Page 44 of The Dravenhearst Brides
Margot raised her hands, palms open, as the silver butterfly came near. Tantalizingly close. Away. Close. Away. Again and again, ebbing and flowing like the tide.
“Please,” Margot begged, silver tears running down her cheeks, freezing as they fell. “Eli, take my hand.”
Pop!The soft scene burst like a soap bubble. The world sharpened. Stalks of gentle wheat turned pointed, razor-thin edges precise enough to draw blood. The gold butterfly flew right, soaring over the weapon-like wheat toward the towering magnolias at the edge of the field.
“Where is she going?” Margot asked.
It was the violet butterfly who answered. “She lives amongst the magnolias.”
“Who does?”
A giggle. “Eleanor, of course.”
The silver butterfly left next, flying skyward, disappearing into the heavens.
“And him? Where does he live?” Margot jumped to follow, flapping imaginary wings. Dreaming of an imaginary place and an imaginary brother who wasn’t dead but, rather, waited for her with open arms.
I’d fly to the edge of the worldfor you,she vowed, flapping her wings.I’d give anything—my life, my heart. I’d give it all up to reach you. Just once. Just for five more minutes.
But her wings were only arms, her heart only human. And her two feet remained planted firmly and bitterly on the ground.
“The edge of the world?” the violet butterfly asked, wings winking.
Margot touched her lips.Did I say that out loud?
“If it’s the edge of the world you’re after, I can take you. Come.”
Margot followed, leaving a trail of blood in her wake as the wheat stalks cut into her like jagged teeth. Deep ruby raindrops showered to the earth, the grain bending toward her as a flower tilts to the sun, hungry for more. The scent of jasmine mixed with iron hung heavy in the air.
At the edge of the field, a cathedral of stained glass rose before her. A lighthouse lit against the falling darkness, beaming color into the night. Margot tilted her head back in awe.
“In here.” The violet butterfly landed on a purple pane, then melted through it, disappearing.
Margot pressed her palm to the cold window, but the pane didn’t give. Her breath fogged the glass. “How?”
She tilted her head, studying the cathedral walls.
Only glass,she realized. Glass, which was made to be broken. Had to be, if she was to pass through.Through the looking glass.
She pressed two hands to the panes and bent her fingers, imagining claws. She raked her nails downward, leaving ten fissures. An earsplitting screech rent apart the night.
Margot liked it. She smiled and did it again. And again. And again. Chunks of multicolored crystal tumbled like jewels from a treasure chest onto the ground. Shards of sugary rainbow rock candy fell in clumps from the sky. The tears of angels, reflective and prismatic and pure, rained to the earth around her. And everywhere Margot looked…turning red. Blood streamed from her frozen fingers. Bled from the glass to the ground, forming a river.
“Margot, stop it!” A new voice. Gruff, insistent. Inherently male.
But nothing could stop her. She raked her nails down the glass again, chipping deeper. She had to getin. The edge of the earth. Elijah and Babette. They were all that mattered. They were there, and she—
“Margot,wake up!”
A stinging slap registered on her cheek. She blinked in shock.
And then she was falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling.
