“Let her go,” Vanessa says from behind me, but I redouble my grip on her wrist, begging her to be quiet. They can’t figure out who she is, and that will be a lot easier if Vanessa doesn’t draw attention to herself.
Even though it doesn’t really matter, and I know that somewhere deep in my bones.
If Maddox Caine is here, it’s probably already over.
Maddox jerks her chin, and a second blade presses into my back.
“Move,” she says, and three figures in black appear behind us. None of them use mirrors or blindfolds—there’s no need to. They’re all Xanthous. One grabs Vanessa, and the other flanks us, blade out. We walk across the grass, between Marjorie’s and Sergei’s houses. When we reach the main street, I see the full horror the night has wrought.
The mist of the lightly falling rain creates bright, hazy halos around fires that light up the night all around us. Screams fill the air, thickening the terror blooming in my chest.
Ahead, at the perimeter, the gate hangs off its hinges. Bodies lie in the street, unmoving.
My eyes scan the foggy dark, desperately looking for Dean and Harlow. I can’t see anything. The guard grabs my shoulder.
They will plunder everything and burn our homes. Then they will march every Curseclean person down to their ship—the Devil’s Bid. And we will be shipped off to the Blood Market, to be sold as food to Vessels or as answers to Exposed.
“Girls!” a familiar voice screams. I look over just in time to see Malcolm racing toward us, his machete at his side. His shirt is soaked, and blood drips down his arm. I can’t tell if it’s his.
He eyes Maddox. “Let them go,” he says.
Maddox lets out a snort laugh and clasps her hands in front of her. “That’s going to be a no, old man,” she says. “Turn around if you want to survive this night.”
Malcolm smiles now, and it’s hollow. Hopeless. It looks wrong on him, and it makes my stomach churn. “You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know where you’re taking all of us?” He twirls his machete.
Maddox freezes then, looking back at Vanessa and me for a moment before turning back to Malcolm. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Turns out, lucky for you—we aren’t here to restock.”
A chill that sweeps through me as my darkest fear is confirmed. There is only one thing more valuable than Curseclean.
I look to Vanessa, her dark hair hanging in her eyes, the terror in them unmistakable.
A dark understanding flickers in my gut. No. It’s not possible.
“Liars,” Malcolm spits. “You’re Runners. You’re only here for one thing.”
Maddox levels her gaze at Malcolm once more. “Usually? Yes. But we’ve been hired for a different reason. We’re looking for someone. Been looking in these parts for a while. You kept this little haven hidden for a long time—you should feel very, very proud of that. If we hadn’t found two dead Vessels on the tile of that museum and used our hounds to track that smell back here? You would have stayed that way.”
Ice grips my spine, and it feels like the world falls out from under me.
My fault. This is all my fault. This whole invasion. All this destruction. My fault.
I don’t have time to shout as a man with a wide, crooked smile comes out of the shadows behind Malcolm. I open my mouth a half second too late, and the scream comes out not as a warning but like someone is wringing terror from my bones as the man runs Malcolm through with a spear.
I hear Vanessa shriek next to me, the shredding sound enough to wrench another yell from me as my knees give way. The guard behind me keeps me upright, his wiry fingers digging into my arms.
The man behind Malcolm yanks the spear back and steps around Malcolm to join Maddox.
“Malcolm!” I cry. The old man meets my eyes as he brings his hands up to the wound in his stomach, touching it like he almost doesn’t believe it.
Tears mingle with the rain as I pull, trying desperately to break from the guard’s grip.
“No,” I breathe, watching helplessly as the light in Malcolm’s eyes dims. Watching helplessly as he slumps to the ground.
The air feels stagnant and heavy as I heave it in and out of my lungs. The guards pull me to my feet, and Maddox looks down our fire-lined street once more before motioning for the guards.
“We got the other,” the bald man—the one who murdered Malcolm—says. Maddox motions to the guards, and we’re moving again. Vanessa sobs as she looks at Malcolm’s body, and tries to twist out of the guard’s grasp.
