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I drop to my knees and grab her face between my hands. “Gretta?” I whisper and shake her.
She doesn’t move, and her cheeks…her cheeks feel cold.
My breaths come quicker as I pass a hand over her neck and feel for her pulse. A strangled noise of pain tears from my throat. “Gretta!” I cry and shake her harder.
“What’s left of her is here,” a voice rumbles behind me.
I spring to my feet and turn toward The Beast.
He leans in the archway to the living room, a vial held between his forefinger and thumb. He gives it a little shake, the eyes behind his mask alight with violence. “You hurt me, and I willalwayshurt you back, Zora.” He slips the vial inside his suit jacket. “I’ve trapped your friend’s essence in that bottle. If you want it back, then you’ll have to give me something else. Something of equal pain for you,” he bargains. “It’s only fair.”
“How did this happen?” I screech through gritted teeth. All my strategies unravel each time my eyes flick to Gretta’s lifeless body.Could it really just be that her essence is stolen? Or is that a lie and she’s dead? How would one eventakeanother’s essence?
“We have a mutual friend,” The Beast says with a smile.
“Friend is a strong word,” a deeper voice seeps forward from the dark hall beyond.
My stomach tightens. My grip on my sword falters, and it clangs down onto the marble floor. “No,” I whimper, the word passing my lips without my permission.
Cristen steps up next to The Beast, his face grim. He doesn’t wear a mask or the illusions of tattoos. No, to The Beast he is the Heir of Fate. To The Beast, he is anally.
“What the actual fuck?” I spit at him, lunging forward.
Cristen waves his fingers, and magic collides with me like a solid barrier.
I yell in frustration and buck forward, clawing my hands over the invisible wall in fury. The magic shatters, and I continue my path forward, happy by the surprise across Cristen’s and The Beast’s faces.
Cristen straightens. “You forgot your weapon,” he attempts casually, daring a taunting look.
“I don’t don’t need a fucking weapon,” I hiss, cocking my arm back in the same instant. “You’ve sharpened me enough.” I slam my fist into his face. Pain immediately blossoms across my knuckles, but it's a pain I relish.
Cristen stumbles, his hands flying up to cast more magic, but I don’t hesitate with another hook and another. I scream and drive the toe of my boot home, nailing him in the groin.
He grunts in pain and falls to his knees.
I grab his hair and rip his head back, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “You tell me, rightfuckingnow, why. Why are you here? Why are you aligned with a man who enables men like Ferris? Why is my best friend, mysister, as good as dead on the floor? What. Have. You. Done.”
Cristen grimaces as I tug his head back further. His eyes search my face, those endless swirls full of darkness.
For a moment — a millisecond of a second — regret fills every crevice of his features, but in a blink, it’s gone. Before me is a man I don't recognize, and the acidic taste in my mouth makes me wish I could spit venom onto his flesh. I want to watch him burn, and I will gladly add The Beast’s limbs as kindling.
I turn to the other bastard at that thought, my anger surging over and over, battering my soul into oblivion.
The Beast looks me over, and he smiles.Smiles. “If you want to find what’s left of your family, if you want every answer you’ve ever sought, you must choose something to give up.”
I let go of Cristen and stride back to Gretta without an ounce of hesitation. “I will always choose her.” I glare at Cristen. “He is nothing to me now.”
The Beast’s smile widens. “Good to know.” In a swift movement, he procures Gretta’s vial of essence —
and smashes it to the ground.
“No!” I scream and rush forward, just as he clamps his boot over the broken pieces of the bottle, crushing them further.
I frantically retreat to my friend, taking her face in my hands and hoping maybe she’ll return to me.
But her face loses what little color it had left, and her body sags.
My hands tremble. Tears scorch paths down my cheeks as I softly tuck her hair behind her ears. I lean my forehead down, and I press it against hers, closing my eyes and praying up to whatever Gods will listen.Please don’t take her from me. I clutch her to my chest. “Gretta, please,” I whisper into her hair.
