There is a tiny chance that Grimm has never done this before. I laugh at my hopelessness. If we can prevent Delaney from resurrecting Willow, we can keep Grimm from regaining his true form. “How do we stop him?”
We cannot stop him. But we can weaken him.Ysenia goes silent for a moment.
“Tell me.”
Viola, it would require an immense sacrifice.
“Tell me… please.”
I’ll have to take over your body, throw your cuff to Delaney, and let her carry out Willow’s resurrection. Then, when Grimm sacrifices Willow and begins regaining his true form, I’ll take Faro’s Cuff. Other than him, I’m the only one who can unclip it. We won’t have long, only between the time the host dies and Grimm is born anew. But if I take over your body…
“I die.”
My heart stutters. Even if I know it’s inevitable, I don’twantto die. I let out a sharp exhale as I turn to Beau, my chin quivering. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to leave Sylas.
“Vi.” Beau’s voice trembles as he finally realizes what I’m talking about. “Olivia gave up her life to keep you hidden. Don’t do this.”
But there is no other way. Ysenia is the only one who can stop Grimm from coming back with a relic so powerful it could break apart our world. This is bigger than us now, bigger than my life.
“Viola, please. DOTS has to be aware of both Delaney’s crimes and Grimm’s return by now—Sylas would’ve told Paltro. Firstline can use Sierra’s relic as bait; other than yours, Grimm still needs hers to complete the set. There are other ways. Viola, please don’t do this… Let DOTS do its job for once.”
“Do its job…” I laugh, an empty, barren laugh like all of DOTS’s and Gorhail’s promises. “If DOTS and even Gorhail did their jobs, Lyria wouldn’t be trapped in her own body! Olivia would still be alive. Our parents would still be alive. I wouldn’t be a prisoner to magic I cannot use.” As the words tumble out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. Beau doesn’t deserve my frustration. “They don’t care about any of us, Beau. We’re all disposable to them. If we don’t do anything, we’ll doom everyone else to a terrible fate.”
“Leave then, Viola. Seal your magic and start a new life with however many years you have left,” he says, voice cracking, a hot tear rolling down his cheek onto my arm. “But don’t throw away Olivia’s sacrifice.”
A few weeks ago, before Olivia’s death, I would’ve jumped at his words, given up my magic, and run away without sparing a glance back at this twisted, horrid world. But this is my one chance to change the story, to give back all that was given to me. More people can’t die because of these monsters. “What is a life if I’m always running from something?”
Death fell in love with the first Mortemagi. After centuries in the Underworld, he let her go back to the living world. He waited and waited for her, until years after her second death.
She never came back.
LUCIA KAN,TALES FROM THE UNDERWORLD, PASSAGE 6
forty-four | sylas
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1939
Rafael Grimm mindtrapped Lyria.”
For a moment, Paltro sits still, his eyes lingering on my forearm, where Scar coils herself above Raiku. Then he leans back in his chair and drags his accusatory stare up my face. “Why was Lyria outside of the House of Poison when Gorhail is on lockdown?”
“She…” I hesitate. He’s going to blame Viola, I can see it in his eyes. Still, I don’t lie. Despite how Paltro feels about Viola, I refuse to hide my feelings for her to quell Paltro’s concerns. “She was in the library, trying to complete Mom’s lifedrain theory to give Viola her lifeblood back.”
Mom’s research is cursed; she died in the middle of it, and perhaps because of it, and now it’s doomed Lyria, too.
“This woman again.” Paltro lifts his nose at the mention of Viola. “And now your sister is as good as dead because of her. At least you had the good sense to get Scar back.” His eyes fall on Viola’s aspier.
I retract my arm. Scar is Viola’s—I only have her because she refuses to be worn with Vi’s cuff—not mine and certainly not DOTS’s. My fists clench on my knees. Viola didn’t harm Lyria. If he’s going to try to spin my sister’s predicament, I will leave. “Grimm”—I stress the name—“is back.He mindtrapped Lyria, and, as you already know, Delaney is a murderer. You should focus on that instead of trying to pin this on Viola.”
He looks at me for a long moment. “Very well.” His kettle whistles, and he pours the scalding-hot water into a small white teapot, then adds two heaping teaspoons of tea. Pulling two teacups from his drawer, he slides one toward me.
“I don’t want tea.” The only thirst I have is for Grimm’s body to be ripped apart so even the Underworld can’t piece his ghost together.
“Son,” Paltro says, his eyes moist. My gut twists, my throat thick with uncertainty. His tone echoes so much sadness. Perhaps he needs this, my joining him for tea. Lyria was close to a daughter to him. So after a pause, I nod. He gently pours the steaming liquid for both of us, then brings one cup to his lips.
I do the same.
One moment, I am sitting in Paltro’s office. The next, I am standing outside it, in the height of summer.