“Er… I…” I scramble to find an excuse, but I don’t even knowhowto lie about this.
But she’s not even looking at me. She’s inspecting every inch of Beau, pausing at his shoulders and narrowing her eyes. Slowly, her eyebrows raise, and her jaw falls open. “Dear God… you anchored to a ghost, haven’t you, Viola?” She turns back to me.
I wince, unsure of what to say. Overseer Paltro lets out a strangled sound, and Priya brings her hand to her mouth, her eyes flaring with horror.
Well, now she definitely knows.
“The stitches are immaculate,” she murmurs as she studies Victor this time. Then she shakes her head. “Well, I hope the cost of the resurrection was worth it to you.”
Because I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut, I mutter, “It’s just magic.” I haven’t a clue why she’s fussing about magic that can be replaced—I’ll speak to a few ghosts, and the cuff will replenish. Then again, all she seems to care about is the cuff.
Priya’s eyebrows pull into a confused frown. Slowly, her eyes wince, and her mouth parts in a quiet gasp. “By Death, you don’t know.”
Overseer Paltro shifts his weight next to her, his eyes trained on Victor. No one says a word, and the uncomfortable silence becomes suffocating the longer it drags.
“Mr. Carver, what did you tell her was the cost of resurrection?” Priya asks, her palm raised. “Because Mr. Cardot hasn’t even had a chance to earn rank at the House of Death, so I doubt he even knew resurrections were possible.”
“Magic.” Victor clears his throat, and I turn my head to him. His back is flat against the wall, as if he’s trying to crawl into it. The longer I stare, the more I realize something is deeply wrong. Victor won’t meet my eyes.
“What is the true cost of resurrection, Grand Magus Carver?” Priya’s fingers start to move, and Victor inches toward the front door. “It’s useless trying to run.”
She twists her wrist and slowly raises her hand. Behind Victor, a skeletal creature pushes itself out of the ground, blocking Victor’s escape. It oozes darkness with the sickly sharp stench of death.
Not a puppet at all, but something that often haunted my nightmares after I’d read about them when I was younger: the undead.
Priya holds her palm open. “You need to tell her. What is the true cost of resurrection, Grand Magus Carver?”
Beau takes a step, but Overseer Paltro places a firm arm across his chest. Why is Priya using the blood arts against Victor? Although, she makes the rules, so I suppose she can bend them, too.
“Lifeblood.” Victor speaks so quietly I almost miss it.
Sylas’s eyes widen in horror; he looks back and forth between his brother and me, pausing on me to say something, then swallows his words instead. I look at Beau, and he’s repeatedly shaking his head, as if he’s trying to unhear the words Victor just spoke.
I did tell you nothing comes for free.
“What are you talking about?” I ask my anchored ghost. Everyone looks at me like I might break any moment. I wish they would stop.
Then Priya approaches me, her steps slow and cautious. Like the first time I met her, she gently takes my hands into hers and, with all the care in the world, murmurs, “Resurrection halves the life of a Mortemagi.”
Mortemagi relics refill magic in two ways.
Every ghost led to the Underiver refills a conduit’s relic.
Every ghost spoken to refills a whisperer’s relic.
YSENIA FARO,DEATH MAGIC FOR BEGINNERS, CHAPTER 10
twenty-six | sylas
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1939
Resurrection halves the life of a Mortemagi.
Parrish’s words tear through my heart. Viola didn’t know what she agreed to. Victor never gave her a choice; she was nothing but a pawn in his game. I look up to the ceiling, forcing myself not to curse out the Gods. I knew something was off about him, and I said nothing. I should have drilled him with questions, demanded he explain every part of his plan. Instead, I was too enthralled by the idea of having my brother back, and I unknowingly bled Viola’s years dry.
“You knew…” I trail off, lowering my glare to Victor. His face twists into an expression I don’t care enough to read. He briefly glances past me, at Beau, then his shoulders drop into a sigh. “I…”
Raiku uncoils himself. He perches on my hand, eyes locked on Victor, fangs out and ready to attack on my command. For a brief second, I consider making the call. Victor knows it, because he steps backward into Parrish’s undead.