My heart dropped into my stomach. It was a curse.Fuck.
“Then don’t say it!” Pip cut in quickly. “There’s other ways. You could draw it? My Uncle Flicker did that once when he couldn’t talk because of throat fever, and it worked perfectly! Try initials.”
“Can’t,” he said, head shaking back and forth. “This was a mistake, Pippy.”
“Maybe he just needs proper motivation,” Wickett said, moving closer to the sprite.
“No.” I lunged toward Wickett as the curse, lingering in the air like a trap, triggered. “Shit.”
“Get away from him,” I yelled at Wickett, shoving him before I realized I’d put my hands on the hunter. Crimson’s wings ignited, turning to ash in seconds. The scream that tore from histiny throat made my heart seize. Wickett shifted backward on his own as his eyes grew wide.
“No!” Pip lunged for Crimson, but he convulsed too violently. “Stop it! Whatever you’re doing, stop it!”
I panicked, twisting toward Calder, who stood stoically. He’d seen so many people die it didn’t rattle him. Based on his posture, he probably assumed it was coming. I reached out with calming mist again, to soothe, to do something.
But the moment my power touched the magic lingering in the air, the curse began to feed. Black veins spread across Crimson’s paling skin. I yanked the power back, horror flooding through me. I’d somehow made it worse. My attempt to help had accelerated his death.
“Fix it!” Pip’s voice cracked, all her brightness shattering. “Syn, please, you have to fix it!”
“I can’t.” The words felt like choking. “Whatever this curse is, it feeds on magic. I have nothing that can help him.”
Crimson seized, blood frothing from his mouth. But his hand lifted, trembling as he fought for control. Trying to trace something in the air.
“Don’t!” Pip flew closer, her wings beating frantically. “Crimson, don’t, it’s killing you! Just, just wait. We’ll figure something else out! These are smart people!”
Crimson kept going, determination in every shaking movement, as each letter drawn in the air cost him something more.
D...
His pocket watch crumbled to ash.
E...
His breathing turned wet, ragged.
C...
Lucette caught him as he fell over, cradling his tiny form with unexpected gentleness.
Pip hovered there, staring. For once, completely still. No bouncing. No chattering. Just frozen shock as she processed what was happening.
“He was just trying to help his family,” she whispered finally. “The Circle said he sent money home every week. For his granny’s medicine. For his little sister’s schooling. He was a good person.” Her voice grew smaller. “Good people aren’t supposed to die like this.”
I moved toward her slowly, reaching out. “Pip?—”
“We can’t allow more people to die for this.” She looked up at me, giant tears streaming, but her voice steady with something I’d never heard from her before. Anger. “The Phoenix did this! Crimson is dead. The Mistress of Blades didn’t even stand a chance. How many more like this before we find her? We have to stop all of this. We have to find her.”
“I know.” I let my hand hover near her shoulder, not quite touching. Giving her the choice. “I know, and I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry won’t bring him back.” But she pressed against my hand when I finally made contact. “He showed us DEC. Three letters. That’s what he died for. So it has to mean something. It has to be worth it.” Her voice broke on the last word, all the brightness dimming.
“It will be,” I promised, hoping it wouldn’t be another lie but needing to give her something. “We’ll figure it out. I swear.”
Wickett’s voice cut through with careful control. “We must return to the compound. Report what we’ve found.”
“Report to whom?” Lucette stood slowly, still holding Crimson’s body. “The man who created a system where people die just for trying to help their families? Who do you think the Phoenix is running from? You’re blind if you can’t see that the hunters started this.”
“The hunters are trying to save this fucking world,” Wickett said, his low, calm voice far more threatening than anything with bite would have been.
