“Yes, I really have her, Dipshit.”
“Well, let her speak for herself.”
Violet frowned—mouth moving a few times but nothing came out. I was going to beat the fucking shit out of that stupid poisonous weasel for the frustrated tears that formed in her eyes.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Fuckhead. You can see for yourself in a bit. We just have to rescue a witch.”
Hemlock muttered some dumb shit but Whisp cut in: “We’re glad you’re okay, V. We’ll be waiting for you right outside the mountain, if you decide you do want to talk to us.”
The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Miss Hayes?—”
Mrs. Winterhayes!Correct him!
I grinned wide, kissing the top of her head. “Sorry to cut you off, Weave but Violet would like me to inform you that her name is Mrs. Winterhayes now.”
Eva’s squeal made me want to take my ear piece and smash it. Jesus Christ, I didn’t know she could pitch that high.
“Oh my god! Bitch, I’m so fucking mad at you! My two best friends! Married! Eloped! And I didn’t get an invite! Blasphemy! I demand that this is rectified as soon as humanly possible. I’m talking a ceremony, reception, dancing, and alcohol. The whole shebang. And I swear to god, V, I better be maid of honour for what you put me through.”
Violet broke into a little smile.Tell her I agree to her terms.
“She says yes. But we kind of have more important things to worry about at this moment.”
“Right, yes. Get out of there in one piece. We’ll talk details after.”
“We’ll be going dark, if you don’t hear from us in half an hour execute plan B.”
“Good luck, Mr. Avalanche, Mrs. Winterhayes,” Weave said. “We’re all really glad to have you back, Violet.”
Her mouth opened and closed again. Before her frown could come back, I grabbed her hand and pressed it to my lips.
“Come on, let’s go free the witch.”
We weavedour way through the halls. Apparently we picked a good night to break in, because the guard rotations were light. I only had to hide us three times on our way deeper into the mountain.
We made it to the witch’s cell in ten minutes. I froze the keypad to her room and pushed the door open to find a light-skinned woman, in her late forties to early fifties, sitting on her bed grinning at the door.
“Avalanche and Nightshade. It truly is a sight, the two of you together. If only Christopher O’Neill knew what he’d gotten himself into.”
I must have looked confused, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was studying Violet.
“Mrs. Winterhayes, you’ve gotten everyone here into quite a fuss. Tell me, have you figured out why you’re so special yet?”
Yes.
My wife’s mouth didn’t move but the witch’s grin grew anyway.
“Smart girl.” The witch paused tilting her head. Her attention snapped to me. “Do you have your mask?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Put your mask on.”
I just stared at her.
“Put it on now, boy, or your secret identity will be lost. And get your hair the right colour.”
