Page 39 of Enchantra (Wicked Games #2)

38

TRAGIC ENDING

Sevin had arrived in Hell, and he was screaming bloody murder. His stomach and chest were covered in crimson, but that wasn’t the cause of his sickening wails. It was the fact that every inch of his flesh was bubbling and steaming, as if he had been dropped in a vat of acid. Genevieve almost lost the contents of her stomach on the rug beside him.

Rowin, however, barely even blinked. He grabbed a thick blanket from the back of an armchair in the sitting room and tucked it around Sevin’s body as it convulsed. Then he grasped one of his brother’s hands and just held on. A few minutes later, Wells and Remi joined them.

“What’s going on?” she asked the others quietly.

“This is what happens when the Hunting Blade goes through our hearts,” Remi explained.

“It’s very painful,” Wells said as if that weren’t very obvious .

Sevin roared in agony once again. Sevin, who always had a smirk on his lips and a joke on his tongue. He was pale now, his eyes unseeing as pain ripped through him over and over again.

“How long does this last?”

“Hours sometimes,” Wells told her.

Remi and Wells both slipped out of the room, leaving her and Rowin to watch Sevin shudder through the pain. It took about half an hour before he was finally quiet, though he still held Rowin’s hand.

Knox suddenly blinked into the room. He barely spared a second glance at Sevin, beckoning to Rowin instead.

“Come,” he ordered.

Genevieve curled a lip in disdain at the Devil. “Can’t it wait?”

“No,” Knox said before disappearing once more.

Rowin gently pried his hand out of Sevin’s and stood.

“Can you stay with him?” he requested.

She nodded. “Of course.”

As they left, she went over to kneel by Sevin’s side. She picked up his large hand and cupped it between both of hers. He forced his eyes open.

“Being an immortal is a privilege, don’t you think?” he rasped.

She gave him a sad smile. “I never have, no.”

He tried to nod, wincing as he did. “You’d be right. Mortals are lucky. You live, you love, you die . Living forever just means there’s infinite time for people to inflict pain on you.”

“I thought Grave was supposed to be the serious one,” she tried to joke.

“Ah, yes, you’re right. I just died, you see. But I shall return to my post as the family jester right away.”

She began to rub soft, soothing circles over the back of his hand, and he gave her a weak squeeze of encouragement, letting her know to continue.

“If Grave is the serious one and you’re the jester, what does that make the others? Shall we give them all titles?” she suggested, trying to distract him as he braced himself against another wave of pain.

“Covin is the bad boy,” Sevin panted. “Or the harlot. Whichever sounds more fun.”

She thought of Covin’s forked tongue and alleged scandalous affair with whoever Nessa Serpentine was. “Agreed. He certainly scared me on that first day.”

“Oh?” Sevin asked. “How?”

She blushed. “I saw him, um, cutting… himself?”

Sevin jerked with a pained laugh. “You saw him releasing, you mean.”

She let out a squeak of embarrassment. “ What? You mean, he was?—”

Sevin tried to smile. “Not that sort of release. We’re Blood Wraiths. Our magic collects in our blood, and if we don’t bleed a certain amount, it can build up. Which isn’t good. We consume blood as well, but that’s a different thing.”

“Yes, your suckers. You get them from Vampires, right?”

“Yes.” He winced as he tried to nod. “I really should’ve let you believe the other thing, though. Covin would’ve gotten a kick out of it.”

“You’re a menace,” she muttered.

“And you’re very cute when you’re flustered,” he said.

“Stop flirting with me.”

“Ah, yes, I forget you have eyes only for Rowington. The romantic one.”

It was her turn to laugh. “In what world is Rowin the romantic one?”

“In the world where he nearly bit my head off after you disappeared through that mirror in the forest. And then vowed he wouldn’t be leaving the room until he got you back,” Sevin said. “I thought you were a goner, to be honest with you. Not to mention that he snapped almost every bone in Cedric Wrathblade’s body after that bastard cornered you at the masquerade. He claims the both of us had a hand in that job, but really all I did was snap Cedric’s neck to put him out of his misery.”

“Very dramatic,” Genevieve approved at the mental image. Then, after a beat: “Sevin?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

“That was a question,” he answered.

