Václav cradled his golden hand. "Anya defied me. Stole my Blood Perfume recipe. Ran to Paris. Fell for a vampire." His tears dripped onto Lucien's pale face. "I made this hand from her remains. To keep her close."
Élise knelt beside Lucien. His breath bubbled red. Václav's hand had pierced his lung. "Heal him! You're a master alchemist!"
"Why? He's half-vampire scum." Václav rose. "Like the thing that corrupted my Anya." He kicked Lucien's ribs. "Give me the journal. I'll leave you to watch him die."
Élise blocked his path. Her scars glowed hell-red. "You want resurrection? I'll show you power." She slammed her hands onto the floor. Scent Memory: Lucien's blood on her tongue. His promise: "Never let go."
The tower trembled. Gears reversed. Time-slowed. Václav's golden hand twisted toward his own chest. "No!" he screamed. "She's in there! Anya's soul—"
The hand plunged into his heart. Václav gasped. Golden light blazed from his mouth, eyes, fingertips. "Mother?" Élise whispered.
A woman's voice echoed from Václav's lips: "Élise… break the hand… free me…" Václav fought it. "She's mine! My greatest creation—"
The golden hand ripped free of his chest. Held his still-beating heart. Václav collapsed. Dead.
The hand scuttled toward Élise like a spider. Lucien choked. "Destroy it!"
Élise grabbed a fallen gear. Smashed the golden hand. It shattered. A wisp of silver mist rose—forming a woman's face. Anya Dubois.
"Daughter," the ghost whispered. "Václav lied. Catalyst X wasn't poison… it was your birthright. Our blood alchemy. " She floated to Clémence's tank. Touched the glass. The water drained. Clémence slumped free. Breathing.
Anya faded. "The Court's true leader lives… Find the Crimson Abbey…" Gone.
Élise crawled to Lucien. His skin was corpse-cold. "I'm sorry," he rasped. "Should've… trusted you sooner."
"Stay with me," Élise begged. "We have the journal! We can cure you—"
Lucien gripped her scarred hand. "No cure for this." Black veins covered his face. Fangs lengthened. "Kill me. Before I turn."
Tears froze on Élise's cheeks. "I can't."
"You must." He pressed her palm to his chest. Over the wound. "Use your magic. Burn the vampire out."
Élise closed her eyes. Gathered the scent of his memories: - His scalpel flashing in surgery - His sister's laugh before the bite - Rain on Paris streets as he carried Élise to safety
She poured it into Lucien—a perfume of his own humanity.
His body arched. Screamed. Light blazed from the wound…