Page 131

But Michal has joined us now; he kneels beside us with a grim expression, taking her wrist to check her pulse. “She’s alive,” he says swiftly. “Her heart is weak, but it’s still beating.”

She’s alive.The words strike me like twin bolts of lightning, and I jolt upright, gaping at him even as I listen to her faint heartbeat. Because why wouldn’t she be alive? What ishappening? And where— “Where is Death?” I look around wildly for any sign ofhim. “Why hasn’t he come? He must’ve felt—”

Before I’ve finished the sentence, however, an ominous slashing sound erupts behind Reid. The veil ripping,tearing, as Death and Filippa step through. “Well, well, well,” he muses, his eyes widening as they pass from Mila to the maelstrom, to Michal and me on our knees. They skip over my mother completely. “What an interesting turn of events.”

Rising on unsteady knees, I move in front of my mother as the last aftershock fades. I recall the lessons she taught us about maintaining composure while in the aristocracy, and I hold my chin high, fixing a hard smile upon my lips. Reid will not be the only performer in this charade. Sweeping into a perfect curtsy, I say, “Bonsoir, monsieur, and make yourself welcome.”

“Welcome”—his brows rise incredulously as I straighten—“is not a word I’ve ever heard from you before.”

I take a small step toward him, waving an errant hand. “Perhapswelcomeis a stretch, yet I cannot say your presence here is entirely unexpected.” Another step. “At least you’ve left your revenants at home this time.”

Death’s eyes narrow before flicking back to Reid—toMila—as a moth drawn to a flame. “My revenants are never far away, darling,” he says softly, and behind him, the veil flutters with their presence. How many wait beyond it, I do not know. Then— “How did you do it?”

Another small step. Another. As planned, Michal remains a safe distance behind me. I just need to get close enough without rousing suspicion; Death has never taken me seriously, and I intend to make him regret it. “As if I would tell you.” Continuing my slow path toward him, I roll my eyes as if irritated. “You’re the one whogave up after La Voisin’s ashes.” Step. Step. Step. “You never tried my blood on an actualbody.”

“Ah, my sweet, but Mila didn’thavean actual body.”

I arch a brow, flicking a sly glance at Michal, whose lip curls. “Says who?” he asks.

Even Death looks mildly impressed at that, if not a touch revolted. “You kept your sister’s corpse after Frederic drained her? How terribly... disturbing. But why wait all this time? Why not revive her when you abducted our darling Célie?”

I lift my chin defiantly, and I pray our feeble explanation is enough. “We didn’t yet know what my blood could do.”

“Ah.” Death lifts Mila’s arm to examine it, running his fingers along the inner skin of her elbow. When Michal snarls softly, he laughs. “You figured it out, then. You—brought her back. Your blood has been the key all along.”

It sounds like a question.

“Obviously.”

“It didn’t bring it down.” Death stares out at the second maelstrom before reaching out as if to feel the veil, to test it, while I continue toward him. “How many more will it take? I wonder. Surely the veil cannot suffer much further abuse.” When I do not answer, he tips his head, glancing back at me. Studying my reaction closely. “What changed your mind? Why did you do this?”

Thankful that my heart cannot pound in fear, I lift a shoulder. “You killed Mila. We wanted her back.”

“Ah, yes.Mila.We haven’t heard much from our beautiful friend, have we? I remember her being much more... talkative in life. And in death,” he adds thoughtfully. “The two of us have been well-acquainted over the years.”

Please, please, please, I think.

On either side of the shore, Dimitri and Odessa shadow my movements as surreptitiously as possible, but Death hasn’t yet noticed them. He seems too absorbed in Mila, circling around her now. Drifting closer to the maelstrom as he trails a hand across her back. She trembles, closing her eyes, and his silver eyes flash with satisfaction—he thinks he’s affecting her, when in reality, Reid is struggling to maintain his control. His limbs have locked. His jaw clamps tight. Bile still rises in my throat at Death’s avid, hungry expression, but I swallow it back down. Because this was the plan. Dimitri, Odessa, Death himself—this is all going according to plan.

Except for Filippa.

She tracks the twins’ footsteps too carefully—especially Dimitri’s—her features sharpening with suspicion when I catch her eye instead. “Careful,” she murmurs to Death, moving closer to him too. “This could be a trick.”

Death scoffs.

“You felt the disturbance, did you not? You see her standing before us now?” Though Death speaks to Filippa, he still stares at Mila like his most prized possession, catching a strand of her hair as it billows in the wind. He tips his head toward the waters. “You see the maelstroms.”

“I smell the magic,” Filippa says sharply.

Death waves her anger aside. “You smellme—or perhaps your sister—as we cannot help but smell of the divine.” His nostrils flare, and reluctantly, he shoots a disgusted look at Michal. “Though I notice you’re rather tainting our scent these days. A pity, that.”

Michal growls. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck out. Now.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Michal’s eyes flash as Death brings Mila’s hand to his lips, and Reid shudders again, his breathing shallow. “Don’t touch her,” Michal snarls abruptly.

I hasten forward as Death ignores Michal, a slow and seductive grin spreading across his face. “Mila Vasiliev,” he says, and thankfully, Reid gathers Mila’s features into imperiousness rather than rage. “My eternal damsel. You are so much more beautifulalive. Tell me, darling, how does it feel to walk among us once more?”