Page 49

Chapter forty-nine

The Light Market had swollen to bursting. Torches were lit, paper lanterns were hung and swinging above the square, and already, bodies swayed with drink. People sang, people laughed, and Ghadra had no idea what descended from the forest to destroy them.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Riselda climbed down first, followed by Lux. Her green gown just brushed over the cobblestones, its edges only slightly marred from the lengthy hike through the forest. She glanced over the congregated mass and shoved the hopelessness down deep where it couldn’t be reached. A subtle hint of too-old eggs wafted beneath the scent of food, drink and perfumes.

There were so many. Even if she could warn them, would they listen?

Riselda grasped her hand in an icy grip. “This way, Lucena. The stage awaits.”

“The stage?” Lux pulled away her fingers. “What are you going to have me do?”

“What you do best. A demonstration of your brilliance. And I will do the same. The perfect distraction.”

Except the perfect distraction had already woven through the crowd as they spoke. Purple shadows stained the space beneath his eyes, but even if Shaw wasn’t yet healthy, he was at least whole. His brow furrowed as he neared them, sharp and suspicious. If Lux hadn’t known him, she would have thought him furious. She did know him, however. Quite well by now, and she wondered how much he had already guessed by the concern darkening his face.

“Lux. Riselda.” He nodded to them both as he stepped in their path.

Riselda’s smile begged to transform into something else. “Ah, the young man who not only survived the plague, but the prison. How…convenient.” She turned her severe smile upon Lux.

“It’s nice to see you again. Is your family here?” Lux kept her face smooth of emotion. Please, say no.

“Yes. Enjoying the vendors. Have you been here long?”

She shook her head. “We just arrived. And I think the celebration will be over quickly for us.”

Shaw’s gaze narrowed further at the same moment Riselda latched onto her wrist. “Yes, so we must be going. Enjoy the festival.”

Riselda didn’t relax her grip until the stage rose up before them at the edge of the square. “What do you think you’re doing?”

For the second time, Lux extracted herself. “I’ve done nothing.”

“Your friend may possess all the survival instincts of a cockroach, but he will not survive this. No one will. I had thought you’d accepted that and embraced our future. Have you, Lucena? Have you embraced what you’re meant to become?”

What Lux longed to embrace was a black-handled blade again. “Yes, Riselda. Ghadra is dead.”

“Good girl.” She patted her cheek. “Now take the stage.”

But before she could, the mayor appeared instead, pushing aside thick, velvet curtains until he stood at the center, vying for the attention of the town. One by one, the masses turned toward him, with those too slow to do so helped along by the Shield.

“To the beautiful and fine townsfolk of Ghadra, I ask you, are you enjoying another flawless Festival of Light?” The most illustriously dressed clapped the loudest. The mayor’s grin broadened, his face flushed. “Excellent, and you’re welcome.” He laughed, swallowing a healthy sip of wine. “Now, the time has arrived for the main event of the evening! Once upon a time, I discovered—and refined—two of the most powerful manipulators of the fates. One that can breathe health back into another so near death they’ve glimpsed the afterlife, and another who can drag a soul from beyond the veil to walk amongst the living once more. Thanks to my governance, together, they can cheat the cloaked beast known as Death. Ghadra’s Healer and Ghadra’s Necromancer!”

The shove at the small of her back propelled her up the steps and onto the stage.

Lux stared across the jumble of bodies, one as unrecognizable from the last. Painted and glittered, their faces upturned, they measured her, and they whispered. Her jaw clenched. What is this game of Riselda’s?

“Thank you, Mayor Tamish. Both for another prosperous year and another spectacular celebration.” Riselda pitched her rich voice, smooth and intoxicating, and Lux imagined the mayor melting into a wine-soaked puddle at her side.

He spoke instead from an ornate, high-backed chair, both gaudy and ridiculous. He rested into it like a throne upon a dais. She could just glimpse Morana behind him. “The pleasure is all my mine, my pets.”

