I back up toward the door, still baiting him. “Why? Why wait to break the Grimmacle?”
His eyes get even blacker, his aura all dark menace and Moribund. The sickness of it makes me feel nauseous.
He smiles, a shark closing in on its prey. “Because, Syl, I wanted you at the height of your power.”
I take another step back. “Then you should totally wait, because I’m not really there yet. Like…maybe in a few weeks? I’ll let you know. We’ll do lunch.” My hand fumbles on the doorknob. Even new Syl might be okay with running at this point.
The better part of valor, and all that.
“I don’t think so.” He’s smug, the jerk—a tomcat who got the cream. “Besides, I can’t wait to see the backlash of the Grimmacle on the one who cast it.”
The one who— Mom! “What…what’s it going to do to her?”
His smile is jagged and wide, something the Cheshire Cat would envy. “Only kill her.”
Rage sweeps through me. My punch takes him by surprise, and I knock him back about three paces. His smile turns vicious, and he’s on me.
Fiann screams as he grabs me, lifting me up and slamming me down on the lab table. My breath goes out in a whoosh. Moribund circuits crawl off his hand, winding around my throat, choking me. More bands of it jigger and twist, binding my wrists and ankles to the table, fusing into the tiles where they touch.
I fight, struggling to Awaken the power inside me—Come on, white flame!—but the Moribund smothers it.
If ever I needed to Awaken, now’s the time. Please, let me Awaken.
The pressure is so huge and hot and powerful in my chest, I think I will explode. Mom. They’re going after Mom. I breathe out, trying to release the power, to burn away the circuitry holding me down, but his fist slams into my cheek.
Pain rockets through my skull.
“I could have the Moribund infect you,” he says, his shark-black eyes drilling into mine. “But I think I’ll settle for settling for something a little more…bloody.”
He holds out his hand. “Get me that scalpel.”
“Wh-wh-wh…” Fiann is breathless, white and trembling, but she hands it to him.
Seriously, girl?
He touches the scalpel to my leg, tracing the shape of the iron shard beneath the skin. “Here’s the source of the Grimmacle. The focus. Very smart…” His lips pull back from white fangs. “Hold still. I wouldn’t want to hit an artery.”
“Screw you.” I don’t hold still.
I struggle and fight, and then I feel the kiss of the knife slicing into my skin. I reach for my power, but it’s smothered beneath the Moribund.
Euphoria… Euphoria!
But there is only pain and then blackness.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rouen
Inside-out
The heartbreak in me
Whispers to the heartbreak in you
Inside-out, we’ll never be the same
- “Inside-Out,” Euphoria
I’m in class, waiting on pins and needles for Syl to come back, to text me, chat me, call me—anything. It’s been twenty minutes now, and I’m starting to worry. Yeah, despite my cool exterior, dark Fae can worry. I scribble at my notebook, trying to make it look like I’m doing the geometry formula Mr Barney is teaching. But really, I may as well be drawing hearts and Rouen & Syl 4-Eva on my notebook.
I can’t concentrate.
You never should have let her go alone, Rouen.
I sigh heavily. I’m just about on the 4 part of 4-Eva—bloody bones, Roue, you’re really drawing that?—when I feel it.
The Grimmacle shatters.
Like a tether between me and Syl—like that silver cord that keeps your spirit from floating off into the afterlife—it snaps. Suddenly, I’m adrift. I’m alone. I’m…
Euphoria.
Hells and hue. My Minnie Maven disguise melts away like butter in the hot sun, leaving me—Euphoria, glam-Goth star—sitting there in the middle of a sophomore geometry class.
One by one, heads start to turn, whispers rippling, growing louder by the second. I guess it’s not every day that a Goth star materializes in a geometry class around here.
But that’s the least of my worries. My heart stops. Syl.
I stand up, my chair scraping back obscenely loud, and as the whispers turn to shouts and pointing, I dash from the room. The door slams behind me, the safety glass shattering. I hear Mr Barney above the din, trying to calm the class, to get them back into their seats.
Good. That chaos will keep him too busy to follow me, or worse, call it in to administration.