Malcolm is dead. The man who had let us in here. Who had given us shelter when we had nothing. The man who had loved my grandmother lies dead in the street, his blood mixing with the rain and pooling in the gutter.
And it’s all my fault.
As we walk, part of me is grateful that the poison of those words won’t fully mix with my blood, my eyes turning to fix on the back of Maddox’s neck, where a tattoo in a language I don’t understand sits inked over her vertebrae. I know the reality of it will hit soon enough, and I can’t fully fathom the damage it will cause. I don’t know what will be left of my soul when the tidal wave hits.
I thought we would keep going forward—toward the gate. Toward the ship, and the Blood Market.
But they pull us into darkness, shoving Vanessa and me into the school auditorium.
Only one light is on, casting a strange shadow into the cavernous room. In the middle, a girl sits. I see her white-blond hair first, her head dipped toward the ground as she crouches on her knees before two men who hold blades dangerously close to her neck.
For a moment, she looks so small and helpless that I don’t recognize her.
“Harlow!” Vanessa shrieks beside me. My voice snags in my throat, but I let out a small whimper of relief at the sight of her. At least she is alive. My eyes scan the edges of the auditorium, looking for Dean. He’s not here.
I shut my eyes for a moment.
Survive now. Then find him.
I have to deal with what is in front of me.
Harlow looks up at the sound of us entering, and I gasp at her face. A bruise blooms over her cheekbone, and blood drips from her nose.
The guard spins me around and shoves me to my knees, pain screaming up through my legs as I hit the floor. Vanessa lands hard next to me. Everything is quiet as three more of Maddox’s guards filter in, and she follows. She shuts the door, the slam echoing through the room.
“Do you know what is interesting, ladies? May I call you ladies? Madames? Job, what is the proper way to address the subjects of a prophecy?”
Maddox looks to the wall, where the bald man who had killed Malcolm now stands, cleaning his spear. He shrugs.
“I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harlow grinds out, defiance glittering in her eyes. I wonder, for a moment, if Maddox had told Harlow how they found this place. I wonder, for a moment, if my sister knows I am the reason all of this is happening. If we live through this, if we can ever piece our lives back together after tonight, I know that this is something I can never escape. My cowardice the night Vanessa almost drowned had marked both of us, but at least no one had died.
Tonight that isn’t true.
Maddox kneels in front of us. “Come on, now. I’ve been honest with you. The least you can do is cut the bullshit. We’ve been looking for quite some time, you know. And then . . .” She smiles. She’s not going to tell us how she found out.
“The answer to the Crimson, sitting here all this time.” Her voice holds a note of incredulity as she steps back. “But not for long.”
I look at Harlow, a question in my eyes. What are we going to do? I beg silently.
And for the first time since before I can even remember, the fear reflecting in my big sister’s eyes tells me that not even she knows.
“You would turn against your own kind?” Vanessa asks. She’s caught on. We’re buying time. I force myself not to look out the windows, to beg the shadows to move. To beg help to come.
Maddox leans down then, her eyes feral. There’s no smirk, no hint of the cat toying with mice. Just amber ice and a sneer. “Even before Vessels existed, humans have never been my kind. The world has done nothing to deserve my allegiance. It’s done everything to earn my judgment.”
Those cold eyes glance to Harlow, the unnatural color even more unsettling from the side.
“Tell me which one of you it is, and this won’t have to hurt,” she says. I try to hide my surprise, and know Harlow does the same. Maddox knows it’s one of us, but she doesn’t know which.
She doesn’t think the fact that we are sisters could mean anything. She assumes our survival instinct will override any loyalty. That kind of thing was for the world long past.
Everything seems to slow down. I can feel the stillness on my left as Vanessa braces herself. If she gives herself up to the Vessels, she could be the destruction of the entire world. She’s the only one who can find Anne’s Heart. And then, the only one who can stop this. Without her, the curse has no end. The weight of humanity’s fate balances in her mind, tethered to the lives of her sisters. I can feel her slow intake of breath. On my right, I feel Harlow’s fingers inch for her boot, for the blade she keeps tucked in there.
