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Pivoting to that golden birdcage, I nearly fell to my knees when I realized the swing was empty. Her power, gone…
Orin’s dance was a godsdamned distraction.
I spun, running off the edge of the stage, but inches before I got there, I froze. If I fled, he’d own me. All of us. I moved back to the center of the space. With no choice left and time slipping away, I drew my blades.
The hourglass continued its unrelenting countdown, each grain a blaring reminder of our fate. Doubt began to creep in, but I pushed it aside as I stretched my muscles outward and moved, slicing silent daggers through the air in a dance of my own design.
The audience remained unmoved, a collective wall of detachment. A lone voice in the center of the crowd booed. And then another and another. Heart cracking, I glanced up to see the gleeful faces of Icharius Fern and Drexel Vanhoff on a sickening display. Blood rushed to my ears as the Maestro gestured behind me.
Hollis stepped onto the stage, his age and frailty hidden beneath the finest suit he’d worn, each golden button, each feather tucked into his hat pristine. The audience erupted. They’d come for one reason only. The greatest show they’d ever witness, just as they’d been promised. Because they might have feared me in an alley, but here, I was nothing more than a spectacle.
“What are… why are you out here? You can’t be.”
So much love poured from his kind eyes as he looked only at me. I couldn’t stand the agony.
“Deyanira,” he began.
I shook my head, stumbling away. “No. No. He cannot force me. That was the agreement. We made a deal. I won’t do it.”
He followed, reaching for me, but again I moved, each of my limbs growing heavy as I turned cold with fear. “Stay back, Hollis.”
“The posters,” he whispered. “They promised Death’s Maiden.”
“I am Death’s Maiden,” I roared, not at him, not for the audience, not for the honor or recognition. As a punishment to myself. For the monster I was. “They’ve already got me.”
“Kill him! Kill him!”
The growing chant from the audience was like standing in a cell and watching the prison door slide shut, damning my eternity. I truly thought the people of Requiem were better than this. But in the end, they only wanted bloodshed. They wanted the show. And Drexel had known that. I tried to swallow my panic. To force a breath as the clock counted down.
How could I have been so damn foolish?
“Kill him! Kill him!”
Every word from the audience deepened the hue of red over my vision.
“He cannot force me, Hollis. That was the deal.”
The old man stepped closer, plucking Serenity from my hand as if it were the easiest thing he’d ever done. “He found the loophole, Little Dove. He hasn’t asked you.”
Each step away was an effort. A chore. The world around me seemed distant, blurred, the bright lights and the sea of faces reduced to mere background noise. My hands trembled slightly, and I clutched the remaining dagger, seeking an anchor in the midst of the storm.
Trying desperately to swallow the lump in my throat, I thought of the first time I’d seen Hollis’s smile. I thought of his kindness and belief in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. The Maestro might as well have sealed my fate because there was no way in this life or the next that I could or would perform the task implied but never requested.
I turned my back to the old man, clenching my teeth as I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain thrashing through my heart. A drum in the orchestra pit began a steady rhythm in time with the audience’s demand for murder. This was agony. This was the greatest form of torture I would ever know.
“You must,” he said, standing before me, though I hadn’t heard him move. “Do you know what happens to a harbinger if they kill too many? If the bloodlust consumes them?”
I nodded, swallowing again. “I’ll die for you, Hollis. I don’t care. Send me to Death’s court if that’s the cost of your freedom.”
He shook his head, his own tears glistening in the lights. “What is one life in exchange for the masses? He’ll make you kill more than your soul can handle. More than an simple old man, if he gets the chance.”
I could hardly see past the tears to take in every wrinkle. To admire the sharp green suit he wore. The crowd’s chanting became its only entity, a life form taking shape as they demanded, not just blood, but a soul reaped by Death.
“That one soul is the purest love I’ve ever known,” I whispered, tears falling freely.
His eyes lingered on the hourglass. “Me, too, Little Dove.” He brought his shaking hands to my cheeks, forcing the theater to disappear. “Don’t let this world break the goodness buried within you. Hold on to it.”
“Stop it, Hollis. Don’t.” I began to pace. “Let me think.”
