Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Hiram’s house is crawling with investigators and enforcers, most of whom are lying on the ground, dazed. He spots Francisco first, who taps Gabriel, and they break away from the group of enforcers, approaching him with urgency.
“We quieted the talisman by putting it to sleep,” Gabriel says. “But, as you can see, this took effort.”
Hiram stops dead at the realization.
“It’s blood-tied to me,” he says slowly. “You can’t do anything with my talisman without me.”
“But you didn’t register it as a blood-tied—”
“Of course I didn’t,” Hiram interrupts, scoffing. “This was a decoy.”
He’s already fishing his phone from his pocket, dialing Veda first. No answer. As Francisco begins giving orders, telling everyone to pack up and leave those on the ground for the healers and medics, Hiram tries Khadijah. No answer.
Worry sets in.
“No one is picking up.” Hiram opens his car door. “Veda’s sick from her block unraveling, but Khadijah wouldn’t ignore my call—not with Antaris there, too. We need as many people as possible over there right now.”
Gabriel rushes over to Francisco, and Hiram can tell the moment he delivers the news. Shouts ring out as a mad scramble for their vehicles begins.
“We’ll follow you,” Francisco says, climbing into the passenger seat of the car parked next to him. Gabriel takes the driver’s seat, starting the car with his Imprint. Hiram wastes no time. He starts his own car and pulls away quickly, dialing Peter as he speeds toward Veda’s house.
“Where are you?” Peter sounds frantic.
“I’m on my way back to Veda’s. The alarm at my house was a diversion. Where are you?”
“Khadijah called me. It sounded like a war zone over there. I’m ten minutes away.”
“I’m bringing everyone with me,” Hiram says, forcing down the rising dread. He presses harder on the accelerator, refusing to let the fear take hold.
The sense of wrongness is as jarring as the felled trees scattered like matchsticks across the road—as obvious as the path that’s meant to be invisible.
Hiram doesn’t wait for permission. His ring glows white when he whispers a spell, moving the trunks out of the way. He turns onto Veda’s path, a knot of nerves twisting his stomach tighter with every car that follows, all heading down a trail they were never meant to see.
There’s no time to brace for the sight of Veda’s cottage.
Peter is already there, trying to claw through the rubble that used to be the front porch.
The roof is partially gone, bricks and debris scattered in all directions.
Smoke coils from the scorched trees, and the earth is marked with blast damage.
Veda’s bike is untouched, but Khadijah’s car is destroyed.
Hiram steps out, his legs nearly buckling beneath him. Crippling dread tells him that no one could’ve survived this. Before he can help Peter clear the debris, Gabriel intercepts with a grim expression. “Let us go first.”
So he doesn’t have to see what’s left, Hiram finishes in his head.
“Do it.”
It takes three investigators to clear the doorway. One of them tries to block access after Gabriel and Francisco enter. In an uncharacteristic outburst, Peter snaps, “Move out of my way or I’ll make you.”
“You and what amulet?” the investigator sneers.
“His.”
Before Hiram can step in to back up Peter’s threat, Francisco bursts out of the building, panic written all over his face. “Call a healer—now!”
While orders fly, Hiram and Peter rush past the threshold. Magic burns each of Hiram’s senses, watering his eyes and choking his lungs. It’s hard to wade through the potent waves, but he forces himself.
Gabriel is on his knees, performing chest compressions in a desperate effort to keep Khadijah alive. Her leg lies twisted at an unnatural angle, her arms and hands marred by cuts and bruises. Once white, her hair is matted with blood and ash. Peter moves Gabriel out the way and takes over.
Hiram pushes past them, searching the wreckage for any sign of Veda and Antaris, calling their names, panic mounting with each unanswered shout. Then Francisco calls for Hiram, and he runs over to them again.
Khadijah is conscious, trying to catch her breath. “They . . . they ran,” she rasps. “I held Ariadne back . . . as long as I . . .” Her words dissolve in a coughing fit. “My Sight . . . she—she took it.”
The horror that rises in Hiram is snapped by the sight of a red flare exploding in the sky.
“Veda,” he breathes. It must be her. Then it hits him—Antaris’s notes. Thank the Cosmos he thought to enchant them. Without hesitation, he points toward the rear of the house, speaking the incantation to trigger the tracking spell. “Invenire aliquem.”
His ring glows green, confirming the direction. Francisco and Gabriel follow him out the broken pane of the solarium and into the forest. Each wrong turn makes the amulet in his ring glow red.
