Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(97)

Do it.

I hesitated, Viveet pressed to her neck. The chance I’d dreamed of for so long had come. I was free. The shackles that anchored me to death had fallen. I held Miss Mabel’s life in my hands, as she had always held mine. The memento burned against my chest. Mama would never live again, but she’d want me to live happy. To choose to live free, not burdened with guilt and questions.

“You would have taken everything away from me,” I said, staring Miss Mabel in the eye. “But I will never be like you.”

I cast a paralyzing incantation, pulled Viveet away, and took a step back. Miss Mabel’s body jerked and fell to the side, limp.

Her eyes, staring out at the ballroom, didn’t move.





Where’s Leda?

My mind, almost lost to shock, could think of only one thing the moment after Miss Mabel fell.

“Leda?” I cried, whirling around. “Where is she? Leda!”

The glass wall dissolved in a shimmer of white, unwinding and falling to the floor in a fog. Papa ran to me just before I collapsed onto my hands and knees, catching me in his arms. Suddenly my whole body hurt. My feet, my head, my heart.

“I’m f-fine,” I said, but couldn’t find my voice. “F-f-fine.”

“Just sit down, B. Sit down.”

“Where’s L-l-leda?”

“She’s with Camille. Nicolas carried her up to the apothecary. Merrick and Brecken fought the Clavas off.”

Camille, yes. Good, I wanted to say. Camille will know what to do. She’ll stay with Leda.

Three Guardians rushed past us and surrounded Miss Mabel. Zane whispered a few more incantations to strengthen the paralysis. Her body lifted into the air, bound by cords of iron, her right leg twisted at a grotesque angle to the side.

I turned away.

“Tell me Leda’s going to be okay,” I demanded. “Tell me she’s okay!”

Papa responded immediately. “Yes,” he said, in control and confident. He pressed a hand to my forehead, whispered a blessing under his breath, and a wave of calm passed through me. My mind reorganized itself and I drew in a deep breath.

“The High Priestess,” I said. “Sh-she died because of—”

“We’ll talk about it later. We need to get you upstairs.”

His words faded into the background with all other sound. Beyond his right shoulder lay the High Priestess, motionless on the ground. Eight Protectors, tattered, bloody, and bruised, formed a wall around her body. Her hand rested at to her side, limp. A tear fell out of my eye as I stared at it, transfixed.

Gone.

“Bianca? B? Listen to me.”

Papa’s voice came from far away. He slapped me on the cheek, but I hardly felt it.

“Bianca, I need you to look at me.”

“Yes, Papa,” I said, closing my eyes, then opening them on him. The calming feeling swept through me again, reinforcing my strength. “I’m okay.”

My voice evened out, my frantic breathing calmed. I looked at the carnage around me, the dead bodies, the bleeding Clavas with their pale skin and black blood, with a sense of surreal detachment. Everything had crumbled into chaos and pain. I wasn’t alone in my mourning anymore.

“I want you to go to the apartment,” he said.

“No,” I said, a lump growing in my throat. “I want to help.”

“You’re a mess, B. I’m worried that—”

“No!” I cried. “I can’t be alone right now. I can’t do it. Let me help, please!”

Papa hesitated. He must have seen the desperation in my eyes, heard the pleading in my voice. The cries and moans of everyone in attendance suddenly seemed louder than ever. If I could just think about something else I wouldn’t see the High Priestess falling. I wouldn’t remember the moment when I was ready to give into that eternal sleep—

We need your father, the High Priestess had said. He’s strong in ways I never can be.

“You need to stay here,” I said, using his arm to pull myself to my tender feet. I ignored the pain, drowned it in the aftermath. Right now, the pain felt good. It felt like life. “The Central Network needs a High Priest.”

He turned to face the ballroom. A small river of blood ran down his leg, soaking his pants, his stocking. A gash across his right temple seeped blood, and his lip split down the middle in a dark line. He gazed around, his eyes rapidly assessing, seeking the remnants of danger.

The only Clavas that remained were dead or badly injured. The rest had fled when Miss Mabel had been overcome. A small troop of weary Guardians moved through the carnage, killing any Clavas that still clung to life. The witches that hadn’t escaped through the window and somehow survived the massacre stared up at Papa from the bloody ballroom floor with pale faces and wide eyes. Merrick stepped out of the crowd, limping slightly on his right leg. Papa wouldn’t let go of me.

“I’ll stay with her until you can,” Merrick said, matching Papa’s intense gaze. “I swear it on my life, Derek.”

Papa hesitated, but released me with a single nod. Merrick reached out a hand and helped me down from the elevated platform where Miss Mabel and I had fought. Like the rest of us still alive, blood and sweat marred his clothes.

“Thank you,” I said, clenching my jaw to hide the pain. My feet continued to leave bright red footprints as I hobbled.