Page 102 of Death Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

“He is hurt,” I said, still trying to push healing into the wound. “I am trying to help.”

Lucinda took two steps closer and looked down at my hands. “Trying.”

My jaw clenched. “Yes. Trying.”

Lucinda’s expression turned cold. “If you cannot heal, what good are you?”

I looked up at her, stunned by the cruelty.

Around us, students screamed. Mina shouted instructions to her crew about angles and story lines. Another undead lunged, and Cal shoved it back, wings threatening to unfurl.

And Lucinda chose this moment to make it about me.

“Something is interfering.”

Lucinda’s mouth curled. “Excuses.”

Caton glanced down at the student, then back at Mina. His concern stayed fixed on his daughter, but I saw irritation in his eyes too, like my failure inconvenienced him.

Lucinda’s voice rose, cutting. “We have no need for an abomination that only deals in death.”

The word hit like a slap.

The student beside me made a small noise, breath shallow, and rage flared in my chest so hot it nearly drowned the exhaustion.

I stood slowly, hands shaking. “Now is not the time.”

Lucinda’s eyes glittered. “It is exactly the time. When the town is falling apart, we see what people truly are.”

Cal stepped closer, stone heavy, voice low. “Lucinda.”

She ignored him completely, gaze locked on me. “The coven will be having a vote about your continued acceptance.”

My stomach dropped.

Lucinda’s smile was thin. “But first, we need to speak with the other council members, so we can deal with this political mess.”

Her eyes flicked to the injured student again, then back to me with open disdain. “Clearly you cannot even do the one thing you claim to be good for.”

I swallowed hard, humiliation and fury twisting together.

Behind Lucinda, Caton called Mina’s name again, checking on her, touching her shoulder as if he needed proof she was unharmed. Mina looked rattled but alive, and she kept talking, already shaping the story into something the mundanes might swallow.

Flash mob. Performance art. Viral stunt gone wrong.

My hands clenched at my sides as I stared at Lucinda.

The egg bond tugged in my ribs, a steady reminder that I could not afford to fall apart.

Not here.

Not now.

But Lucinda’s words sank in anyway, heavy and poisonous.

A vote.

An abomination.