Justin’s blond hair was slicked back against his forehead, his skin sweaty and discolored from the corruption. Nobody had bothered to put his shirt back on, so Harper could see every root wriggling beneath his arms and burrowing deeper into his abdomen.
“You asshole,” she whispered, staring at his slightly parted lips. “You should have told us you were sick. You should have let us try to help you—”
“Harper.” His eyes fluttered open. His voice was weak, but unmistakably his own. “I thought I heard you insulting me.”
Harper had walked into the quarantine room like it was a morgue, braced for a body that was already too far gone. Finding Justin instead, shuddering with pain but still himself, was almost worse.
“It worked,” she said softly. “You woke up.”
“It wasn’t… easy.” His eyes focused and unfocused. “But it’s a little easier… when you’re here.”
“We’re going to stop this,” she said fiercely. “We’re going to help you.”
“Don’t—” He coughed, then lifted a shaking hand to his mouth. It came away gray and glistening. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Harper realized dimly that she had lost the battle against her tears, but these were neither iridescent nor crimson—they were ordinary, and that only made them all the more painful as they rolled down her cheeks.
“You’re going to get better,” she said, her voice rising in volume. “You’re going to be fine.”
“You’re beautiful when you’re stubborn,” Justin murmured. “Have I ever told you that?”
Harper sniffled. “I think the corruption’s reached your brain.”
“Nah.” Justin’s mouth quirked up into a half smile. “I’ve thought that… for years.”
Before she could respond, his eyes glazed over, a convulsion racking his body. When it finished, he wasn’t Justin anymore. He rose in stiff, jerky motions until he was sitting, his eyes flat and lifeless.
Two of Stones, hissed the Beast’s voice in her head. You are running out of time.
“Get out of his body,” Harper hissed, drawing her sword.
It is… far safer here… than in the Gray.…
“Get the fuck out!” She swung the sword forward, bristling with rage, until the tip was pressed against Justin’s throat. Roots bubbled beneath the skin, scattering away where the steel touched it. She wished she could carve them all out, but she knew doing so would only mean flaying Justin alive.
The Beast wailed in protest, its tinny voice trailing off, and the light returned to Justin’s eyes. His face widened with surprise as his gaze locked onto hers.
“Well,” he said weakly. “Trying to… finish me off, huh?”
Harper hastily yanked the blade away, slotting it back into her scabbard. “That’s not funny, Justin. You know I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s… a little funny.” His lips twitched. “You wouldn’t fight me under the bleachers, but you brought a sword to my sickbed.”
“I thought I might need it.”
“You’re something else, Carlisle.” He swayed slightly, coughing again, and Harper moved forward out of instinct, gripping his shoulder and helping prop him up against the headboard.
“Thanks,” he said. “Now… shouldn’t you… be going?”
“I should,” Harper said softly. “But I have to say goodbye first.”
She had thought that if they kissed again it would not be as urgent or raw as it had been at the lake. She was right—it was more, and it was messier. His lips were rough and careless against hers, his hands tight around her waist, pulling her onto the bed until she was in his lap. This was a horrible idea, Harper knew that, but she did not care. Instead she leaned into him, trailed her lips down his cheek, his neck, his ear. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder, and she shuddered at the roots that squirmed beneath them.
He smelled like Justin and something else, something musty and ancient, decay seeping from his very pores. She kissed him one last time, gentler now, and drew away. His hair was tousled; his earnest, perfect face was smeared with iridescent tear tracks.
“I understand why you hid the corruption from us,” she said, disentangling herself from him and swinging her legs off the bed. “But if you die because of this, I’ll never forgive you.”
Then she walked out of the room, ready, at last, for war.
The walk through town was tense and quiet. Everything looked dormant and abandoned, storm shutters pulled down on most windows, cars gone, doors locked and barred. Ash coated the ground, shimmering in the cloudy, unnatural light of the off-white sky.
Isaac was struggling to shift his thoughts from the boy they’d left behind to the battle ahead. Abandoning Justin like that had felt dangerous, like they’d come back to a body. But they didn’t really have a choice. If Gabriel hadn’t left, he thought mutinously, maybe they could’ve done something about this, even though his healing had failed before. But his brother had run away. And it was hard for Isaac not to worry that the moment he’d stopped protecting Justin, Justin had completely disregarded his personal safety.
He knew this wasn’t his fault, or his failure, but that old guilt was tough to completely ignore. Harper wasn’t the only one who had taken this personally.
They were not in the Gray, and yet this felt worse somehow, knowing that it was no longer contained, that their home had been swallowed whole. None of them dared to break the strange, frightened silence—as if something would come running after them if they spoke too loudly—until they reached the outside of the Carlisle cottage.
The lake looked horrible. Isaac’s stomach churned as he eyed the choppy, iridescent water; the pulsating trees hanging dangerously low over the lakebed. Harper, though, seemed utterly unbothered.
“Okay,” she said softly, surveying the group of statues clustered outside the lakebed, red-brown stone coated in white and gray ash. “Stand back.”
Harper stepped forward and knelt on the ground, pressing her hand to the nearest statue’s head. Isaac’s heartbeat sped up as he watched it stir, shaking away the detritus of the Gray and walking toward them. It was a fox, he realized, and although he could tell it was stone, it moved like something living.
Orpheus walked cautiously up to the statue and sniffed it, frowning. They circled each other as Harper moved slowly through the garden, waking the guardians up and murmuring quiet commands to each of them. When she was finally finished, looking exhausted but pleased, there were at least twenty stone creatures following in her wake.
“That’s amazing,” Violet said, grinning at her.
Isaac nodded in agreement. He’d heard stories about the Carlisles, but he’d never seen this power in action before.
It was incredible, and more than that—it gave them a fighting chance.
“Thanks,” Harper said, flushing a little bit. She turned to face the guardians, and her voice rang out across the lake, strong and sure. “Remember: Follow me. And when I tell you who your target is, attack them without mercy.”
They headed into the woods, flanked by the soft rustlings of Harper’s stone army as they walked toward the town seal.