Henryk turned to Ree, a rippling storm in his eyes—fury, longing, something tender and secret and only for her. They’d had one night. And maybe that would be enough. “Ree, say nothing. Agree to nothing.”
“I don’t have time for this—” Corbin seized Ree by the chin, examining her in the light as if she were a gemstone. “Join me, witch. This will be your only offer. If you don’t, think of what will happen to your lover.”
“Touch her, and I’ll fucking kill you,” the Inquisitor snarled.
“Is that so?”
And then Corbin backhanded her, hard enough that her teeth dug into her tongue, her vision dimmed. The force of his hand left her jaw aching and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, but Ree said nothing, choosing instead to glare at him. “I find that some deals require a delicate balance of pressure,” Corbin said. “Tell me, was that enough?”
She spat blood onto the ground, eyes glinting. “Not nearly.”
Silas watched, leaning on his great staff. His face as impassive as cool stone.
Corbin stalked over to Henryk, wrenched him up by the hair to face him. “You will find that I can be very persuasive, Inquisitor Broussard. Now, I will ask of you both one last time: Join me and avoid the persecution of the Inquisition. Refuse me and I throw you both to the wolves of the Inquisitors. You know what they do to traitors, hm, boy? Surely much worse than they do to heretics and witches.” He whirled, eyes scanning the rest. “Maybe your lover’s blood is not enough? Perhaps I should sweeten the deal, hm?”
Down the line of captives he went, skimming the fleur-de-lis end of his cane along their backs. He was going to pick. Saints, he wasgoing to pick one of them to die. Who among them would break first? Ree’s eyes darted to Claudette. Not her—she would never break. The fierce set of her jaw told Ree that. Nan—no. Not quickly, at least. But Ory would. Fabrice. Their blood would be on her hands. But she couldn’t save them, could she? She was not the Quarter Queen, and she had no grand magic left.
“It kills you, doesn’t it? To not have any real magic of your own,” said Ree. “You’re so pathetic that you’ve got to devise a way to steal someone else’s. No wonder the Brotherhood didn’t want your sorry ass!”
A weak attempt at stalling, she knew. Delaying the inevitable. Already, she could feel her mother fading with every second that passed, her shallow breaths playing in Ree’s ears. She couldfeelher. Slipping away, minute by minute.
Corbin’s smirk faltered, like chipped glass. He knew what she was doing. But he held the knife of the advantage now, and he was doing his damn best to twist it where it hurt. “I reckon what I did to that boy, that stupid piece of shit I hung in that square ’til he was cold and gray”—his eyes narrowed down into his face, and Ree thought she might be sick.Marcel—“I reckon I’ll do worse to you, you fucking witch. But first, I’ll enjoy breaking you.”
“No!” Henryk bucked and twisted, but Corbin only shoved the dirtied rag back into his mouth, then jabbed the end of his fleur-de-lis cane into his side, and Ree heard his ribs give a sickening snap. He shoved Henryk onto his side, now screaming through the gag. But the sound came out all wrong—the wild, panicked sound of an animal.
Corbin turned to Silas. “Cut off her hand. Let us see how pretty she is then.”
Silas bent over Ree, his hand tracing down her arm to her manacled wrists. He gave them an agonizing twist. Ree gasped from the pain, terror gripping her throat, but said nothing. She would not give him the satisfaction.
“Well, get on with it then,” said Corbin.
But Silas had gone strangely still. “You were right about one thing, Felix. I am here to make a deal. Just not withyou.” He turned glittering eyes on Ree. “What are friends for, little witch?”
The manacles fell away from her wrists.
Shock left her speechless as she realized what he’d done. When he’d twisted her wrist, the alchemist must have quietly undone the lock. Ree understood at last the arrangement he was proposing.
Slowly, they both turned to look back at Corbin.
“What are you doing?” Corbin demanded, fear lacing his voice.
Silas cast a sidelong look at Ree. “Clearing the board.”
Swearing, Corbin jabbed a finger at Ree and Silas. “Fucking kill them!”
“Mutatio,” Silas yelled, slamming his staff down as the police fired. A thin green barrier formed in the air in front of Ree, bullets ricocheting, the fire returned upon Corbin’s men. Screams whistled in the air as bullets flew, some striking the house, some the men. Corbin squealed; he’d taken a hit in the side. Blood spewed between his fleshy fingers.
Silas quickly turned to Ree, one hand still holding up the green barrier between them and the police. It would not hold for long. “Perhaps now this will convince you of my loyalty.”
It had been a trick. A dirty, rotten trick. She remembered Corbin’s ball, the way she’d glimpsed that moment of fire and horror; the only thing she was sure of was that he was not who he said he was, that he was a man with two faces, and she never knew which she was lookingat.
“You stupid sons of bitches think you can mutiny? Against me?” Corbin spat, eyes wild and blue in the moonlight. His fear betrayed him. “I have my men!”
Silas sneered. “And I have more.”
Darkness spread out from the center of his eyes, seeping like spilled ink until the whole of the white spaces were filled. The pupils at the center shone as pale as bone. He tapped his staff once on the ground, sending a vibration of pressure out, a wind that shook the stalks and the trees. Dozens of Brotherhood alchemists stepped out from the cane fields. They made for a frightening picture—aline of dark-robed white men with silver hair that blanketed their shoulders like freshly fallen snow, their faces obscured by long hoods.
Even through her shock, Ree registered the advantage. Theirnumbers outweighed Corbin’s now. The odds had turned. Henryk and Claudette watched the alchemists, their faces uneasy. It was the worst kind of deal, but it was the only one left on the table. An alliance was made.