“I swear you and your siblings are the most insufferable people in existence,” she huffed.

A smile curled up on Sevin’s lips. “We’ve earned it.”

That’s true.

Genevieve bit her lip. “Do you think it’s possible to love someone after only a few days?”

“We’re certainly capable of hating someone in a short period of time—on sight, even. I don’t see why love should be any different,” Sevin told her. “But I’m afraid I don’t feel that way about you, sweetheart. You’re not my type.”

Genevieve sighed deeply, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. Then, unable to help herself, she asked, “What is your type?”

“Sadistic and unavailable,” he muttered. “Why are you asking me about love? Did my brother manage to get under your skin?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Rowin said everything is heightened in Enchantra, and he’s right. I can’t tell what’s adrenaline and what’s real emotion. Hell, I can’t even tell if I can trust him or not.”

“Everything is real ,” Sevin said. “Heightened, sure, but just because the Hunt is life or death doesn’t mean your decision on how you feel about each other afterward has to be. Let yourself fall in love. Let yourself fall out of it. You never know when you could lose someone and not have the opportunity to do so again. Believe me.”

“Are you not afraid of breaking your heart so much you won’t be able to put it back together? If you fall in and out of love so easy?” she wondered.

“If there’s no risk in life, I don’t think it’s worth the journey,” he told her.

She was quiet after that. Mulling over his words.

“Rowin hasn’t come to see us or our mother in years,” Sevin said eventually. “He’s been lonely. A lot lonelier than he would ever let on, but I know him. And I know whatever the partnership between you two is, it has changed something in him again.”

“I think that’s the case for both of us,” she whispered.

She’d kept herself surrounded with fair-weather companions and meaningless lovers anytime the loneliness became particularly cold, but all of them had been like striking a match. Warm for a short, blissful second, only to burn out quickly before being tossed away. None of those people had ever truly understood anything about her. They knew what she let them—nothing more. Lately it had been the same with Ophelia. Maybe Rowin would be able to get to know the real her. Maybe they could win the Hunt, free him from that curse, and then decide exactly how entangled they were willing to become.

Almost an hour later, Sevin had drifted to sleep, and Rowin was still nowhere to be seen.

Knox blinked into the room.

“Come, girl, it’s time to go to the trove,” the Devil ordered, a hint of frustration in his tone.

“I can’t just leave him,” she said.

“It’s fine,” Sevin said, his eyes blinking open. “Choose something fun.”

She smiled and patted his hand before getting up and following Knox out of the room. He led her down the stone corridor, through a hall, dipping his head to enter a low archway in the corner.

As Genevieve approached the passage, she saw that the opening led to a narrow spiral staircase. She picked up the front of her dress and began to follow Knox up the steps. When they reached the top, she found a small round room with an ornate mirror leaning against the far wall. Its frame was an intricate work of art, carved with twisting vines and serpents, branches of fruit and flowers. As she stepped before it, the surface began to ripple like water.

“Before we proceed,” Knox said, “you will need to agree to a little bargain.”

Genevieve pried her eyes from the mirror to meet the Devil’s gaze. “How many times must I tell you I will not make a bargain with you?”

“Please, lovely. This is a mere formality. One that all the others have agreed to in the past. I am granting you a boon from my collection. A free choice. All I ask in return is that you agree to lose all memory of the time you spend inside the trove. You will remember only the single item you select as your reward. It’s a matter of security. I’m sure you can imagine that I don’t want all my belongings to be public knowledge. There are some remarkably greedy and clever beings in this Circle of Hell, and they might get ideas about taking what’s mine.”

“So I won’t remember my time inside the trove specifically? Only the one item I decide to take? That’s it?”

“Yes.”

Genevieve turned his words over in her mind, over and over, while spinning the signet on her finger. The band was a constant, scorching reminder of exactly whom she was dealing with.

If only I’d had this when I met Farrow.

“Fine. I agree. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Knox grinned and stepped through the reflective surface.

Genevieve plunged into the portal behind him.

“Welcome to my treasure trove,” Knox told her as he swept his arm through the air at the glittering room around them.

Everywhere Genevieve looked there was something magnificent. Jewels, colored potions, furniture made of silver and gold, magical artifacts she didn’t even have a name for.

“I can choose anything?” she asked him.

