Chapter Twenty-Nine Emma Baldwin
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Emma Baldwin
I’m in shock as Malcolm grabs my hand, trying to lead me farther away from the deadly vines.
When we have escaped all traces of them, his shoulders relax finally.
Gnarled trees surround us, their twisted branches clawing at the newborn moon.
I snatch my hand away, but he doesn’t seem to notice my anger.
“Come on,” he says.
Sabine’s threat hangs heavy in the air, suffocating me just like the vision I saw of Malcolm in the alley when my sister was murdered.
“You were there when Grace died!” My voice trembles as a mystical fog begins to bubble and curl at our feet.
The memory of my sister’s lifeless body flashes before my eyes—the alley with flickering fairy lights, soda cans and trash surrounding my sister’s twisted corpse.
The blood splattering her dark skin and dripping from her curls, the deep gashes and claw marks, the fear frozen in her wide-angular eyes; all of it brings reality into deadly sharp focus.
“The glowing stones showed me, Malcolm. I know what Jayla did. What you did!”
The way he hangs his head low and can’t look at me gives me all the confirmation I need that the vision was real.
“Y’all trespassed on our territory,” he finally admits, his words thick with remorse.
“We thought it was an attack. When Jayla feels threatened, she shape-shifts. Usually she becomes the lion. Mix that with bloodlust … and … it was an accident, Emma. She couldn’t control it. ”
Each syllable from his mouth is a dagger of betrayal stabbing my heart. I was worried about my sister. I followed her, trying to protect her. I was the one who made the wrong turn into that alley. I did this.
The rain pours, droplets glistening like diamonds as they touch the shimmering veil of mist.
“That lion at your show and backstage. I should have known. But my family’s magic played with my mind and made everything unclear. So I couldn’t make the connections. But you knew! You knew the whole time.”
“I…” He takes a step closer, his voice heavy with emotion. “I tried to tell you. I love you. I’m sorry!”
“Sorry? Hallmark doesn’t make a card that says, ‘Oops, didn’t mean to hide the fact that my sister murdered yours.’ You were there! You let me fall in love with you, knowing what you did! What your family did! I trusted you. But you lied and kept secrets—just like everyone else!”
“If you knew—” he says. “If you had known, would you have given me a chance?” I watch as his eyes search mine for an answer, the pain and longing written clearly on his face. “Would you have still tried to help me end the Tether?”
His questions hang in the air, carrying his pain and hope.
“No.”
His shoulders slump when he hears my truth, and his eyes glisten.
I would have welcomed the Tether had I known.
I would have trained harder for it. I would have given in to every dark urge.
I would have wanted to kill him. Because I would have wanted Jayla to feel every bit of pain and loss that I felt.
Malcolm clenches his jaw. His eyes are full, but I can’t tell if it’s with tears or just the raindrops wetting his face. Trees surround us, their leaves rustling in response to our heated words.
“I hate you!” I yell, anger boiling up inside me. “I can’t believe you let me kiss you! Let me love you when you helped murder my sister!”
“I didn’t!” His voice cracks as he shouts, “I called Jayla’s name, tried to get her to snap out of it! I wanted to help! But I was too late!”
“Liar!” My voice shakes. A bright flash of lightning illuminates a bridge ahead of us. Was it always there? Or did it just appear?
“It’s the game,” he says. “It’s trying to rip us apart. To make us hurt each other. Don’t you see?”
I don’t know if it’s the Tether increasing the bloodlust or just the fury clawing at my chest because he hid the truth from me—but I want to hurt him.
I can’t even bear to look at him. Instead, I fix my gaze on the golden runes etched into the bridge’s surface and the glowing ivory statue beside it.
But even the statue betrays me: Her eyes are his eyes.
And that’s when I realize … it’s Venus Davenport.
His ancestor. Has she been trapped here all this time?
I remember seeing her image in that computer search in New York, and in the vision my grandmother showed me.
She was once a beautiful biracial slave girl with cascading curls and a crooked smile like Malcolm’s.
Now, she’s a pillar of salt, her mournful face peeking out from under a crown of snakes.
I’m sad to see what’s happened to her—sad that she’s still trapped here.
