Page 185 of Cherish

Macy doesn’t answer, and after several seconds, the Crone starts again. “This prison isn’t exactly known for its easy escape. If you’re in here, even by accident, it’s going to expect you to be redeemed if you have any chance of getting out of here alive. Surely you remember.”

“That bullshit only works once, Adria. I know exactly how to get out of this prison, and redemption has nothing to do with it.”

Her eyes widen, though I’m not sure if it’s because I called her by her first name or because I called her on her shit. And to be honest, I don’t care. All I know is I’m not going to roll over for her anymore and pretend what she’s saying or doing is okay when it patently is not.

“You don’t know much, little—”

All of a sudden, Remy makes a gagging sound, and she jumps back about five feet, like she’s terrified of being in the splash zone.

“What on earth is wrong with you creatures? I’m trying to have a conversation here, and you can’t stop whining.” She reaches into her pocket and whips out a small golden bottle. At first, I think we’ve driven her to drink, but then she flips open the lid, squirts some on her hand, and rubs it in.

Huh. Sanitizer. Didn’t see that coming. I mean, I’m not sure how she thinks getting your ass kicked is contagious, but it takes all kinds.

“If you’re going to do that, can you please go in the bathroom?” she demands, turning to Remy with an annoyed look on her face that quickly turns to horror.

She screams and stumbles backward. “Good heavens, what is wrong with you?” She points at his eye. “I’ve been alive for a very long time, and I’ve never seen anything like that before. There’s not enough hand sanitizer in the world for me to be sharing this space with the lot of you.”

And then, looking very put-upon, she makes a shooing motion with her hand as if to brush away a bee, which isn’t ironic at all. Seconds later, a strange heat invades my body. It takes away the aches that are absolutely everywhere, but it’s not until I glance over at Remy that I realize what’s happened.

She’s cured us all, not out of the goodness of her heart but because our ailments were disturbing her. That’s a special kind of self-absorption. But it’s not like I want her to take it back, so I decide not to kick the gift Crone in the mouth. At least I have a chance of getting my friends out of here if they can walk again.

The only problem with her sudden largesse is that now that she’s not preoccupied with everyone’s pathetic little weaknesses, she can focus all of her attention on me. Suddenly, my tattoo doesn’t just glow. It burns—a lot. And I know exactly what that means.

It’s time to pay up, whether I want to or not.

102

You’re so Vial

“What do you want me to do?” I ask after a second. After all, it’s not like we’ve exactly got time for small talk right now.

My friends may be healed, may be climbing to their feet and walking over to stand beside me, but Mekhi is still dying at the Witch Court. I’m deathly afraid that he’ll run out of time if we don’t get this elixir to Lorelei to drink very, very soon.

“It’s not what I need you to do. It’s what I need you to give me.” She wrinkles her nose as Flint moves closer to me. “Ugh, why must dragons always smell so bad? Reptiles are horrible.”

Eden makes a sound low in her throat, like she would love to show the Crone just how horrible dragons can be.

I hold a hand up—letting the Crone’s barbs get under our skins isn’t going to help us in the long run—and Eden stands down. But her purple dragon eyes continue to track the Crone’s every move.

“I don’t have anything with me that you might want,” I tell her. Even my backpack got left behind in Ecuador—one more casualty of the bear fight.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that if I were you.” She holds her hand out, then continues in a strangely formal voice, “I invoke my favor.”

The tattoo on my arm goes from burning hot to freezing cold as she continues, “You must give me the Celestial Dew that you collected from the lake at the base of the Bittersweet Tree.”

My friends erupt immediately. “No way!” Jaxon growls, striding forward like he wants to rip the Crone limb from limb.

Another flick of her hand has him landing on his ass several feet away.

Macy moves in front of me, clenched fists at the ready. “You’re not getting near her!”

“Please. As if I want to have anything to do with a filthy little statue,” she snarls, and another flick of her hand has Macy backed up against the wall, unable to move.

“Just give me the elixir, Grace, and I’ll be on my way.”

“It’s the only thing that will save Mekhi,” I beseech her. But even as I say it, I know it won’t matter. She’s never been interested in anyone but herself, and the fate of some vampire she doesn’t know and will never care about definitely isn’t going to change that. Still, our bargain had rules. “Your favor cannot cause the death of anyone, directly or indirectly.”

“And it won’t. Shadow poison is killing your friend—directly. And Clio’s refusal to help—indirectly,” she answers coldly. And this time, when she holds her hand out, it’s palm up. “Now give me the elixir.”

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