I’m sorry,she thought as the mark began to glow a bright red,this was the only way I could think of.
That complete, she didn’t even try to disguise her love as she looked at Kit directly for the final time. “Kit, take Amelia and leave the Underground. Do not return for the night, or tell anyone about Freya’s whereabouts.” The second she was done speaking, Kit started struggling, no doubt his breath being stolen by the Favor because he couldn’t obey. Not with his legs tied.
Gentry remained calm. “Now untie him, Freya.”
Her eyes gleaming with undisguised anticipation, Freya made a big show of untying Kit as slowly as she could. “There you go,” she purred once she was finished, the sound strange in Drayer’s timbre, “now be a good boy and do as you’re told.”
Gentry wasn’t surprised to see the open hatred on Freya’s face as she looked at Kit. No doubt, if their deal actually went through and Freya was freed, then she would hunt down Kit to avenge her sister.
Kit dragged his feet as he picked up a crying Amelia, every line of his face etched in pain as he tried to resist the Favor’s edict. Gentry looked away, unable to watch as the man she loved walked away for the final time. She had to be strong for this next part.
She waited until those broad shoulders disappeared, until she could no longer hear his footsteps, to address Freya. The witch was standing tall in her stolen body, her handsome face twisted with excitement as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a bone-white needle as long as her forearm.
“It’s time for you to uphold your side of the deal,” the witch said as she stalked closer to her, “for being so cooperative, I’ll make your death quick. Now, be a dear and put that gun down.”
Gentry’s heart thundered in her chest as her impending doom approached, but she squeezed the handle of the gun in an attempt to stabilize herself. This was what she had wanted — Kit and Amelia were now safe. That she’d die a free woman rather than forever wasting away in a horrific hospital was an added bonus.
“I said. Put the—”
As fast as she could, Gentry whipped the gun on Freya and fired. This trick would’ve never worked on a witch with Kit’s speed, but Freya was no Kit.
Blood bloomed on Freya’s broad chest, just above her heart. She swayed and, to Gentry’s horror, remained standing. “You bitch,” she gargled, “you lied.”
Gentry could already feel the fluid filling her own lungs in response as the witch tried to push the injury onto her as she had in all the years’ past. But then Gentry emptied anotherbullet into the witch’s right shoulder. Then her left. Then her leg. Systematically, she inflicted spot after spot of pain. So quickly that the witch couldn’t keep up.
She didn’t stop until she’d emptied the clip and she was actively choking on blood as her chest burned. Freya had fallen to the ground after the second shot. As far as she could tell, the evil witch had only been able to transfer the first bullet.
But that was more than enough to kill her.Slowly, Gentry reached into her bloodsoaked pocket and clicked the panic button.
A little joke played in her head right before she lost consciousness. Her father had taught her three things in life: how to shoot a gun, how to con someone, and how to gamble. How funny was it that her last act in life had been to do all three?
fifty-nine
Kit
Kit robotically strode in the darkness of the Underground, the burning Favor on his neck forcing his every move as he carried a crying Amelia. Witches — he assumed enforcers — ran past them. Then he heard the first shot.
His heart cracked open.She really did it. Took herself out for that piece of shit.Although Kit knew she’d done it for him, he couldn’t help but be helplessly angry. There had to have been another way, even if he couldn’t think of one.
Then the air popped with the next five rounds, and he didn’t know what to think. Hope and despair warred inside him as he exited the Underground. A mix of Weavers and enforcers had the area completely canvassed. He set Amelia down who was immediately picked up by a worried Mary.
His foster sister then hugged him, but Kit was too numb to do anything. The Favor on his neck cooled slightly, but he knew it wouldn’t heal until the night passed and its conditions were met.
It felt like an eternity until the small army of enforcers resurfaced from the Underground, two stretchers in tow. Drayer Netherton and Gentry. Both soaked in blood.
He rushed over to her, his heart in his throat as a healer worked over her. When the healer stopped pushing spells into her and started compressions for CPR, Kit felt the world crumble beneath his feet. Gentry wasn’t breathing.
sixty
Gentry
She wasn’t sure how long she drifted between life and death, only that at times she wandered perilously close to the edge. It felt akin to when the necromancer had ripped apart her bond to that witch. She forgot how her brain worked with her body — she floated. Other times, she was extremely in tune with every inch of her skin and she wished for nothing more than for death to take her rather than draw another burning breath.
Gentry fluctuated between floating and pain until it became routine. And boring.
Eventually, the cycles became less intense, which made it even more boring. Sometimes a doctor would pull her out of that state to prod at her, but it was never for more than a few hazy, bumbling minutes. Gradually those events lengthened, until they finally let her be awake.
Thankfully, she wasn’t in a hospital bed. That was the first thing she noticed and was grateful for; the bed was soft and comfortable, and the air didn’t smell disinfected and disingenuous. The lighting was natural, and didn’t hurt her extremely dry eyes.
