Rhett turns his attention to Nova. His body posture changes from confident to predatory. He takes a single step in Nova’s direction, and Alex puts a hand up. An invisible force ripples, stopping him from moving any farther.
“You can call me Rhett,” he says, retreating a step. “Not ponytail. Look, I know I’m the bad guy to you. But I’m following protocol. There are rules in place for a reason.”
“Hypothetically.” I meet his dark eyes. “Did you see me raise the dead?”
“We don’t follow human law and order,” he says. “But if we did, you know I saw you and your sisters go into Mr. Horbachevsky’s room just before he died. When I went to inspect his body in the morgue, he was mysteriously gone.”
“So what?” I ask and hope I’m convincing enough that he doesn’t call my bluff. “You’re going to put me in a cell? Without our help, you’ll spend the rest of your life hacking away at casimuertos. Let us help. You were willing to before. What’s different now?”
Rhett lowers his lips to my ear. “What’s different is that I lost two hunters because of you. Because I gave you a chance. Because I felt sorry for you. Their deaths are your fault just as much as they are mine.”
“Back away from my sister,” Alex tells him.
Rhett shrugs. “You won’t hurt me.”
Alex’s eyes flash with pinpricks of lightning. “You want to test that theory?”
“Don’t threaten me, Alejandra Mortiz.” Rhett sets his briefcase down. He opens it and pulls out a black metal handle. I recognize it as the hilt of the sword, but the blade is missing. Strange. I can’t even sense the magic that cloaks the blade. “Very well. You’ll assist with the larger problem. But for now, I do need to dispose of the abominations in your possession.”
Maks. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My stomach drops. I’ve known the end has been coming for us. But the thought of him being cut down by a stranger who thinks he’s a monster makes me want to hit something—someone. It can’t happen—not like that.
“And if we refuse?” Alex asks, reading the panic in my face. “Do you know what I am?”
“Yes.” Rhett settles a cocky stare on my sister. “What do you call it? An all-powerful encantrix. Nice job you did on that tree in your backyard. We had quite a time covering that up from the cops. How’s Rishima Persaud, by the way? I do hope she’s enjoying her cousin’s wedding in Fort Lauderdale. She looks lovely in that violet dress.”
Alex’s face is ashen with fear, which is swiftly replaced with fury. The pull of her magic feels erratic, and I force her to look at me so she won’t act on her anger.
“The Mortiz sisters,” Rhett says, setting his eyes on Rose. “I sure hope you’re the good one.”
Rose doesn’t react to him. She tilts her head to the side. Her hair rises with static the way it always does when she’s seeing beyond the Veil. Her eyes go completely black. Dad holds on to her shoulders. Then Rose speaks to Rhett in a strange whisper.
“Follow the path, son. Make me proud.” She clears her throat. “Do you want to hear from him, Rhett? You’re not the only one who can make threats.”
Rhett’s face blanks and his eyes widen. I allow myself a moment of pleasure at his discomfort. But as Rose recovers, so does he. He cracks his neck, and his full lips press together into a scowl.
“I’m not the enemy,” he says.
“Tell that to our ancestors your kind has slaughtered,” Dad says. “You might’ve signed the Alliance’s treaty, but that doesn’t erase centuries of bloodshed.”
“Of course it doesn’t, Mr. Mortiz,” Rhett says, and his voice is unwavering. “We don’t want to erase it. But there are laws for a reason. Lives are at stake, and your daughter is the one who put them in danger. But I can tell you haven’t been yourself since you’ve returned from, well, wherever you’ve been.”
Dad moves so quickly all I see is a blur. He charges at Rhett and slams him into the wall.
I’ve always thought of my dad as the biggest, strongest man I’ve ever known. But Rhett doesn’t even flinch. My dad’s arm is pressed against Rhett’s chest, but he pushes my father away like he weighs no more than a bit of lint.
Mom and Alex catch him as he stumbles.
Rhett pulls back the glamour around his sword, revealing a silver blade glinting in the morning light.
“Believe me, Mr. Mortiz,” he says, “I do want to help.”
“Wait.” I stand between Rhett and my father. The blade is inches from my face. A new, wrenching pain twists at my insides. The threads unfurl, and by the looks on their faces, I know everyone can see them now. Rhett stands back and McKay curses.
“Lula—” Dad says, reaching for me, but Alex catches me first.
“Something’s wrong,” I say. I lock eyes with Alex.
Rhett keeps one hand on his sword. “If this is a trick—”
“It isn’t!” I shout, holding on to my sister for support. “I’m connected to them. It’s like…they’re moving.”
“Oh gods,” McKay mutters, and runs up the stairs to where the holding cells are.
Rhett is right behind him, his movements too fast to be human. An alarm goes off. Doors lock and windows slam shut. People start to come out of their rooms, most of them rubbing sleep out of their eyes at the same time they brandish weapons.
I grab hold of Alex, climbing the stairs one at a time. Bloody footsteps lead out of the open holding cell door. McKay watches footage replay on a screen, and Rhett punches his fist through a wall.
Maks and the other casimuertos are gone.
29
They hunted us across
every land that we claimed.
But we are resilient
as great kapok trees.
But we are as vast
as earth’s brutal blue seas.
—Witchsong #1, Book of Cantos
Rhett turns around and shouts at the room, a vein in his throat bursting against his skin. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know!”
He closes the distance between us and grabs for me, but a forceful wind knocks him back. He slams into the bloody room and rolls over. I scream, turning my face away as his head makes a terrible cracking sound.
“Run,” Alex tells me. She holds her hands in the air, eyes completely white, fingertips sparkling with electricity. “Run!”
I run past the crowd gathered in the halls. I’m sure the front door is locked, but I follow the bloody footsteps that get lighter and lighter as I reach a bathroom at the end of the hall. The window is shattered, and there’s blood on the jagged glass, as if they struggled to fit through the window. I go through, scraping my legs and palms along the way.
When I hit the ground, I’m disoriented by the bright morning light. The beach is to my right and the crowded avenue to my left. A bicyclist shouts at me, nearly clipping my hip with his handle. But I keep running left until I pick up the footprints again on the sidewalk.
A young woman screams at the sight of me emerging around the corner of the building. I don’t need a mirror to know what she sees. My face streaked with sweat and dirt, the scars on skin, my bare legs freshly bloody. She sees me and runs.
I look behind me once, expecting to find Rhett.
But there’s no one there.
I cross the street, following the faint footsteps that jaywalk to the other side. Cars honk and drivers curse at me as I sprint to the sidewalk.
I have no idea what I’m going to do when I find Maks, but I push forward anyway.
My heart is like a fist trying to punch its way out of my chest. I turn another corner, but the bloody prints have stopped at the intersection.
“Where are you?” I whisper.
I close my eyes and search for the thread that links me to the casimuertos. The connection comes easily now. Dozens of silver and iridescent threads appear from my chest, stretching in different directions. Which one is Maks?
I think of him and the way we were before all of this. Before the accident that claimed his life. Before the one that changed mine. I search for those memories. Maks taking my hand and pressing a kiss into it. Maks reaching for a coil of my hair and threading it around his finger. His lips pressing against mine, soft as rose petals.