Page 49

The look he gave her was surprised, then as bright as sunlight.

He kissed the tip of her nose and shifted beneath her, easing an arm free and slipping out from under the weight of her body with practiced care.

Willow rolled to her side, cheek brushing the warm spot he left behind, and propped herself on an elbow to watch him move.

“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked, slipping into a pair of boxers without turning around.

Willow sat up, pulling the blanket to her chest. “Oh, Cole. Lots of things. So many things.”

“Such as?”

Willow filled her cheeks with air, then blew it out. She shook her head.

He grabbed a T-shirt from his dresser and slipped it on. Across it was the logo for John Deere tractors. “Okay, well, tell me this. You met Serrin, I suppose?”

“I did,” she said, tearing her gaze from his. Thinking of Serrin meant thinking of the ceremony, meant thinking of Jace.

“Did you fall madly in love?”

Willow’s heart squeezed. She was here with him, wasn’t she?

“Never mind,” Cole said, acting as if none of this meant anything when they both knew it meant everything.

“Cole . . .”

“It’s okay. We can talk later.”

Willow’s ribs tightened. “Sure, but—”

She was interrupted by a brisk rap at the door.

“Breakfast is ready!” called Brooxie. “So come on out, you two.”

Willow’s eyes flew to Cole’s, round and surprised. Cole grinned and tossed her a pair of sweats from the bottom drawer of his dresser. She slid them on and wiggled back into his T-shirt from last night.

“The sisters know everything,” he said. “You know that.”

The table was laden with Southern delicacies: warm biscuits, scrambled eggs, and thick-cut bacon.

“Yum,” Willow said, sliding into a chair. “I am famished.”

Brooxie, already seated and buttering a biscuit, gave her a wink. “Well, of course you are. Exercise’ll do that to you.”

Cole made a strangled sound behind his juice glass.

Willow froze, a piece of bacon halfway to her mouth. “I—what? I mean, yes, but—”

“Aw, hon,” Brooxie said. “My eyesight may be going, but I still know you’re glowing.”

Ruby cackled. “And neither one of us is deaf. Our walls aren’t soundproofed, although we may need to consider addressing that if you stick around.”

Willow dropped her face into her hands.

“Welcome back,” Ruby added, patting her shoulder.

“Eat!” commanded Brooxie.

And so they did. The conversation wandered from neighborhood gossip to the ever-increasing price of gasoline to a long-suffering cousin who’d tried to start a food truck and ended up in a hospital in Asheville with second-degree burns.

Cole let the sisters prattle on and didn’t interrupt. Willow sensed he was giving her this time on purpose, allowing herself to feel her way back into the fabric of this world. When everyone was just about finished, Brooxie leaned forward and said, “Can I get coffee for anyone?”

“More juice?” Ruby suggested.

“No, thank you,” Willow said. “Everything was delicious, but I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Brooxie nodded. “In that case, shall we discuss the duskwyrm?”

“The one in Cole’s room,” Ruby added. “In my vase.”

“It was empty,” Cole protested.

“I’d prefer it stay that way,” Ruby shot back.

Willow looked at Cole helplessly. How did they know?

They know everything, Cole replied with a shrug.

“That’s right, we do,” Ruby said with a huff. She nodded her chin at Willow. “You made a promise. It’s time to see it through.”

“We’re real glad you’re back, hon,” Brooxie said. “And once you’ve tied up loose ends with Amira, maybe we can all settle into this one wild and precious life we have. What do you think?”

“There is nothing in this world—or any other—that I would like better,” Willow said.

~

Another forest, another trail. Willow no longer found the hike strenuous, however. She cradled the vase as she walked, the duskwyrm curled quiet and still within.

“I can carry it,” Cole offered.

“Thanks, but no, it should be me.”

Soon enough, they reached the settlement of broken houses where Amira lived. Amira’s home looked more ramshackle than she remembered. The paint on the door was peeling, and the threshold sagged.

Inside, it was even worse. The dried herbs hung limp from their cords, their blossoms crumbling onto the floor.

A shelf tilted in surrender, and the crystals and mystical talismans had lost their glamour.

The jar that held the human hand had cracked and lost its fluid, so that hand now looked wrinkled and pinched.

Amira, who’d greeted them at the door, looked wrinkled and pinched as well. Her skin was sallow, and her once-glossy hair was threaded with gray. Her teeth were no longer white but yellow, with spots of brown at the gums.

“You’re back,” she said, her dry lips curving into a smile heavy with want. “Finally.”

Willow clutched the vase tighter to her chest, her fingers half-numb from gripping it too hard. She felt Cole beside her, the tension rolling off him in waves.

“I made a promise,” Willow said. “So, yes. I’m back.”

She placed the vase on a counter. From within, the duskwyrm hissed softly, not a threat but a whimper.