Not like I’d care. Syl’s in danger.
Syl! I summon my fairy wind, and in a chill burst, it swirls around me, giving me a burst of speed. Did they catch her? Did they hurt her? A thousand scenarios go through my mind—Agravaine torturing her, taking her away, using her blood to power his Grimmacle, to destroy the hearthstone, killing her—
No. Don’t think like that, Roue. Just find her.
I fly classroom to classroom, looking in, throwing open doors, disrupting lectures. I barely hear the angry shouts of teachers, the shocked cries of students. My blood is rushing in my ears, making it hard to breathe. I turn the corner and see the door to a bio lab jammed open. A few stray Moribund circuits flip and flop on the floor, beckoning me like jigging fingers.
I crush them beneath my boots, nearly taking the door off the hinges as I plow through into the lab. And stop dead in my tracks.
A bloody scalpel lies on the floor, crimson dripping onto white tiles. And lying there on the matte-black lab table— The light goes out of my heart.
Syl. My sweet Summer princess…
She lies unconscious, her face a sickly ashy color. Her right leg is a mess of blood, her pant leg torn and stained bloody, the skin beneath… My heart goes out, and anger and rage fill me, sweeping me away for a moment while everything turns red.
Agravaine did this.
And then as swiftly as the anger comes, it goes, leaving me with only my concern for my girl. I dash to her side and cradle her head. She’s still breathing, still alive but in pain.
I pick her up, cradling her to my chest, willing her body to Awaken, to heal her. We have to get out of here before Agravaine comes back, before anyone finds out.
Agravaine…
I clench my Moribund hand into a fist. All the evils he’s committed. Binding me to that Contract, Commanding me, and now this. Injury to insult. This is the bloodiest evil, and the worst.
I swear, I will make you pay, Agravaine. If it’s the last thing I do.
Syl moans and stirs in my arms. “Roue…” Damn, now I know she’s really hurt. She rarely ever calls me by my real name.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” I move carefully through the door and into the hallway. Glamma’s Grimmacle might be broken, but my personal gramarye still works just fine.
I throw up a don’t-see-me Glamoury, and we slip past all the kids milling in the hall, the teachers trying to get them back into their classrooms.
“Rouen…”
The massive amount of noise masks Syl’s voice, but I hear her loud and clear. “Don’t speak. I’ll get you home. Just—”
“No. Rouen…” She opens her eyes, and I see the effort of will it takes her. “They’re after my mom.” Her voice shakes, and tears stream from her eyes. It breaks my heart, and another, fiercer feeling pounds there too.
Georgina Gentry and I were enemies once. But now… Now… I mean, bloody bones, I sang show tunes, I made turkey with the woman.
I nod. “I’ll take you.” And ancestors help Agravaine if he’s done anything to Georgina.
I race out of the school and into the parking lot. The Grimmacle on my bike broke too, my sleek Harley sitting where Minnie Maven’s crappy Vespa earlier. But even with a Harley, I’d have to obey traffic laws. I glance up at the tops of the school buildings.
It’s over a mile to Syl’s apartment, but it’ll be easier to
run.
I summon my fairy wind, but Syl grabs my arm. “Let me down, Rouen.”
“Syl, I don’t think—”
“She’s my mom,” she says, and that hits me with the force of a brick between the eyes.
I get it. I let her down and watch her warily.
She limps a bit like a bird with a broken wing. Blood spatters the asphalt. She bites her lip, straightens. My girl’s brow furrows. She’s in pain and trying to control powers she’s never used before.
And then I see the flesh beginning to knit together. It’s slow, but at least it’s happening.
By the time my fairy wind is fully summoned, swirling around me like a personal vortex, she can at least stand upright. It’ll take her days to fully heal, but we don’t have days.
We might not even have minutes.
“Are you ready?”
I don’t care that at this point we’re standing on the school grounds, in Miss Jardin’s rose garden to be exact. She sees me and Syl through the window—dead-nuts sees us, like through the Glamoury—but she only nods.
Note to self: investigate Miss Jardin. Later.
