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Viola didn’t respond. She didn’t so much as stir. It was taking every bit of energy and strength she had just to live.
She’d been a fool.
It had been a volatile mixture of grief and desperation combined with the truth in Ruby’s words that had pushed Viola onward through the city, determined to end Nibsy Lorcan’s life once and for all. Theo was dead, and Ruby would hate her forever because of it. What did she have to lose? She had been determined to get the ring back from that traitorous snake. If Theo was dead, she’d wanted to make sure his death hadn’t been for nothing.
She opened her eyes a little and tried to make them focus. There, at the level of her gaze, was Leena’s likeness. The silver Medusa with her friend’s face stared blankly, unseeing. Mocking her.
Had she been thinking clearly when she left the New York Age’s building, maybe she would have made a plan. Maybe she would have waited until her anger had eased before charging into a pit of vipers. Instead, she’d gone to the Bella Strega convinced that she didn’t care what happened—not to herself, not to any of them. If the Devil’s Own broke apart, if they were devoured by the snakes who ran the Bowery, then so be it. It would be their own fault since they were standing by and allowing Nibsy to pervert what Dolph had built.
When she had marched into the Strega, she’d been desperate. She had already lost her home, her family, her… hope. She had nothing left to lose.
Oh, but she had been wrong about that, she thought as Nibsy’s hand adjusted itself on the silver topper of the cane. The ring was right there, secure on his finger, and the clear stone seemed to wink at her, taunting her.
He crouched down, until they were eye to eye. Through the thick lenses of his spectacles, he looked her over, amusement shining in his light eyes.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Viola.” Nibsy’s voice was gentle, coaxing, but she knew it was all an act. His cloudy blue eyes glowed with amusement behind the thick lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses. “You can still repent. Renew your oath and join me. Come back to the Devil’s Own. Come home. Be my blade, and I’ll let you live.”
She reached for her affinity to show him exactly what he could do with his false promises, but her magic slipped through her fingers. Her blood felt heavy and slow, like she’d been doused with opium or Nitewein.
“Tsk-tsk,” he said, amusement curling in his voice. “Always so vicious.”
The mark on her back flared with icy energy again, and she felt herself jerking up off the table she’d been tied to. Pain shot through her, unspeakable pain, and she felt that essential part of herself—her connection to the old magic—starting to crumble.
Just when she thought it was the end, the pain ceased, and her body slumped back to the table. She felt the energy in the barroom shift. The people had not left. They were watching, murmuring and waiting. They were allowing it to happen. Because it wasn’t happening to them. But there was a thread of discontent in their nervous heartbeats. There was a fear growing that had not been there before.
Viola knew that Nibsy was playing with her, just as she understood that he was nowhere close to done. Her suffering amused him, certainly, but it served a purpose. She’d allowed herself to become an example to those standing around the barroom—of his power, of what happened to anyone who crossed him.
And still, no one stepped forward to help her. Theo was dead, and Ruby hated her. Cela would not know where she was, and Jianyu would be too late, if he wasn’t dead himself. She had always felt apart, but now she understood what it felt like to be truly alone.
“Have you learned your lesson, Viola?” Nibsy asked. “It’s not too late. Even now I would welcome you back, if only you give me your oath.”
“I’d rather die,” she told him.
“That,” he said without any emotion at all, “can be arranged.”
Suddenly, she felt hands upon her, and then the coolness of air on her back as someone tore her blouse in two, exposing the tattoo inked between her shoulder blades. It had nearly gone numb from the icy-hot ache of Nibsy’s previous attempts to break her, but now the ink was boiling in her skin. It screamed of the danger she was in.
“Good-bye, Viola,” Nibsy said, lifting the cane.
Her skin already hurt too much to feel the Medusa’s kiss. She barely sensed the pressure, but then all at once, cold and unnatural magic shot through her. If the pain she’d experienced before was terrible, this was worse. She could not stop the scream that tore from her throat.
She would not survive this.
Viola knew with the same certainty that she had felt every time she reached for her blade that she would not live to see the next day. She would never be able to tell Jianyu how much she valued his friendship or to thank Cela for forgiving her. She would not live to see the Order destroyed or Nibsy Lorcan struck down. And she would never be able to tell Ruby how she truly felt.
That was the biggest regret of all. The Order could go hang. Nibsy Lorcan could as well. But she’d lied that night at the gala when Ruby had opened her heart and Viola had rejected it. She’d lied to Ruby, and she’d lied to herself about what she was willing to risk.
How foolish she’d been to be afraid of love, when this terror—this pain—she now felt existed in the world. How stupid of her to reject such a gift.
Viola’s eyes flew open, and she searched the crowd surrounding her for some sign of pity, of mercy. Werner was standing there, white as a sheet. Unmoving.
Please—she mouthed, her voice no longer working. He could stop Nibsy. He could stop all of this. Please.
But she saw the fear in his eyes, and she understood he would not stand against his new boss. Not now. Likely not ever.
Viola was flying apart, her body separating from her soul. She was being ripped to shreds right along with her magic. She felt herself shattering, felt her magic crumbling away, and her life with it.
And then, suddenly, everything exploded.
