The Rose Society
Page 31
We make our way down the street until we reach a tiny, winding canal. Here, Magiano hands several coins to a boatman, and we hurry quietly on board his cargo boat. We float down the canal, listening to the bustle above, shrouded in shadows.
The strange feeling from earlier in the morning returns. I frown, shaking my head. The world shifts, and the whispers in my mind leap forward, sensing a sudden chance at freedom.
Violetta turns to me. “Are you all right?” she whispers.
“I’m fine,” I reply.
But I’m not. This time, when I close my eye and open it again, the feeling doesn’t go away. The world takes on a strange yellow tint, and the sounds around me turn quiet, as if none of it were quite real. Am I creating an illusion? I glance at Magiano, suddenly suspicious. Is he mimicking my power?
That’s it, the whispers hiss, eager to accuse. All of this is a ruse. What if he’s betraying you, mimicking your illusions so that he can hand you over to the Night King’s men? To the Inquisition? This was all a trick all along.
But Magiano doesn’t seem to be using his power. He isn’t even paying attention to me. His focus is entirely on the direction of the canal, and he has a concentrated frown on his face. Violetta doesn’t seem to sense him doing anything, either. In fact, she’s staring at me with a concerned expression. She takes my hand.
It feels numb and very far away.
“Adelina,” Violetta whispers in my ear, “your energy feels strange. Are you …?”
The rest of her words fade away, so that I can’t understand her anymore. Something else has caught my attention. At the next bend of the canal, a man is sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. He turns when we approach.
It’s my father.
He wears that dark smile that I remember all too well. Suddenly terror seizes my throat so hard that I can barely breathe. He’s here. He’s supposed to be dead.
“Heading the wrong way, Adelina?” he says. As we glide past, he gets up onto his feet and starts to walk the canal’s edge along with us.
“Go away,” I whisper up at him.
He doesn’t respond. As we sail around a corner, he follows us—and even though we should be moving faster than he can walk, he manages to stay right behind us. I grit my teeth and turn around in my seat. Beside me, Violetta looks more alarmed. She calls out something—my name, perhaps—but it doesn’t seem important to answer her. All I can do is stare at my father’s silhouette as it follows us.
“Go away,” I hiss again through my teeth. This time, I say it loud enough for both Violetta and Magiano to turn their heads.
“I beg your pardon?” I can hear Magiano say.
I ignore him. I turn away from my father’s figure and try to catch my breath. I close my eye again. The world presses down on me. “It’s just an illusion,” I say, trying not to panic. An illusion like always. But my fear only fuels it, making it stronger. The lines of reality start to blur. No, no, it’s not an illusion at all. My father has come back from the dead. When he catches up to me, he is going to kill me. I tremble all over.
When I glance behind me, my father is gone.
In his place is Enzo. The Reaper. His dark hood and silver mask cover his face, but I know it’s him, can tell by his tall, lean, lethal shape, the predatory grace of his walk. He holds a dagger in each hand, both blades glowing white hot with heat. For an instant, my heart jumps into my throat. The edges of my vision turn red, and I remember the way he used to train with me, how he’d touch my hand and mold my grip on my daggers to the correct shape. I want to run to him. I want to take his mask off and wrap my arms around him. I want to tell him that I’m sorry. But I don’t. He walks with the stride of a killer. He is hunting me.
The Reaper flicks his wrists.
Lines of fire explode from his hands and rush down the canal toward us. Above, the edges of the canal burst into flames. The roar and heat drown out everything—my skin turns scorching hot. The fire closes in all around us. It licks at the buildings, climbing higher and higher until the flames consume the rooftops. I bury my head in my hands and scream. Somewhere, my sister is calling for me, but I don’t care.
I’m back at my burning again, chained to the iron stake. Teren tosses a blazing torch onto the kindling at my feet.
I need water. I scramble to the edge of the boat. Magiano lunges for me, but I move too fast. The next moment, I feel the sudden splash of cold water and the fire crisping my skin extinguishes. All around me is darkness. Shapes glide in the depths. A haunting voice calls my name, beckoning me deeper. Claws loom in the eerie water around me.
A bony hand seizes my arm. I open my mouth to scream, but bubbles rush out instead in a torrent. Something is trying to pull me under.
Adelina.
I’m in the Underworld. The angel of Fear is calling me.
“Adelina!”
The whispers of Formidite change into my sister’s voice, and the bony hand on my arm turns into a boy’s hand. Magiano pulls me to the surface. I suck in a lungful of air. Someone lifts me back into the boat, inch by inch—I think it is the boatman and my sister. I scramble to one side. My clothes cling heavily to my skin, as if still trying to drag me into the water and give me to the Underworld. I look around frantically.
The flames are gone. The odd yellow tone of the world has faded away, and the pressure in the air has disappeared. Enzo is nowhere to be seen. Neither is my father. All I see are Magiano, Violetta, and the boatman, all staring at me in bewilderment, while a few spectators have gathered along the canal’s edge. Some of those spectators are soldiers.