For now, I swirl my fairy wind around me and Syl, and take us to the rooftops. Syl keeps pace with me, and we rush over the rooftops toward Jackson Ward, toward her apartment complex. We don’t speak. We just push ourselves, harder, faster. In the places where the buildings are spread out, we hit the streets, ducking and zipping along the sidewalks.
I keep stealing glances at her. I can’t help myself.
Her face is white in worry, and I just want to scoop her up and hold her and tell her everything’s going to be okay.
But I can’t. And it might not be.
Finally, finally, we reach the tenement. We dash into the back alley. I know what Syl’s thinking. If the Grimmacle on us shattered, then it shattered on the apartment. And Agravaine has a twenty-minute head start on us.
We rush up the fire escape, making all kinds of noise—pang, pang, pang, pang on the metal steps. So much for a surprise attack. But then again, I don’t want to ambush Agravaine. I want to meet him head-on, full force, with all my fury. I’m not thinking straight. Instead I’m all dark Fae woman scorned.
We didn’t leave Syl’s window open, so I grab it, cranking it up with my strength. The pane cracks, and I shove the bits of glass aside with my gloved hand.
“I’ll go first.” I can’t risk her. Not if Agravaine is still here.
I swing my leg over the sill and fold my tall frame through the window.
Her room is destroyed. Her bed overturned, the stuffing ripped out of the pillows, her vanity mirror smashed, her closet torn into, makeup scattered.
Syl climbs into the room, and then she’s off like a shot.
“Mom!”
“Syl, no!”
I catch up to her in the living room, my heart practically seizing in my chest. If Agravaine is still lying in wait, we are so screwed.
Syl’s stopped in the door to the living room. Her pale hand grips the doorjamb so hard the wood creaks and groans. Beyond her, the living room is a mess. The battered couch is torn in half, one side limp and bleeding stuffing, the other crumpled by the wall. Huge, long claw marks scar the doorways, the walls. The lamps are overturned, and broken glass peppers everything like deadly glitter.
Georgina’s gun lies on the floor. And a few feet away.
No…
Georgina lies, pale and unconscious.
The sound that tears from Syl’s throat shatters something inside me, and I’m right there beside her, the two of us cradling her mom, Syl feeling for a pulse. “She’s alive.” She runs to the landline. Thank the ancestors it still works.
She talks, her voice eerie calm, to the first responders as I look over her mom.
Georgina Gentry, my old enemy. Ever since we made the promise to stick together over Thanksgiving turkey, she’s been friendly to me. She invited me in, cooked for me, did my laundry, nagged me about homework.
She’s been like…like a mom to me.
I grit my fangs and clench my fists. I look at the bruises on her face. She fought back. “Good girl.” I brush her hair away from her forehead.
She’s breathing, but it’s shallow.
The backlash of the Grimmacle breaking along with Agravaine’s attack has taken a brutal toll on her, body and mind and spirit.
Syl comes back to me, tears streaming down her face. My Fae hearing picks up sirens wailing in the distance.
I reach for Syl’s hand. “She’ll be all right. She’s a fighter, Syl.”
Syl plops down, hands in her red hair, destroyed. “This is my fault.”
My heart sinks. “No. It wasn’t your fault.” With nothing else to do but wait, I rise up and pace. “This wasn’t you. It was Agravaine.”
“He knew it was us. He’s known for a while.” Syl gets up with me. She kicks the shredded couch, and it slams into the wall. “So stupid! I knew it. We should have been more careful. I was an idiot.”
“No, Syl, you’re—”
“It’s my fault! It’s my fault I dragged her into this. It’s my fault I became this. I can’t even fully Awaken, Rouen. When my own mother needed me, I couldn’t…” Her words choke off into a sob, and she flumps down heavily. “I’m stuck. Stuck being old Syl.”
I know exactly how she feels, like she’ll never escape her past, but I give her a minute—a minute I spend grabbing Georgina’s gun and stowing it away—and then I go to her, wrapping her in my arms, my heart aching for her, for Georgina, for me. Because the truth of the matter is, I’d started to like Georgie. She was like a mom to me, and over these past weeks, we’d almost become a family.