Those slurred words were for them, and them alone. Lux’s fury rose, and she spun away from him lest she do something regrettable. “Fool.”

Riselda pinched her arm.

“Citizens of Ghadra,” Riselda’s voice had lowered, eerie and mysterious, and bodies bent forward. “Fate would have you believe Death is inevitable. Death is permanent. But Death? While it may indeed be an unforgiving end, we and we alone can change the fates.” Ice shot up Lux’s arm as long fingers twined within hers. “Behold!”

Riselda threw her head back, her eyes upturned to the somber night sky. And for Lux’s ears alone, she whispered, “Speak the enchantment with me.”

“Back from death we beckon—”

Lux joined in a beat too late, catching over the words in her confusion. Riselda’s grip tightened, and the words flowed over her in response, her instincts picking up where her mind could not. This was pointless, it would do nothing, and yet she spoke to them, and watched the people press closer, lapping it up hungrily.

“—a guide between life and fate. Mend what has been broken. Time. Mortality. Through the veil between realms, shall you follow this road. May your eyes become mine until you return home. Time of death, death in time—”

“Donte!” The name was a scream of disbelief over the crowd.

“Finish it.” Riselda dug nails into her arm. Lux kept speaking, searching for the cause of the scream and the man responsible.

“From untimely death, we bid you Rise.”

Another shout. “Masha! It can’t be!”

“My Persephone!” This girl Lux could see, standing at the edge of the crowd in a tattered dress and dirtied fingers. She swayed on the tips of her toes, her eyes focused on the woman who’d cried out. Then, the girl smiled.

The ecstatic woman pitched forward, tripping in her haste to reach her long-dead daughter. She gripped her hands, brushed back her hair, and then her gaze sought Lux’s. “You’ve brought her back to me.”

The quiet words reverberated through the crowd, and the silence erupted.

“What have you done, Riselda.” It wasn’t a question, and panic rose in Lux’s chest, a cold sweat breaking across her skin.

“The purge has begun.” Riselda turned too-bright eyes to the mayor. “Welcome back your people, Bartleby.”

The mayor’s enjoyment over the crowd’s delight in his choice of entertainment faded to confusion. He rose.

“Colden!” Morana’s shriek was louder than any other. With a sweep of fuchsia skirts, she plummeted from the stage to the handsome man converging upon the market square. He wore a torn black suit, shredded bits hanging from his arms as he opened them wide.

She fell into them in a heap of tears.

“Is this some sort of trickery? His lifeblood was removed!” The mayor descended on Lux. She didn’t pay him any mind, too focused now on the throng of once-dead bodies entering the Light Market.

“Yes, it was. I took it from him, and I put it back.” Riselda shrugged, her grin unnaturally wide.

The mayor blubbered and blustered, for his words had abandoned him. Until finally, “But it has been too long.”

The maniacal laugh jolted the few people still pressed close to the stage. “Precisely.”

“Papa!”

Lux choked, her lungs frozen masses in her chest and incapable of movement. Aline . She recognized her voice as a man, an aged version of his son, entered the festival edge. He knelt, a crooked smile on his lips. The clouded eyes shown even in the dark.

“ALINE!”

“Lucena!” Riselda snapped from her power-mad daze. “Be—”

But Lux was already running. She jumped from the stage, jabbing into kidneys of those who didn’t move quickly enough and sweeping ankles from those who wouldn’t move at all.

“ Murderer. ”

Lux’s heart skipped in recognition, and she twisted toward the voice, but the light of the lanterns proved untrustworthy. Any of the bodies around her could have whispered it, and yet…

“You don’t see me? You didn’t see me then, either.” She glided around a collection of skirts: Ned’s abandoned lover. Her formerly drab dress lay in rags against her skin, and as Lux replayed how angry her soul had been then, she didn’t want to encounter it revived. Not like this. “How about now?”

“I see you fine. But if you don’t mind, I’m needed elsewhere.”

