Page 130 of The Lies We Conjure
“Oh shit.”
The ghosts zoom ahead, diving like birds of prey.
They swarm the Cerises, directed by Kaysa or perhaps a sense of the living, to surround Hex and Ada, skipping their parents altogether. Hex is shielding his sister, who is dangerously still, his hands a blur of alternating protective shields and offensive countermoves as he fights them alone.
And then they find me.
Kaysa sends the closest pair plummeting straight at me. I toss up a shield—
The ghosts go straight through.
They flank and circle beneath my useless shield. I will my feet to run. If they’re going to follow me, they’re going to pay a visit to the woman who orchestrated this mess.
I toss back a bolt of fire, my aim haphazard as I barrel toward Marsyas—
Marsyas, who is short, but standing tall. Evander is at her feet, turning blue and kicking beneath a spell. Before her is Ursula, her long fingers cupping Wren’s shoulder. With one blitzing second, the magic prison around Wren evaporates.
My heart drops, as the girl blinks into consciousness, eyes wide and confusion twisting her features. Wren’s attention solidifies on the ghosts first, her lips dropping open as she shouts triumphantly, “Iknewit!”
“Wren!” Ruby yells, hopping up from where she’d apparently been hiding behind the dinner table. She waves her hands like she’s calling down a plane. “Throw it!”
Wren snaps to her sister’s voice, her arm jutting back automatically at the order.
Marsyas lunges for Wren’s hands, but the girl is quick, dodging away. Her frozen feet stumble, numb, and she lists to the side, but not before she flings the Elemental relic over Marsyas’s silver head and toward Ruby. There’s a burst of movement as Lavinia rounds the table, bloodstained hands outstretched, angling for a fumble.
The chain and pendant with Morgana’s breath loops through the air, awkward and losing velocity with each second airborne. I aim a gust of wind at it but I’m too late, and it drops to the tiles in front of Ruby, instead of anywhere near her waiting hands.
The round ball at the end of the chain slides between the table and chair legs. Ruby shoots herself between the gap.
Then, it’s as if everything skids to a halt.
The swooping ghosts, the zombie witches, the movement of wind, and sun, and heart.
All of it is shrunken to the pinpoint of action as Ruby’s ash-stained hand closes around the final relic, and the silver ball disappears into her fist.
And then it’s in motion again.
Lavinia tackles Ruby’s ankles.
The unmistakable sizzle and stink of Death magic plumes acrid in the air as Lavinia hauls Ruby bodily out from beneath the table. Ruby bucks, slaps, fights, until Lavinia roughly dashes Ruby’s head against a chair so hard it falls over.
Triumphant, Lavinia hoists up the girl. Disoriented and weak on legs charred by Death magic, the skin festering with welts beneath shredded leggings, Ruby lists, a crimson stain blooming at her temple.
Yet the relic stays firmly in Ruby’s grip.
The real Lavinia Blackgate clamps a forearm around her captive’s middle, effectively pinning both arms and her torso against herown taller body. Her other hand cuffs Ruby’s throat. The girl’s eyes flutter open, immediately panicked, knowing, terrified.
Lavinia’s hand constricts around Ruby’s windpipe, and she gives a victorious Blackgate smile.
“Any of you move, and she’s dead.”
CHAPTER40
AUDEN
My own throat burns with Lavinia’s magic, the throbbing pain of it the only part of me moving. I’m not even sure I’m breathing.
Evander has pushed up on one arm now, fighting for consciousness from his spot on the ground, Wren at his side.
