Page 133 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
“I’m here.” Taurus’s voice wasn’t just in their heads anymore—it was audible in the air now, a booming, hollow pulse.
“Daddy.” Minna moved the gun faster. “I’m doing it.”
“I’m so proud of you, my son.”
No.
His words hit the air and bounced off the marble, echoing again and again, becoming crueler every time.My son, son, son…
Minna’s hand stilled as her head dropped.
Beatrice could almost see the pain shoot through her body. “Honey, you can still stop. Don’t complete it. Drop the tool.”
Her niece’s hand shook so badly that Beatrice could see the ink skip on her skin. Good. If the tattoo was broken, damaged somehow, would it not work?
That was it—she’d break the gun. Why hadn’t she thought of that? It was probably strong, but so was she, and while Taurus was now a real voice, he didn’t have a real body. She’d only be fighting Minna. And this was a fight she would need to win.
She leaped toward Minna. Or rather, she tried to.
Her legs, though, didn’t move. Her body froze as solid as it had in the cemetery when Minna had run away. She could breathe, and she felt her heart pounding in her chest, so presumably blood was still circulating in her veins, but any movement that was usually under her conscious control was impossible. She couldn’t even blink.
And everything hurt—each muscle in her body felt strained to the breaking point, as if the supernatural tension placed on them was what kept her from moving. The only part of her that didn’t hurt was the spot on her wrist where Naya’s new sigil was tattooed.
When Minna had put it on her—how could it have only been yesterday?—Beatrice had felt Naya inside her. No matter what illusions Taurus had created today, Nayahadbeen with her yesterday. She had sent them the letters in the bottle as confirmation. Taurus couldn’t have faked that.
Beatrice had to believe.
Minna was sobbing now, but her hand still moved the tattoo gun along her left forearm, faster and faster. It wouldn’t be long now before the cursed sigil was complete. Then it would be inside Minna’s body, just as Naya’s tattoo was inside Beatrice’s, flowing through her veins.
The image of theSon Reno’s chest rose in Beatrice’s mind. The dead body of Scarlett, her ash, was now part of Reno’s living body because of the tattoo.
She tried to suck in a deeper breath.Move.
The dust in this tomb—it was the dust of their ancestors. Sure, probably some of it was made of dead spiders and crumbling marble, but a big part of it would undoubtedly be microscopic bits of Anna’s and Rosalind’s bodies floating out of the cracks of the crumbling tomb. Some of the particles were bound to be getting into the wound Minna was dragging into her skin. Would that help or hinder the power Taurus hoped to take?
Beatrice’s heart rate was too fast now, so fast she saw silver flashes of stars at the edges of her vision, but it wasn’t as if she could sit down and put her head between her knees.
The corrugated spite of Taurus’s laugh ricocheted in her head.
No one else was coming to save Minna. Even if Beatrice’s text went through, what would they do, hire a bulldozer to knocktheir way into the tomb? Surely Taurus would have strengthened the spell Beatrice had broken to get in.
It was up to her.
Evie’s words came flooding back.Sometimes we have to act before we think. Sometimes that means we get arrested for indecent exposure, but other times it means we’re following Spirit. There are times when the only thing to do is to act before thinking a single damn thought.
Act without thinking. Act without knowledge.
Act without even being able to move.
A sigil was simply a symbol imbued with energy.
She’d drawn one with bubbles, and it had worked.
So, then, she would draw a symbol with the only thing she had left.
Her mind.
Beatrice’s eyes stayed open because she couldn’t close them. But Minna faded from her sight as she went inward.
