“Well,” I scoff, “you hit like a toddler.”
For that, she smacks me across the face so hard that I land on my side. I’m still reeling from the throw when the door opens. No. No. No. Viola shouldn’t be back here. I told her to run.
But it’s not her at all.
Victor walks through the door, spinning the spare relic from our safe. He is an even bigger idiot. I told him to hide for a reason—Railesza won’t be able to heal him if Mara attacks. He is an Arkani, and Aspieri cannot heal different classes unless bonded to them.
“Remember me?” he taunts Mara.
Mara spins around. She croaks, “You’re dead. I killed you myself.”
“And what a piss-poor job it was,” Victor drawls.
Mara forgets about me, zeroing in on him instead. He sidesteps her with ease. In a second, he’s in front of her, his right hand waving across her face. In his left, the silver laurel relic glows. Mara stops and stares at him for a second.
He smirks, a quiet arrogance exuding from him.
I gasp when I realize what he’s doing. His illusion magic is reaching through the puppet to confuse the puppeteer. Using illusions on a puppeteer is something I’ve only seen Firstline Arkani do, and not for long. Sure, he’s a Grand Magus, but this particular magic requires a Mortemagi bond… because I know Victor’s not a crossmage.
Victor’s fingers twitch, and Mara’s shoulders drop. “They’re all dead. They don’t have the relics we seek.” It’s not Mara speaking; it’s the puppeteer speaking to someone else. Her words slap me with shock. Haal, there’s more than one puppeteer, and they are looking for more relics.
Victor is good. No, he’s excellent at his Arkani magic. He’s managed to trick the puppeteer into speaking their thoughts in a puppet. In a single flick, he’s brought answers we haven’t found in a week.
“I must find the girl. I need the cuff.” Mara drones in a slightly different accent this time, quieter, calmer. She tries to lift her arm and curses when she can’t. She’s fighting against Victor’s magic and losing. After a few seconds, her limbs go still, her head dropping to her chest. Now is our time to leave.
“Beau?” I ask Victor as we rush through the back door onto the veranda. A low creak draws my attention to our left, but it’s only the half-open metal gate of the cemetery swaying with the breeze.
“Beau’s fine.” He hesitates a moment too long. Why isn’t he saying anything about Viola?
“Vi-Viola?” My head whips around, cursing the clouds shrouding the moon. I can’t see them anywhere. My legs go still, my mind reaching for my worst nightmare: Viola dead.
Inside me, something breaks, every crack anchors deeper than the last.
“I need help,” Beau yells from a few feet away, his voice laced with anguish. My legs propel me forward, and my brother is standing by a willow tree, Viola leaning against him, a hand on her abdomen. She’s not dead. I breathe out, my steps slowing down. Not dead at all. She must have gotten injured when Mara threw her around in Dearly Departed.
Railesza hisses at me, giving me a disapproving stare before slithering off my arm toward Viola, sinking her fangs into her ankle the moment she reaches her.
“Sylas,” Victor yells. “Relic’s out of magic.”
I turn to see Mara drag her feet out of the back door of Dearly Departed. Pieces of rotten flesh hang from her legs, and her arms are infested with black maggots crawling in and out of her ivory bones. From the veranda, Victor watches her in horror as she trudges past him, paying him no mind.
“The puppeteer controlling her is running out of magic.” He nods at the decomposing body. As the words leave his mouth, Mara straightens, her eyes locked on me, but she doesn’t move, and neither do we. Now that we’re outside, my senses pick up on every sway of leaves. Poachers could be anywhere.
Raiku awakens, slithering up my finger, watching, waiting.
Muttering something under his breath, Victor draws up his sleeves. His borrowed relic hovers over the veins of his forearm.
“Stop,” I yell. If the puppeteer is running out of magic, I can control Mara. Victor doesn’t need to use the blood arts to create another diversion. At least, not yet.
“Beau,” I say without looking at him. “Keep Railesza with you. I don’t want you to become a deserted Aspieri.”
“But…” he protests. Silver is gone, and heknowsAspieri cannot be without a relic for long, else they’ll break covenant with Haal, the God of War, and he’ll desert them.
“Heal Viola,” I speak up, glancing at them over my shoulder. Mybrother’s eyebrows shoot up, but he nods without saying a word. And I realize that this is the first time I haven’t wished the bond away.
I turn my attention to Mara’s frozen figure. This feels like a trap, like the puppeteer’s waiting for us to let our guard down before they attack again.
“Can you fight, Victor?” I don’t wait for his answer and throw him a dagger. He catches it by the blade as he approaches.