Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(20)
Author: Alexandra Bracken

 

I knew he was in pain; I saw the flickers of it every day like light catching a prism. He’d been a touch more reckless than usual, but I’d assumed it was fueled by his frustration and his impatience to find a solution.

 

It never occurred to me he’d try to destroy himself before the curse ever could.

 

I should have stopped him from going out. Made him stay and talk it through with me. It was never a good idea to wander the streets this time of night, even with a small knife on your keychain and salt in your pockets.

 

Grow up, Tamsin. This isn’t a fairy tale.

 

Fairy tales—the original stories, as opposed to the rosy retellings—were all thorns and misery, and a truer mirror to humanity than anyone wanted to believe. But for Cabell to act like I was a child caught up in daydreams was almost more than I could take.

 

The problem with siblings, I decided, was that they spent years gathering up all these little daggers of observation and learning exactly where to slip them between your bones.

 

And anyway, Cabell was the one who had wanted to search for Nash long after it became clear that Nash had discarded us like the last sip of cold coffee. He was the one who had clung to the idea that Nash was still out there, trying to make his way back to us. He was the one who had cried about it every night those first few months, when we were sick with hunger and exhaustion and were sleeping rough in the winter woods.

 

At Tintagel, there’d been no evidence of a fight, no evidence of any curses being cast, not even tracks that might have indicated Nash had drunkenly staggered over the edge of the cliff bordering the ruins of the castle. The cold sea never returned his body to the rocky shores. The only footsteps we found in the mud and snow had led to the castle, and there weren’t any leading away.

 

But if he was alive, why hadn’t he come back? Why hadn’t he used the ring to break Cabell’s curse?

 

I shut my eyes, giving my head a hard shake. It didn’t matter whether Nash was alive without the ring or dead and buried with it. I just needed his last known whereabouts to pick up the ring’s trail before the others did.

 

But to do that, I was going to need a few things. Including, I thought with a scowl, the One Vision, as Cabell had oh-so-gently pointed out.

 

And there was only one way to get what I needed . . .

 

A calm settled over me as I mentally sketched out the beginnings of a plan. As each step came into focus, my body began to feel solid again, and the world seemed to steady around me.

 

Stooping, I gathered up the explosion of mail on the floor I’d previously ignored.

 

I unrolled the newspaper, glancing at the front-page headlines. Surging gas prices. The upcoming World Series. A freak ice storm in Britain.

 

The last one caught my eye enough to make me skim the first few paragraphs:

 

 

Overnight, roads across Great Britain iced over despite a lack of snow and a week of record-breaking high temperatures . . .

 

I brought everything into the kitchen—and dropped it all onto the counter with a horrified gasp.

 

“Florence, no!”

 

I scooped up my little potted succulent from her place on the windowsill. At the movement, she dramatically dropped her sickly brown leaves, leaving only a bare stem.

 

“What happened?” I asked. “You were fine the other day—was it too much water? The heat? Winston is hanging in there, so what happened to you?”

 

Winston was the aloe plant that had been left for dead in my neighbor’s trash can along with Florence.

 

A slight movement caught my eye. I glanced up through the window in front of me, only to be met with the sight of an enormous toad staring right back.

 

I startled. “God’s teeth—”

 

The toad didn’t blink. Instead, it let out a loud, irritated croak. And then, when I didn’t move, another.

 

I leaned over the sink and opened the window. The toad had nestled down into the window box I used to grow herbs, including a bit of rosemary to keep any wandering spirits with bad intent from slipping in.

 

“You’re crushing my mint,” I complained.

 

The toad jumped up onto the windowsill, revealing the small bit of black ribbon attached to its leg. The mark of the Sorceress Grinda—crossed keys—was embossed in silver.

 

Finally, I thought.

 

We’d finished her job weeks ago, but she hadn’t wanted me to deliver it to her home somewhere in Italy, as she was away “dealing with grave matters related to the Council of Sistren.”

 

I’d assumed she simply didn’t want a mortal, let alone a Hollower, to know the location of her main residence. Most sorceresses didn’t. Though others, like Madrigal, were simply too powerful to fear anyone.

 

“I have it,” I told the creature. “Give me a second.”

 

I dashed into the office alcove, slowing as I approached the card table I used as a desk.

 

Where my half of the alcove was a chaotic storm of papers, bolts of fabric, magazines, books, and various broken tools I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of, Cabell’s was as neat as a pin. Most of his crystals were carefully organized in clear acrylic containers, with others left on the nearby windowsill to charge in the light of the next full moon.

 

I retrieved the ruby-encrusted locket from the safe beneath the desk, unwrapping the silk to ensure all was present and accounted for. Its stones glowed in greeting, and I quickly covered it again before it could inflict whatever infernal curse it no doubt possessed.

 

“Got it,” I told the toad, only to hesitate, unsure of where to put the locket.

 

It dutifully opened its mouth, but I held the locket just out of reach above its warty head.

 

“Payment is due upon receipt,” I said, “and we can only accept cash or the equivalent in gold or gemstones—”

 

The toad croaked and made a retching noise. One, two, three chips of sapphires dropped into the planter’s dirt, coated with a thick layer of mucus. The toad’s mouth stayed open, the bubbled membrane of its vocal sac extended as it let out an impatient croak.

 

I leaned over the sink, carefully, gently, placing the locket inside its waiting mouth. “Don’t choke on it.”

 

The companion turned and leapt back into the night.

 

“Yeah, a pleasure doing business with you, too,” I muttered, digging out the sapphire chips and washing them under the faucet’s sputtering stream. I didn’t shut the window, needing the cool air.