Chapter 18
“Help! Somebody help us!”
I don’t care that my voice echoes off the walls. The violin and cello music shrieks to a stop in the nearby ballroom. I crouch over Elayne’s chest and try to see if it’s still rising and falling. The blood running from her mouth forms a tiny pool of scarlet on the floor.
“We need a mender!”
Guests and staff flood through the doors leading out of the ballroom.
Many still clutch drinks and plates of food.
Ladies mutter behind their gloved hands and pull children behind them.
I force myself to focus on Elayne again.
The sight of her rigid body, pale and stiff, prompts bile in the back of my throat.
I’ve always loved scary stories, but only when they stayed stories.
Two staff members crouch next to me, trying to pull me away from Elayne, but I hang on to her. Ivander kneels beside me. “There’s nothing you can do for her,” he murmurs.
No.
I wrench my arm from his grip. “What about the menders?”
A different hand grabs my wrist, and Alana peers down at me, brown eyes soft as she, too, tries to pull me away. Her elegant gown of blue tulle and sparkling diamond droplets reddens with blood as she kneels beside me. “She’s not breathing, Roe.”
No. She can’t be dead.
Despite their insistence that Elayne is beyond help, a mender joins me by her side. I think his name is Cassius. I’ve seen him help guests with seasickness. He gently nudges me out of the way. “I will try,” he assures me. “But I think she’s too far gone.”
He touches his fingertips to Elayne’s throat, tracing a path down to her sternum and to her stomach.
He lets out a frustrated breath. Blood runs from his nose as he attempts to heal her—the price he has to pay for being a mender.
When my sister was a mender, she used to hate when she couldn’t help.
Watching Cassius’s futile attempts to save a life makes me empathize with Eliza in a way I never have before.
I’d always thought Eliza would regret giving up her Morphia, but this helplessness must be soul-crushing.
Cassius hangs his head, clearly feeling that same despair now.
“What’s going on here?” Boss Charmaine demands.
Boss Balanyr stands beside her with his arms crossed and his bushy brown beard scrunched with disapproval.
Guests shy away from the bosses and pull their children close.
They know the bosses are necessary to keep Morphics in line, but it doesn’t mean they want to be near them.
Fresh fear stabs my chest. Alana pulls me to my feet.
My lip trembles as I answer, “I don’t know. I think she wandered off into one of the hallways alone. She mentioned some sort of creature—”
“Enough.” Balanyr cuts me off. The guests shift on their feet. Some of them stand on their tiptoes to peer down the hallway behind Elayne’s body. Asralyn’s in the crowd. Her face drains of color.
“Roe Damarcus was alone with this girl when she died.” Charmaine looks me right in the eyes as her lip curls into a snarl. She motions to the body on the ground and the bloodstains on the front of my dress. “In such suspicious circumstances, we need proof of what truly happened.”
Sweat beads along the back of my neck. My hands ball into fists. I swallow hard, only now realizing how bad this must look. “I found her sitting against the wall. She was terrified. And then … she fell over.”
Ivander tenses next to me. “Roe didn’t do this. The staff may not be to blame.”
A guest near the front of the crowd, clutching her champagne glass to her chest, asks, “If it’s not one of the staff, who could’ve done this?”
Balanyr faces the crowd with his gloved hands outstretched in a gesture of calm.
His dark blue cloak fans out behind him like a set of wings, making me think about the “creature” Elayne saw in the hallway.
“If Roe is telling the truth, she should have nothing to fear. She’s a resurrector.
She’ll bring her spirit back so the poor girl can tell us how she died. ”
Boss Charmaine steers two women toward the girl’s body. Selene and Taren. The two girls clutch each other, holding back sobs as they step forward. “Elayne’s our friend. We just graduated university together.” Selene’s voice breaks, and she collapses into Charmaine’s arms.
“There, there,” Charmaine answers, voice devoid of emotion. Alana rushes over to the two girls, helping to balance the overwhelming grief with warm memories of Elayne.
My brow creases, and familiar dread stirs in my stomach. I’m used to people watching when I conjure spirits, but it’s on my terms, not someone else’s. For parties, not for proving my own innocence. The people of Credence understand that my abilities aren’t always predictable.
“It doesn’t work like that,” I croak. Clearing my throat, I try again. “I can only summon spirits who want to come back. Sometimes they don’t feel like talking about their deaths when they’re newly deceased.”
Charmaine clicks her tongue. “I knew there would be some excuse. Some reason as to why she can’t possibly bring back this girl’s spirit.”
Balanyr nods. “It sounds like Roe doesn’t want any of us to know how she died.”
Panic chokes me. I don’t have a choice. I raise my shaking hands over Elayne’s body, remembering Boss Charmaine’s threat.
I need this to work. She won’t hesitate to take my Morphia.
Or my friends’. One mistake. That’s what she threatened.
And here I am with the worst mistake possible: A guest’s death, and I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“I’ll— I’ll try.” My quivering fingers search for the connection to Elayne’s spirit. I squeeze my eyes shut, reaching out to the spirit world, straining with every bit of effort I can muster. My core tightens and my palms heat, but nothing comes to me.
A hand on my arm steadies me, and my body relaxes.
I open my eyes to see Ivander’s fingers resting on my forearm.
I’m surprised that the pressure of his touch is grounding, pulling me from the depths of panic.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. This time, I reach for her without straining.
The pulses of energy in each spirit rush to me, eager to visit the mortal world.
Then, just as I’m reaching out for her, it’s like someone slams a porthole shut.
There’s an impermeable block between me and Elayne.
I reach out again, but once more, a door slams in my face. My arms tremble. This is the same block I run into when trying to summon family members. What good is it being a witch of the dead if I can’t save myself from being burned at the stake?
When I open my eyes, everyone’s staring at me. No one moves or speaks. Blood roars in my ears, and I fight the urge to throw up. Balanyr placates the crowd with a flourish of his hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll get this all under control.”
He fixes the staff members with a menacing, beady-eyed glare. “Take the guests back inside to enjoy the ball. Escort those who wish to leave back to their rooms one by one.” He pulls Ivander aside. “Make sure an illusive is in each of the hallways.”
Ivander stares at Balanyr, chin up, angular jaw set. “What are you going to do with Roe?”
Boss Charmaine places a hand on me, gripping my exposed shoulder with her glove.
The pressure of her touch makes my skin crawl.
Her grip tightens. “We’re going to extract her Morphia.
” She strokes Ivander’s cheek with her finger, keeping her other hand clamped on me.
“And if you try to stop us, we’ll take yours too. ”