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That was another legacy from Tony, who had forbidden any of the crap mages he employed to even try to teach me. He was afraid I’d use any spells I learned against him—and he was probably right—so I’d remained ignorant. And after I ran away, I had to avoid the magical community at all costs, knowing that he was looking for me there.
So, no, I couldn’t shake this latest bit of hell. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. I’d lived with this shit, with these memories, every day of my life. If they were going to destroy me, they’d have done it already.
Which is why, after the blonde’s body disappeared along with the others, I got back to my feet, wiped a hand across my lips, and faced off with my last opponent: Agnes, the current heir.
I hadn’t expected to see her here. I hadn’t seen her at all last night, despite the number of trips I’d made in and out with the passengers. I’d assumed that Gertie was purposefully keeping her away, not wanting to have to mind-wipe her again. I wasn’t sure how many times you could do that before somebody went loopy, and if A
gnes went loopy, I died, considering that it was her warning that Tony’s men were closing in that would one day save my life.
But here she was anyway. And quickly proving why she was the heir. Unlike the others, the petite brunette with the wide blue eyes hadn’t attacked me. She’d stayed on the sidelines, watching, waiting . . . for what, I didn’t know. Maybe to see how I fought? Because she’d fought the others, many times apparently, since this kill-o-rama seemed to be a monthly event. But she hadn’t fought me.
Until now.
I pushed sweat-damp hair out of my eyes and wondered how to approach this. Agnes was too close to the barrier for me to shift behind her, unless I wanted to end up crispy-fried. But she was also out in the open, not near any possible sources of cover, for her or for me. There wouldn’t be any sneaking up on Agnes.
So what gave her an advantage? Because I knew that face; knew those expressions. And she clearly thought she had one. But what the hell—
And then two more Agneses walked out from different parts of the ballroom, one from behind another pillar, and one rising like the freaking undead from behind a table. Only she wasn’t undead. She was—
“Chimera,” Gertie’s voice boomed helpfully, “is one way to have the best of both worlds. Allowing a hybrid of magical, human, and Pythian powers to be employed simultaneously.”
As if on cue, one of the copies pulled out a gun; one spilled a golden whip out of her hand, or maybe that was a snare—I couldn’t tell from here; and Agnes herself raised a hand, a time bubble forming around it.
“You have got to be shitting me!” I said, stumbling backward a few steps.
They weren’t shitting me.
I stared at them, caught flat-footed, because we were already in Chimera. That’s how they did their bloody testing rounds without actually killing each other. I could see past the barrier, to where the whole group of us, including the acolytes I’d already killed, were clustered around Gertie, watching and learning.
Although what they were learning from me, I didn’t know, because this was bullshit!
“This is bullshit!” I heard my own voice call, from beside Gertie. “She doesn’t know how to do Chimera!”
“Then she should learn,” Gertie said calmly, and we both cursed.
And, for a second, I lost control, seeing things through my other half’s eyes. Giving me a dizzying view of Agnes’ back, and my terrified face—dead white skin, head of wild blond curls, puke- and blood-stained dress. And desperate eyes, because I didn’t know how to deal with this. And because Agnes had just let loose.
She sent everything at me at once, from all three directions, so I did likewise. There was no time to think, no time to plan, not even time to scream myself hoarse some more. No time for anything except throwing everything I had left into a time bubble that I didn’t send in any specific direction, just out.
And out it went.
“Oh, shit,” I heard the other Cassie say, but I didn’t see anything, because I was huddled in a ball, afraid to look, and more afraid to die, because if that hadn’t worked, I was a sitting duck. I didn’t have any energy left to defend myself with; barely had enough to stay conscious. And while this was supposedly a duplicate body I was in, it didn’t feel that way.
Which meant that dying was probably going to hurt like a bitch.
Only . . . I didn’t die.
I didn’t do anything but hunker there as the girls screamed, as Gertie cursed, and as something fell with a clatter, loud enough to jolt me out of my terror, metal on stone.
I finally looked up, peeking out from between my crossed arms, and—
“Oh.”
The crash had been one of the big curtain rods that had been holding up a huge swath of rich, burgundy velvet. It, or maybe the bolts holding it into the wall, had decayed enough to fail, as a couple centuries or more hit it all at once. Likewise, the once shining marble floor was now cracked and stained and had grass growing up through it, and vines were climbing the walls on fast forward, eating through crumbling plaster and shedding piles of leaves that sprouted, grew big, and then shriveled and fell, all in seconds, causing them to pile up in large drifts.
Like what I assumed were Agnes’ bones, which had made three small piles approximately where her doppelgangers had been standing.
I stared at them and swallowed, feeling ill. And then flinched when the piano caved in, in a cacophony of yellowed ivory keys. I glanced overhead, worried about the chandeliers, but they seemed okay, just cobwebbed and dust encrusted, like something out of a haunted mansion. None looked like they were about to fall on me.
