For a giant mansion, things are getting uncomfortably crowded.
‘What are you doing here?’ Julian asks.
‘What am I–? What are you doing here?’
‘Rose dragged me. Said it was the event of the decade or something. Prospective clients all over the place.’
Yeah, I’ll bet.
‘Seriously, Rumer. What are you doing here?’
‘Working.’
His gaze travels the length of my body, taking in the black shirt and jeans, and the shock hardens into something more dangerous.
‘You going to tie somebody else to a chair and beat them up?’
‘Something like that. And you shouldn’t be back here. The party’s out front.’
We’re the only two people in the atrium, but I’ve got a clear view of the hall, where guests mill about in various stages of inebriation. Drunk rich people. I can’t think of anything worse.
Except maybe what I’m about to do.
‘Not really my scene,’ Julian says. He seems to remember he’s angry. ‘You just left me tied up there. What kind of person are you?’
‘The kind you hired not to answer questions like that.’
‘Consider your employment terminated,’ he says.
‘I’m glad one of us said it.’
His knuckles are white around the champagne glass.
‘Look, Julian, I really don’t have time–’
‘She found you, didn’t she?’
I frown. ‘Who?’
‘You know who.’
I don’t answer him. I have no idea how much he knows. If he isn’t with Mara, the less he knows, the better. It could be why he’s still alive today.
‘I remember when I first saw you.’ The angry creases have smoothed out and he’s looking at me differently. The way a teacher might look at a student, which is pretty ridiculous, considering the only thing I really know about him is his name. ‘You were so raw, so removed, so sad. I don’t mind admitting I felt sorry for you. I thought I could help. Give you an income, teach you a thing or two. But it wasn’t enough. Troubled children turn into troubled adults.’
He holds my gaze, then knocks the champagne back in one gulp. He tosses the glass onto a cushioned chair and spins to face me with a determined light in his eyes.
‘Come with me. Let’s get out of here. Neither of us belongs in this sort of place.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Bolt and I pulped his face and now he thinks he’s a hero. Not just any hero. My hero.
‘I’m not going anywhere, Julian.’
He leans closer, his boozy breath wafting in my face. ‘Pride before a fall, that’s what they say. Pride will be your undoing, Rumer. Let me help you.’
He takes my arm.
‘I don’t need your help.’ I shove his hand away.
‘You’re just a kid. You don’t know what’s best for you, but I do.’
His fingers dig into my arm and he drags me towards the atrium doors, which lead out into the garden. It’s dark outside and nobody would see us if we decided to make an early exit.
I shove him off me. ‘You’re drunk.’
‘And you’re not drunk enough.’
‘This is pathetic.’
‘Please, Rumer. I don’t want anything to happen to you.’
Sympathy stirs somewhere in my ribcage. Either Julian’s become an Oscar-winning actor, or he really isn’t working with Mara. He’s just a pathetic loner who runs a detective agency on his daddy’s money. He probably only got invited to Vinter’s party because his parents are loaded. Julian thinks I’m sad? He should look in the mirror more often.
He opens the atrium door, shooting me a pleading stare.
A rush of air zips inside and Julian looks down at his chest. A wet crimson stain seeps through his shirt.
‘Christ,’ he murmurs, stumbling to his knees. He raises quivering red fingers to his eyes and I stare at him blankly as he collapses heavily to the atrium floor. Then, instinct kicking in, I grab the door.
Before I can pull it shut, another hand seizes the handle and a figure swishes inside.
‘Rose,’ I utter.
She smiles coldly, her gown rasping as she shuts the door behind her.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
I take a few steps back.
Rose stays by the door, her snake smile unwavering. The sight of her standing there in her violet gown and splashy earrings, pistol in hand, should make me angry, especially as she’s just put a bullet in Julian. Instead, my pulse pounds. The spider quivers.
If Rose is here, so’s Mara. Just in time.
‘You finally found a job that suits you,’ Rose says, eyeing my outfit.
