“I need to talk to you,” I said as politely as I could.
“Of course you do.” She finally glanced at me. “You’ve already lasted longer than I’d thought. I’m impressed.” She tilted her head, like a bird. “And you got out.”
“Yes,” I admitted, giving in to fatigue and sitting down next to her. “I got back to Violet Hill. But not for long.” Just long enough to get London killed. I pushed back at the bleak sorrow and guilt. I could mourn and survive at the same time. They didn’t have to be mutually exclusive.
“Still,” Gwyneth continued. “That’s an accomplishment, believe me. You should be proud.”
“I just want my life back,” I said wearily.
She ran her fingers over the scar on her throat. From this angle her face was young and pretty, the ruined side turned away from me. “Viola doesn’t give. She takes.”
“I know that,” I said. “But I’m not going to let her get away with—” I whirled, hearing the scuff of footsteps behind me. A shadow moved across the uneven cave wall. I caught a glimpse of blond hair and red eyes.
“Don’t mind her,” Gwyneth said, unbothered.
“But . . . it’s Viola.”
“Just an echo,” she said.
“What, like a ghost?” Viola flickered. It was disconcerting. She was covered in dirt and blood, her hair matted, her dress torn. Bats flitted around her, diving in and out. I walked back and forth in front of her. Her eyes followed me. It was creepy. “Are you sure she can’t see us?”
“Quite sure,” Gwyneth answered.
I reached out to touch her, just to be sure. She flickered erratically and my hand passed through a cold draft. It was distinctly unpleasant. “Gross.” I wiped my fingers vigorously on my dress, stepping back. The firelight caught the decorative hinges of the hope chest. The painted lid was open and I caught a glimpse of boxes, like the ones I’d stolen from the castle. “You have them too,” I said.
“We have to store our memories somehow,” Gwyneth explained, getting to her feet swiftly and slamming the lid back down. She secured the heavy iron lock. “Else we forget them and we forget who we are.”
“Are they always kept in boxes?” I asked curiously.
“Only here in Viola’s spirit. It’s how she keeps them. I keep them the same way so she’s less likely to notice.” She looked wistful. “If I had my way, my memories would be birds.”
Viola shifted behind us. I heard a dripping sound and I honestly didn’t want to turn around to look. It could as easily be the blood all over her as it could be rainwater seeping into the cave. I hunched my shoulders defensively. “It’s like she’s staring at me. Why would you stay here?”
“She spent her first few weeks as a vampire here, after she fled what was left of Bornebow Hall. She didn’t know what was happening to her. She won’t come back here.”
I could almost feel sorry for her. Almost. “The bloodchange made her crazy,” I said.
“Oh, it wasn’t just that. She let love burn her up until she scorched everything she touched. It’s like that sometimes.”
“She didn’t understand the thirst. I’m surprised she didn’t turn Hel-Blar.” I could understand the thirst, at least. Mine was sharper than anyone else’s in my family. I touched my fangs with the tip of my tongue. Something occurred to me. “That’s why,” I realized. “My extra fangs, my need for so much more blood. It’s Viola’s thirst, not just mine.”
“Aye.” Gwyneth nodded. “She latched on to you proper on the night of your birthday. The same night she changed.”
I thought about the prophecy again. Dragon by dragon defeated. I’d assumed it referred to my mother and me at the coronation, or at least the dragon that had tried to roast me the first time I’d fled the castle. But now I wondered if it was actually about Viola and me, about our bloodlines, our battle.
I felt a moment of annoyance for the cryptic nature of prophecies. Then I remembered that this particular one had been spoken by a crazy old woman high on mushroom tea, and I was amazed we had even this much to work with. Madame Veronique had kept it secret all this time. She’d helped me survive so the rest of the prophecy wouldn’t blow up in her face.
Unseat the dragon before her time, and increase ninefold her crimes.
I watched the logs in the fire shift, sending up sparks. It came down to love and power. Viola wanted both. So I’d have to use them to lure her out, to force her to confront me. To evict her completely. “If we work together, I think we can beat her,” I said to Gwyneth. “You could be free.”
She smiled humorlessly. “I don’t deserve to be free.”
“You made a mistake,” I said. “That’s not the same thing as what Viola did. She murdered an entire castle full of people! And you already paid for it with your life.”
“That’s not all she did,” Gwyneth murmured, her braids falling forward to screen her expression. She pulled small round stones out of a pouch at her belt and rolled them in her palm. “That was just the beginning.”
“Is that why Madame Veronique fears her?”
“She wasn’t blameless, that one.”
No kidding. Madame Veronique had kept secrets from all of us. Not to mention she’d set an assassin on me. “She hid all of this from me, from my whole family. She pretended she knew nothing about the prophecy, nothing about magic.”