The strange feeling from earlier in the morning returns. I frown, shaking my head. The world shifts, and the whispers in my mind leap forward, sensing a sudden chance at freedom.
Violetta turns to me. “Are you all right?” she whispers.
“I’m fine,” I reply.
But I’m not. This time, when I close my eye and open it again, the feeling doesn’t go away. The world takes on a strange yellow tint, and the sounds around me turn quiet, as if none of it were quite real. Am I creating an illusion? I glance at Magiano, suddenly suspicious. Is he mimicking my power?
That’s it, the whispers hiss, eager to accuse. All of this is a ruse. What if he’s betraying you, mimicking your illusions so that he can hand you over to the Night King’s men? To the Inquisition? This was all a trick all along.
But Magiano doesn’t seem to be using his power. He isn’t even paying attention to me. His focus is entirely on the direction of the canal, and he has a concentrated frown on his face. Violetta doesn’t seem to sense him doing anything, either. In fact, she’s staring at me with a concerned expression. She takes my hand.
It feels numb and very far away.
“Adelina,” Violetta whispers in my ear, “your energy feels strange. Are you …?”
The rest of her words fade away, so that I can’t understand her anymore. Something else has caught my attention. At the next bend of the canal, a man is sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. He turns when we approach.
It’s my father.
He wears that dark smile that I remember all too well. Suddenly terror seizes my throat so hard that I can barely breathe. He’s here. He’s supposed to be dead.
“Heading the wrong way, Adelina?” he says. As we glide past, he gets up onto his feet and starts to walk the canal’s edge along with us.
“Go away,” I whisper up at him.
He doesn’t respond. As we sail around a corner, he follows us—and even though we should be moving faster than he can walk, he manages to stay right behind us. I grit my teeth and turn around in my seat. Beside me, Violetta looks more alarmed. She calls out something—my name, perhaps—but it doesn’t seem important to answer her. All I can do is stare at my father’s silhouette as it follows us.
“Go away,” I hiss again through my teeth. This time, I say it loud enough for both Violetta and Magiano to turn their heads.
“I beg your pardon?” I can hear Magiano say.
I ignore him. I turn away from my father’s figure and try to catch my breath. I close my eye again. The world presses down on me. “It’s just an illusion,” I say, trying not to panic. An illusion like always. But my fear only fuels it, making it stronger. The lines of reality start to blur. No, no, it’s not an illusion at all. My father has come back from the dead. When he catches up to me, he is going to kill me. I tremble all over.
When I glance behind me, my father is gone.
In his place is Enzo. The Reaper. His dark hood and silver mask cover his face, but I know it’s him, can tell by his tall, lean, lethal shape, the predatory grace of his walk. He holds a dagger in each hand, both blades glowing white hot with heat. For an instant, my heart jumps into my throat. The edges of my vision turn red, and I remember the way he used to train with me, how he’d touch my hand and mold my grip on my daggers to the correct shape. I want to run to him. I want to take his mask off and wrap my arms around him. I want to tell him that I’m sorry. But I don’t. He walks with the stride of a killer. He is hunting me.
The Reaper flicks his wrists.
Lines of fire explode from his hands and rush down the canal toward us. Above, the edges of the canal burst into flames. The roar and heat drown out everything—my skin turns scorching hot. The fire closes in all around us. It licks at the buildings, climbing higher and higher until the flames consume the rooftops. I bury my head in my hands and scream. Somewhere, my sister is calling for me, but I don’t care.
I’m back at my burning again, chained to the iron stake. Teren tosses a blazing torch onto the kindling at my feet.
I need water. I scramble to the edge of the boat. Magiano lunges for me, but I move too fast. The next moment, I feel the sudden splash of cold water and the fire crisping my skin extinguishes. All around me is darkness. Shapes glide in the depths. A haunting voice calls my name, beckoning me deeper. Claws loom in the eerie water around me.
A bony hand seizes my arm. I open my mouth to scream, but bubbles rush out instead in a torrent. Something is trying to pull me under.
Adelina.
I’m in the Underworld. The angel of Fear is calling me.
“Adelina!”
The whispers of Formidite change into my sister’s voice, and the bony hand on my arm turns into a boy’s hand. Magiano pulls me to the surface. I suck in a lungful of air. Someone lifts me back into the boat, inch by inch—I think it is the boatman and my sister. I scramble to one side. My clothes cling heavily to my skin, as if still trying to drag me into the water and give me to the Underworld. I look around frantically.
The flames are gone. The odd yellow tone of the world has faded away, and the pressure in the air has disappeared. Enzo is nowhere to be seen. Neither is my father. All I see are Magiano, Violetta, and the boatman, all staring at me in bewilderment, while a few spectators have gathered along the canal’s edge. Some of those spectators are soldiers.