‘And you look like somebody who charges by the hour.’
The snake smile freezes.
‘Rose.’ Julian’s voice is a rustling whisper that she ignores.
‘Do you have it?’ she asks me.
There’s no point hiding the Crook Spear. The hand behind my back might as well have its own flashing neon sign. I point the gun at her.
Her glacial expression becomes even frostier, her eyes gleaming like diamonds at the Crook Spear.
‘Come and get it,’ I say.
To her credit, I see her considering it. She’s practically licking her lips. I wonder what Mara has promised her. Money? Rose definitely seems like somebody who could be bought. She skipped out on Julian; who’s to say she wouldn’t skip out on Mara, too?
We’re at a standstill. Rose has her pistol pointed at me and I have the Crook Spear trained on her. We squint at each other and I want nothing more than to put a bullet between her eyes, but that’d be a waste of the bullet. I need it for somebody else.
Shrieking laughter erupts at the atrium door and a couple stumble inside.
I share a look with Rose, then we both hide our weapons behind our backs and face the couple who’ve interrupted us.
‘Oh dear, is that red wine?’ the woman says, peering at Julian’s slumped form. She’s late middle aged and very drunk; so drunk that she can’t tell the difference between red wine and blood.
The man by her side is considerably younger and more sober.
‘That’s not wine,’ he says, eyeing Julian, then us.
‘He had an accident,’ I say. ‘I was just going to fetch help.’
‘He looks like he’s been–’
‘I’ll go,’ Rose says.
Like I’m going to let her flit off to Mara. Before she can take a single step, I grab the young guy’s jacket and shove him at Rose.
‘Please, let me,’ I say as they collapse to the floor. ‘Sorry, Julian.’
In a flash, I’m across the atrium floor and in the main hall, hearing Rose yelling ‘Get off me!’ as the older woman shrieks. Guess the booze wore off.
The hall is full of guests, everybody dressed up like it’s the Queen’s birthday.
‘Is there any more champagne?’
A hand snatches my elbow and a red-eyed man peers blearily at me.
You sure you haven’t drunk all the fucking champagne?
‘I’ll be right back with a fresh bottle, sir,’ I say through gritted teeth, shoving his hand away and pushing through the crowd.
‘I say.’
A ripple of annoyance bristles through the guests in my wake, and when I throw a glance over my shoulder, I see Rose is attempting to carve a path after me. The guests shrink away from her, part shocked, part irritated as she slithers between them and, for once, Rose’s face isn’t all porcelain. It’s blotched and angry, which I like, because it means she isn’t a robot. She’s capable of getting pissed off, which is something I can use to my advantage if I have to.
Reaching the lobby, I scan the guests for Mara or my mother, but they’re not here.
‘Where have you been?’
Sophie, my fake boss, storms over, her face pinched with anger.
I point the Crook Spear at her and her mouth droops, the anger instantly sliding into fear.
&
nbsp; ‘Stay the fuck away from me,’ I growl.
She squeaks, raising her hands. A murmur circles me as the guests spot the gun but I can’t waste any more time. The crowd splits apart as I head for the ballroom.
‘Somebody call the police,’ Sophie says.
You do that, I think. They’ll never get here in time.
The ballroom is full of revellers. A kaleidoscope of affluence so dazzling I’m momentarily blinded. Recovering, I clamber onto one of the tables, eliciting a wave of shocked complaints as patrons grab their champagne glasses out of the way of my boots.
‘MARA!’ I shout, scanning the heads. A tide of confused faces rolls in my direction, mouths gaping, whispers hissing between fingers. I wonder how many of them will survive the night. How many of them will get burnt up in my atmosphere.
One face stands out from the crowd because it doesn’t look shocked. Beautiful dark eyes flicker at me and painted lips thin into a smile.
The ballroom falls silent.
‘Rumer,’ Mara says softly. He’s wearing a purple kimono, his nails painted black.
I raise the gun at him, but then I see who he’s with.
My mother stands beside him.
