smile curving as her eyes settled on Corinne. "You were always destined to be the best. It runs in your veins."

That had to be the third time she'd made reference to blood, and every one jarred with Corinne, spiking cold beneath her skin. She might've rejected the mention before, but it was too easy to let it claw at her heart now. Her hands were coated in the stuff, after all. Two deaths trailed her like bony shadows. She tightened her grip on her pistol, steeling her stance.

"Drop your rifle," she ground out.

Khalida lifted the weapon, turning it over in her palm as she examined it. Its black stripes swallowed all light that bounced off them. Seemingly without any reluctance, she bent down, slow and precise as a serpent's hunting wind through the undergrowth, before setting the rifle on the ground. Her hands raised placatingly in the air as she straightened again. Her lips quirked as if she were moments away from collapsing into laughter.

Corinne's jaw tensed, her teeth pressed so tightly together that they hurt. Khalida hadn't even used the weapon. She'd chosen to watch, and she was content to surrender. The brawl had been a show for her enjoyment. The real game began now.

"So," Khalida said, her eyes glinting as black as those painted stripes, "are you going to kill me now?"

Corinne twitched.

"It was me you wanted to destroy, after all." She spread her hands a little wider as if in an uncaring shrug. "For a family like ours, it's a fitting way to go. Take your shot."

To her side, several paces back, Rivo caught Corinne's gaze. His expression was full of questions, his nod a hesitant kind of prompt. It had to be her choice, his eyes said. She had to be the one to do it, if this was what she wanted. She had to pull the trigger.

It would solve things, wouldn't it? With Khalida dead, the chains wrapped around Anhren could slowly begin to unwind without someone to hold them tight. Her followers would disperse without a leader, perhaps even mellow without poison to feed off. And maybe, just maybe, the heat in Corinne's blood would fizzle out without a source to lend it fuel. She'd never have to look at someone with that same blank, targeted expression ever again. She'd never have to hide in the shadows, or stand outlined by those cursed red lights with blood gleaming on her hands.

One last kill for a city-wide freedom. It was a simple choice. An easy, practised action. It barely required thought.

With her hands still far above her head, Khalida took a step forward, then another, her heels clapping the floorboards in muted mockery. There was a spark of challenge in her eyes, hidden as it tried to be behind a veil of innocence. "Go on," she chided.

The knife wound in Corinne's side throbbed. Her breath hitched, although her focus didn't rest at all on the spike of pain. The very bones in her fingers seemed to grate together.

"I think it's rather perfect, don't you?" Another step. She tilted her head down a fraction, humming to herself. "A new Mistress Rajan and her angelic lover. I'm sure he'll give you all the help you want, with how devoted he is to you. I wish the two of you a splendid eternity."

"Shut up," Corinne snarled.

"You might find putting a bullet in my head more effective than the spoken word." She let a beat of silence slide by, then sighed. "I thought you were the impatient type, Corinne, and yet you're dragging this out far more than necessary."

A tidal wave crashed down on her all at once, a heavy sheet of realisation that smothered her until her lungs ached and her eyes stung with the horrible warning of tears. Why wasn't this easy? Why couldn't she do it? She suddenly felt so small, so childish, like all the world had her in a vice-like grip that held her in this moment, a thousand ice-cold hands that pulled at her skin and refused to let go.

She'd known for a long time that her mother was a monster. She'd whispered it to herself at night, in the rain, on that lonely split in the rooftops. She'd longed to kill that monster.

And now, finally, when the world grabbed her by every limb and shoved her into that golden opportunity she'd prayed for, she couldn't do it.

"Come on." Khalida's smile spoke of gleeful, entertained knowledge, as if she had the power to reach into Corinne's mind and scan every feeble little thought. "This is getting tiresome."

Corinne sucked in a deep, steadying breath, the very air forming her cage. Right before it cracked.

A gunshot.

And, for the first time in living memory, real, genuine surprise jolted Khalida stiff.

Her face paled. She wavered, teetering on her heels, before she fell. Some instinctive part of Corinne nudged her a step to the right, out of the way. Her own shock cut right through her chest, straining her lungs, and the thud of her mother hitting the floor strangled all hope of ever breathing normally again.

The bullet had struck the back of her head. Blood spilled through the roots of her hair, staining them as red as the single, dangling streak, until that dyed part of her didn't seem so special. Life rushed from her with the same haste, as if it despised being contained by her, as if it relished the touch of the air and choked all else with its fulfilled desire to be free.

She was dead. A hit like that delivered it within the instant.

Corinne was sure her ears were ringing.

It took far too much effort to drag her gaze away, the dull question of who and why cascading through her. Each fell numb when she found their answer.

Micah.

He was barely up on his knees, trembling in a pool of his own blood, Khalida's discarded rifle clutched in a slippery grip. His silver eyes were round as shining coins. He blinked, and the gun fell from his hands almost absentmindedly, as if he'd simply lost the energy to hold it.

His eyes landed on her. They were blurred, hazy with his half-consciousness, but she recognised the spark of determination rooted within them. It was too bright. Its light seemed to pierce right through her and dig out a pinprick hole in her heart.

His lips moved, but no words could fit into their loosely-formed shape. A distant frown crossed his features. And then he collapsed.

Corinne didn't hear herself call his name. The sound of her movement swirled and beat hollowly at her ears, senseless noise. Her body didn't feel like her own. She only knew where she was again when her knees hit the bloodstained floor by his side, and she had her hand on his shoulder, shaking him again. His eyelids were drooping.

"Micah," she begged. "Micah, come on."

The Heart jabbed into her ribs. She scrambled to get it in both hands, searching for the opening she'd left when she broke it.

A flash of polka-dotted pink crossed the edge of her vision.

"It's not the real Heart." Lilith's voice quivered with apology, quieter than it ever had been before, soft and breaking. "I'm sorry--"

"Asariel's blood," Corinne said, the words falling in a stampede from her mouth, not caring what they trampled. "That angel said it was filled with..." She released one hand from the Heart to drag it over her coat, peeling away some upper layer of the blood that coated it, before bringing her finger back to swipe a leaking vein.

Lilith gasped. "Oh. That would explain the radiation. His blood and Micah's would have a similar--"

Corinne cut her off with a sharp glance. She swallowed, trying for a strained, tiny smile. "Not the time, I know."

Silver liquid pooled on Corinne's skin. It couldn't be anywhere near enough, but she dragged it over Micah's arm anyway, attempting to apply it in the few places splashes of silver blood hadn't already spilled out. A buzzing pounded at the back of her skull. Her hand jerked as if yanked by an invisible thread. She curled it into a fist, hating herself, hating everything, hating the tears that tore themselves free and screamed as they burned her cheeks. This was too much. All of it was too much.

Lilith's hand curled over her wrist. The Heart extracted itself from its spot pressed into her chest, placed instead in her friend's hands. "I'll do it," she said, then added a murmured, uncertain, "It'll be okay."

It wouldn't, but Corinne merely nodded. She'd never felt so fragile.

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I wrote most of this at 1AM and it shows. Whoops haha. Ow.

Also snhjdskdf we only have one chapter left so excuse me while I sob in a corner--

- Pup