Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(91)

“Grant me a sign that I may spare Ailesse’s life.” Odiva spreads her arms and cups her hands downward toward the Underworld once more. “Grant me your golden jackal.”

But I’ve already killed the golden jackal.

Which means Odiva will never receive the sign she needs. She’ll grow desperate and resort to the final task necessary to appease Tyrus—what he asked of her when she first struck this bargain.

Killing Ailesse.

I trip backward from the door. I can’t draw air. Lightheadedness seizes me all over again. I brace my hand against the stone wall so I don’t buckle over. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m not learning to love my mother; I’m growing to hate her. I’ll never give her the bone flute. If she uses it to ferry my father back from the dead, Tyrus might claim Ailesse’s life, anyway. The silver owl showed me my friend is already close to dying as it is.

The silver owl.

My stomach tenses. If she leads me to Castelpont again, I’m going to . . . I’m going to . . .

The answer shoots through me like a thunderbolt.

My hands ball into fists. My muscles tighten in readiness.

I’m going to become Ailesse’s proxy.

Odiva has shown me how—though I have a different ritual in mind.

I inhale and set my jaw, just like Ailesse would. I leave my mother to her vain pleadings and creep down the winding stairs until I reach the caves. I race through branching tunnels to the room Ailesse and I used to share. Her tortoiseshell hairbrush rests on a small table with her belongings.

Only a few auburn strands are left on the bristles. Odiva must have taken the rest.

I stuff the brush in my hunting pack, along with my simple bone flute. Ailesse’s ritual knife is already sheathed on my belt. I throw on a cloak, draw up the hood, and leave for Castelpont.

I finally know how to save my sister’s life.





41

Bastien

I HURRY BACK THROUGH THE catacombs as fast as I can. My father’s knife jostles at my hip, secure in its sheath again, but I’m still a mess of nerves. I hate being separated from my friends, especially after Jules got attacked under the quarry dome. And I hate being apart from Ailesse, especially after I almost kissed her.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for her, but I did. Hard. Deep. I don’t know how I’ll ever explain it to Jules.

When I reach the wall of skulls, a guttural scream pulls me to a stop. That was Marcel. Who never screams.

I burst into the room with my knife drawn. “The Chained man—where is he?”

Jules presses her back against a wall. Marcel holds a clay pot defensively.

“What’s happening? Where’s Ailesse?”

Marcel hurls the pot at Jules. She ducks, and the pot shatters above her head.

“What are you doing?” I exclaim.

“He’s in her!” Marcel points and grabs another dish from the shelves.

“Who’s in her?”

“The dead man! He’s taken over her body.”

My eyes flash to Jules. She glares at her brother with a look of pure hatred. She’s holding a knife in each hand—hers and Marcel’s. “Jules, wait!”

She lunges for him. Marcel throws the dish. He hits her this time, but it glances off her shoulder. I race over as she slashes out for him. I wrench her backward just in time. She drops one of the knives and screams, but it’s guttural and unnaturally low. I’ve accidentally seized her injured arm.

“Don’t let go of her!” Marcel says, but I do on instinct.

“I’m hurting her!” My hand is wet with her blood.

“We have to hurt her to stop her. Just try not to kill her.”

Try?

Jules reaches for the knife she dropped. I kick it away and scramble backward, unsure how to fight her. “When did this happen?” I ask Marcel.

“Back in the quarry, I think.” He gropes the upper shelves for another makeshift weapon, but they’re empty. “She’s been acting strange ever since she returned. Little signs at first—convulsing, becoming more and more irritable. I blamed it on her injury, but once we were alone together, she got worse, like she was struggling to suppress him. She became weaker and he became stronger and”—Marcel’s voice catches—“what if she’s not even inside herself anymore? What if he’s killed her soul?”

My stomach flinches. “She’s still in there. She has to be.” I pace a half circle around Jules, tensing up for her next attack.

She snarls. “Your Jules is weak and delusional. She’s still fighting against me, but her attempts are pathetic.”

I grind my teeth. I need to get the Chained man out of her. Now. “We’ll see how strong she really is, if you dare to put it to a test.”

Jules mirrors my pacing. Her posture doesn’t belong to her, with her shoulders bunched up and her head jutting forward on her neck. “What kind of test?”

“Jules is the best knife fighter I know, but she wouldn’t want you to kill me.” I steal a glance at Marcel. He’s sneaking up on her from behind. “Throw that knife at me, and if you miss your target, I’ll know you’re still the weaker one.”

Jules’s eyes narrow. “And if I’m the stronger one?”

I shrug. “Then I’m dead.” In the corner of my vision, Marcel’s gaze widens. Hopefully he’s catching on.