When I think of no more holidays, no more early morning wakeup calls, no more stern Mom looks…it breaks my heart. I hold Syl tight and stroke her back until the EMTs come.
They’re careful and kind but efficient. They load Georgina onto a stretcher, and Syl goes with her. I want to go, too, but only blood relatives get to ride in the ambulance. The police arrive, and they’re nice enough to give me a ride. I answer whatever questions the officer puts to me. No, I don’t know what happened; no, no one is after us; no, there hasn’t been anyone suspicious lurking around.
It takes all my self-control to grit my teeth and get through the questioning.
There’s no mortal law that’s going to make Agravaine pay. I’ll make him pay. For Syl. And for me.
We get to the hospital. I find Syl, and then it’s all a waiting game. They take Georgina in, and we pace the spotless, blinding-white floor in a spotless, blinding-white room, bludgeoned by intercom calls and depressing machine dings. We pace and then I sit with Syl and keep an arm across her shoulders. Not even delicious, bad-for-us vending machine food and coffee can cheer her or me up.
It’s hours and hours. They move Georgina into surgery for broken ribs and a ruptured spleen. It sounds bad. Georgie’s no sleeper-princess anymore. She’s just a normal human woman. Syl’s as white as a sheet.
Finally, finally, the doc comes out. We lie and say we’re both Georgina’s daughters. It doesn’t feel like a lie to me. It feels like I’d knock this doctor into next week if she tried to keep me out of that hospital room.
And then we’re standing at Georgina’s bedside. She’s breathing evenly now; at least the machine that breathes for her does. Syl lets out a heartbreaking sob and rushes to her mom. She holds Georgina’s hand and stares bleakly.
And everything inside me splinters into sharp edges and anger.
I can’t just sit here.
I want blood and vengeance. I’m a dark Fae. That is our way. I lay a hand on Syl’s shoulder and say softly, “Stay here, okay?”
She looks up, those grey eyes swimming with tears. “Where are you going?”
“To track down Agravaine.”
Syl sees the grim look on my face. She stands up and faces me. “You shouldn’t. That’s reckless.”
“Syl—”
“No. I nearly lost my mom to
day. I could still…” She chokes on the rest, and more tears slip down her face. She throws her arms around me. “I don’t want to lose you too.”
The gentle impact of her body, her arms against mine, her sobs…it all threatens to undo me. A part of me just wants to hold her, to comfort her.
But that’s not realistic. Agravaine is out there. He and Fiann are plotting. They’re coming for us. I have to get to them first.
“I’ll just go look. I won’t engage. I can’t stand here and see her and do nothing.”
Syl sniffles and looks up. “You promise? No heroics?”
“I promise.” It’s the second lie I’ve told tonight, and I hate telling it—especially to her. But I know myself. When I see Agravaine, I might break that promise. No one hurts my girl and the people she loves.
No one.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Syl
Once, there were dozens of sleeper-princesses
Mortal girls with unAwakened fair Fae blood—
Until the dark Fae began killing them
For their own foul means
- Glamma’s Grimm
It’s late by the time the nurses finally kick me out of Mom’s hospital room. They’ve let me stay long past visiting hours, and in truth, they’d let me stay longer. But the charge nurse gives it to me straight—the best thing for Mom right now is total quiet and rest. My mind understands, but my heart just wants me to stay with her, holding her hand, wishing she’d heal, wishing she’d wake up.
But I’m not a kid anymore. I shouldn’t believe in wishes.
So I slog my butt out of the ICU, down to Emergency, and out into the parking lot, where I turn on my crappy track phone. Nothing. No message from Euphoria yet.
Worry shoots through me. It’s late. Past midnight. Where could she be? And what’s our plan? I didn’t really think past getting Mom here and keeping her safe. The apartment’s a mess, it’s definitely not safe, but where else can we go?
I shoot a text out to Euphoria. U ok?
Minutes pass. Nothing…nothing… Then my phone vibrates.
Sure.
Sure? What the heck does that mean? I text back. Where r u?
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