The woman cackled. “I don’t think so.” She withdrew a slender stick, no longer hidden behind her back, its tip sharp and glinting. “I found this. Probably some child’s toy, but I think it’ll do nicely, don’t you?”

Much faster than anticipated, her hand shot forward, the metal tip leaving a bloodied gash along Lux’s forearm.

Lux seethed. “I don’t have time for this,” she growled, finally catching the interest of those nearest them.

“How familiar. Little wench.” The woman lashed out again.

But Lux expected it this time. When she pivoted, the ragged woman flew past her, unbalanced. Lux pushed further into the crowd, muttering all the while.

Of all people .

The flare of hot pain slicing down her back nearly sent her to her knees. To the right of Lux, a flamboyantly dressed woman bearing witness to the injury screamed. Though, instead of offering any sort of assistance, she whirled on her heels to flee the violence.

Lux reached for her, wrenching a hairpin free. It was sturdy, silver, with a pretty pearl decorating its end, and the woman cried out again, gripping wildly at her head, sure she was at risk for suffering a fate as terrible as Lux’s own.

“Thank you!” Lux called out, a mere moment before she whirled, burying it in the eye of the assailant at her back.

Ned’s lover tottered, her fingers twitching as if she longed to tear it away—that pearl encompassing her vision. When she fell backward, the masses collapsed with her, and they tumbled over one another in horror, their chaotic screams echoing against brick and mortar.

The bauble was a doll’s eye, staring fixedly at the night sky. Stolen silver leaked from its edges. Lux spun before she could be tempted to feel any sort of emotion. The crowd parted easily for her now.

“Aline! Get away from him!”

Lux could just glimpse her: a sunshine-yellow dress, peppered with blood, and a knife protruding from her chest. She blinked again, and the image vanished.

In its stead, Aline knelt along with her father, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto her violet skirt. She hadn’t heard her. Or she’d ignored her.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too.” His voice was honey-deep, like Shaw’s. He cupped her cheek.

“What’s wrong with your eyes, Papa?”

“Nothing, darling. I can see all.”

Aline shrieked when Lux hauled her backward, only to quiet when she recognized who held her. “You brought him back to us. Thank you, Lux. Thank you.”

“I didn’t bring him back. He belongs to the trees. Don’t go near him, Aline.” Her throat ached with her screams.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Aline ripped from her grip, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. “How could you be so cruel?” She turned back to her father, watched him rise and prepare for her embrace, and she stepped forward.

The gut-wrenching scream tearing through the square didn’t come from Aline. Quite the opposite, it came from a broad man who looked unnervingly similar to the one now standing above him. Brothers. Twins, even.

“Donte…” Blood bubbled from the corner of the man’s mouth, a shard of glass buried deep in his neck.

“Thank you, Brother.” Donte removed the shard with a spurt of crimson and sliced into the dead man’s eyes. The crowd wailed, the bravest running now in every direction, but many—too many—still fell into the arms of those they had lost, oblivious.

The warped version of Donte cupped his hands beneath the trickle of silver liquid, and when it slowed to a drip, he drank. It dribbled down his chin as his head snapped up, and Lux grabbed for Aline again.

“Did…did he…” Aline paled. She sagged against Lux.

“We have to get out of here.”

The girl’s weight left her, suddenly swept up and into Shaw’s arms. “I’ve got her. What’s happening, Lux? Tell me quick.” His eyes swept over the body, now lying in a pool of blood just feet away. The unanchored soul had fled, his brother disappearing along with it.

But Lux didn’t get the chance to explain.

Shaw’s father stepped beneath the glow of the lanterns suspended high above the market. The one who’d sacrificed all for him. Gone in his place.

“ Father …”

“Son.”

Lux gripped a fistful of Shaw’s shirt. “Please, don’t. His eyes. Look at his eyes.” She cursed her lack of weapon, sure that even if Shaw and Aline hated her forever, she would kill their father to spare them.

Another scream ricocheted through the festival. Another life taken.