Willow wanted to grab the vase back, to hold it tightly and flee, because it felt wrong being here. Too many threads knotted beneath her skin, too many half-finished thoughts skittered through her mind.

Cole’s little brother. The vacant swing set and the pile of perfect sapphires. Aesra as a little girl, her face streaked with tears as she was forced to stick her arm in the duskwyrm’s cage. This duskwyrm, with his poor broken body, who had come to her for help.

“What will you do with him?” she asked Amira. “You won’t hurt him, will you?”

The look Amira gave her made her blush. It said, Foolish, foolish girl. Why ask when you already know?

“Come on, Willow,” said Cole. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain.”

Willow knew she should listen to him. She should abandon the wyrm to his fate and never think about him again.

“Just tell me,” she insisted.

“I’ll do one better,” Amira said. “I’ll show you.”

She grabbed the vase and tipped it over.

When the wyrm remained inside, she thumped the bottom hard with the heel of her palm, and the duskwyrm spilled out onto the counter.

It coiled instinctively, tail wrapping tight around itself, jewel-toned flanks shivering.

It looked up—not at Amira—but at Willow.

Help me, the look said.

Willow stepped forward. Cole caught her wrist and held her back.

“Now,” Amira said, “let’s give him a little encouragement.”

From the folds of her robe, she produced a small brass vial. She uncorked it with a flick of her thumbnail and tipped something viscous and green into her palm. Willow caught the scent and nearly gagged.

Amira spat into the puddle in her hand and rubbed her palms together, creating a foul, sticky ointment. With her forefinger, she scooped up a glob of the stuff.

The wyrm recoiled, hissing.

“Hush,” Amira murmured. She put her finger to the wyrm’s scaled forehead and traced the length of its body, smoothing the ointment into its scales.

The duskwyrm went still and silent. Its pupils seemed to quiver.

Amira crooned a singsong riddle: “One to give, and none to take; twice I call, your will I break. Blood to bond, and spit to seal; gems for want, and pain to feel. If I ask too much, I pay—but ask I shall. Begin. Obey.”

The wyrm shuddered. Its mouth opened wide. A wet, glistening garnet spilled onto the counter, round as a robin’s egg, red as blood.

Cole sucked in a breath, loud over his clenched teeth.

Willow bowed her head. She wasn’t as surprised as perhaps she should have been.

“Beautiful,” Amira said, scooping it up. “Absolutely beautiful.” She licked her cracked lips and said, “Another.”

The duskwyrm writhed and spat out a sapphire orb. Amira grabbed it and admired it, then slipped it into her pocket.

“Another,” she commanded, her voice rising.

The duskwyrm produced a stunning imperial topaz, finely faceted and lit as if from within.

“Amira, please,” Willow said. “He doesn’t like it.”

“Another,” Amira demanded.

The duskwyrm’s sides heaved as it disgorged a plum-sized diamond. A thin trail of blood ran from one nostril.

“You’re hurting him,” Willow said.

Amira ignored her and flicked her tongue over her teeth. “Another.”

The wyrm made a pitiful sound, exhausted and small.

“You’ve asked for enough,” Cole said.

Amira chuckled. “What is enough? There is never enough.” She spat again into her palm, mixed the sputum with the green potion from the vial, and rubbed it into the duskwyrm’s exhausted body.

The duskwyrm responded on reflex, opening its mouth wider than seemed possible. An amethyst bigger than a baby’s foot spilled from its jaws and landed in Amira’s hand with a slick, wet sound.

Then, before Willow knew what was happening, the wyrm shot forward and clamped his fangs onto Amira’s wrist. There was a sizzling sound, like oil hitting a searing pan, and smoke rose from the twin-prong marks of the bite. Amira shrieked and yanked back her hand. The amethyst tumbled and bounced.

“It burns!” she wailed. “It burns—it burns!”

Her eyes went wide and white as cue balls. Fire filled them, dancing in her pupils, and her flesh began to pucker, blistering from the inside out. She howled and clutched at her face, trying to hold it together.

Around her, the air itself formed flames. The flames gathered into the silhouette of a dragon and roared.

The duskwyrm, freed by the dragon’s roar, slithered across the counter, over the edge, and down the side. It slipped into a crack in the floorboards and was gone.

Amira dropped to her knees, her hands curled against her chest. Her skin was shiny and red, and her mouth was stretched into a grimace. Her hair—what was left of it—had gone white at the roots. She shrieked and sobbed and sank to her knees, patting the ground in search of her scattered jewels.

Cole came back to himself with a shake.

“The oath has been fulfilled,” he said in a voice low with horror. He grabbed Willow’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

Willow looked back only once, going weak in the knees when her initial impression was confirmed. Amira, burned as if from the inside, looked exactly like one of the Blighted.