All the Stars and Teeth(91)

When Cato closes the space between us, I do everything to keep my legs from buckling. “I did this for us,” he says. “For you, so you didn’t have to be embarrassed by me. So that we could have a better life, together.”

I shake my head, a few loose curls shaking free from my thick braid. “I was never embarrassed, not even a little bit. Cato, your soul—”

“Trust me.” His voice is sharp and surprisingly earnest. He tries to reach out, as if to take my hand, but the rabbit squeals in horror as he approaches. I flinch back, throat constricting.

“What have you done to your soul magic?”

Cato waves the question away with a flourish of his hands. “This magic has always been inside of us; I’m simply choosing to look at it in a different way. Sira, you’ve told me before that you love me. If you weren’t lying about that, then you should trust me. Trust that I’m going to pave a new way of life for us.”

I try to ignore my fear. This is Cato, after all. Cato, who was red-faced and shy as we shared our first kiss on the shores of Arida years ago. The boy I snuck out to visit while growing up, just so that we could hold each other and gossip beneath the moonlight. He was the same man I shared my bed with each night, and who woke me up with a shower of kisses each morning.

But he’s no longer that person, and hasn’t been for some time.

I say, “I trust you,” though it’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

“Good.” Cato reaches out to stroke his thumb across my cheek, and I try not to cringe beneath his touch. “For now, you and I are the only ones who need to know about this.”



* * *



Basil’s the fourth to die this week.

If it weren’t for the blood coating his lips and chin, he’d look peaceful here on the sand; almost like he’s sleeping. Almost like he’ll wake up at any second and tease me for staring.

Behind me, Cato makes a show of my friend’s corpse, parading it about and telling anyone who will listen, “This is what happens to those with multiple magics; the gods are punishing us for our greed!”

Twelve have died so far, and because the island’s afraid, people eat his words up.

But I know the truth. The gods are not the ones behind these deaths—Cato is.

I remember the night I confronted him. How I’d looked into his eyes and realized there was no longer even a small spark of the boy I once loved left in this wicked, callous man.

“Dead because his magic lashed out? You really expect me to believe that?” I’d shouted.

His response had been to snatch my face in his hands and dig his fingers into my skin. My eyes had pooled from the pain as his nails clawed into me, but not hard enough to leave a mark. Never enough to leave a mark.

“You will keep your mouth shut,” he’d said. “Or I swear to you that I will destroy every soul on Arida.”

That was the day the first body had been found, a week after I’d caught him with the rabbit. I wish with everything in me that I’d done more to stop him then, but no matter how hard I search, I can’t seem to find any fight left within me. He’s taken all of me.

“We have to stop this!” I’ve no idea who speaks, because I don’t turn to look. I keep staring at Basil, waiting for him to open his eyes. Waiting for him to take a breath. I don’t even hear Cato approach, though I jerk my hand from his when he tries to take it.

“I have an idea.” He takes my hand again, fingers pinching forcefully into my skin so that I can’t rip away. “Sira can take your magic away!”

“What in the gods’ blood are you talking about?” I don’t care that my words are harsh. “No, I can’t.”

Though Cato’s face doesn’t twist in surprise, it does sour. He politely excuses himself from the others by digging his nails into my palms, forcing me to follow him until we’re far enough from the others that he can speak freely.

“You’ve always wanted to help people.” He says it like an accusation. “Now you have that chance. Those with multiple magics need to free themselves from danger. You can take all but one of their magics, Sira.”

“I will not.”

He wraps his arms around me as if in an embrace, though one hand bends my arms at a painful angle. The other holds my mouth to his chest, so that it muffles the sound when I cry out.

“You will take their magic.” His snarl comes with a smile. If anyone were to turn to us, they might think he’s being sweet. “I don’t care which, let them choose. But you will take it, or gods help you, I will make you watch as I destroy every last one of their souls. Now put on a smile, my love, and keep your mouth shut.”

With tears in my eyes, I listen. Because what else can I do?



* * *



“Be careful with it,” I tell the frightened girl in front of me, just as I’ve told each of them before her, “for that charm will forever hold part of your soul. Break it, and you’ll live, but you’ll never be the same.”

But I’m not the same, either.

For weeks I’ve obeyed Cato, using a mix of soul magic and curse magic to steal magic away from others. It disgusts me that it’s not even hard; I do it by diving into their souls and ripping half from it. Then I curse that half into a charm for them to wear.