“Any one item, yes,” he confirmed.

Genevieve held her breath as she watched Knox walk further back into the room. She crept along behind him as he followed a narrow path through the piles of treasure. She tried to take in as many of the artifacts and jewels as she could, hoping that something would stand out to her. There were daggers carved from bones and random potions. Compasses that didn’t even seem to work and magic dice. Dolls made of hair and locked books with languages on the cover she couldn’t read.

“What is it your heart desires?” Knox asked her. “Perhaps a pocket watch that allows you to travel back ten minutes in time at the cost of memory for each use?”

As he spoke, the item he described blinked into his hand. Then he tossed it to the side and walked further into the clutter. When she made to follow, the toe of her shoe accidentally clipped a bauble and sent it flying across the ground; she glanced down to see where it had landed. And froze.

It was a small golden locket with a black jewel nestled in the front. A Soul Lock. Perhaps even the one she had seen Barrington wearing in the photograph.

She crouched down to pluck the necklace from the floor and dangled it by its chain before her, wondering what souls it might have contained.

Ophie and I could match , she mused, a little sadly. How long had she wished for a locket like this?

Genevieve stood and nestled the locket atop one of the piles.

“Mrs. Silver, do come here.”

She rushed along the path to where Knox was waiting for her.

“I have coin purses that can never be emptied, potions that grant otherworldly strength and beauty, arrows that are enchanted to never miss their targets,” he offered, each artifact popping into the air between them as he spoke. “Or a potion that can erase a single person from your mind and you from theirs?”

Genevieve’s breath hitched as she locked onto the vial of shimmering red liquid.

The Devil smiled. “Ah, is there someone you wish to forget, lovely?”

Farrow. A million times over.

“But before you make a final decision, there is one thing in particular that I thought might interest you, and your husband, more than all the others…”

The objects floating before her disappeared as he took something out of his pocket. A glass vial in the shape of a skull. Inside, there was a glowing blue liquid.

Somehow, Genevieve knew what he was showing her the moment that she saw it.

The cure.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” she seethed at the Devil. “You’ve had this all along ? You could have cured Rowin’s mother at any time?”

“I am a Devil, Genevieve Silver,” he postured. “You should know enough about Devils by now not to be surprised at our nature. After all, our Prince is currently playing house with your sister.”

“Yes, I believe I told you that,” she huffed.

“But how was I to know you weren’t lying?” Knox tilted his head. “I know now, of course, that your little threat was very much real. Wellington just returned from Nocturnia to confirm the information for me himself. The King knows that Salem is free, and he is very angry that his son has chosen not to return to Hell. But what can he expect after cursing the Prince so cruelly, hmm?”

Genevieve narrowed her eyes; she had no idea where he was going with this.

“Unless Salem comes back to the Other Side of his own volition, the King cannot touch him. Ancient traditions, you know. So you can imagine how excited the King was to discover that the sister of the very girl that Salem has tethered his soul to is currently in my possession. He offered me a deal I can’t refuse, and so I’m going to offer you a deal that you can’t either.”

Genevieve’s stomach churned with dread as Knox shook the bottle, causing a tornado of bubbles to float to the top of the glowing liquid.

“If you agree to convince Salem to return to Hell, I will let you choose this vial when you win Favored,” Knox offered. “Rowington’s mother will be cured. Everyone wins. But if you won’t help me…”

Knox let the bottle fall from his grasp.

“ No ,” Genevieve yelled as she dove forward, hand outstretched, but the vial never hit the ground.

A single snap and it was back in Knox’s grip.

“…everyone loses,” the Devil finished.

“You’re asking me to convince my sister’s partner to abandon her. Which I will never do.”

She would never ever take away her sister’s happiness. She’d rather die.

Knox scoffed. “The Prince would be welcomed with open arms. Everyone knows the King has a soft spot for him.”

“I will not betray her,” Genevieve said. “Now that I know the cure exists, Rowin and I will simply find it ourselves.”

“But do you know it exists?” Knox’s smile turned chilling. “Don’t forget…the moment you step back into Knoxium, our entire conversation will be erased from your memory.”

“We’ll find it ourselves,” she maintained.

His violet eyes became hostile. “Do you know how Crimson Rot began, girl?”