Terror claws up his spine, driving him to run faster, shouting for Antaris and Veda. He’s met with silence. The green glow is his only comfort, his only guide, until he sees a clearing littered with dead trees. Gabriel and Francisco shout for Veda. Still no answer.
“Antaris!”
A rustling sound comes from one of the fallen trees. Hiram sprints forward as his son crawls out into view.
“Dad!” Antaris sobs, throwing himself into Hiram’s arms. Shaking and terrified, his son refuses to let go.
It’s only when Hiram sees his trembling hand rise, pointing toward the smoke, that he understands what Veda did.
She hid him. She’s still out there. Something else draws his attention—the green light of his ring flaring anew.
He stoops in front of Antaris, wiping his tears. “Did Veda take a note?”
His son nods frantically.
Hiram turns to the others. Gabriel is already calling for backup.
“Francisco, I need you to take Antaris out of here.”
“Of course.”
But Antaris clings to Hiram, refusing to let go. The smoke in the distance is thickening when he kneels again. “I need to find—”
“Mom. Find Mom.”
Smoke blankets the sky and rises from the ground, thickening the deeper they go.
Somehow, it feels familiar to Hiram, though he’s never been here before.
The scent of magic grows stronger with each step.
His amulet is still glowing, guiding their way.
He doesn’t see the source through the wall of smoke until it’s right in front of them: a blazing ring of fire.
Gabriel extinguishes it with a charm. Hiram steps over the smoldering brush and nearly trips over something solid.
A body.
He recognizes the shoes.
Veda.
Blood. There’s so much blood.
The curse is leaving her body, tearing her apart from the inside. Black veins have already spread across her exposed arms and legs, slowly creeping across her face like a shadow. Hiram freezes. It’s only the burn of Gabriel’s location spell that jars him out of his shock.
Antaris’s note is clutched in her hand. Hiram’s ring lies beside her, pillbox empty.
He drops to his knees, hesitating before touching her hand, her arms, her face. He doesn’t know where the blood is coming from, why there’s so much of it, or how to stop it. Something dark rises in him, but he forces it down. Her fingers tighten around the note, and her eyes flutter open.
“She’s breathing,” Gabriel says.
Not for long, Hiram amends silently, but the thought can’t dim his relief.
Veda is a void. She smells of nothing. No magic. No energy.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs to her as he searches his pocket for the vial of antidote, tipping it into her partially opened mouth. She swallows, and he’s relieved until he realizes they need time for it to work into her system.
It may be too late.
“Ant . . .” she croaks.
“We got him.”
When Veda relaxes fully, her other hand opens. Blood pools in her palm and spills onto the ground. “The curse . . . I—I did it.”
Gabriel hears and glances around, peering through the smoke. “Ariadne couldn’t have made it far.” He doesn’t wait before running off to find her.
“Tell him . . . I’m sorry.” Veda’s eyes close, her breathing growing more labored. “I knew . . . it would end like this.”
Hiram ignores her words, he has to, or he’ll lose the last shreds of composure holding him together.
“I don’t . . . regret you.”
The final shred is eviscerated. His resolve crumbles, and so does he. Hiram pulls her into his arms, closes his eyes, and forces himself to ignore the wetness on her back, the black threads thickening and consuming her skin, the rattle in her chest.
Determination strikes him like a bolt. He picks her up and steadies himself, knowing exactly where he needs to go.
Nénuphar. The cave isn’t a cure, but it might keep her alive long enough for the antidote to start working.
Hiram wanders the forest, directionless, thoughts of giving up flickering at the edges of his mind—
Finally, finally, he sees a western hemlock. He’s close. By the time Hiram reaches the mouth of the cave, Veda is limp and motionless in his arms, her breath faint.
He doesn’t stop to remove his clothes, walking straight in and carefully lowering her into the healing waters. Cradling her head above the surface, he begs for time. Pleads to the Cosmos for it.
But nothing happens.
Holding his breath, he waits, and waits, and waits, hope slowly dimming until he sees something dark slink away beneath the surface.
Then another. Smoke escapes her lips. Dark liquid spills from her veins, retreating from her skin.
Her face begins to clear. The shadows writhe and scream as they’re dragged from her, consumed by light.
Hiram holds her until the last of the Sanguis Curse flees her body.
Nénuphar closes her wounds. Still water slips into her mouth.
Veda breathes, albeit shallowly, but it’s a sign that the antidote is working.
Still, she does not wake.