A flicker of sympathy sparks in me for her fate, but it’s buried beneath the wildfire of rage that still burns for him. I wonder if that could be my fate too.
The storm roars around us, wind lashing my face. I shout, “I hate the day I met you, Malcolm Davenport!” I wish I could erase him from my heart and my life.
His trembling palm touches his chest. “Star,” he chokes out, his voice thick with desperation, “I screwed up, and I’m sorry!
” Tears stream down his cheeks as he continues.
“I was in shock. I’d never seen the lion do that.
I should have found a way to stop it, but it was too late.
I swear you’re the only person I’ve ever loved like this. Please forgive me. Please.”
He gazes at me with anxious, tear-filled eyes, begging for understanding.
“My whole life has been about protecting my family, being my mom’s last male warrior,” he confesses.
“But I left all of that behind for you. I put you over everything, and my twin hates me for it. If Sabine has her way, she might die hating me for it. Can’t you see?
I gave up everything to be with you,” he adds, his voice growing more desperate with each word.
“Now Imani’s gone and Sabine has the rest of my family in chains.
” His voice cracks. “You’re all I got left.
Don’t hate me. Please, baby, please give me a chance to make things right. ”
“You can’t!” I snap. “I hope you die in the Tether!” I hiss.
I imagine slicing through his skin with a blade, the metallic scent of blood filling the air, each drop a testament to my fury.
Malcolm’s desperate pleas ring in my ears, but the bloodlust roars louder.
I can almost feel his blood splattered on my feet, soaking into the dirt I stand on after I’ve cut him to pieces.
For a moment, I’m lost to the darkness, and I like it.
His tearful eyes bring me back. I’m surprised by the venom boiling inside of me, and I wonder if I really could kill Malcolm Davenport.
Tears stream down my face as the statue of Venus subtly changes its pose by the bridge.
Her expression morphs into one of sorrow and warning.
The statue whispers directly into my mind, “Love kills.” My bones go ice cold at the words.
A dam breaks behind Malcolm’s eyes. “Is that why you do it? Why I saw you stab me in a vision in those glowing rocks? Why you kill me in round three?”
“Wh-what?” I stammer.
“I saw that vision before I helped you out of those vines, and I still…” His voice breaks. “I still put you over everything. Even me.”
His words hit me like a bullet to the heart as I realize the gravity of what he risked to help me, despite knowing the danger I pose to him in this game. Despite the threat this game makes us to each other. And as much as I want to slap his beautiful face, I want to kiss it more.
“Girls like you deserve a happy ending,” he says, before slowly walking away. He heads toward the bridge.
As I watch him go, a heavy feeling settles in my chest, and it suddenly hits me. If I let him go now, he’s never coming back. Tears blur my vision.
“Malcolm!” I cry.
He ignores me. I want to yell that boys like him deserve a happy ending too. But I know the Tether stands between any chance of joy for either of us.
This is all part of Sabine’s twisted plan—to use the Tether to sow seeds of hate, division, and violence between us, then feed off the pain and suffering so she can profit and fuel her own immortality with our blood.
Sabine’s voice echoes around us. “PLAY THE GAME!” she orders. “Or Mommy dies first.”
Rain pours down. A note on red paper that looks like melted rubies appears before me, suspended in midair.
It spins in the breeze. The note’s edges are jagged, oozing crimson drops onto the dewy grass and thick fog below.
Curly and elegant letters form a chilling command to me: Cross the bridge without glancing at Venus and retrieve the object on the table, or Mommy won’t be tucking anyone into bed tonight.
And remember: One of you must intentionally draw blood from the other in this round or your mothers will shed theirs.
Ahead of me, Malcolm is reading a letter that appeared for him.
But for once, he doesn’t show me the note or share what it says with me.
My feet ache. I’m trying to keep up with his quick strides as we make our way toward the old bridge.
But he doesn’t wait for me or look back to see if I am okay.
He angrily stomps forward. I toss down my red message, and it morphs into a blood-colored butterfly, fluttering gracefully through the rain and heading toward the dark and ominous clouds above.
Ahead of us, I see the statue of Venus, Malcolm’s ancestor, standing by the bridge. Following the command written in the letter, I quickly look away from her stone form and her real moving hazel eyes.