Isabelle threw her hands up at the last minute, as if she thought that the fragile skin and bones could stop the path of the hammer. It had been a chink of light bursting through a crack in the closed curtains and catching the metallic surface of the head which had made her realise in that instant what it was, and what was about to happen.

Still trying to catch up to what was happening, her movements dictated purely by instinct, she almost didn't feel the impact of it against her skull. Oddly, she felt, with blinding clarity, her fingers raking out in defence and catching something soft, her fingernails digging into it and a warm sticky substance spreading across her skin. She could recognise it anywhere; blood. Then she could feel it, not just on her fingertips, but against her neck, running hot and wet down her cheek and she realised this wasn't his blood, this was hers. Almost as if that realisation sparked it the pain hit her, screaming through her skull and blinding her vision white.

With huge effort she forced herself to concentrate; Where was she? What had happened? One word slipped through the paralysing pain.

Max.

Where was he? What had Sebastian done to him? Nothing else mattered, she didn't even really care if she died, she just had to stop Sebastian from hurting Max. Isabelle forced her eyes open and realised that she was on the ground. She didn't remember falling but she was unmistakably looking up at the kitchen ceiling. It took her several moments before she could focus on the wooden beams and before she could convince her limbs to move. Half rolling over she pushed herself from the floor. With every movement a wave of overwhelming pain washed through her head, spreading with lightning fingers down her spine. She blinked, trying to clear a haze from her vision, and realised the floor was smeared with bright blood. It didn't really click in her brain that the mass of blood she was looking at was all hers, and that was probably a good thing. But the sight of it gave her the strength to reach up a hand, fingertips grasping at the edge of the counter to haul herself into what could pass for standing. Without the counter for support it wouldn't even have passed. Feeling a new jab of pain down the back of her neck she slowly lifted her head, looking through her curtain of bloodied hear, towards the door to the back part of the house. Somehow she just knew that was where Sebastian had gone. It seemed an impossibly long distance to go but Max's image was wavering in her mind and it spurred her forwards. He had to be alright.

Somehow she made it to the door but it was increasingly hard to concentrate and as she put a hand to the handle she realised she couldn't remember actually walking the half dozen steps. The door opened easily under her touch and she moved forward, clinging to the doorframe. Blackness was beginning to creep at the edges of her vision but it couldn't hide the sight of an impossibly small and crumpled heap on the floor. Without even hearing her own voice she let out a gasping, strangled cry and half-leapt, half-fell forwards. Her fingers scrabbled at the fabric of his shirt, clutching desperately for him as she began to feel the ground underneath her slipping away. Even as she fell to the hard tiles her hand was on his chest, searching for a simple rise and fall. Even as the darkness flooded her vision and the pain began to numb her thoughts she knew he was gone. She would have been crying or screaming if she could have but consciousness was already slipping away.

...

When the Lightwoods burst into the darkened house they sensed the presence of death. It lingered like an evil mist in the shadows of the stairs, the darkened doorways and the unbearable silence.

"Alexander! Isabelle! Max!" Maryse screamed, frantic with worry as she flung herself through doorways, looking for them. Every room met her with silence and perfect stillness.

"Maryse," Robert called in an oddly expressionless voice. It sent a painful shiver down her spine as she rushed to his voice, bursting through the doorway of the kitchen and stopping dead at the sight which had frozen her husband. Blood was pooled and smeared across the floor. Too much blood. Maryse felt her knees weaken at the sight of it. Her children were dead. Robert's touch on her arm startled her and only then did she realise that wracking sobs had been escaping her. She clutched a hand to her mouth and met his eyes, sharing the knowledge.

"We don't know," was all he said, his voice breaking slightly, his only sign of emotion. But she knew him well enough to know that the blankness in his eyes and the expressionless tone of his voice was his pain and his fear. She nodded, trying to steel herself, as he moved away, following the blood. She followed his footsteps, stepping heavily around the patches of blood, feeling a wave of sickness wash through her with every new splash. Robert has stopped dead still in the doorway and she knew from the tenseness of his shoulders that he was trying to hold back a scream. It sped her forwards till she was standing next to him and she could see her children, two of them, looking the picture of death, surrounded by a crimson halo of blood.

"No!" she gasped, lunging forwards, reaching out for them. While she sobbed and clutched at them, Robert stayed perfectly still, seemingly frozen with horror. Her fingers ran over Max's pale, blank face, so childlike. He looked like he was sleeping but she knew he wasn't. There was no doubt in her mind that her youngest child had been taken from this world. The anguish of the realisation built up inside her, threatening to explode in a screaming fit of hysteria, but it halted as her fingertips felt something else; a slight movement, and her head turned, her eyes, blurred with tears, looked at her daughter as she realised she was still breathing.

"Robert!" she gasped, not looking at him, but her tone sent him rushing forwards. Not two after all, just one. But one was enough. Maryse clung to Isabelle as she looked at Max and let the tears pour down her face.