Page 5 of This Violent Light
“What about him?”
“They sealed the curse with his blood and then killed him. Right? Without his blood, the curse cannot be fully broken,” she says. She’s told me this many times, but I’ve yet to fully accept it. Therehasto be another way.
Cora scratches her brow, glancing at me, then back down.
“What if he wasn’t the last of his line? What if…what if there is another?”
“Impossible,” I say. It takes every ounce of control not to scoff.Thatis the grand explanation she’s been cooking up these past six hours? When Cora doesn’t respond, I continue, “They picked him because he never took a lover, Cora. Never had children. He’s been dead twenty years, so I imagine that hasn’t changed.”
“What if they were wrong though?” she argues. Her voice hushes, and she leans close. “What if he had a child, all those years ago, and they just didn’t know it?”
“Impossible,” I repeat. “The witches would have known. And they would have murdered his child too.”
“But what if…” she looks at the text again. “What if the child was born, not here, but on the outside? What if there is a Pruce child in the human world?”
Chills skate up my arms, no longer from the cold. With night over us, I have returned to my natural form: deadly and invincible. Yet I feel more unsteady than ever.
“We would have known by now,” I say. “Even on the other side, the magic would have sensed it. The seal would have failed.”
“Maybe,” Cora says. “Or maybe the child was so far away, the Echo couldn’t sense it. Walter Pruce was known to travel in the human world. It is possible he impregnated a human without knowing—or at least without telling. The childcould have been raised elsewhere. Perhaps now…that same child is near.”
“Unlikely,” I say. Because I can’t risk believing—hoping.
Cora’s throat tenses as she swallows.
“Unlikely,” she finally agrees. “Butnotimpossible.”
2
BAD, BAD THINGS
GRACE
If I weren’t desperate, I wouldn’t take the apartment. It’s not bad, necessarily, but itiswrong. I’ve spent my entire life striving for sunshine and warmth, bright colors and easy laughter. This is…earthy. The girl—Tessa McDowell—is wearing black skinny jeans and a matching tank top. Her hair is messy, thrown in a bun, and her face is without a stitch of makeup.
The apartment fits her vibe perfectly.
One glance at my pink mini skirt, eyelash extensions, and glittering phone case, and it’s obvious I don’t belong.
Yet, here I am. Studying the dark wood furniture and the large bookshelf that’s overflowing with antique novels. I wonder if she actually reads them, or if they’re just for show. It could be a sign she’s pretentious. One of those,classic fiction is the only acceptable literaturekind of people.
Forget what I said earlier, this placesucks.
There are too many plants and sage-scented candles and a freaking fish tank in the corner. Who has a fish tank? It’s not even the cute bubble kind. It’s a full-on rectangular fish tank with dull brown guppies and a miniature shipwreck.
Mom would hate this place too, and she’d be horrified to know I’m even considering it. She’d tell me to stay in a hotel until I find a better option. If she wasn’t dead, I might do that.
Since sheisdead, I’m stuck settling for one of the only month-to-month rentals I can find. This one might have somber colors and a vintage rug that looks like it was dragged in off the street, but it’s cheap and Tessa—though weird—looks harmless.
“I’ll take it,” I say.
“Really?” Tessa asks, arching an eyebrow. She leans against the wall between the fish tank and the bookshelf.
“Yup,” I say. I tighten my purse to my side. “As long as you’re not in a cult and don’t throw sex orgies in the living room, I’ll take it.”
“Not in a cult,” she confirms. “I’ll keep all orgies in my bedroom.”
I can’t tell if she’s joking, and I decide it’s better not to ask. Instead, I dig the first month’s rent out of my purse. Tessa crosses the room, counts the cash, and jerks her chin toward the empty bedroom.
