Lux reached for her, wrenching a hairpin free. It was sturdy, silver, with a pretty pearl decorating its end, and the woman cried out again, gripping wildly at her head, sure she was at risk for suffering a fate as terrible as Lux’s own.
“Thank you!” Lux called out, a mere moment before she whirled, burying it in the eye of the assailant at her back.
Ned’s lover tottered, her fingers twitching as if she longed to tear it away—that pearl encompassing her vision. When she fell backward, the masses collapsed with her, and they tumbled over one another in horror, their chaotic screams echoing against brick and mortar.
The bauble was a doll’s eye, staring fixedly at the night sky. Stolen silver leaked from its edges. Lux spun before she could be tempted to feel any sort of emotion. The crowd parted easily for her now.
“Aline! Get away from him!”
Lux could just glimpse her: a sunshine-yellow dress, peppered with blood, and a knife protruding from her chest. She blinked again, and the image vanished.
In its stead, Aline knelt along with her father, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto her violet skirt. She hadn’t heard her. Or she’d ignored her.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me too, sweetheart, me too.” His voice was honey-deep, like Shaw’s. He cupped her cheek.
“What’s wrong with your eyes, Papa?”
“Nothing, darling. I can see all.”
Aline shrieked when Lux hauled her backward, only to quiet when she recognized who held her. “You brought him back to us. Thank you, Lux. Thank you.”
“I didn’t bring him back. He belongs to the trees. Don’t go near him, Aline.” Her throat ached with her screams.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
Aline ripped from her grip, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. “How could you be so cruel?” She turned back to her father, watched him rise and prepare for her embrace, and she stepped forward.
The gut-wrenching scream tearing through the square didn’t come from Aline. Quite the opposite, it came from a broad man who looked unnervingly similar to the one now standing above him. Brothers. Twins, even.
“Donte…” Blood bubbled from the corner of the man’s mouth, a shard of glass buried deep in his neck.
“Thank you, Brother.” Donte removed the shard with a spurt of crimson and sliced into the dead man’s eyes. The crowd wailed, the bravest running now in every direction, but many—too many—still fell into the arms of those they had lost, oblivious.
The warped version of Donte cupped his hands beneath the trickle of silver liquid, and when it slowed to a drip, he drank. It dribbled down his chin as his head snapped up, and Lux grabbed for Aline again.
“Did…did he…” Aline paled. She sagged against Lux.
“We have to get out of here.”
The girl’s weight left her, suddenly swept up and into Shaw’s arms. “I’ve got her. What’s happening, Lux? Tell me quick.” His eyes swept over the body, now lying in a pool of blood just feet away. The unanchored soul had fled, his brother disappearing along with it.
But Lux didn’t get the chance to explain.
Shaw’s father stepped beneath the glow of the lanterns suspended high above the market. The one who’d sacrificed all for him. Gone in his place.
“Father…”
“Son.”
Lux gripped a fistful of Shaw’s shirt. “Please, don’t. His eyes. Look at his eyes.” She cursed her lack of weapon, sure that even if Shaw and Aline hated her forever, she would kill their father to spare them.
Another scream ricocheted through the festival. Another life taken.
Shaw did as she bid, and his face paled, matching that of his sister. “Who revived him?”
His father dragged his hands from his pockets, fingers flexing.