Static fills my ears and my throat closes up. She said she wanted Mara dead. He was the target, but she looks relaxed, like she’s hanging out with an old friend. Is this part of her plan? I thought they were sworn enemies. They’d kill each other on sight. Instead, they’re giving me the same half-amused glare.
‘Come down,’ Celene says.
Rose is at Mara’s side now, and all three of them stare up at me.
‘Join us,’ Mara says to me. ‘You look like you could use a drink.’
I could use ten drinks, but I don’t move. Celene’s expression is unreadable again. Has she really forgiven him? I thought she wanted to cut off the snake’s head.
‘Rumer,’ she says. ‘Please, come down.’
‘You bitch,’ I spit. ‘Were you working with him all along?’
‘If you get down, I’ll tell you everything.’
‘Let me guess, even more lies. I can’t trust anything you say.’
‘Then listen to me.’ Mara takes a step forward. ‘I have never lied to you, Rumer. I have always told you the truth.’
‘Or your version of it.’
‘I have nothing to gain from lying to you. I wanted you to join me and I wouldn’t expect to convince you with lies.’
My arms shake. The gun’s growing heavy in my hands. I jump to the floor and approach them, guests shrinking away like I have the plague.
Mara said ‘wanted’. He ‘wanted’ me to join him. Past tense. Has he changed his mind? If he’s decided he doesn’t want to recruit me, that puts a serious dent in my plan.
‘You don’t want me in your club now?’ I ask.
‘Your mother is a very convincing lady.’ Mara drags on a cigarette, his smoky eye swirling.
‘What have you done?’ I murmur at Celene.
‘I assured him we could reach an agreement. I’ll work for Mara again. It’s better this way.’
Better? She’s going to kill again? I don’t know what to think. What to believe. She was so convincing at the camp. I don’t do that any more, she said, and she’d looked wounded when I suggested otherwise. Was it all an act? My belly’s spitting livid red sparks and they’re flurrying up into my chest, spreading a dangerous all-consuming heat.
‘Perhaps we should retire to the smoking room.’ Mara’s so calm it’s all I can do not to blow his head off.
‘We’re staying here,’ I say, flicking a glance at Celene. Searching for some sign. Nothing. The gun grows heavier by the second but I don’t lower it.
‘Celene was just telling me a charming story about you and your friend,’ Mara says.
‘Where is he?’
‘He’s quite safe.’
‘Like I believe you.’
‘Rose?’ Mara says. ‘Tell her.’
Rose shoots me a glare. ‘He says he can’t wait to see you so he can knock your teeth out.’
Mara laughs. ‘Now, now, ladies. Let’s try to keep it civil.’ He’s aware he has an audience, the other guests watching, half scared, half riveted.
‘Your man friend is quite safe,’ he says. ‘You can have him back if you just give me the gun. Though why you’d want secondhand goods is anybody’s guess.’
I won’t let him throw me off.
‘You take me to him,’ I say. ‘I give you the gun when I see for myself he’s unharmed.’
Mara contemplates me and I can’t think how else this can possibly play out. We each have something the other wants. I have no intention of handing over the Crook Spear, not when I know what Mara thinks it’s capable of, but for now I have to play along. Make Mara believe I’ll do anything to get Bolt back. He’s not far off.
Except… my mother’s ruined things. I don’t know if she’s trying to protect me or get rid of me for good but I won’t let her take my place. Mara needs to think I’m loyal to him. I need to prove I’m better than my mother.
‘Take me to him and the gun’s yours,’ I say.
‘Celene, I think you need to have a word with your daughter,’ Mara says. He’s enjoying this, playing us off against each other. His good eye sparkles and I want to grab a knife from the table and jab it into his skull to the hilt.
‘Rumer–’ Celene takes a step towards the table.
‘No,’ I say.
I look at Celene. My mother. I’m holding the gun she stole. She’s the reason all of this is happening. I can’t let her mess anything else up. If she really is working for Mara, there’s nothing I can do. I have one bullet and it might as well be for her.
