Chapter 31
Thirty-One
Emmy waited for Jack to spew some clever response, but he only stared at Grace.
“She’s lying!” Emmy blurted. She could not stand idly by while Grace wriggled out of trouble yet again. “She must be wearing
something to suppress the truth.”
Of course. Oliver’s suppression conjury. As Grace shifted one of her golden bracelets, Emmy could have kicked herself. Grace had probably
bridged his gift countless times. She never would have agreed to answer a single question unless she knew she could control
her responses, especially after they’d nearly gotten her to confess at the masquerade ball.
What fools they’d been, thinking they could trap her with her own words.
The crowd whispered furiously. The Windsors looked as if they might keel over. And Grace’s delicate finger still pointed at
Jack.
Smoothing his jacket, Jack strode to where Emmy stood at the front of the crowd. “Do it. It’s now or never.”
He wanted her to change him, but Emmy shook her head. Convincing the Society of the Charmed to trust him was a long shot,
especially since Grace had been touching Tobias when she made her accusations. Transforming him back to Jack would only confirm
she was telling the truth.
Grace gripped her aunt’s arm for support. “He’s been lying to us all summer. He had Oliver arrested and convinced his father that my uncle was conspiring against him, making the poor chancellor lose his mind. And now he’s come for me!”
Damn her. She knew—somehow, she knew everything.
“She’s lying!” Emmy cried out again. “If he were Jack Fontaine, I’d know it!”
But Emmy had never had Grace’s gift of persuasion, and wary looks were cast her way.
“Please,” Jack pleaded. “I can convince them. Please.”
There was no time for debate, for brainstorming better plans. As quickly as she could, Emmy let her pinkie graze Jack’s, pouring
her relic-infused conjury into him. His hair darkened to chocolate, and his features lost the marbled flawlessness of Nathaniel,
instead returning to the rugged handsomeness of Jack. The faint scar in his brow. The slight crookedness in his nose. The
faint dimple in his left cheek as he realized Emmy had obliged, for once.
Someone gasped. And before Emmy could pull away, Jack gripped her face on both sides. “Finish this.”
He kissed her. On the mouth. So shocked was Emmy, she was frozen until he staggered back, pretending she’d pushed him. Laughing,
he faced the crowd. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
Jack Fontaine bowed to the Society of the Charmed, his smirk as devilish as ever. “Took you all long enough to figure me out.”
Emmy could hardly hear the crowd’s shock as she stared at Jack. This was not their plan. He was supposed to tell them the
truth, not prove Grace right.
Finish this, he’d whispered. Instructions. Because he knew their plan would no longer work. He was sacrificing himself.
All the air rushed from Emmy’s lungs. Of all the brash, impulsive things Jack had done—
The guards circled the ballroom, gathering toward the exits. Jimmy shot her a look, but she shook her head. To have even the slightest chance of proving that Grace was lying—and that she was responsible for Mistfield’s fire—they needed to let Jack play this foolish hand.
“The body you found in the river? Not me. And that charred corpse you found in my cell? Also not me.” Jack ignited a flame
in his palm, and everyone gasped, though he’d been doing it all summer. “I don’t burn.”
“How did—” Keeper Windsor stammered, gripping his wife’s arm. “How did you get here?”
“Chancellor Stratton was more than happy to vouch for another Fontaine, once he saw the pretty young heiress I’d brought for
his son.” Jack grinned. “Fortunately for me, Winnie Fairchild is as dimwitted as she is beautiful.”
He was maintaining their covers. But Jack hadn’t thought this out. They’d take him back to Grimsbane Tower—or they’d kill him.
It frightens me, the things I’d do to keep you safe.
The room began to spin.
“Arrest him!” roared Keeper Windsor.
A half dozen guards surrounded Jack. He dug into his conjury, but without Rose’s relic, he was slow, his brow scrunching as
his black flames grew. A guard lunged for him, but Jack threw a ball of black fire at him, missing. The guards scurried back,
arms raised. Screaming guests scattered, caught between protecting themselves and watching the drama unfold.
Nausea rolled through Emmy as Jack threw another black flame. And another. How long might his magic last without the relic?
A minute? Two?
“We have to help him.” Jimmy was beside her, rolling up his sleeves.
“Don’t.” Emmy grabbed his arm. “This is what he wants.”
A guard unleashed a torrent of water over Jack’s flames, extinguishing his left palm quickly, and Emmy winced. She knew too well the bruises water conjury could leave.
