Chapter Fifty-One Viola #2
Without breaking our stare his hands part, and in a single motion, the earth swallows Sylas whole. “You cannot resurrect what you cannot reach.”
My mind is empty.
I want to scream, but my lungs give out. I feel like my heart will, too.
“He was but a distraction, darling Viola. Soon, you will learn. They will never accept you for who you are. Not the Aspieri, not the Mortemagi, not Gorhail, not DOTS, no one but me.” Grimm clasps his hands together, and the undead pulls its claws out of my ankles, returning to the ground without resistance.
My body is numb, and I stare at the empty patch of dirt where Sylas was. He can’t be gone. He can’t… He was just here. It’s impossible. Magic can’t do this. Did he bury Sylas alive? Gods. I can’t breathe, can’t think.
“Darling,” Grimm continues, the corner of his mouth pulling into a frightening smile.
“They don’t like what they cannot control, and you are now a weapon fueled by anger so deep it almost terrifies me.
Almost.” Then he laughs as he turns toward the woods, to the right of the cottage.
“When you are ready, look for me in the darkest hour.”
I watch him walk away, my heart blazing with rage. Right there, I make myself a promise. I will kill him, even if it kills me, even if it brings this entire world down.
As the trees swallow Grimm, poachers peel away from the barks one by one and follow him into the darkness, leaving me alone in the middle of the forest with two aspiers that aren’t mine and one that hates me.
A few seconds later, the stupid trees begin to hum again, a melancholic melody that I want to stifle.
My eyes sting, and my lungs strain with every breath.
Sylas is gone.
Railesza slowly approaches me. She coils around my arm and bites my wrist in silence. Soon after, Scar slithers back from the woods. She glances at me, then at Railesza. I extend my arm, and she carefully coils around, laying her head next to Railesza’s.
I look up, expecting Raiku to come back any moment. But the grass doesn’t move. I feel the ground around me, in case one of the undead buried him by accident. When I don’t find him, I drag my body to where the earth is overturned, where Sylas lay only moments ago.
The soil is still wet with his blood; how can he be gone?
Dirt cakes under my fingernails as I dig and dig and dig. I dig until my tongue goes dry and my breath wanes. I dig until my fingers are raw and the world around me fades. I dig until the hole is deep enough to bury me completely.
Sylas died, and I never told him I loved him.
Hands reach out for me, but I shrug them off. I will stay in the grave until Death claims me, too.
“Vi.” Beau’s soft voice carries over to me.
I wish he hadn’t come at all. Why is he here when Sylas is already dead? I want to turn around and yell at him. If only he’d followed Sylas here… if he hadn’t been late… if… if… If I’m honest, I cannot face him with Sylas’s blood imprinted on my palms.
“Stop,” he whispers on a sob.
The warmth of his body grazes my skin when he sits next to me. I don’t utter a word. I want him to go away; maybe if heartbreak won’t take me, the cold will.
After a moment, he wraps me in a hug and pulls me to my feet. I push at him, but his hands hold steady, until I fall apart against his chest, wailing like a child.
“He’s gone.” I gasp between sobs.
“We… we don’t know that,” he says, stroking my hair as my tears spill uncontrollably. Behind him, a quiet shuffle of grass grows louder. I pull back.
A tall man with silver hair, about our age, takes a careful step toward us. He looks around, then asks, “Where’s his body?”
I shake my head, unable to string words together. The man slips past Beau and me until he’s in the middle of the clearing. He kneels and feels the soil. “This is our fault…”
“Don’t,” Beau warns. “Don’t start. Guilt is a slippery slope, Gryff.”
Gryff. How do I tell him his best friend was killed because of me, because he gave me this stupid relic when he was not even supposed to be here? Because, even in his last moments, Sylas put me first.
“We were too late…” Gryff’s voice breaks. “We shouldn’t have gone to alert Paltro.”
“What happened, Vi?” Beau’s tone softens as he gently pulls me out of the shallow grave. He searches my face for answers that I’m not ready to give. I wonder if he hears my heart breaking, if he hears my soul shattering with every gulp of air I force in.
As he eyes me expectantly, all I can think about is that only yesterday we were having tea together in their kitchen, and now Sylas will never drink tea again. But it’s not even about tea. It’s that Sylas and I ended before we could even begin.
“I never told him I loved him,” I sob, and Beau wraps his arms around me again.
“He knew.” Beau nods against my head, warm tears trickling onto my scalp. “He knew, Vi.”
Gryff stifles a sob. We stand there for a few minutes, Beau’s arms around me, Gryff unable to hold back tears, and me cursing every breath I take. The silence builds and builds until it cracks with a passing gust of wind.
