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Celia dug a toe into the carpet, hands knotting before her. “I’m sorry. About telling Caleb. I thought he’d help you.”
I sighed. “I know. It’s okay. Why are you here, Celia?” I asked.
She lifted her eyes to mine. Her voice was thin but steady. “I had a feeling you needed help,” she said. She frowned. “Are you putting on makeup?”
“I think I might be finger painting,” I confessed.
She gave a little laugh, then paused as if uncertain it was appropriate. Then she lifted a shoulder, as if to sayWhat can you do?“Let me,” she said. She came forward and plucked the mascara from my hand.
“Aren’t you afraid of me?” I asked. She was acting like nothing was wrong.
“Of course not. You’re my friend.” She set her jaw. “I don’t know how to stop them, but I do know how to put on makeup, and if that’s the only thing I can do, I’m going to do it.” She stuck out her sharp little chin, and I stifled the urge to burst out laughing.
I hugged her instead. “You’ve already helped. More than you can ever know. Just by telling me that.” I kissed her cheek and smiled at her. They weren’t all wicked. They weren’t all tainted. And so maybe neither was I if that’s what I chose. “They want me to look like some helpless victim.”
“Then we’ll make you look fierce,” she said firmly.
“Good. And then there’s one more thing you can do,” I said, and leaned in to whisper in her ear.
—
If Caleb had come to collect me, I was certain he would have made me change, but it was Eli instead, and he only laughed.
“You didn’t get caught,” I said with relief.
“The day is young,” he replied. I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm, and he led me down the hall. “I’m sorry that all of this has happened, Helen. I don’t know what your plan was, precisely—you never told me—but I wish more than anything it had worked.”
“It isn’t over yet,” I told him. It had only just begun.
The others had gathered in the ballroom. My mother was nowhere to be seen. Fear and hope warred within me. Had she stayed away because she cared about me? Or because she couldn’t stand to see me?
“And here she is,” Iris said, drawing forward to examine me.
“What do you think?” I asked, stepping forward with my chin tilted up. “Am I good enough?” Celia had done my makeup in shades of smoky gray with hints of green. The girl who looked like this was not afraid of Iris Vaughan, and my voice didn’t tremble.
Her lips pressed together in a thin line. I could see the sparring impulses in her—to chastise me for not appearing like I was supposed to, or to pretend everything was under control. She went with the second option.
“Come with me,” she said, and led me to the front as the guests took their seats.
Desmond and Celia were sitting together. Celia had chewed her lip bloody and was gripping Desmond’s hand tightly. It had tohurt, but he made no move to pull it away. He stared fixedly forward, not looking at me. Not giving any sign that he was anything but horrified by my very existence.
I’d spoken to him that day my body was coming apart, the day Roman’s efforts almost succeeded. Time had skipped, and I had lost the minutes that followed. But now I remembered.Desmond, I’d said,there’s something I need to tell you. You have to keep it a secret from everyone. Even me.
I don’t understand, he’d told me.
You will. And then you’ll need to make a choice. Because you deserve to choose. And because I need your help.
There was a chair for me at the front of the room. “Normally, you’d be drugged for this,” Eli murmured in my ear. “But given the precarious nature of the ritual this time, I’ve convinced them you should be alert.”
I took my seat, settling my skirt around me, and looked out at the faces of my family. Eli and Iris returned to their seats, Iris giving Eli a sidelong look. She didn’t entirely trust him, I thought. But she was running low on allies.
Caleb stood. He turned to face the others, putting his back to me. “This is not the way that any of us wanted this to happen,” he said. Iris stiffened, like this wasn’t the right thing to say. Maybe there was some formal speech he was supposed to give, but that wasn’t Caleb. He was a new hip, sensitive kind of murder cultist, in touch with his feelings, and he looked out at everyone with his hands in his pockets and an expression of deeply felt emotion.
“We’re here because of Father’s mistakes. And because of our own. We neglected tradition. I’m not saying it’s a pleasanttradition. But until we find a better way, it’s what we’re stuck with. I think we lost sight of that for a while. I know I did. I thought about myself instead of the greater good.”
His shoulders were slightly hunched. Humble. Cowed. He was making it sound like sacrificing a child was theselflessthing to do. I could practically hear Sandra’s teeth grinding as she stared resolutely ahead, her hands fists in her lap.
“I know that we have lived with Helen for the past year. We have come to know her. Even knowing what she was from the start, I have not been immune from a certain level of connection. That’s inevitable. That’shuman. But she is not. What you feel is becauseyouare a person, capable of love and empathy and connection. She isn’t.” He spoke those two words firmly, meeting each person’s eye. “We don’t have to feel good about what we do today. But we shouldn’t blame ourselves for it either. The important thing is that we are here for each other. And together, we are going to find a new path for our family. Starting today. Today will be the first Investiture that does not require the death of a child.” He paused. Let that sink in. Then he said, slowly and clearly, “No child is ever going to have to die for this place again.”