She will swing for Maddox, and she’ll die.
World-ending surrender on one side, and life-ending violence on the other.
I sit between them, the answer like an ember on my tongue. A thought unspools in my mind. It’s a half-formed idea, the spark of madness. It grows, fast-moving tendrils of wildfire, lashing against the edges of my terror.
I breathe in faster, my voice finding air before either of my sisters can move. Before either of them can ink their names on their death warrants, I sign mine.
I shove myself to my feet, and the guards around Maddox spring into action, pulling their blades from their hilts and their guns from their holsters.
Maddox narrows her catlike eyes at me, and I look down at Harlow.
Only years with her allow me to see the shock flickering over her face. She swallows hard, the question in her eyes flashing almost as fast as her strategic mind can figure out what I’ve just done.
“I’m the Chosen One,” I breathe.
Chapter 9
MADDOX’S EYES FIND MINE.
I don’t look at Vanessa or Harlow, but I hear Vanessa take a breath, and I pray she isn’t about to try and contradict me. But she doesn’t get the chance, because another explosion—a louder one this time—rips through the night.
The wall behind us caves, and everything erupts into chaos. My ears ring, and I fight to see in the blaze of light and rubble. Vanessa and Harlow are on the other side of the chairs, with Harlow shielding Vanessa from the blast. Harlow’s eyes find mine, and she scrambles to her feet.
“Torch Enforcers!” someone yells, and I hear Maddox let out a rage-filled curse as she grabs my arm and yanks.
Harlow starts to run after me, but another blast hits the building, and she falls.
“Get her safe!” I scream over my shoulder. Maddox looks behind as she drags me and stops to lift her gun and point it directly at Harlow, who glares in defiance. I shriek, pulling at Maddox’s iron grip. She holds fast.
“You’re lucky right now. We have what we came for, and don’t have time for any more. But if you follow us, I swear you won’t get lucky twice, and I’ll blow your head off.” Harlow looks at me, her eyes shining with rage and tears.
“Get her safe,” I repeat, and she gives me a shallow nod. Behind her, Vanessa realizes what we’re doing—that we’re letting this happen, and she screams as she rushes forward. Harlow grabs her, putting a hand over her mouth as she drags her toward the opposite door.
We run through the dark, Maddox’s fingers like a vise around my arm. I catch a glimpse of the Torch Enforcers on the main street—their gray suits working side by side with our people. Maddox keeps us to the shadows and out of sight, though I can see everything. I bite the tip of my tongue to keep from crying out as they lead me through the ruined husk of my home. The houses are burned out, and bodies litter the street. Maddox steps over them like nothing.
Kyle lies still in the street, his eyes open as the rain pelts his body. I don’t realize I’ve stopped walking until someone shoves me from behind. I step over my friend, fighting the urge to reach down and close his eyes.
“Move,” Maddox orders, and I rake my eyes over the bodies, searching for Dean.
I take in the still forms of friends and neighbors—people who have shared our fire and fought with us to make a new life out of the shadow of a dying world.
People who have died because I led Maddox here.
I step over another body—Sergei—and walk past the gate.
I am numb for the whole ride, which lasts an hour or ten minutes, I don’t know.
Maddox opens the back door before I even realize we’ve stopped moving, and she yanks me from the van with one pull.
“That way,” she says, and I look around. The rain has let up, but only a little. And we are at the opening of a pier—one that used to be a tourist attraction. At the end amidst the shadows of the dark water and flurry of whitecaps is the Devil’s Bid—the ship that transports Curseclean to the Blood Market.
I turn around, weighing my nonexistent options.
