Veda.
Blood. There’ssomuch blood.
The curse is leaving her body, tearing her apart from the inside. Black veins have already spread across her exposed arms and legs, slowly creeping across her face like a shadow. Hiram freezes. It’s only the burn of Gabriel’s location spell that jars him out of his shock.
Antaris’s note is clutched in her hand. Hiram’s ring lies beside her, pillbox empty.
He drops to his knees, hesitating before touching her hand, her arms, her face. He doesn’t know where the blood is coming from, why there’s so much of it, or how to stop it. Something dark rises in him, but he forces it down. Her fingers tighten around the note, and her eyes flutter open.
“She’s breathing,” Gabriel says.
Not for long,Hiram amends silently, but the thought can’t dim his relief.
Veda is a void. She smells of nothing. No magic. No energy.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs to her as he searches his pocket for the vial of antidote, tipping it into her partially opened mouth. She swallows, and he’s relieved until he realizes they need time for it to work into her system.
It may be too late.
“Ant . . .” she croaks.
“We got him.”
When Veda relaxes fully, her other hand opens. Blood pools in her palm and spills onto the ground. “The curse ... I—I did it.”
Gabriel hears and glances around, peering through the smoke. “Ariadne couldn’t have made it far.” He doesn’t wait before running off to find her.
“Tell him ... I’m sorry.” Veda’s eyes close, her breathing growing more labored. “I knew ... it would end like this.”
Hiram ignores her words, hehasto, or he’ll lose the last shreds of composure holding him together.
“I don’t . . . regret you.”
The final shred is eviscerated. His resolve crumbles, and so does he. Hiram pulls her into his arms, closes his eyes, and forces himself to ignore the wetness on her back, the black threads thickening and consuming her skin, the rattle in her chest.
Determination strikes him like a bolt. He picks her up and steadies himself, knowing exactly where he needs to go. Nénuphar. The cave isn’t a cure, but it might keep her alive long enough for the antidote to start working. Hiram wanders the forest, directionless, thoughts of giving up flickering at the edges of his mind—
Finally,finally, he sees a western hemlock. He’s close. By the time Hiram reaches the mouth of the cave, Veda is limp and motionless in his arms, her breath faint.
He doesn’t stop to remove his clothes, walking straight in and carefully lowering her into the healing waters. Cradling her head above the surface, he begs for time. Pleads to the Cosmos for it.
But nothing happens.
Holding his breath, he waits, and waits, and waits, hope slowly dimming until he sees something dark slink away beneath the surface. Then another. Smoke escapes her lips. Dark liquid spills from her veins, retreating from her skin. Her face begins to clear. The shadows writhe and scream as they’re dragged from her, consumed by light.
Hiram holds her until the last of the Sanguis Curse flees her body.
Nénuphar closes her wounds. Still water slips into her mouth.
Veda breathes, albeit shallowly, but it’s a sign that the antidote is working.
Still, she does not wake.
Thirty-Three
Reality jolts Veda with a surge of adrenaline that should have forced her into an upright position, but she can’t feel her arms or legs, let alone move. She can only blink and breathe.
Needing to calm the rising panic, Veda focuses on the simple act of wiggling her toes. The relief that accompanies the sensation is palpable. Opening her mouth, she tries to call for someone, anyone, but nothing comes out.
