Page 90 of Dance With Death

The bond. Still a curse.

Leif didn’t want to follow Violet, still filled with the crazy notion that his presence at the hospital contributed. Even with Eloise’s work on his mind, Leif is still convinced that Viktor continues to track him. Or worse, he was the catalyst that triggered Holly’s attack. I told Leif that Violet wouldn’t do anything to him, even if she did believe the mad idea. He didn’t look convinced.

We could wait for Violet and Grayson in my room, but I don’t want them to have a glimmer of a chance to get past us. Violet won’t answer messages, and Grayson’s worried me: Violet has taken a trip to the lake, and Grayson is watching her.

Why did he type ‘watching her’?

“Any more from Grayson or Violet?” Leif asks me flatly, leaning forward, arms dangling between his legs.

“No, and only voicemail when I call.”

“What do you think is happening?”

“Don’t know, and I’m pissed at their secretive trips. This is the second time.”

“At least they went to the lake and not back to the hospital this time,” Leif suggests.

“We hope,” I mutter. “That might be Violet’s next stop.”

“Holly’s now in the psych ward. Harder to get her out unnoticed.”

I cringe at Leif’s reminder. Staff cajoled Holly into moving to that ward ‘for her own good’. She’s under constant watch by humans, and no doubt by supes too—if Holly’s parents haven’t interfered. We can only hope that Dorian’s charm worked on the pair, or that he didn’t leave any trace of the spell if he used any magic on their minds.

Her parents don’t realize how serious Holly’s condition is. She needs looking at and looking after, and not due to a head injury. Dorian will be planning how to achieve this.

I bet Violet is too.

“Rowan.” Leif stands and I follow his gaze across campus.

Two figures moving at a quicker pace approach through the gathering dark. Violet walks with more purpose than Grayson, who’s gesturing as he speaks to her. She reaches us and pauses for a single second before walking by. I stare after her, open mouthed, then look to a harassed Grayson.

“Better that Violet does go straight to her room,” he says.

“Why? What’s she done?” asks Leif sharply. “Is Violet in trouble now?”

Grayson gives a weary sigh. “Come with me and see.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Yeah. Could be worse though,” he replies.

Leaving his cryptic comment, Grayson does something rare—he walks into Darwin house.

Head whirling at the bizarre behavior by the pair, I follow. “Violet, what—” I halt, having barely set foot in her room.

Leif bumps into me and I sidestep to let him through. He’s arrested by the same sight as I am.

“Is that a duckling?” I ask, the words as ludicrous as the situation, and an unnecessary question.

A yellow and brown bird nestles in one of Violet’s black jumpers she’d discarded on the floor earlier, its shining, beady eyes watching her.

“That’s not just a duck,” says Grayson. “Right, Violet?”

Violet looks up from her phone screen. “I had to practice.”

Leif sits on Holly’s bed, staring at the duckling.

Practice? “You’ve used necromancy on a duck?” Well, those are words I never thought I’d use.

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