“You’re really no fun, Timo,” Bohdan says, drawing the black slip back over my doppelganger’sthighs.
Again, I attempt to coax my talons from my nailbeds. Nothing happens. Blood-magic it will have to be.
I limp over to Izolda, pressing my fingers into my side to collect fresh blood. “How’s my sister?”
“Alive,” Timo grumbles. “Like you asked.”
I shove in between his gun and my friend, wishing I could enclose Izolda in a ward like the one Vance drew on the sleigh, but all I can do is make her invisible.
Invisible doesn’t make one insubstantial.My father’s words stay my hand, leading me to preserve my true identity a heartbeat longer. I turn toward Timo just as the train swerves. Again. I use it to my advantage by feigning unsteadiness.
I flail, catching myself on his thick neck. “Sorry. I feel faint from all the damn blood loss.” I nod to my waist to drag his stare there while I slick crimson from his vertebrae to his Adam’s apple. “I just cannot wait to get my brother’s necklace. It’s going to be a game changer, wouldn’t you agree? Never having to worry about iron again?”
Timo frowns, making me wonder if I’m overdoing the chattiness. Probably. Then again, I don’t give a flying reindeer’s ass, since the male is about to bite the Cauldron.
I prod the wound with my other hand, adding a pained grunt, then wobble on my feet and swap handholds—the hand on his neck goes to the mirrored wall, while the one on my waist rises to the unsoiled side of his neck. Which I soil…liberally.
His thick eyebrows writhe when I paint his mouth to keep him quiet. He jostles the shotgun wedged between us. I shove my front into his to keep the weapon from lifting, and then watch, with immense satisfaction, his neck pucker and split.
I fit my finger over his on the shotgun’s trigger. “Which one of your family members should we shoot first?” I murmur. “The one who suggested fucking me?”
As my identity sinks in, his pupils pulsate. And then he’s turning his head, jaw twitching over a warning he will never be able to shout. The movement precipitates my spell, bloatingthe beads of blood into viscous drips. Before he buckles, I cut through the gun strap to fully take ownership of the weapon.
“Bohdi!” I screech, jumping onto the bed and getting on my knees in front of Izolda. I shoot at the wall Timo is sidling down, shattering the mirrored panel at his back.
“What the fuck, Ksen?” one of the sons yells.
“A Serpent just attacked Timo! Oh my Gods… He’s coming toward me! Bohdi, do something!”
The color drains from the Faerie’s face. “Where? I can’t see him,” he squeaks as he takes cover behind Real-Ksenia’s chair.
Such a timorous man you are.“Because he’s invisible!”
“Then how doyouknow where he is?” Vasily asks, gun propped in front of him and aimed at me.
“The floor. You can see his footsteps. He’s right”—I shoot—“in front of you.”
My bullet sinks into Vasily’s chest, bowling him into another brother, who shrieks, “What have you done?”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Dig the bullet out!” It takes everything in me to keep my lips flat. And then I shout, “Careful!”
He jumps, dancing away from his fallen brother. I pull the trigger, meeting my mark yet again. I wonder how long their gullibility will last? Long enough for me to pick them off bullet by bullet? That would be convenient. I glance at Konstantin, who’s watching the whole scene unfold with something akin to amusement.
“Make sure he can’t get to Isla, Bohdi!” I yell, almost wishing my father and grandfather could be here to witness my marksmanship. I bet they’d be quite impressed with my newest skill.
Bohdan whips out his palms and surrounds himself and Ksenia with a wall of fire, leaving the two remaining Volkovs out in the cold.
A smirk tugs at Konstantin’s mouth as he cranes his neck. “Hello, Vance.”
One of the half-bloods swings his weapon in Konstantin’s direction.
My heart stumbles over several beats. I shoot, clipping the enemy in the cheek.
“Isla!” Konstantin screams, jumping to his feet and slitting the last standing half-blood’s neck with the snowflake dagger I snuck him after clipping his chains. “Your chest!”
I drop my chin to peer down at my chest, at a hole in the fabric just beneath my collarbone. That’s not good.
“Holy fuck, you played me!” I hear Bohdan exclaim as Konstantin shoves his dead jailor aside. “What a performance, Miss Ríhbiadh. What. A. Performance.Bravo.”
