Page 86 of The Scarlet Veil

Her eyes widen in disbelief, and they stare at each other for several agonizingly long seconds. The rest of the aviary seems to fade beneath the intensity of their stare—the owls no longer shriek, the fire no longer crackles. Even the wind seems to pause, apprehensive, as if dreading what comes next. I try not to breathe. Perhaps they’ll forget I’m here altogether.

At last, Mila exhales.

“How is this possible?” she asks, her voice still quiet, as if the moment might break at any second. “You’ve never been able to see me before.”

Michal’s hand still clutches the bare skin of my arm. The lace sleeve that should’ve been there hangs limp around my elbow, shredded from my fall. Slowly, he eases his fingers away—his face still granite—before clenching his jaw and replacing them swiftly. “It would seem,” he says, staring hard at his hand on my skin, “we have a common acquaintance to thank for that.”

“Oh.” Mila follows his gaze to where we touch, alabaster against ivory. “It makes sense, I suppose.”

“Nothing about this makes sense,” Michal says tersely.

And the moment breaks.

Mila’s eyes narrow. “Do try to keep up, won’t you, brother?Surely you’ve realized by now that Célie is a Bride.” Though Michal opens his mouth to respond, she speaks over him quickly, determinedly, with the air of someone trying to steer the conversation away from something. Or perhaps flee the conversation altogether. “She’s been touched by Death, which is why she can reach through the veil—and also why she can see me here. If this encounter is any indication, that neat little trick of hers temporarily extends to whoevershechooses to touch.” She humphs, casting a withering glance at his clenched hand. “Ordoesn’tchoose to touch. Please tell me you aren’t responsible for the gore all over her person, Michal, because if you are, those marks on your face are the least of your worries.”

“Mila.” He speaks her name with surprising patience, but again, she ignores him, turning away with a toss of her opaque hair.

“If you are, I’ll simply have to tell Guinevere about this little development, and every time you touch Célie—even the slightest brush of her arm—Guin will be there, breathing over you like a rabid dog.”

“Mila,” he says again, his voice darkening slightly. “You’re deflecting.”

I watch him in rapt fascination. Though he tries to remain hard, impassive, his eyes have begun to burn with strange emotion as he looks at his sister. Exasperation, yes, but there is also a softness there. Never before have I seen him look so—sohuman. The realization would’ve knocked me back a step if he hadn’t been clutching my arm. I scowl up at him, tugging fruitlessly against his hold. I’m the worst sort of idiot for trying to humanize a monster.

But even monsters care for their sisters.

“She’ll draw another mustache on Uncle Vladimir,” Milacontinues hotly, pacing by the stairs in agitation. “I swear she will. Maybe she’ll draw horns and black out his teeth this time too. Maybe I’ll give her the ink.” Michal exhales heavily, but he doesn’t say her name again, instead waiting with thinly veiled patience for her to pause for breath. Which she doesn’t. “Guin is the ghost who helped you break into Michal’s study,” she says to me, and I tense at the betrayal, shooting a quick glance at Michal. He will not be distracted, however. His gaze remains fixed solely upon Mila. “Michal broke her heart, and she never forgave him, even after death. She still moons around his study, raging and weeping and fawning over him in equal measure, even though he can’t hear a word she says. It’sheartbreaking.”

“Are you finished?” Michal asks.

Mila lifts her chin. “No.”

Yet it seems, at last, that she’s run out of things to say. Undeterred, she opens her mouth to try again, but Michal shakes his head slowly. “Enough, Mila.” The words are less command than plea, but Mila still floats to a halt by the door, her shoulders curling inward. Defeated. “Tell me what happened. Tell me why you went to Cesarine.”

She refuses to look at him, instead glaring at the nearest stair tread. “You know why I went to Cesarine.”

Cesarine?Brows furrowing, I glance between them as Michal’s lip curls. “Dimitri,” he says.

“You say his name like a plague.”

“Because heisa plague. He never should’ve asked you—”

“Stop it, Michal.” Mila whirls, gesturing angrily to the sky beyond the door. Thick storm clouds have rolled in since I left Monsieur Marc’s shop, and thunder rumbles in answer. “You actas if we’ve never sought the help of witches before. Wasn’t ityourbrilliant idea to ask them for eternal night?”

“Hundreds of years ago—since which time we’ve carefully culled our existence from their memories. You threatened to expose our entire race for the sake ofonevampire.”

“For Dimitri. For the sake ofDimitri. He is yourcousin, and he needs your help—”

“What he needs is self-restraint, not a mystical cure from the hand of our enemy.” Michal’s nostrils flare as his careful self-control begins to slip. “He left you there. Did you know that? Half-hidden in the refuse behind Saint-Cécile, where I assume you thought to find La Dame des Sorcières. Heleftyou.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” Mila rises to her full height now, casting the force of her defiance upon Michal. Opaque tears sparkle in her eyes. “He wasfrightened—”

“Who was it, Mila?” Between blinks, Michal seizes my hand, dragging me along behind him as he advances on his sister. His expression grows blacker than the storm clouds outside. “Who did this to you?Tell me.”

But I cannot keep quiet any longer. Cesarine, Saint-Cécile, La Dame des Sorcières—the words are familiar to me,sickeninglyfamiliar, yet somehow half-formed, like trying to fit together a puzzle without all the pieces. My chest tightens with the confusion of it all, and I dig in my heels, trying and failing to slow his approach. “What does Lou have to do with any of this?” I ask wildly. “Why were you at Saint-Cécile? And who didwhatto you?”

Michal slows to a halt, glowering at his sister, and an unspoken question passes between them. Mila sighs.

Then, reluctantly, she brushes aside her hair and pulls downher collar, revealing perfect twin puncture wounds at her throat.

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