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“Az. Let’s go.”
It takes a long, long moment but he manages to turn me away. We walk toward the door, bypassing the man holding out the cloaks.
“Masks and cloaks!” Grandmother calls out, running after us.
“Keep walking,” Emmanuel tells me, one hand firmly around my arm to keep me from turning on her. “She’s an old woman. Just keep fucking walking.”
“There will be consequences!” she yells once we’ve reached the front doors.
There, I do stop and turn back to face her. “There are always fucking consequences! To hell with them!” I bark back, throwing the mask at her or at the wall, I’m not really sure which. “And with you.”
4
WILLOW
“Willow?”
Raven’s voice breaks me from my thoughts, but I can’t seem to drag my gaze from my reflection in the mirror. I feel numb. Hollow. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me.
The black silk robe draped over my skin, covering the chemise beneath, was meant to be a statement—an act of rebellion against the decree that we should be dressed in white. A representation of purity.
There is nothing pure about what’s to take place, but while we may not be able to alter the outcome of this curse, we are clutching to the smallest details we can control.
My sisters and I have all worn our hair down this evening, wild and free like our spirits. Another broken rule. While our faces are meant to be free of makeup, we have no intentions of bowing to that indignation either.
If I shall go, it will be on my own terms. While I still have a voice. While my heart still beats, and blood runs wild in my veins, as wild as our heritage.
“Are you ready for your makeup?” Raven asks gently.
She doesn’t ask if I’m okay, and I’m glad for it. I don’t want to lie to her, and she doesn’t want to acknowledge that I never will be.
“Come.” She gently pulls me away from the mirror, turning me and directing me to sit on the velvet vanity stool before her.
I watch her silently as she retrieves an assortment of items from my drawer, taking care to do my makeup exactly how I like it. She dusts my face with a thin veil of near-translucent powder as pale as my skin. Raven has perfected the art of winged eyeliner, and she draws it steady and sure even as her hand trembles with nerves. When it’s time for our signature blood-red lipstick, she applies two coats for extra boldness before offering me a shaky smile.
“Beautiful,” she murmurs.
“Just like you.” I manage to find my voice to utter the familiar retort.
It’s always been a joke in our house. All of the Wildblood girls are so similar in appearance that there are only minor differences to set us apart. Since Raven and I have only two years between us, we look as if we could almost be twins. The most notable differences are a couple inches of height and her curlier, slightly shorter hair. It wasn’t uncommon for people to mix us up when we were younger, but now our personalities differentiate us.
She’s the lighter half of me: the confident, social, unshakable one. I’m the locked vault–the one who never lets her guard down, the one who knows all too well the evils in this world.
I used to smile like her. I used to trust like her.
Sometimes, when I look at her, I find myself grieving the loss of that innocence. She’s beautiful in a way I can never be because she hasn’t been touched by evil. She hasn’t had its shadow following her, waiting to wrap its ugly claws around her and pull her into the darkness. But I’ve never begrudged her for that. Raven has always been my biggest defender and the light in my world when I thought none could exist. I would never want her to feel the way that I do.
After what we refer to as the ‘incident,’ I retreated within and cut myself off from most of the outside world. I let go of friendships. Goals. The foolish idea of happiness. But my sister has never let me push her away, even at my lowest. She has always been there for me, as she is now, and I know she will continue to be that steady, reassuring presence in my life for as long as I'm alive.
I don’t doubt that tonight, the moment I’m gone, she’ll be nose-deep in the family spell-book, searching for ways to curse the Delacroix name anew.
“You can still run,” Raven whispers, her eyes moving over my face. “We can go together. Start a new life. We can take Cordelia, Winter, and Aurora too. Then they will have no choice but to leave us alone.”
I force a smile that feels exhausting, shaking my head. “You know we can’t do that. They would find us. And I won’t let the rest of you suffer over my fate.”
