The Fandom(109)

The drum roll reaches its climax. And yet, still, Willow remains completely motionless, eyes tight shut, not even daring to look at me. I look back to Alice. She blinks at me slowly, almost vacantly, just waiting for my body to drop.

She’s chosen them over me.

The chain tumbles from my fingertips, just at the moment the drum roll stops. Silence. Except for the soft tinkle of the broken heart hitting the floor.

This is it.

I hold my breath and wait for the crack of the trapdoor as it flies open, the snap of the rope against my neck. But instead, I hear a voice. Loud and strong and filled with outrage.

‘STOP!’

I look up to see her. Leaping over the railings, vaulting on to the stage, her pale hair flailing around her face. Alice. She stands on the stage, her hands trembling, her chest rising and falling as she snatches a series of quick, shallow breaths. She stares at me for a moment. She looks so different, her beautiful face pinched with fear, all of that honey colour drained from her cheeks. And I notice it, in the dip where her collarbones never quite meet – the split-heart necklace, its jagged edge catching the sun. For a second, the guilt of doubting her engulfs me.

She nods at me slowly. We share a moment of understanding. Then, she turns to face the crowd.

‘My name is Alice. And the Imp you’re about to hang has a name. Violet. And she is the bravest and kindest person I have ever known. Imp or Gem, she is a human being.’ She quotes the canon almost word for word, sticking to the script for the first time ever. Her voice climbs above the walls of the Coliseum, daring anyone to disagree. ‘She isn’t a temptress, or a criminal. She is my best friend. And I love her with all my heart.’ She holds me with her inky blue gaze. ‘I love you, Violet.’

I hear the gasp from the President on the screen behind me. He knows he has lost. Alice longed to live as a Gem, to stay in this world, but she is giving it all up for me. I suddenly understand what Baba meant. This is Alice’s sacrifice, this is Alice’s love. There’s no way she will write a pro-Gem sequel now. I smile at her. The biggest smile I have.

I thought it would be difficult saying my final line, knowing what awaits – the tightening of the rope, the sudden jolt of pain – but it feels right, natural.

So without further ceremony, I fill the Coliseum not with thistledown, but with my voice.

‘I love you too.’

And finally, the trapdoor opens.





I’d imagined hanging as an all-encompassing pain – one which would fill every part of my being until it defined me, became me. But it actually feels quite precise. The noose tugging against my neck, the burning collar of fire, the downward pull of the weight of my body, my lungs desperately gasping for air, my feet cycling of their own accord, searching for solid ground. And I hear the screams of the crowd, changing from joy to outrage, washing over me in waves. The light dwindles and my vision is peppered with exploding stars.

I begin to feel like I did when Nate died; strangely removed. I step out of the pain, the collar, the stars, like they’re no more than a bizarre costume. I hover above myself, watching the scene like it really is from a film.

I hear Alice’s voice, strong and loud. ‘Will we continue to allow this government-sanctioned murder of innocent Imps?’

I hear another voice, a familiar voice. Mum. That’s it, Violet. That’s it.

Not yet, Mum, I try to say. I move further away, up, up into the clouds, and far below me I see Alice and Katie, their faces craning upwards like they can see my spirit escaping towards the sun. The scent of rotting bird and pollen fades in my nostrils, replaced by something cleaner, something man-made.

That’s it, darling. That’s it. You can do it.

I watch the crowd begin to turn. Moved by Alice’s words, outraged by my death. The collective cry of indignation. The rising of fists in the air. Ash climbs on to the stage and carries my body into the crowd, his face soaked with tears.

‘Who are the animals now?’ Alice shouts at the top of her lungs. ‘Who are the animals now?’

And then I see the Imps swarming over the walls of the Coliseum, joining the Gems, united for the first time in centuries by my death.

That’s it, Violet, you can do it. Open your eyes.

That sterile smell of medicine and antiseptic and freshly washed linen fills my nose. I hear a series of pips, the clatter of metal on metal.

Not yet, Mum. I just need the cycle to complete.

Pip. Pip. Pip. I watch as the crowd engulfs the gallows, ripping at the supporting beams, lifting up the planks. The stage buckles and the gallows topple like the masts of a sinking ship. Everyone stands motionless, Gems and Imps alike. Shards of wood and clouds of dust launch into the sky, twirling and dancing and catching in the sun.

The cycle is complete.

Pip. Pip. Pip.

At last, I open my eyes.





Alice hugs her faux-fur jacket around her body. ‘It’s fecking freezing out here.’

She’s right. It’s that kind of cold that seems to come from the ground, travelling through the soles of your boots, spreading across your feet and crawling up your body until even your teeth feel raw and exposed. I pull my woolly hat down that little bit further and try to make my body smaller, as though I can somehow dodge the chill.

‘Stop with the whining, you southern softie,’ Katie says, ‘we’re only five minutes away.’