“I think…” Justin began, reaching a hand toward his cheek. “I think I’m…”
And then he shuddered and jolted backward, the staticky presence in the room fading away.
Harper lunged across the circle. Cards scattered everywhere as she gripped his shoulder, unable to hide her panic.
“Justin,” she whispered. “Oh, Justin, what did you do?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, shaking his head. “You got what you needed.”
Something was seeping through his shirt at the abdomen. Harper released his shoulder and yanked it upward, revealing his stomach. Gray veins pulsed beneath his skin.
“It’s not supposed to hurt you,” she whispered, horrified. “You’re a founder.”
“But I don’t have powers,” Justin said weakly, another iridescent tear sliding down his cheek. She could see the roots now, clustering beneath his skin. She had no idea how he’d hidden them for so long. “I’ve been corrupted since the lake. I figured it out when we got back. It’s moving more slowly than it did for the rest of the people who got sick, but it’s still spreading.” He sighed. “So I thought I could give you all a fighting chance instead of being a total liability.”
He locked eyes with her, and the determination in them surprised her: There was no hint of regret, no panic, only acceptance.
“You should have told us,” Isaac said, looking perturbed as Justin turned back around. “If you’ve been corrupted this whole time…”
“I know.” Justin looked at them all, shamefaced. “I just… I wanted to do something, okay? I wanted to matter, for once.”
Harper’s heart ached. She understood all too well what it was to feel powerless in a group of people who could do so much more than you. She knew he hadn’t asked to be corrupted. But that didn’t change the fact that he had just gone from an ally to a potential threat.
“Take off your shirt,” she said quietly.
Justin grinned at her. “Okay—”
“Not like that.” She glared at him. “We need to know how bad it is.”
Dread coursed through her as he pulled his sweater over his head. He turned around, displaying his back, and her heart sank into her toes.
Silver veins snaked from his waistline up to his shoulders, the skin around them gray and iridescent. The roots had settled here, twitching slowly but not moving; they had joined together in a sort of spiral on his back, like a plant that had grown beneath his skin. There were far too many to cut out. Far too many to destroy.
“Harper.” It was Violet’s voice. She turned to see her friend crouched gently beside her, eyeing Justin with obvious trepidation. “Get back.”
“He’s our friend,” Harper protested. “And he can’t infect us—”
Violet gripped her shoulder and tugged her away. “He’s still dangerous.”
A convulsion ran through him, and his shoulders twitched, his eyes glazing over. He dropped to his knees, coughing, then wiped away gray slime. When he looked up, Harper blanched.
Once again, she was staring at the Beast as it wore Justin’s face, as it stared back at her from those flat, dark eyes.
May didn’t remember how she’d returned to her own bed, but she was warm and comfortable, and the room was dark. She rolled over, yawning, and stretched, wincing at the soreness in her joints as she sat up.
And gasped.
Dried blood was crusted at the tips of her fingers, rust-brown and flaky, and she could feel something on her cheeks—like a skincare mask left on too long. She swung out of bed and rushed to the vanity in the corner. At the sight of the tear tracks on her face, blood that had long since dried, it all came back to her.
Richard. Her power. The cauldron. The Beast.
She walked toward the window, dread pounding in her chest, and yanked up the storm shutters. Outside her bedroom was a world gone gray. Fog blanketed the woods beyond the backyard, rendering it nearly invisible, and ash coated the ground, bits of iridescence and bark mixing with the dead leaves. The tree itself looked worse than ever, veins standing out starkly against the thinning trunk, fleshy and bloated. The sight made May feel ill.
Four Paths was dying, and it was all her fault.
A knock sounded on the door, and May jumped, whirling around, scanning the room for anything she could use as a weapon.
“May?” It was her mother’s voice. “Are you awake?”
May swallowed her panic and opened the door. “Mom?”
Half of her was expecting the Beast again. But she knew immediately that this was the real Augusta. It wasn’t just her light blue eyes—it was the way she carried herself, the sharp expression on her face.
“So you’ve seen it,” she said, gesturing toward the window.
May nodded. “Are we… in the Gray?”
That didn’t quite feel right, but nothing outside looked right, either.
“No,” Augusta said grimly. “The Gray seems to be bleeding into Four Paths instead.”
“Good thing the evacuation happened,” May said dully.
“Yes,” Augusta said. “Good thing.” She sat down on the bed and fixed May with an expectant stare. “Now—would you like to explain to me why I found you collapsed on the front porch several hours ago, covered in slime?”
May stared at her hands. “You won’t like it.”
Augusta’s laugh sounded more like a bark. “Try me.”
May’s head spun, contemplating all she had learned, all the Beast had told her, all she’d ever believed Augusta could tolerate before she told her to leave for good.
She had nothing left to lose anymore. So she explained everything, from the rituals she’d done as a child to those final moments in the Gray. It was like sucking out the poison Richard had pumped into her veins.
“I never wanted any of this to happen,” May finished, aware as she said so of how false the words sounded. She’d wanted to be important, after all. She had asked for this, pushed aside red flags, deceived everyone in her life just to feel special. “I messed up. I ruined everything. I’m sorry.”
She was staring down at her hands, trembling a little, when she heard her mother’s voice.
“You didn’t ruin everything.” Augusta didn’t sound furious, as May had feared. She sounded almost… gentle.
“I caused the corruption,” May whispered, looking up at her. “People are dying because of me.”
“This is not your fault,” Augusta said hollowly. “It’s mine.”
“What?” May had never in her life heard those words come out of her mother’s mouth.
“You heard me.” Augusta sighed, looking deeply uncomfortable. “I miscalculated how far your father could reach. How talented he is at twisting minds and hearts.”
“He didn’t manipulate me. I invited him here.” Shame burned through May as she thought of how easy it had been for him to talk her into pulling at the future more, spreading the corruption further. Her desperation for affection and validation had overridden her better judgment in favor of some foolish quest to save everyone. She’d been frustrated with Justin for constantly playing the hero, only to go and do the exact same thing—with far more disastrous results. “I worked with him. I trusted him.”