“It’s empty. Victor, Beau, let’s go straight to the cold room to get your bodies.” I take the lead.
“No,” Sylas replies, his voice menacingly low.
“No?” I question, whirling around.
He ignores me, giving directions to Beau instead. “Stand by the side door. The moment you come back to your body, get Viola and go straight to the car. If I’m not there soon after, drive away.”
“I can’t leave—”
“Drive away.” Sylas stresses each word, and Beau gives him a single nod.
I step in front of Sylas, and he barely spares me a glance. A momentary boldness takes over me, and my index finger digs into his chest. “No one’s in, Archyr. You’re wasting time and creating unnecessary commotion.”
His head lowers, and his eyes bore into mine. They tell me I crossed a line. Slowly, I lower my finger. His silence cuts through my temerity, and I move. But his hands lower to my waist, scrunching both sides of my jacket. He pulls me into him, and my hands brace against his chest.
“You do not deviate from what was agreed upon, understood?” he says between clenched teeth. A storm brews in his eyes. Instead of taking shelter, I run straight to the eye.
“Plans change,” I retort, flexing my fingers against his chest. My heart hammers against my own. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. But with him, that seems impossible.
“Corvi.” He leans closer, his whisper a poisonous caress on my skin. “As long as you wear my House crest in the field, you do not talk back to me.”
Right then and there, I unzip the jacket and shove it in his arms. Without a word, I get into my original position and tell myself once again that I’m doing all this for Olivia. For the first time, it feels like a lie.
The moment I press the door handle, the nape of my neck tingles with horror. The front door is never unlocked.
It’s funny, how the people in town have this old saying that your life flashes before your eyes before you die. Because my life unravels with every step I take into Dearly Departed. This place used to be my second home; now I hug the walls that once provided me peace to escape death.
My ears reach for a semblance of a ghost, but nothing comes back. Even my cuff is ice cold. After the memories comes the regret. I wish I had listened to Olivia and worn my cuff sooner. Maybe then I could have dabbled in thread magic enough to save my life.
The main room is empty; the dim light of the moon pouring through the tall windows let in just enough for me to catch my bearings. Nothing has changed since last week. I allow myself a sigh. I was right. No one is here. The back door is right down the hallway; I should let them in.
But then, I hear it. The quiet snicker that steals my brief moment of respite.
“Resilience is admirable.” I hear Mara’s voice, but I don’t see her.
I close my eyes, reaching for any semblance of color like I did in the catacombs, but I get nothing. She’s not a ghost.
“Murder isn’t.” I peel away from the wall and step toward the reception desk. Only last week, I was scheduling funerals. I close my eyes; now isn’t the time for nostalgia. The longer I can keep Mara occupied with me, the more time Sylas has to get the bodies out. If I make it out alive, I owe him a million apologies.
She scoffs. There’s a quick shuffle but still no sign of her.
“Why Olivia?” I throw into the nothingness, although I already know the answer.
“You’re a fool, Viola, if you think I don’t know why you’ve come.”
I remain silent. My presence has already sharpened the blade; I don’t need to hand her the hilt as well.
“You’re right.” She sighs at my silence. “Poor darling Olivia. So tragic.”
I bite my tongue. She’s baiting me, just like I am her. “Death kills a mage’s relic…” I whisper. “Why?”
Her laugh falters into pity. “Darling, when will you learn? You wear your heart on your sleeve for people who wouldn’t spare you a glance.”
A muted thud from the hallway toward the back room jerks my legs forward.
Sylas. He must have gotten the bodies out.
The cold room’s metal door clangs against the wall. “Where are they?” Mara’s voice bellows, but I still don’t see her. “Where are the bodies?” Her breath crawls down my neck, like a rabid animal, thirsting for prey.