Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(133)

“I think they’re from one of Mrs. Swift’s recipes. Yellow cake with a raspberry filling and whipped cream icing garnished with wild violets.”

He lifted his eyes to hers—big, innocent blue. A shy, hopeful smile. “Fruit and flowers,” he said.

“That’s right. I hope they taste as good as they look.”

She held the box out, stood smiling with the faerie lights of the park and gardens glowing at her back, with music winding through the air. With the moon, full and white, showering over her.

He took the box and, for an instant, just a finger snap, saw the dark glee in her eyes.

Keeping his eyes on hers, Duncan flipped the box over. The pretty cupcakes hit the ground, and oily black oozed out while the bits of violets turned to tiny, slithering snakes.

Petra laughed. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“Hey, Dunc! You trying to make time with my girl?”

The sound of Denzel’s voice turned his blood cold. “Stay back! Get everybody out.”

“What the what, man?”

As Petra laughed again, Duncan struck out.

She moved fast, faster than he’d prepared for. And had Denzel as a shield in front of her, had a thin black blade pressed to his heart.

“I can’t move.” Denzel choked the words out. “Dunc, I can’t move. Petra?”

“Let him go. You’re not interested in him.”

“But you are, and that’s enough. Now if you’d fallen for me, as planned, I wouldn’t have had to put up with him. Wasn’t I pretty enough for you, Dunc? Sweet enough? Helpless enough?”

“This is because I didn’t go for you?”

“Oh, please. You’re just a means to an end. You and your idiot sisters.”

The music still played, voices still sang. Had she put up some sort of barrier, or were they still just far enough away?

How could he use it?

“Right from the start then. But this isn’t from the cult shit. You got black magick going—it stinks up the air.” In the hope of keeping her focused only on him, Duncan flicked his fingers, shot light, burned the slithering snakes, the oozing poison to ash. “Yeah, that’s a smell. So it’s not from the cult.”

“Another means to an end. I spent almost two weeks in that sty.”

“ ‘Weeks’?”

“Your power’s so pale and weak you can’t do mind illusion? Anyone who survived the attack would swear I’d been there nearly two years. Even two weeks was disgusting. Of course, I did take little breaks, have little bits of fun. The man you watched burn—and wasn’t that a lovely light?—only thought he was my father because I made him think it. Just as I arranged for your pitiful rescue group and the PWs to attack that night.”

“Got wasted.” Denzel’s head lolled. “How many beers we slam, bro?”

In the park someone shouted, someone screamed. And the music cut off. Petra swept a hand back and sent people flying, tumbling in a tidal wave of wind.

“Duncan.” Denzel’s eyes blurred. “Too much beer. Gotta go home, man.”

“I hate to be interrupted.” Petra tapped a finger to Denzel’s lips, seared them together. “Don’t you? And I’ve held this in for so long.”

He could fix it, Duncan thought, he could fix Denzel once he got him clear. But everything he’d tried hadn’t touched that thin, black blade.

“The rescue was a setup, to get you into New Hope. You set up the ambush, too.”

“You’re not a complete moron.”

“Didn’t work.”

Her smile widened. “Didn’t it?”

Yes, it had, he realized. Of course it had.

“Fallon. You wanted to draw out The One.”

“Not a complete moron. It took her long enough to get here. I’ve had to live with that pious bitch all this time, run around after a bunch of brats. That’s over now, and so’s the pious bitch. I didn’t have time to finish off the brat. I had cupcakes to deliver. Oh, and just a quick stop on the way. Carlee won’t be joining in the fun tonight. Or ever.”

He felt it like a blow to the gut. “Why?”

“You liked her better than me.”

She lifted a hand. The clouds he’d imagined rolled over the stars, smothered the moon.

Crows circled, screaming.

Denzel moaned.

“God, I’m bored with him.”

With a flick of her hand, she broke his neck, and Denzel slid bonelessly to the ground.

On a cry of rage, of grief, sword flashing, Duncan leaped forward.

Petra threw up her arms, swooped high on wings. One black, one white, just as one side of her hair faded to midnight, the other to moon pale.

“Did you feel it coming?” she shouted as she hurled fire and power at Duncan. “Did you feel the storm coming?”

He slapped her weapons and power away with his sword as Fallon and Tonia flashed beside him.

“I am the storm!” Fallon hurled her own fire.

Petra tucked her wings, dived under the flames, then speared again. “At last. Hello, cousin.”

Lightning, black, glistening, tore through the sky, struck the ground. Grass, green with summer, flamed, and the whirl of wind swept the fire toward the playground, the gardens, the memorial tree.