Page 67 of Reflections of Silence

Unable to focus around her, my mind whirled, as though her presence alone poisoned my ability to think. To each side of us, I noted the gargoyle and the wolves gathered. As one they moved, an escort of pure muscle, herding us toward the drive.

No, Amy was no fool. She took a bait I never offered and I stepped into her trap, along with everyone in this place that I loved.

My mouth opened to scream, call for help, but even my brain behaved like sludge, unable to ask for the aid I so desperately needed.

Do you not think I don’t know what you’ve done, Gisella?

The voice inside my head was snide, but it wasn’t Sebastian’s. Neither was it welcome. I struggled to stay upright, clinging tohis arm as Amy continued to chatter inanely at both of us at once.

I dragged my attention to the guests who milled around the foyer and the drive, noting the opaque, out of focus eyes. While my mind tried to comprehend what that meant, Sebastian gripped my arm tight, drawing me toward the house.

Go, Gella.

Urgency lit his tone as he pushed me back in a violent gesture that left me reeling. I stumbled, turning in the direction he expected, but the wolves circled us on each side, preventing any escape. A deep rumble grew in his chest, and I knew his fury wouldn’t be contained any longer.

Even Granny Smythe’s wolf-men were captivated by Amy’s brand of darkness and magic. For all their muscle and authority, their eyes stared blankly, opaque, and I knew they were not themselves.

“How many conversations can you hold at once, Amy?” I gasped, my thoughts lining up long enough for me to make sense of the situation.

I needed a distraction and flung around for ideas with my fogged mind. Beside me, Dolion slipped into our circle, his skin yellowing, hardening to his stone form in preparation for the confrontation that had to occur.

My hands trembled as I gripped the coat arms of the men I adored either side of me. A single thought sliced through my mind that floored me, raw and desperate. Neither was it a private link with Sebastian, which meant everyone linked to us must have heard my internal cry.

Sebastian bent to press his lips to the top of my head without breaking eye contact with Amy.

I love you too, Gella.

A tinkle of laughter filled the courtyard, grating on my very skin with its wrongness. “Oh, many, darling girl. Did you thinkme as vapid as you? As mortal?” She laughed again, a sound less like bells, more shattered glass on silver, edged with a stain of something dark and dripping.

My vision swam, shadows clashing across it. I shook my head, stumbling even as I stood still. Something cold slid against my hand. My sight cleared as I looked down, away from Amy, as though looking at her directly set off some sort of defensive reaction.

Or aggressive.

I remembered Granny Smythe’s words as she’d unwrapped the same tarot cards she’d read in her house. My stomach gave a lurch, water surging beneath my feet though we were no longer on the ship.

It’s taking her.

I curled my toes within my blue and silver slippers that were never meant to be worn outside the comforts of the ballroom. I gripped the ground through the delicate material, determined to stay in the moment, to not be swept away as I had last time, lost to the beckoning waters.

I glanced at the ageless witch for help but her eyes were opaque, unfocussed.

Amy had stolen her, too.

Our list of allies grew thin, despite their physical presence. Without their minds, they were no more than puppets, listless marionettes, as I had been when Amy had bid me take my own life in the house behind us.

We will not survive this.

I listened for Sebastian’s easy answer, but my plea went unanswered.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

GISELLA

A point dug into my skin, scratching me enough to draw a sharp gasp from my lips. I covered the pain filled sound with a cough, disguising the slip, lest Amy notice us. Hopefully she had enough conversations running about her head to not notice myfaux pas.

The knife slipped from Sebastian’s sleeve, dropping into his hand. Before I could argue, he lunged forward without so much as a step backward in preparation. I saw for the first time what an efficient killer he made. The blade, a curved, horrid thing, left his hand and circled through the air, aimed in a neat line at Amy.

A wry smile crossed her pretty face, and she shook her head as though berating wayward children who had stepped out of line. She raised a hand, and the thing flung back toward us.

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