Page 88 of Devoured

“Open the cage, Cora.” My bones shift under my skin as my wrists threaten to snap. The transformation shudders through me, but I don’t care about it. I’ve transformed half a dozen times tonight, and I know I can transform once more.

Cora’s gaze sears through mine. “Powers or death. What will it be?”

“I can’t even see his eyes.”

The clock continues to tick tick tick, and a cry withers on my tongue. Cora can’t kill Dad. She can’t—but she will. The only way to save him would be to use my powers. But Cora won’t ask me to change his hair or his nails or anything inconsequential. She’ll want me to hurt him. Just as I did the bishop. And what if he dies anyway? What if I accidentally kill him myself?

No. There has to be another way.

“Remember that I can compel you.” Cora slides a brass key inside the lock on the cage. “So help me, if you disobey me, Vanessa—”

“I won’t,” I hurry to say. “I won’t. Just open the door.”

Dad stiffens when the door swings open. He peers out warily.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “Come here.”

Oh god. What am I going to do? I can’t hurt my father. I would rather die first. But Cora is watching. She’s right here. I can’t disobey her. I can’t… I can’t…

“What do you want me to do?” I ask her, praying my obedience will be enough. “What do you want me to do to him?”

She considers me with a cool look, lifting one shoulder in a facade of pure nonchalance. “Just look into his eyes, darling. That’s all.”

Acid sears through my belly, but I have no other choice.

I look up into my father’s eyes, and that familiar green stretches into a forest around me. For miles and miles, until there is no other color in the world. Just the green of my childhood. The green of rainy afternoons and police sirens and sand between my toes and—

Fire engulfs my ribs. Blistering and brutal.

I suck in a breath, blinking, trying to focus on that green.

But the fire only rages hotter and hotter, flaring through my core as the swaths of green begin to incinerate, like parchment catching flame. I try to hold the ash in my hands—try to cling to the memories—but they fall through my fingers. I blink again and stare harder at my father.

Blink. Stare. Blink.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The green doesn’t stick like the bishop’s gray, however. It doesn’t unravel like Portia’s gold either. That forest burns to a char, until the green feels like nothing. Until I can see red flames through the smoke.

I reach out a trembling hand and touch my father’s cheek. The fire burns straight through the hollows of my heart until tears drip from my eyes.

Lie, I realize, my head beginning to pound. Something here is a lie.

“Dad.” I choke on the word, a sob caught in my throat as tears spill soundlessly down my cheeks. God, I missed him. I missed him so much it feels as if I’m flaying myself alive, but I look at his beard, his forehead, the streaks of gray through his dark hair, the muscular, solid build of him.

Lie lie lie lie.

They are all lies.

I shake my head in bewilderment. My hand slides to his pulse, and it drums wildly against my palm. Familiar, but not my father’s. Still trembling, I slide away from his body and let my hand fall to the icy floor.

The man who can’t be my father continues fighting his binds, growling now. Spitting and raving with enough fervor that I can almost make out individual words. Fuck. You.

“That—that’s not my father,” I whisper. “Is it?”

Truth. Even before Cora answers, I feel the fire die in my chest.

That man isn’t my father, and I don’t know whether to feel relieved or crushed. I’ll probably never see my father again, but at least he won’t die. Not here, not tonight, and not because of me.