But Jack still had a ball of black fire in his right hand, and he tossed it at the water wielder. He missed, singing the coat
of a man standing beside him, and the screams grew louder.
Jack’s flame sputtered, then went out. Emmy’s hand flew to her mouth as the guards surged toward him.
Two of them threw him to the ground, and Jack wrestled free, but a third guard delivered a hard blow to his side. A fourth
joined, then a fifth, and bile burned in Emmy’s throat, but she refused to look away. Watching was the least she could do.
“We can’t just do nothing!” The accusation in Jimmy’s voice cut right through Emmy, but she kept staring at Jack. This was
his choice. He’d told her to finish their revenge.
I’d set the world on fire just to keep you warm.
They had him pinned down by air conjury now, Jack gasping like a fish out of water.
I’ll never let anything bad happen to you again. I swear it.
The water conjurers aimed at Jack’s face now, a furious frenzy that shocked Emmy in its cruelness, even from the guards. With
his arms pinned to his sides, Jack could not so much as lift an arm to protect himself. Even from ten yards away, Emmy heard
the unmistakable crack of his nose. All the while, the air conjurers kept him restrained with an unyielding gust of wind.
They were torturing him.
Without his flames soaring about the ballroom, the onlookers were growing bolder, pointing and laughing as Jack struggled
against the guards.
Jimmy snapped.
With a blood-curdling yell, he launched himself at the guards before Emmy could stop him. Surprise alone had given him an advantage, and Jimmy threw them off Jack, their concentration breaking, and Jack gasped as he sucked in much-needed air—
A sudden gale tore through the ballroom, loosening Emmy’s hair from Mary’s extravagant handiwork. Champagne flutes flew from
hands, shattering on the floor.
More guards had arrived.
The gust hit Jimmy with enough force to toss him against the golden waterfall. Emmy clutched her chest, ready for the glass
hidden by the illusion to break, but the wind relented, and he slumped to the ground, his head lolling. The guards were upon
him a moment later, kicking him as if he were a rabid animal, not a brave soul defending his friend.
Jimmy, who’d left his own life behind to find her. To help her.
A pair of guards dragged him from the ballroom while the rest pinned Jack once again.
She could bear it no longer.
Emmy charged. The water wielder tried to push her back, but Emmy lifted her skirt, deflecting the deluge with a transformed
shield. A second guard cocked a rifle, but Emmy grabbed it before he could pull the trigger, transforming it to stone.
She heard Grace scream, heard Keeper Windsor call for them to catch her as another powerful wind tore through the ballroom.
Jack was struggling against the guards as they dragged him to the exit. She sprinted toward him—
Sand filled the air, pelting her like needles against her skin.
It was everywhere, the sand, blown into every orifice in Emmy’s face. She fell to her knees, trying to heal the stinging in
her eyes, but as soon as she opened them, she was assaulted once again. Someone grabbed her roughly, and she bit them. Hard.
Stumbling to her feet, Emmy tried to lift her skirt shield, but the sand accosted her from every angle. She had to get out
of this ballroom before they dragged her back to Grimsbane—
A gun exploded behind her, the bullet whizzing just past Emmy’s ear. It struck the golden waterfall, piercing the glass underneath the illusion before disappearing into the night.
The glass wall.
Emmy ran to it, tripping over God only knew what as she stumbled through the sand-swept ballroom. Pressing her palms to the
ice-cold glass within the waterfall, she imagined it as broken as their plans, as broken as her heart if she did not rescue
her friends.
It shattered beneath her hands, shards of molten gold raining down with a deafening crash. Screams erupted, and Emmy ran directly
into it, the glass cutting into her arms, her shoulders, even her scalp. Once she was through, she tried to squint to find
the others, but the sand was relentless, and another bullet surged past her, close enough to nip her gown.
She had to run.
Emmy flung herself across the patio, the screams echoing over the river. She ran up the same stairs she’d taken at the start
of the summer, when the Society had laughed at her. The screams were quieter here, but more guests were pouring onto the patio
by the second.
The front of Clarity Hall was a commotion of guests and their attendants, debating whether to leave or stay to witness the
melee. Transforming her ruined ball gown into a dark slip, Emmy hid in the shadow of the trees and struggled to catch her
breath.
Failure’s crushing weight was too much to bear. Their covers were blown. And once again, Grace had outsmarted Emmy.
But Emmy could not think of Grace now. She had to find the others.
With any luck, Mary had slipped out undetected. The last glimpse she’d had of Jack was of him being dragged toward the exit,
just like Jimmy.
