Ariadne recoils, looking furious, ready to end it all.
But she doesn’t. Shecan’t.
She shakes her hands but nothing happens. No magic.
“What did you do to me?” she shrieks.
“I killed us both,” Veda rasps. “Liquid Curse.”
Ariadne pales, shock stealing her breath. Then the anger comes roaring back as she punches Veda in the face. Welcoming the blow, Veda laughs, broken and breathless.
Ariadne staggers away, clawing at her arms as if she can scrape the curse off. She won’t get far. Rolling onto her stomach, Veda tries to crawl, gasping for breath and finally feeling what she’s been ignoring: agony. Bone deep, the torment is ripping at the seams of her soul. She coughs, and red tar escapes her mouth, thick, putrid, and alive. It lands on the ground with a wet plop, then slithers away into the underbrush.
Veda’s finally free of Ariadne’s blood ... if only for a few minutes.
She tears off her ring, flips it open, and takes the crushed foxgloves. It’ll be quicker this way. She forces herself to roll onto her back and stare at the sky.
Only the Cosmos bear witness to her screams and sobs. The trees stand silent, listening long after her cries dissolve into choked, gasping breaths as she surrenders to her fate. Blood seeps into the earth, spreading until she no longer feels pain. Only peace remains when the smoke and fire close in.
The last thing she remembers is squeezing the note in her pocket, Hiram’s name on her lips.
Thirty-Two
Hiram’s house is crawling with investigators and enforcers, most of whom are lying on the ground, dazed. He spots Francisco first, who taps Gabriel, and they break away from the group of enforcers, approaching him with urgency.
“We quieted the talisman by putting it to sleep,” Gabriel says. “But, as you can see, this took effort.”
Hiram stops dead at the realization.
“It’s blood-tied to me,” he says slowly. “You can’t do anything with my talisman without me.”
“But you didn’t register it as a blood-tied—”
“Of course I didn’t,” Hiram interrupts, scoffing. “This was a decoy.”
He’s already fishing his phone from his pocket, dialing Veda first. No answer. As Francisco begins giving orders, telling everyone to pack up and leave those on the ground for the healers and medics, Hiram tries Khadijah. No answer.
Worry sets in.
“No one is picking up.” Hiram opens his car door. “Veda’s sick from her block unraveling, but Khadijah wouldn’t ignore my call—not with Antaris there, too. We need as many people as possible over thereright now.”
Gabriel rushes over to Francisco, and Hiram can tell the moment he delivers the news. Shouts ring out as a mad scramble for their vehicles begins.
“We’ll follow you,” Francisco says, climbing into the passenger seat of the car parked next to him. Gabriel takes the driver’s seat, starting the car with his Imprint. Hiram wastes no time. He starts his own car and pulls away quickly, dialing Peter as he speeds toward Veda’s house.
“Where are you?” Peter sounds frantic.
“I’m on my way back to Veda’s. The alarm at my house was a diversion. Where are you?”
“Khadijah called me. It sounded like a war zone over there. I’m ten minutes away.”
“I’m bringing everyone with me,” Hiram says, forcing down the rising dread. He presses harder on the accelerator, refusing to let the fear take hold.
The sense of wrongness is as jarring as the felled trees scattered like matchsticks across the road—as obvious as the path that’s meant to be invisible.
Hiram doesn’t wait for permission. His ring glows white when he whispers a spell, moving the trunks out of the way. He turns onto Veda’s path, a knot of nerves twisting his stomach tighter with every car that follows, all heading down a trail they were never meant to see.
There’s no time to brace for the sight of Veda’s cottage.
