“I feel the same way.” Violet tugged down the next storm shutter and latched it shut. “A year ago, my biggest problem was trying to perfect my audition program for conservatories. Now we might damn an entire town because our ancestors made some disastrously bad choices.”
“Has it really been so bad here?”
She met his eyes. Smirked just a little. “It could’ve been worse.”
Isaac still couldn’t believe that Violet knew everything he had been through and didn’t pity him. All his hopes, his fears, his dreams—she had borne witness to them without flinching, and he had done the same for her. Not because they needed something from each other, but because they’d wanted to. And after years of people looking at him like he was broken, it was a relief bigger than words to know someone else understood that healing did not mean going back to the way things had been before. It meant transforming into someone new and accepting that person, sharp edges and all.
He wanted to kiss her, he realized, and he’d never known that he could have romantic feelings for someone without the sadness, without the longing, without the hurt. He did not know how to tell her this; all he knew was that the knowledge of it was burning inside him like a newly lit flame, wild and unavoidable.
And he was trying to find the words to do this, to do it right, when Violet spoke again.
“Harper and Justin are done,” she said, glancing over his shoulder.
Isaac turned to see that her cat had appeared at the end of the hallway, his tail twitching.
“He can tell you that?” he asked.
“Our tether can,” Violet said, already halfway down the hallway. “It’s sort of hard to explain.”
Isaac watched her walk away for a moment. Then he sighed and trudged after her.
The four of them sat on the floor in the center of Isaac’s living room, staring at the cards stacked in front of Justin’s crossed legs. Harper couldn’t help but feel a stab of unease as she gazed at the all-seeing eye etched into the back. The Carlisle abilities were straightforward and steady, while the Hawthornes dealt in the abstract: memories, fates, futures. It was a power she wasn’t sure any human had the right to hold. Then again, that was how they’d gotten here in the first place: because their ancestors had been too greedy to know their limits.
“Okay,” Violet said slowly. “So how, exactly, does this work?” She reached forward, but the second her fingers touched the cards, she gasped and pulled her hand back. “Shit. That hurt.”
“I probably should have warned you,” Justin said from across the circle. “Touching the cards is a Hawthorne-only thing. That’s why they’re usually in the box.”
He reached down and scooped up the cards. They clearly weren’t bothering him, although Harper could tell how nervous he was. He looked pale and exhausted; all of this had obviously worn on him. He didn’t hold the cards like May did, like they were an extension of her. He held them like a weapon he wasn’t sure how to use.
“There’s no guarantee this will work,” he said. “But I heard most of May’s confrontation with our father. The Deck of Omens talks to the Beast. And surely the Beast knows how to defeat Richard and give our powers back. So we’re going to try asking it.”
It sounded absolutely absurd, willingly talking to a monster. But Harper had to admit that none of them had a better idea.
“Aren’t you supposed to ask a question to direct the reading?” Violet said.
“Someone else should,” Justin said. “That’s how May does it.”
“You always promised you’d read my cards,” Harper said softly.
“I did,” Justin said. “So ask your question.”
Harper smiled. “How can we defeat Richard?”
And Justin began to shuffle the deck.
For a few moments, there was only silence. The wind howled at the storm shutters, the candles flickered, and Justin’s face registered rapt concentration. Then he spoke.
“Okay,” Justin said. “I can feel something.… May always says it’s like a path opens in the back of her mind, like she can see her way down to all of Four Paths’ roots.…”
Soon Harper felt it, too. A presence stole into the room, making the candle flames shiver. And one by one, just like they did when May touched them, the cards began to disappear.
Justin was doing it. He was actually using the power he’d always wanted. Harper wondered how it felt for him, to know that after all this time he had finally been able to prove himself. His face was slightly flushed; sweat beaded along his forehead. But he kept at it, the presence growing stronger, until there were only a few cards left.
He laid them out on the floor, his hands trembling. Harper tried to remember what came next—May had to touch people for the power to work, she was pretty sure. She stretched out her hand, and Justin, looking grateful, took it. Their fingers twined together, his palm warm and gentle against hers.
And then the presence stirred again, and from the corner of the room, at the edge of Violet’s peripheral vision, she saw the thin wisps of a humanoid figure forming.
Harper’s heartbeat accelerated, and she braced herself for another Beast-Justin. But he never showed up.
Eight of… Branches…
The words rasped through Harper’s mind, and she gasped. Across from her, Isaac clutched at his forehead and muttered a curse.
I have already told you, Two of Stones.… I have already warned you.…
“Can you all hear that?” Harper whispered.
The others nodded.
“It’s the Beast,” Justin said hoarsely. “Aren’t you?”
The form flickered weakly in the air.
You should not… have done this.… The words were laborious and carefully formed, as if each one had taken tremendous effort. I… am weak… and your cards together are… too much… so tangled.… My control is… fading.…
“If you know how to help us,” Justin said, “please. Tell us.”
The Beast’s form flickered in the air, and Harper wondered if it was too weak to materialize. The voice felt softer and weaker than she had ever heard it before.
I can tell you the ritual… the founders did.… They… we… They… met at the heart of things… and renounced their titles as the deities.… They gave their power back to the forest.…
Harper struggled to keep up. “Can you tell us how to do it again?”
The Beast’s form flickered again, and for a panicked moment Harper thought it was fading away. But then a sound drifted through the room like an ancient radio. It was the song the Church of the Four Deities had sung, but the lyrics were different. Harper had never heard these words before, soft and strange, and yet it felt as if she had always known them, the same way the voices that were singing them were new to her and yet just as familiar as her own name.
“Of course,” she whispered, understanding surging through her.
Then she saw the tear glistening in the corner of Justin’s eye—gray and iridescent. Harper followed it down his cheek—and then her throat clenched with dread. Because she could see something wriggling beneath the skin of his jawline. A root.