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“Is she an enemy?” Eli asked, glancing at his wife. “You know I will use everything I know to protect Geneviève, and if this woman is going to hurt my wife. . .” He didn’t finish the threat, but it was clear enough.
Iggy nodded. “Understood.” He sighed deeply. “Honestly, I’m not sure what to think. I . . . cared for her. She betrayed me, but if she is Chester’s greatest fear, there is reason to think she can help us.”
“And?” Geneviève asked.
“Her husband killed me. Slowly. It took months. The beauty of alchemy. He healed me just enough to make my pain last . . .” Iggy rubbed his chest, as if there were wounds there now. “And the whole time, he told me how she laughed at me, how she mocked me for my words to her, how . . . I don’t know what was true. I never thought I’d get to ask her.”
Eli folded his arms over his chest. “So she may be the only weapon that can destroy Chester—who wants us dead—but she may also have been complicit in your murder.”
“Summed up tidily.” Iggy looked up and met Geneviève’s gaze. “Will you restore her heart? I am not ordering you, Geneviève. I am not compelling you. As your friend, I implore you.”
But Geneviève shook her head. “I am halfway into a bond with Chester, and my bond says I cannot.”
Geneviève looked at Eli, gaze pleading and pained. He realized then that she needed help. That she was resisting the half-made vow so she could ask for aid.
“Order her.” Eli held his wife’s gaze as he told Iggy, “If Geneviève is resistant to it, that means your betrayer actuallyisa threat to him. Do it.”
“You are my assistant, Geneviève Crowe. Put the heart in her chest. Summon her to life.” Iggy’s hands curled into fists as he spoke.
Moving like she was afraid, Geneviève stepped toward the lifeless woman. She stopped just beside her, and then she dropped to her knees. Whatever magic she used was not fae, Eli was certain of that. The air smelled of the grave, and Geneviève’s eyes were fully reptilian.
The heart looked like stone still, but as Iggy moved the clothing away from the woman’s chest, the heart started thumping loudly. It looked like a fresh, still-beating, blood-dripping heart.
Geneviève’s hand pierced the woman’s flesh, tearing a hole in the skin.
Iggy blanched, but Geneviève wasn’t connected to thenowanymore. Whatever was going on with her magic, she was far beyond niceties that reminded people not to tear holes in other women’s chests.
Geneviève shoved the heart into the still-dead woman’s chest.
And in the next moment, it grew roots, stretching out and tying itself to the withered vines that were arteries and veins. It was somehow horrible and beautiful simultaneously to watch that stone heart take life, connect to the body around it.
Then the woman opened her mouth and released the most agonized scream that Eli had ever heard. Over and over, she screamed.
Iggy pulled her into his arms. “Shhhh! You’re safe now, Nora. You’re safe.” He repeated some version of that over and over.
And yet the woman still screamed as if hell itself was clawing her back to her grave.
20
GENEVIÈVE
The screaming slowed toward a gasping-squeaking-sobbing sound, and I watched as the woman started backing up in a sort of crab walk. I felt a flutter of guilt that she was terrified of me, and I wanted to reassure her. That was difficult with her blood literally coating my hands.
“Don’t hurt me!” she looked at each of us with no awareness of who we were—including Iggy.
“Nora . . .” Iggy held his hands up, indicating that he was harmless.
But Nora was scanning the room, as if she was seeking an exit or maybe an ally. Her already unstable state was only worsened when the doorway slammed open as if a storm had torn down the barrier.
I had a weapon raised in the next blink, my body positioned between Eli and the threat. The threat, however, was an iratedraugr.Beatrice flashed a fangy smile at me before slapping a hand over the crying woman’s mouth.
“Stop it!” Beatrice glared at the sobbing, seemingly human, woman. “This caterwauling will draw every predator within miles.Cease this instant.”
Nora blinked and visibly swallowed.
“Now, what use is that?” Iggy tried to grab Beatrice’s wrist, but he was a mortal. A Hexen Master has plenty of resources, but still, Beatrice was ancient, a Hexenandadraugr, and she was stronger than many of her own kind.
Beatrice made a sound that managed to be imperious even though it sounded a lot like a snort. “What use is this creature? Weak. Whining. No weapon here. Chester will kill us all and—”