She crossed her arms. “Nobody does.”

“Oh, but I do.” Knox swept himself into a dramatic bow. “Because I am its creator.”

“ Why? ” Genevieve choked, aghast.

“I told you—when I lose, everyone loses,” he echoed once again.

Genevieve knew she shouldn’t be shocked that he’d created something so heinous. She’d known Knox was a villain, but she realized that she should have been thinking of him as the villain.

“Over the years I’ve bargained away a few vials to others who were willing to meet my desired price,” Knox revealed. “Enough to start the rumors of a cure, but not enough that anyone would be able to track it down.”

“So you’re saying there are others out there,” she said. “Which means I don’t need you.”

Knox watched her for a long, tense moment. He glanced at the vial.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he said.

And then he crushed it in his fist. Genevieve gasped as the liquid dripped over his knuckles and forearm.

“Take one last look around before I return you to your husband, Mrs. Silver,” Knox said with a tight smile as he shook the shards of glass from his fist. “And don’t worry, no one else will ever know the chance you’ve wasted here.”

Genevieve forced herself to turn away from the evidence of the ruined cure. She knew in her bones she’d made the right decision, but it didn’t assuage her guilt at the fact that she had been inches from the one thing Rowin had been looking for for over the better part of two decades and she’d just let it go.

What else would I even want from here?

The potion Knox had described earlier popped into her mind first, of course. The idea of being able to forget Farrow had been something she wished for over and over again…

“It’s time to go,” Knox prompted. “Have you made your decision?”

She took one last glance around and then nodded.

“I guess we’ll see if you win, then. It’s time for you to leave now,” he said, pointing toward the portal.

Genevieve slowly backed away from him. Swallowing thickly as she twirled and made haste for the exit. Before she stepped through, however, she told herself she had to remember what just happened. Had to commit every detail in her mind.

The cure exists. The cure exists. The cure exists. The cure exists. The cure exists.

She stepped through.

The cure exists. The cure exists. The cure… the… the… hmm… where… am I?

Genevieve blinked at the dusty old room around her.

“What the Hell?” she muttered to herself as she turned to see the large mirror behind her.

She had been looking at her reflection and then…

Her deal with Knox. He took her memories.

“ Genevieve. ”

She spun at the sound of Rowin’s voice.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he told her, his expression carefully blank in a way that put her nerves on edge. “We need to go. Now.”

She nodded numbly and let him lead her down the narrow tower, glancing back only once at the haunting emptiness of the room.

Rowin brought her to a different corridor, one that was empty except for the Hellmouth swirling at the end.

“What did Knox want to discuss with you earlier?” she asked quietly as they strode down the hall, side by side.

“Family matters,” he answered, his tone clipped in a way that made it known he wanted this to be the end of the conversation.

“About the Hunt? About your mother’s cure?” she pressed again as he pulled her to a halt in front of the portal. “Also, why did we end up in that alleyway if Knox has a Hellmouth here in his house?”

“This one is only for leaving, not returning,” he informed. “A safety precaution.”

“And my other questions?” she prompted.

He still didn’t answer, only grabbing her wrist and pulling her through the portal. They stepped back out into Enchantra, the study manifesting around them just how they’d left it.

But she didn’t make any effort to move, watching him expectantly. What had Knox wanted to talk to him about back at the house? Had it been about the two of them? Was Knox growing suspicious? Had he offered Rowin some kind of bargain?

How many more secrets is he keeping? And which one is going to be the nail in my coffin?

He shoved a hand through his hair. He was nervous.

“Wells went to Nocturnia for some information, and he got it,” he finally said.

She tilted her head. “Why are you so cross? Was it not good information?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you ,” she shot back.

“Today was a lot,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have taken you there. I should have just left you here to rest.”

She dropped her arms, hurt. His eyes softened, but his clenched jaw didn’t.

“I think we should probably both get some sleep,” he told her. “The next couple of days are going to be longer than most.”

She didn’t say anything more as they went back to his bedroom. As they lay down on opposite sides of the bed, a seed of dread began to bloom inside her. Something was very wrong.

She ran her fingertips over the words engraved onto the bracelet still clasped around her wrist and couldn’t help but wonder that if she was where the light was, why did she suddenly feel so in the dark?