Harlow will have gotten Vanessa to safety by now. They’ll be headed to the rendezvous point that every member of the Palisade knows by heart. Every second I’m with Maddox is another second they have to get away. Something catches my eye about fifty feet down the beach, beyond the pier. I didn’t see it when I walked up. There is a line of people standing by the rocks, guards surrounding them. Some have guns, and some hold torches aloft. I peer into the ocean just as another boat, smaller than the Devil’s Bid but still one for cargo, drops anchor just beyond the shore.
“What is that?” I ask as one of the guards steps forward, casting light on the people. They are tied up. Captured. Then I see him.
His arms are secured in front of him, the guard pointing the muzzle to his back to keep him from fighting. Alan is in front of him, straining against the bonds that keep his wrists tied together.
“DEAN!” I scream, yanking myself from my captor’s grip. I sprint, hearing my guard swear loudly behind me as I take off running.
Dean’s eyes search the pier, confusion until he finds me. His eyes widen, fear and rage filling his face.
“Char!” he screams back. I book it, not knowing anything other than the need to get to him. I take off down the strip of sand that runs parallel to the abandoned highway.
Dean. My Dean, tied up with dozens of other men I’ve never seen before, blood smeared on his face. He pushes against the guard, who responds by hitting him across the face with the butt of the gun.
I scream his name again, my mind racing. They are taking Dean. They are selling him, along with dozens of other Curseclean.
A weight hits me from behind, and I see black spots in my vision as I hit the ground, a rock digging painfully into my thigh. Dean roars as Maddox flips me over, braced on top of me.
I kick as hard as I can, all the blood and hate from the past hour distilling inside me as a single rage-filled scream.
Maddox presses her blade to my throat as her gaze glitters with barely constrained rage in the moonlight.
For the first time, it doesn’t scare me. “Let them go!” I shriek.
The guards catch up then, one holding a stout torch. Maddox hefts me to my feet, turning me to face the group as she presses her blade to my throat. A rowboat pulls up to the shore, and the guards behind the Curseclean usher them forward.
Dean fights, and the guard has to press the muzzle of the gun to the back of his neck to get him to move. He does, his eyes fixed on me as he steps into the surf.
“You said you weren’t taking anyone else!” I cry.
Maddox runs a hand through her hair. “Sure. That wasn’t the plan, per se. But I’m never going to turn down an opportunity to sell
more cargo. Especially when that guy was a particular pain in my ass,” she says. “I’ve never seen a man fight with a metal straw, but he managed to stab two of my best guys.”
Behind me, one of the Runners whimpers, as if to confirm.
I press against her blade, and warmth trickles over my collarbone.
Maddox whips me around and shoves me backward, right back into the guard’s arms. She looks back as the crew rows the Curseclean back to the ship, an insufferable smirk slipping back over her mouth.
“Oh. I’m sorry. Was that guy . . . yours?”
Hatred rages in my chest like a fire. If I was Harlow, I’d kick her ass. I’d wipe that smirk off her face with some sort of spin-kick she’d never see coming.
“You think you’ve seen it all, little princess? You think it couldn’t get any worse than your boy getting shipped off to die?”
Maddox pushes a tongue past her red lips and runs it over the blade still slick with my blood.
My jaw clenches so hard I feel like my teeth will crack as she leans closer, her voice hissing past her teeth in a menacing whisper.
“It can get worse. I can devote all my time and energy into finding your sisters and gutting them like fish. You threaten me again, you pull a stunt like that again? You’ll understand that there are corners of the darkness that you’ve never walked. There are horrors that have barely reached your imaginings, let alone your realities. So I couldn’t give a shit if you’re the Chosen One. I had the sea when the world was standing, and I have it now that it’s on its knees. It makes no difference to me. Defy me again and I will make you pay.”
I watch as the ship weighs anchor. I watch as it pulls out into the harbor with Dean in the hull. I watch as the man I love slips into the waves, his life as forfeit as mine.
“Fuck you,” I breathe, a laugh riding my voice.
She lets out a small sigh of annoyance before lashing out and clocking me across the face.
The last thing I see is her pitiless eyes before everything goes black.
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