I gently push away from Beau.
“I’m not letting you go until you can stand on your own.” He loosens his grip on me, and I nod. “I’m… I’ll be all right.” I want to die, I should’ve said instead.
Pulling away, I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands and steady myself with a deep breath.
“This isn’t how I wanted to meet you.” Gryff sighs at me, his lower lids red and heavy with grief. “Sylas loved…” He doesn’t finish his thought.
Boots thump against the wet grass, and the three of us break apart, aspiers alert.
But it’s only Overseer Paltro. He rushes toward us, like a stray deer, his craggy face strained.
When he notices me, his steps slow. His eyes fall on the golden aspier around my neck, then on Scar and Railesza coiled next to each other around my left forearm.
“Where is Sylas?” he barks.
We don’t say a word, and suddenly I’m back in my kitchen, listening to the sheriff tell us that Olivia is dead. The same feeling weighs my tongue down; that maybe if we don’t say it aloud, it means it isn’t real.
“Miss Corvi, report to DOTS immediately for the murder of Sylas Archyr and the theft of three aspiers.” He doesn’t even look at me.
I’ll gladly report to DOTS if they sentence me to immediate death and are somehow able to kill me with the Imortalis.
I move forward, but Gryff steps in front of me, and Beau places a protective arm around my shoulders.
“Uncle.” Beau glares at Paltro. “Sylas is dead because no one took the reports of a potential Grimm copycat seriously. Gorhail, Firstline, and DOTS were busy burying the murders and blaming them on random poacher attacks. Until you took over days ago, they were still trying to convince everyone that a Grimm copycat was just propaganda. But we know now that Grimm himself is back, and he killed Sylas. You can’t possibly be pinning the blame on Viola. ”
Paltro considers me for a moment, his round glasses low on his nose. Then his eyes fall on Raiek again, and his lips pull up in disdain. “Rules are rules, Beau, and as chief of Firstline, it is my duty to report her to DOTS.”
“You can’t—” Beau says, but Paltro interrupts him.
“Your blind loyalty should be to your House, not to a Mortemagi crossmage who killed your brother and sent your sister into an irreversible mindtrap,” he spits.
Around Beau’s arm, Briar stirs, her eyes locked on Paltro. Then Scar slithers up the length of my arm, glides over Raiek, and settles with her head next to my cheek. She hisses at Paltro, and he lifts his nose at her.
“What will you do, Chief? Throw her in prison to appease public unrest while the real murderer roams free?” Gryff shifts his weight, his cool blue aspier slithering around his neck.
“Because that’s what the administration does; it spends more resources on maintaining status quo than facing the truth of its failure to keep us safe. ”
“Perhaps she didn’t kill Sylas, but that doesn’t explain why she has two of his aspiers.” Paltro lets go of his own aspier, and the serpent pauses at my boots before slithering to where Sylas died.
“They’re bonded,” Beau blurts out. Did Sylas tell him?
“One-way bonds hardly count,” Paltro scoffs. “It won’t stand in court.”
“They’re double bonded,” Gryff adds. “We witnessed it: Beau, Lyria, and I. Our bonds are above the law—you know that. Our aspiers speak for us when we cannot, and the Imortalis has chosen, and it isn’t within our right to question the first aspier.”
Of course, they weren’t there. They’re lying… for me.
“I’m sure you and Beau won’t have any trouble testifying under a reader’s touch then.” Paltro’s nostrils flare, and he folds his arms behind his back. After a brief pause, he looks at Gryff. “Unsealed crossmages still face execution, Mr. Darro.”
Gryff’s arm tenses, but Beau reaches for his shoulder.
At the same time, a figure rushes toward us.
My tears cloud who it is. The closer she gets, the more clearly I can make out the crown braid that sits tight on her head.
She shoves past Paltro, past Gryff and Beau, and takes me in her arms, and the moment she says my name, I crumble.
The air fills with the piercing sound of my own sobs. I don’t stop. I can’t. I don’t want to be roped into the politics of DOTS. I just want Sylas back.
“Report to DOTS within the hour.” Paltro turns around and begins walking, leaving us behind.
“Rodric,” Priya calls after him. “Do not start an internal feud when Grimm walks free around the Ten Provinces.”
“As far as I know, Priya,” he replies, not bothering to stop, “Miss Corvi is an Aspieri-Mortemagi crossmage, last seen with my nephew. He is now dead, and she has two of his aspiers and the Deathbringer’s aspier, none of which belong to her.”
There’s so much venom in his words. I want to tell him to take all of them. The aspiers, the magic, my life.
Sylas is gone, and there’s nothing left for me.