Chapter 19 Nicole #2
“Nicole.”
A lump rises in my throat. This time, the tears are stronger than my will.
Firm fingers grip my chin. In my periphery, I see something black—serpents coiling around my face.
“Nicole, look at me.”
Gaetano’s deep, dark voice anchors me in the moment. My vision clears and sharpens. The black serpents are nothing more than the tattoos on his fingers. For some inexplicable, absurd reason, warmth floods through me.
Taking a breath, I force myself to meet his gaze. A faint furrow creases his brow. No trace of the smugness I was so certain would be there, either.
Maybe he finally understands that the defiant Baroness is nothing but a fabrication. And Harvest 290, Nicole, is a weakling.
“Well, fine,” I say. “You win. I’m on my knees. I’m humiliated. I’m naked. Clearly, I have no chance against a witcher. So go ahead. Take my soul and get it over with already.”
The ice in him cracks. His eyes trail down my body as if I’m no longer just a woman, but something crafted purely for his view. The glint in them sharpens, locking me in those dark irises.
“Baroness, this is just the beginning.” His words carry a darkness. A curse, perhaps.
My entire body stiffens. But it’s Gaetano’s next action that sends my stomach reeling. He presses his index against his chest. I follow the movement, more on edge than before.
My throat constricts when his finger sinks into the wound, and blood begins to flow again. “What… are you doing?”
The bloodstained finger hovers in front of my face, then lowers to touch my forehead. It begins to move, as if he’s writing. Or drawing.
I swear my heart ceases to beat. Gaetano towers above my kneeling form, dressed in black, the blade still resting in his free hand, while he marks me. His energy is so intense, so hypnotic, that for a moment, I forget my humiliation and am consumed by the need to understand what he’s doing.
He lifts his finger and studies my forehead. “Now everyone will know that you belong to me.”
My breath catches. “What did you write?”
He snaps his fingers, and a small, antique mirror materializes in his hand. He extends it toward me. My eyes widen to the size of saucers at his handiwork. A dark red letter glows from the center of my forehead like a sinister emblem.
“You’ll bear a ‘G’ upon your brow, Baroness. The blood has already soaked into your skin. It will remain there until I decide otherwise.”
“‘G’ for Gaetano?!” I shriek.
“Or for God. Whichever you prefer to call me.”
I glare at him. The nerve of this bastard!
“Soon you’ll discover that submitting to me will bring you far more pleasure than defying me,” he says, keeping that wretched mirror up.
I know what he’s doing. He’s forcing me to face myself—the Baroness I’ve worked too hard to become, now reduced to the girl I’ve been running from for years. He wants me to confront how pathetic and powerless I am. How—
My heart leaps, this time for an entirely different reason.
At times, I’m all you wish to see,
At times, I’m what you wish to flee.
But I’m mere shape, no true possession,
An entity formed at your discretion.
What am I?
The reflection!
The answer blossoms in my mind, sparking every nerve until I’m ablaze with the revelation.
Reflection.
It was among my list of potential answers, though I kept wavering between it and “shadow,” “emotion,” and “imagination.”
Sudden resolve fills me. I square my shoulders as much as my position allows. “Really? You think you need to wave the answer right in front of me?”
The mirror remains poised between us like a barrier. “What’s the answer to the riddle, Nicole Vrancheva?” Gaetano says.
I frown upon hearing my full name. The surrounding air seems to freeze, and the world itself halts in anticipation.
A week ago, I wouldn’t have sensed it, but now magic crackles through the silence.
Dark energy, swarming like a nest of hornets, is ready to strike.
My pulse gallops with the thrill of realization, but my heart falters as if chained.
This is real. My life may end in seconds if I’ve misread the signs.
“Gaetano…” I swallow hard. “What happens if I’m wrong?”
His features are inscrutable. “I’ll place my palm on your forehead and release my magic into you.
It will surge into your heart, then spread through your body, stripping it of its life force.
I’ll then take your soul and bind it to my castle.
The sensation you’ll endure will eclipse the worst fear you’ve ever imagined.
Then you’ll become a prisoner of my domain, a mere shadow.
You’ll see me every day, yet never again will you be able to speak to me.
Nor touch me. You’ll wither slowly, second by second, devoured by longing and despair. Indefinitely.”
My chest tightens. I wish the glint in Gaetano’s eyes signaled concern. More than likely, it’s the thrill of the hunt he savors.
I count to three in my mind and say, “Reflection. The answer to your riddle is the reflection in the mirror.” I stop breathing, expecting the sky to split open, lightning to strike, or some other dramatic spectacle befitting Gaetano.
Nothing of the sort occurs.
Instead, a faint breeze brushes against my skin, like a breath of fresh air.
Gaetano’s expression remains carved from stone, yet something in his stare sharpens. “That is the correct answer.”
He steps away from me, but I don’t move. The words land softly at first, then echo louder and louder through the storm inside me. The ache in my knees, the glacial air on my skin, the dried smear of blood across my forehead…All of it fades, leaving behind a single, quiet, staggering truth.
I’ve done it. I survived the first trial of the Black Joker.
My chest rises with my next breath. A thrum of triumph rolls beneath my ribs like a silent victory cry.
He looks down at me, his lips curling into a slow, expansive smile—one that makes butterflies flutter in my stomach and makes me want to run in the opposite direction.
“Over the next fortnight, I shall drag you through Hell and back. Try not to break again, Baroness…or I may well grow bored and harvest your soul.”
And then, with his usual flair of disappearing, he vanishes into thin air, taking the knife and the mirror with him.
I’m left on the ground, too overwhelmed by emotion to move.
I have no notion how much time passes before I manage to rise to my feet.
Now all I must do…is figure out how to return home in this state.