Page 87 of Dance With Death

“That man or whatever he is will also attempt to stop us moving our daughter. No. Holly. Get your things,” says Paul. “We’re leaving.”

“Are you an imbecile?” Violet’s voice cracks like thunder in the heavy atmosphere, and I widen my eyes at Leif. “Your daughter is in real danger that humans can’t protect her from!”

“I will not be spoken to like that by a disrespectful thing like you!”

He grabs Violet’s upper arm to move her.

Oh no. No.

Magic spreads from Violet’s mind, and I slice through the spell before it reaches Paul, then stagger as Violet hits back at me in anger.

“Violet. Don’t,” says Leif. “You’ll cause more trouble.”

“Holly will not leave this hospital,” she snarls, dragging her arm from Paul’s. “Not unless you’re accompanied by someone who can guard her.”

“As Holly said, that’s ultimately her decision,” I say, voice strained by the bloody big headache Violet just gave me.

I wait for Holly’s response. She must be shocked if she isn’t responding to Violet’s outburst. Nothing. Her mother continues to hold Holly’s hand, mouth parted as she watches Paul and Violet.

Holly stares at me. No. She stares through me as if I’m transparent and she can see the wall, her eyes those of somebody elsewhere.

Blood trickles from her nose and her pupils dilate completely.

Then Holly screams.

30

VIOLET

Holly’s scream continues to bounce around my mind as if she’s beside me now. But I’m alone, walking the edge of campus, around and around, wishing I could scream out the one that’s echoing in my head. Rowan wanted to join me, naturally freaked out by the strength of my once-denied emotion, but I can’t be around him. He can't touch me. I’m furious. Black-hearted, dark-souled murderous. Any influence by Rowan’s magic would tip me over the edge, and I’d go to anybody I could find to shake information from them—physically pull some out if I could. Starting with Dashiell.

Now I don't know where to go. What to do.

Because this is Viktor.

Viktor harmed Holly. Did he intend for her to die? Because why do something to her mind that manifested days later if he aimed to murder Holly?

I can't think straight, and that makes me pissed. I always think straight.

Or I did. Look at the state of me recently.

The scene plays over and over as I stomp through the edge of the woods, mud splashing up my stockings. Holly screamed. And screamed. And screamed. She only stopped when her voice became too hoarse to continue.

Holly didn’t register anything or anybody else the whole time.

Leif left after insisting it was his fault because Viktor must still know where he is, something I ignored at the time, but now can’t fathom. Rowan attempted to calm me, but his magic prompted the opposite, and as Holly’s parents attended to their daughter and nurses rushed in, I couldn’t stand the situation any longer. Not only the screaming—the emotions that had her parents in a chokehold disturbed me more than Holly’s hysterical mother screaming too, and that it’s my fault.

I waited outside the room for Dorian to arrive, within minutes of my call to him, and walked away. Walked until I reached the academy and then set off on my circular route through my personal hell.

I’m useless now, but if Kai finds anything at all to locate Viktor or anybody associated with this plot against my father, I will not be useless. And if Holly suffered any permanent damage, once I get hold of Viktor or whoever inflicted this on my best friend, I will show them exactly how much like my father I am.

Only I’m more than him. I’m a necromancer, and I’ll show Holly’s attackers exactly how much like my father I am a second time. Maybe a third. Who knows how much magic energy necromancy would need for each reanimation?

My answer. Necromancy. I need to master the spell that I recently pushed away as wrong. The gentle, caring Eloise who refused to use her necromancy instilled this desire in me, but ironically, recently embracing my mother’s side of me pushed away something I’d wanted to master my whole life. What have I become since the day Rowan and the bond tore open that part of me? I drag hair from my face. Not what I wanted.

I spend too much time around others currently, my mind already scrambled by repeated interactions that draw me closer and closer to the center of the world I’ve avoided my whole life. I’ve grown accustomed to this, but never realized how accustomed. People begin to see me as more than the weird, dangerous Blackwood girl, some now doubting her stories about necromancy.

But I am that and more.

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