But she’s making it so difficult. She’s unblinking as she stares at me and I hate that she made me feel like this. Like I got to know her. Saw the person instead of the monster. As she stands by Mara’s side, though, all I see is a monster. This is her power; her ability to make people do whatever she wants.
I think of Dominic hanging from the beam and I see her hands tying the noose. I think of Frances lying on the kitchen floor and I see my mother standing over her, a blade dripping red. I see George’s throat being cut and it’s my mother who lets his body drop.
My palms are so sweaty I worry I’ll drop the gun. Tightening my grip on it, I aim it at my mother.
‘You made me into this,’ I say through gritted teeth.
‘Rumer–’ she begins.
‘No. I’ve heard enough lies. I don’t need to hear any more.’ Her face was so skeletal when I first glimpsed it in the hotel room. She resembled an emaciated banshee. A phantom come to drag me to hell. And she had to get a final dig in before she killed me because then she played mother. Only for a few days. And for those few days I glimpsed what it might have been like if we’d been other people. A proper family. Or as close to one as I can imagine.
But I know her better than anybody because I am her.
‘You haven’t changed,’ I spit. ‘Whatever deal you’ve made with Mara, it’s not enough–’
‘Rumer–’
‘I said shut up!’ The gun trembles and for the first time she looks afraid.
‘Girl, you don’t want to do this.’
A hand touches my arm and I bury my elbow in the guest’s face. She reels back, the sound of popping bone mixing with her scream.
The heat has spread through my entire body and my forehead’s sticky with sweat. All I feel is anger and hatred, and it’s all for her. All for the woman who made me. I can’t ever trust her. She’s dangerous. If I let her live, she’ll join Mara and go back to her old tricks. More people will die. More Georges and Trolls. She’ll start with Bolt.
‘Rumer, please–’ she says.
‘SHUT UP!’ My voice isn’t my own.
If she speaks, she’ll make it worse. This is why she’s so afraid of me. She knows I’m the only one who can do it. The only one who sees through her. We’ll never be a family. She never wanted that anyway
.
‘Rumer–’ she starts.
I grit my teeth.
‘Go to hell.’
She lunges at me and there’s a cracking pop.
I’ve squeezed the trigger.
The bullet explodes from its chamber with such force that the gun bucks in my hand, almost striking me in the face. I get it under control as my mother’s knees give.
It went straight into her chest.
The gun that killed Mara’s father has killed my mother.
My ears are full of screaming and thumping and the kaleidoscope of revellers spins to life, rushing and rotating around me.
Celene lies on the floor.
Blood stains her shirt, dribbles from her mouth, down her cheek. Pale eyes sightless and staring, her hair splayed in wintry strands.
Vinter rushes to her, bends to the floor. Bends over my mother’s dying form. He tugs her up, her head bobbing lifelessly, ghostly white hair spilling into her face.
‘Let’s go.’
Mara’s at my side, tugging me through the tide of screaming mouths. His masked assassins spill through the front doors, shoving guests aside, stopping any of them who are foolish enough to try to prevent me from leaving.
Then we’re outside, the wind snatching at me, trying to tear off pieces, and all I know is that I’m gripping the Crook Spear like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
We’re bundled into the back of an SUV, the doors slamming, and Mara’s grinning face fills my vision.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
‘You made the right choice.’
Mara’s voice echoes and I’m stranded in time. The clock’s silent. I’m frozen on the ballroom floor, watching the bullet punch through her chest, and then the Witch Assassin, the Red Widow, Celene, my mother, collapsing, not getting back up.
This is where I’m going to live for the rest of my life. In the moment I killed and meant to.
No more bad luck. No more wrong place, wrong time.
Now I’m a murderer.
Funny, I don’t feel free. If the curse is broken, like Domhnall said it would be, there’s no way of knowing. The skies didn’t hurl frogs to the earth and the clouds didn’t crash with thunder.
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