Stephen doesn’t answer. Arbus continues to look over my shoulder, but in my peripheral vision I can see Stephen quickly sidestepping. I don’t let my gaze follow him. Stephen’s grandfather is unconcerned that his voice continues to pinpoint his location. He rocks back on his heels, pleased with the way this rooftop scene is playing out.
“I want to give you one more chance,” Arbus tells the empty space where Stephen used to be. “Understand this is who you are.”
He gestures towards me and Laurie. Why motion with his hands when Stephen can’t see it? Then I realize it’s for my benefit. Wherever Arbus is going with this, he’s betting on me to help him get there.
My suspicion is confirmed when he continues to address Stephen but keeps his eyes on me.
“What can you offer these people?” Arbus asks. “Your inheritance is pain. Whether you like it or not, suffering will spread around you like a disease. Are the last few days not demonstration enough of that truth?”
“That was you!” I shriek at Arbus. “Stephen has nothing to do with your curses!”
His eyes narrow at me and I see Laurie put one foot on the building ledge. I can’t risk speaking again. My brother’s head and shoulders are surrounded by a swarm of silver and gold winged creatures that fill the air with a chiming, playful melody. They’re moving so fast I can’t tell if they’re fairies or birds. They dip and swirl around my brother like a glimmering tornado, their sweet music and light luring him to towards his doom.
I have never hated anyone like I hate Maxwell Arbus in this moment. Every one of his curses is stronger than I am. I’ve always been a fighter. Plucky. Defiant. Sometimes obstinate. But any grit or earnestness I could supply is outflanked by the years of experience Arbus brings to the game. I’m still a rookie, while he’s a Hall of Famer. By working a curse upon my brother, Arbus has rendered me helpless.
An entire reel of emotions plays out in the blink of an eye. I see images of myself: sobbing, screaming, howling, vomiting, fainting. Not one of those reactions will help me or Laurie or Stephen.
An already-horrible scenario is made even worse by Maxwell Arbus’s obvious enjoyment of our plight.
“I’m waiting, Stephen.” Arbus flicks his wrist and Laurie steps onto the ledge.
I am on my knees. Mute and desperate.
Though that hook-like smile still graces his lips, Arbus glances at me, and in his eyes I catch something. A flicker of wariness. I can’t breathe, but fear isn’t the culprit. Arbus needs me off balance, and not only as a ploy to get what he wants from Stephen.
The cursecaster went after Millie. Settling an old grudge was part of his motivation, but there was more to it. As a spellseeker, Millie remains a threat to Maxwell Arbus. And I’m a threat too.
I stay where I am. Low. Submissive. But sparks are firing in my brain, charging my body until my blood is electric. I am not a cowering girl. The sliver of Stephen’s grandfather that fears me poked through his facade of unwavering confidence. I recognized it, and now I grasp the hope it offers. My only way of protecting Laurie is to exploit the cursecaster’s elusive vulnerability.
I know what I have to do.
It takes more will than I know I have to look away from Laurie. In doing so I’m giving away Stephen’s location, but I have no choice. I am a spellseeker. I can cut through the knots of pain and suffering that monsters like Maxwell Arbus tie in the lives of others.
Placing my hands on the sun-heated roof to ground myself, I take a deep breath. Stephen’s curse is already hovering around him. Its dark tentacles, ephemeral as mist, become solid as I watch Stephen. The squelching sound of the curse fills my ears.
Before I begin, I tell myself it’s not suicide. I’ve been training. My resistance has grown. Taking on this cursecaster’s masterpiece will not kill me. I am comfortable enough with this lie to believe it for Laurie’s sake. For Stephen’s sake. I must cut off as much of Arbus’s power as possible.
Stephen is watching his grandfather as he takes careful sidesteps across the roof. He stops suddenly, pivoting to face me the moment my mind connects with the curse, as if I’d physically touched him. His eyes widen in alarm. He begins to shake his head.
It doesn’t matter. This has to be done. And then I am drawing the dark into my veins.
Chapter 31
WHATEVER IT IS THAT she’s doing, it’s too much for her.
One moment, she is the picture of concentration.
I cannot do anything. I cannot stop her.
The next moment, she starts to break.
It is there first in her eyes. The shock. Her body falls back, as if it’s been pushed in the middle. She can barely stay upright.
Then her nose starts to bleed. A single rivulet of blood at first. Then more. And more. Blood running down her face. And the scariest part is that she doesn’t seem to notice.
She cannot steady her hand. Once she opened herself up, she stopped being in control.
My grandfather starts to flicker. There, in front of my eyes, he appears, then disappears. I look down at my hands. For the first time, I look down at my hands and I see them. It almost doesn’t register at first. These must be someone else’s hands, I think. They flicker into being, then flicker back away.
Elizabeth collapses.
I run over to her, try to use my voice, my hands, my will to revive her. She is writhing. The blood won’t stop pouring out of her nose. I see it on my hands, then I stop seeing my hands again.
He’s killing her.
Just as I see him flickering, he sees me flickering. I do not feel him drawing on my curse, like he did before. No, this is something else.
Laurie is calling out Elizabeth’s name. He is off the ledge and running to us.
My grandfather looks me in the eye, then disappears.
I do not feel any of this.
It is Elizabeth who feels it. Elizabeth who suffers.
Elizabeth who is dying.
My grandfather is winning. He knows it, and the next time he’s visible, I can see the smile on his lips. The satisfaction.
I must stop him.
Laurie is cradling Elizabeth’s head in his lap. He’s crying out to me, asking me what’s happening, what’s happening. He’s telling me to make it stop.
I have to make it stop.
There’s a gurgle in Elizabeth’s throat. More blood coming up. Coming out.
I cannot ask my grandfather to stop. I know he will not stop. He will never stop. I cannot take his powers away from him. I am not that strong. None of us can be that strong.