I waggle my sword in front of me. “Wanna bet?”
Holding her hands in front of her, the gold bands on her wrists wink ominously. I hesitate a moment, unsure how the golds vary or if they vary at all, and not convinced I want to find out.
Gemma raises both hands above her head, her expression fierce as she taps those gold bands together, and that golden string appears, pulsing with energy. She steps toward me, obviously believing I will shy away, that I’ll flinch, that I’ll retreat from the potential onslaught of her defenses.
But I don’t.
Instead, I step around her, jumping up to the top step so I’m standing above her, spinning around, the arc of my sword following the torque of my body. The blade hits its mark, slicing cleanly, severing her hands from her arms just below her wrists.
For a moment, it’s dead quiet as she stares up at the stumps of her arms, flabbergasted, but then blood splatters on her face, and her scream cuts through, vibrates, echoes.
“Get the bracelets,” Zion shouts, his eyes on the spot where the severed appendages had fallen, but now all that remains are the intricate golden bands, humming their own siren's call
I lunge for them just as Gemma does the same, and I manage to push her out of the way, scooping them up in one fell swoop. Gemma comes for me again, but I dance out of the way, coming to a stop when Zion intervenes, knocking Gemma on her ass and then standing between us.
The bracelets vibrate in my palms, dancing along my skin as they attempt to find a connection but come up short. A shiver runs over me, but then Zion explains, “You have to secure them around your wrists.”
I turn to him, now standing over Gemma, keeping her down with his foot against her chest. “How do I know they won’t turn me into her?’
“They’re attuned to the wearer's character.”
I stare at him skeptically, knowing he wouldn’t make anything up, but also entirely wary of the possibility that I could become Gemma. She remains silent, likely because Zion’s foot on her chest is preventing her from breathing, so I walk to her, stopping when I’m standing over her.
Zion moves away, though not so far that he can’t assist if she pulls anything. I hold one bracelet between my fingers, watching her face as they open on their own, beckoning a new wearer. Her jaw tightens, her teeth grinding together, the malice in her eyes the deciding factor in my placing the gold metal around my wrist.
It secures slowly, and I watch in awe as it welds itself shut, no break or release clasp evident. The remaining bracelet hums in my hand, so I do the same, allowing it to secure itself before I stare at my newly adorned wrists with equal parts trepidation and exhilaration.
“Wake them up,” Zion says softly.
Glancing at him, I take a fortifying breath, then turn my attention back to my wrists, surprised by how light they feel. Gingerly, I tap them together, and the gold shimmers, a wave ofelectricity running up my arms, pooling in my chest. Suddenly feeling light, raw emotion overwhelms me, and I smile, watching the glow beneath my skin as I wave my hands in front of me.
Quickly, my smile fades. My hands fall to my sides. My focus turns back to Gemma, now a shadow of her former self.
“Please, Viv,” she whispers. “Don’t kill me.”
I laugh humorlessly. “And why not?
“Because deep down, you know I love you.”
Raising my brows, I snort and shake my head. “Try again.”
She frowns, thinking for a moment before a light flashes in her eyes, and she responds excitedly. “I can help you. You be the figurehead, and I’ll manage all the dirty work you can’t stomach.”
Now I roll my eyes, and when I say nothing, panic flares on her features, her voice turning small. “Please, sister. I’ll do anything.”
I give her an exasperated look before responding dryly, “You’ve just proven you’re not up for the job.”
She frowns, holding her bleeding arms against her chest as she mutters, “What? What do you mean?”
Kneeling down in front of her, I grip the hair at the back of her skull, yanking her head back so she’s looking directly at me as I answer clearly, “A devil doesn’t bargain.”
I lift my sword, intent on cutting her head from her body, but Zion’s voice stops me. “Don’t.”
I freeze, one hand gripping her hair and the other gripping the hilt of my sword, my eyes moving to Zion’s questioningly. “Why not?”
“She’ll just be reborn.”
“Are you sure? Because I was always of the understanding that the only safe enemy was a dead enemy.”
