If I hadn’t been such a selfish, entitled prick . . .
If I hadn’t broken into the De Morel crypt . . .
I swallow back bile, and it burns. And here I thought Cadence’s father had been exaggerating the consequences. This shit is real, and this little girl is doomed because of what I started.
“Emilie!” I stand and shout. I don’t know how to help her, but I do know how to give her a bit of respite. If holding her hand keeps her in place, I’ll fucking hold her hand until she’s an adult. “Emilie!”
She zaps to the right of me. I let go of Cadence and lunge toward the child, managing to latch on to her wrist just as she flickers. She stays solid and wraps her skinny arms around my waist, bawling into my stomach, soaking the cotton of my shirt.
“Shut the door, Bastian,” I tell him.
As the latch clicks, Adrien runs a hand through his hair but then zeroes in on the glowing ring. “The Bloodstone. It keeps her in place.”
Bra-fucking-vo,Prof.
A vein throbs at his temple. “But you can’t hang on to her forever.”
“I’ll hang on as long as I have to,” I growl.
“We need to get her out of Brume,” Cadence says suddenly. “Distance—”
“Except I can’t leave Brume, princess. And if I let her go, she’ll just keep flickering.”
A beat of silence settles over the room, punctuated by Cadence’s still too-brisk breathing and Emilie’s thin whimpers.
“Shouldn’t we call a doctor? Or the police?” Bastian’s taut lips barely shift as he speaks.
“A doctor won’t know how to cure her,” Cadence murmurs, “and we can’t involve the police.”
“Then who would know?” Bastian’s tone is as frantic as his gaze which ping-pongs over each of our faces.
“Papa,” Cadence says meekly.
Adrien takes his phone from the pocket of his overcoat and taps on the screen. “Merde.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard Prof curse. “My phone’s out of battery. Cadence, do you have yours?”
She stuffs her hands inside her coat pocket, then pats her jeans. “Non. I must’ve left it at home.”
“Use mine.” I tip my head to the nightstand. “Bastian knows the code.”
Adrien’s eyes twitch toward Bastian as though wondering if he’s trustworthy. Hesitantly, he tenders the phone, which Bastian unlocks, giving Adrien and the lot of us the stink-eye. I guess we deserve it.
I sigh. I swore to always protect him, but because of me, because I didn’t have the heart to force him back onto a train last night, he’s at risk.
As Adrien dials De Morel, Bastian’s stare burns a hole in the side of my skull. “Magic is real.” It’s not a question. It’s just a flat, emotionless assessment. But I know my little brother. I know he’s feeling a whole bunch of emotions. I can see it in the sharp tick of his jaw that seems to have lost all of its boyish roundness overnight, or rather, over-Emilie.
“Which is why you need to get back on a train and—”
“Shut up, Slate. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.”
I rub a hand over my face. “Bastian, we’re not dealing with fun potion-brewing. This is serious. And dangerous.” I nod down to Emilie shaking in my arms to drive my point home.
“Rainier, hold on a sec. Gaëlle’s calling on the other line . . . Okay. We’ll be over in ten minutes. Okay.” And then Adrien taps the phone, and says, “Gaëlle, we’re on our way to themanoir. Meet us there.”
Emilie’s brown eyes swim with tears. “I’m so scared.”
“I know,” I say. “And you have every right to be. But we’ll figure this thing out, okay? I’ll make sure of it.”
She doesn’t say anything. Just squeezes my waist like it’s a buoy, and she’s in the middle of the ocean.
