I imagined that I was bending over an invisible padlock, holding the lock picks in my hands. Then I drew in a breath, slid my imaginary picks into my imaginary padlock, and went to work. I pretended as though I were moving the picks around and around, feeling for the tumblers, and trying to get them to slip into place so the padlock would pop open.
I felt stupider than I ever had in my entire life, but I kept right on working. Deah watched me the whole time, her dark blue eyes narrowed, her lips pressed tight in thought. After several seconds of concentration, she slid the picks into the real lock on my shackle again. It was awkward, with her standing right next to me, trying to work on my shackle while I was moving my hand around, but she managed it. Slowly, Deah began to mimic my movements, holding the lock picks just so and sliding them around and around inside the padlock in the patterns that I was showing her.
Seconds ticked by, then turned into a minute, then two. But we kept working together the whole time. The air was hot and stuffy. Sweat dripped down my face, hers too, given how hard the two of us were concentrating, and the only sounds were our ragged breaths mixing together in the absolute stillness of the boathouse—
Click.
And just like that, my padlock popped open.
Deah stared down at the lock, still holding the picks inside it, as though she couldn’t believe what had just happened. “I did it. I actually did it!”
“And you can be very proud about that later. Now help me get it off,” I said. “Hurry!”
She passed me the lock picks, which I closed and slid into one of my pockets, while she unhooked the padlock from my shackle. The second it was off my wrist, I grabbed the chain and lowered it to the floor.
“Come on,” I whispered. “Let’s get out of here before she comes back—”
The door to the boathouse slammed open again, and Katia strolled inside, this time holding a dagger in either hand.
“I’m back,” Katia called out in a singsong voice.
She stopped short, realizing that we were free. For a second, the three of us looked at each other.
Then Katia laughed. She just laughed and laughed, as though our being halfway to escaping was the funniest thing ever.
Deah and I looked at each other. We both drew our swords and stepped together, forming a united front.
“Oh, how adorable,” Katia sneered. “Two enemies teaming up together to try to save themselves from a fate worse than death. Too bad you’re both still going to lose—everything.”
“I doubt that,” Deah snapped back at her. “I’ve beaten you before. I can do it again. And so can Lila.”
“You’d better believe it,” I chimed in.
Katia took a step forward. Deah and I both snapped up our swords, but Katia didn’t attack us. Instead, she raised the two daggers in her hands—both of which were glowing a familiar, sickening, midnight black.
“Oh, I doubt that,” she purred. “Considering that I have more magic in these two black blades than the two of you have in your entire bodies.”
I eyed the gleaming weapons. “What kind of magic?”
“Strength from the copper crusher and speed, courtesy of another tree troll in one of my traps,” Katia said, admiring first one blade, then the other. “I hate to use it all up killing the two of you, but easy come, easy go. That’s the only problem with monster magic. It gives you a boost for a little while, but then it burns out of your system. It’s not like human magic, like Vance’s magic. His speed and strength are mine now forever. And soon, your powers will be too.”
Katia grinned and twirled the daggers around in her hands. Deah and I both tensed, ready to throw ourselves out of the way should she decide to hurl the weapons at us, but that wasn’t her plan at all.
Instead, Katia raised the daggers high, then stabbed herself in the heart with them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I gasped in shock, and so did Deah.
Katia stabbed herself with both daggers. For a moment, a midnight pulse of blackness flashed, casting the entire boathouse in darkness, despite the bulbs burning overhead. Then the blackness faded and the light returned, but what it revealed was equally terrible.
Blood spurted out of the wounds, coating Katia’s hands and the blades still stuck in her chest a dark, glossy crimson. But as soon as her blood touched the daggers, the blades soaked it right back up again, still glowing that eerie, midnight black.
Katia screamed in pain, and the midnight glow on the blades went out. In an instant, the weapons were their usual dull, ashy gray again. Katia gasped and gasped for breath, then doubled over.
Silence.
Then she started laughing again.
Katia laughed and laughed, the loud, wild, crazy sound bouncing around like a rockmunk trapped inside the boathouse.