Shaw did as she bid, and his face paled, matching that of his sister. “Who revived him?”

His father dragged his hands from his pockets, fingers flexing.

“Riselda. She’s responsible for the plague. She’s been extracting lifeblood from the dead, bringing them back from the trees. All of Ghadra is meant to die tonight.” Lux watched his father’s hands clench and remained there. “They want more, Shaw. He craves lifeblood, and that is all he wants now.”

Aline cried softly into Shaw’s shirt, apparently still conscious. He shifted her weight in his arms, and with eyes glistening with unshed tears, he took one more step toward the aged image of himself. “I’m sorry, Father. For letting you take my place, for all you endured for me. Please forgive me.”

“All will be well, Son. You can repay me easily enough.”

Lux’s kick to his knee sent him to the ground as he lunged toward his children, and when Shaw leapt out of the way, the barely held tears released, tracking down his cheek.

“I can’t kill him,” he breathed.

Lux’s heart constricted, for she had thought the same thing, once. “If it’s you or him—”

“No, Colden, please!”

Lux dragged her eyes from the man struggling up from the cobblestones to the one holding a blade to Morana’s exposed flesh. But she was far away. Too far away to reach in time. Lux scanned around her feet. A stone, just small enough to rest comfortably in the palm of her hand. She scooped it up.

The rock flew true, striking Colden in the temple, sending him staggering back. But Morana, instead of fleeing, rushed to his aid.

“What are you doing, you imbecile!” Lux shouted.

A glint of murky-grey eyes swiveled toward her voice, recognition lighting his face, and with a smile, Colden drove the knife home. Morana screamed in agony, gripping her side with both hands as she fell away from him. Red droplets spilled over her fingertips.

Lux could see Shaw’s father moving toward his children again from the corner of her eye. Same as she could see Colden striding toward her now with a feral grin. He hadn’t even taken the time to drain Morana. Not yet. Lux searched frantically for another lucky stone but found none.

“Lux! We need to—”

“Leave me! Get Aline out of the market!”

She couldn’t even spare Shaw a glance.

“Necromancer. Did you miss me?”

She planted her feet against Colden’s height. “As one misses a parasite or a once-removed, prominent mole.”

“I’ve missed you.” He glanced down to his hand, momentarily confused by the lack of knife there.

Lux kicked him in the gut. He stumbled back from it and his mouth fell wide, parted in shock. Though, to be fair, Lux’s did too.

Colden’s hands encircled the blade protruding from his chest, his fingers cut and slipping against the point. Without another sound, he collapsed face-forward onto the stones, the knife buried to the hilt in his back.

Lux waited another moment to ensure he wasn’t about to move again and sweep her legs from under her. When she glanced up, it was to find Morana, chest heaving and eyes bright.

“That bastard tried to kill me.” Blood continued to trickle from the wound in her side, but it appeared to be slowing. She did a once-over of Lux before bending down and extracting the blade. “Are they all like this?”

Lux nodded, acutely aware of Shaw and Aline’s absence. And that of their father. “All with eyes like his.”

“That witch .” Morana tossed the blade to her opposite hand and signed a cross with its dripping end. “Off to return the next to the afterlife, then.” She swept away without waiting for any reply.

Lux pushed the loosened waves from her eyes, standing on her toes to view the stage. The Shield, the mayor, and Riselda—they were gone. The square’s revelers were rapidly following suit, leaving more fresh blood than Lux wished to see in a lifetime.

He’s fine . Death won’t long for him again so soon. He is fine.

Except he wasn’t. He was hurt and probably sick and hunted by a monster.

She forced herself to calm and think rationally. If she stood here much longer, she’d become just another source of lifeblood. She needed to move, but to where?

Where would most seek sanctuary from such an evil?

Lux smiled as she spun, dashing down the nearest alley. It was far from humorous. So many of the Light weren’t greeted by those lost because they hadn’t lost anyone in such a gruesome way. They were the first to abandon the market, and there was only one place they would turn to for refuge.

The mansion.