And—Tobias and Agnes. Oh, God, what had she done? She’d promised them safety, yet bullets were flying, and Tobias had been at the center of it all.
They were her responsibility. And she’d failed them.
A commotion by the front doors. The guests were backing away and pointing, and Emmy risked a glimpse around the tree.
All the air rushed from her lungs.
A pair of guards was lugging something heavy between them. Jack.
His face was so bloodied, Emmy had to bite her knuckles to keep from making a noise. His hands were bound behind his back,
but he was conscious, still trying to wriggle free. All the while, his gaze swept through the crowd in front of Clarity Hall.
Searching. For her.
Seeing him in pain brought her to the edge of sanity. She was going to transform the guards into twigs, then snap them in
her hands before burning them alive.
They brought Jimmy next. Also handcuffed. Also bloodied beyond forgiveness. And Emmy could not muster a single goddamn breath
as the guards shoved them into a carriage with bars on its windows, the same sort that had delivered her to Grimsbane.
Someone appeared between the trees, and Emmy lifted her hands, ready to conjure, but—
“Oh, thank God.” She nearly collapsed at the sight of Tobias and his sister, who looked ready to throttle her. But there was
no time for apologies. Reaching into the hidden pockets of her slip, Emmy found the wad of cash she’d promised them, along
with every other dollar she had on her. Then she pressed her palms to each of their faces, transforming them back to their
original selves. “Find somewhere safe to wash off that paint. Then get as far from here as you can.”
With a murderous glare, Agnes grabbed the cash and shoved it into her pockets before taking her brother’s hand and disappearing
in the darkness.
“There she is! In the trees!”
Arms trembling, Emmy pressed herself against the thick trunk, but bullets whizzed by her, and she gasped. They could hit Agnes
and Tobias.
“I’m over here!” Sprinting in the opposite direction, Emmy waved her hands as she envisioned each and every drop of dew in
the riverside breeze, multiplying the droplets over and over until a thick fog spread between the trunks, cloaking her. Bullets
continued to pierce the air, along with shouts, so she hid deeper in the woods, deep enough to lose sight of the mansion—and
the jailer’s carriage in front of it. She needed to loop back around without being spotted.
The brume waited, its power surrounding her as she racked her brain. What could she transform to get Jack and Jimmy out unseen?
A twig snapped, far too close. Emmy stumbled back—
“It’s me,” Mary whispered as she stepped through the fog, her cheeks pink and damp.
Mary. In one piece. Emmy threw her arms around her, burying her face in her hair.
“We need to hurry.” Pulling away from Emmy’s embrace, she took Emmy’s hand—
And they both disappeared.
Emmy could not see her arms, her legs, her dress, any of it. Mary’s invisibility, apparently, could cover them both. But there
was no time for wonder, not when the jailer’s carriage might leave at any moment.
In silence, they tiptoed between the trees. Too slow, they were too—
They flickered back into existence. Dropping Emmy’s hands, Mary gripped her knees, struggling to catch her breath. “I’m sorry!
It’s much harder with two.”
They were so painfully close. Another thirty seconds of invisibility, and they’d reach the jailer’s carriage.
“What do we do?” Mary whispered.
In the distance, a whip snapped. The horses whinnied.
Emmy nearly broke the relic’s chain as she pulled off the necklace and pressed it into Mary’s palm. “Keep the coin touching
your skin and call to the brume again. Hurry!”
With a quick nod, Mary disappeared, and Emmy searched the darkness for her. There she was—her hand cool as it slipped into
Emmy’s once more.
Hand in hand, they were off, moving faster now, looping farther around the mansion. Emmy longed to protest as their distance
from the carriage grew, but Mary had worked at Clarity Hall. She had to trust the maid knew a different way to intercept its
path.
In the darkness, Emmy tripped on a root, and she stumbled onto her knees, cutting her palm on something sharp in the dirt.
Worse, she was visible again.
“Mary?” she whispered.
No response.
“Mary?”
Breathless, Mary reappeared through the trees, a few yards away. Emmy reached for her.
But the maid stepped back, her hand flying to her cross.
“What are you doing?” Emmy hissed. “We need—”
Mary yanked the cross’s silver chain, dropping it into the dirt.
And Emmy stumbled back.
“No,” she tried to say, but her voice was a broken, pitiful thing.
In Mary’s place stood Grace, Rose’s relic clutched tightly in her hand.
“Oh, Emmy.” She sighed. “You always were so trusting.”