Instead, something is happening to Darrius himself.
As I watch in horror, his skin darkens and shrivels. His shoulders hunch as his body bends lower. His hair falls out in clumps, and his eyes begin to glow a terrible yellow.
Darrius has become a Lost One.
What the—
The creature that was once Darrius holds up a single gnarled finger, as if to say, Wait!
My brother, standing by my side, whispers, “This is not good.”
And then the air begins to shimmer all around Darrius, blurring his dark body. A breeze swirls through the square as he begins to shift again. The Lost One straightens up, grows tall again. His hair turns as pale as moonlight, becoming a helmet of gold. His eyes fade to an icy, merciless blue.
My whole body begins to tremble.
No.
Freaking.
Way.
Not again.
Chapter 71
Wisty
PEARCE IS NOW STANDING in the center of the courtyard, sunlight blazing on his cruel, narrow face.
It can’t be him—and yet it is.
Pearce: the son of The One Who Is The One; the boy who, disguised as a wizard named Heath, tricked me into loving him.
My stomach churns and I feel like I might throw up. I can’t understand why—or how—this is happening. I want to scream all the curses in the world, but my jaw’s stuck shut. My head feels like it’s going to explode.
My parents are shouting from their cage, but the buzzing in my stunned brain drowns out what they’re saying.
Pearce’s thin lips curl back in a smile. “Aren’t you glad to see me again, Wisteria?” He turns to my brother. “And Whitford, I trust you remember me fondly.”
“We should have killed you when we had the chance,” Whit rages.
Pearce nods curtly. “Yes, no doubt you should have. But that’s the problem with you two. You believe in that ridiculous thing called mercy.”
My hands clench into fists and adrenaline floods my veins. I don’t care if I’m not magic yet, I’m just going to freaking destroy him—
Suddenly two Horsemen grab my arms, and though I fight them with all my strength, they easily carry me to Pearce and drop me right in front of him. And then they step back, like they don’t want to be anywhere near what’s about to happen.
I can hear my mother screaming and my father shouting one word, over and over: No!
They don’t want to see their baby girl die.
Face-to-face, Pearce and I stare into each other’s eyes. Hate fills mine, but his icy orbs seem almost bemused. He loves how he’s surprised us, it’s obvious.
And he surprises me again when, quick as a snake, he leans in and kisses me on the mouth. His tongue slithers its way between my teeth. His lips are cold and slimy.
Instantly the spell is broken, and I begin to sputter and choke. “Don’t you ever do that again,” I scream.
“I don’t plan to,” he says calmly. “That was my good-bye kiss.” He smiles and brushes a lock of pale hair from his forehead. “Yes, you and your wizard brother almost killed me that day on the battlefield. I came so close to dying that my mother made a deal: I would share my soul with one of the Undead; in return, he would share his deathless strength with me.”
“So that would explain the hideous transformation we witnessed,” Whit mumbles.
“I didn’t think you had a soul,” I say to Pearce.
Pearce sighs. “You always underestimated me, Wisty.” He shakes his head. “Sometimes I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”
“You’re not going to win this, Pearce,” my brother challenges.
“Oh, really? Is that what you think?” Pearce asks mockingly. “Soon the two of you will be gone, and the City will truly belong to me. Unlike my father’s rule, mine will have no end. My Undead friends make a rather invincible army, don’t you think? Devourers of flesh and souls, and oh so grateful to trade their world for ours. They will faithfully serve me forever.”
He turns around to face the knot of Bloom and his henchmen. “That reminds me. Now that my greatest enemies are powerless before me, it’s time for my second-in-command”—and here he points to Bloom, who steps forward eagerly—“to die,” Pearce finishes.
Bloom doesn’t even have time to scream.
Pearce throws up his hands, and a white light flares from his palms. An instant later, Bloom is a pile of ash. The swirling breeze blows what’s left of him away.
Chapter 72
Whit
PEARCE TURNS BACK to us triumphantly. “I don’t think you ever liked him, either,” he confides.
“You’re a monster,” Wisty says.
Pearce nods as he begins pacing back and forth. “Yes, I suppose I am now. Alive and Undead at the same time. Instead of a true soul, I carry a piece of the Shadowland inside me.”
“No wonder you always felt like ice,” my sister whispers.
Pearce frowns thoughtfully at us. “But you—you two are really unbelievable. You were on your way to the palace, weren’t you? Even before my men thoughtfully gave you a ride. Surely you must’ve had some plan to defeat me.”
Neither Wisty nor I answer him.
Pearce’s cold eyes spark with disbelief. “No? You didn’t? Did you come here planning to improvise or beg for mercy? Oh, wait—I get it! This is a suicide mission!”
And his laughter peals out across the square.
I’m dying to throttle this guy. I’d practically give up my powers again for the chance to wring his skinny white neck with my bare hands.
I take a step toward Pearce, and I note how the Horsemen tense up. They’ll happily bludgeon me to death before I get too close to their leader.
“Actually, we did have a plan,” I announce.
Wisty looks at me sharply: We did not, her eyes say.
Okay, no, not exactly. Not if you’re talking about a plan with clear steps to follow. Unfortunately we never got that far.
“It was a simple idea,” I say. “With a high degree of difficulty.”
I look around at the gathered forces, enemies from this world and the next. There are hundreds of them, if not thousands. They’ve got guns and swords and flesh-ripping teeth. Let’s face it: if I were a betting man, I’d probably have to bet against us. The odds are just too long.
But I banish that thought as quickly as I can. I’ve got to focus. I’m following what I think is Wisty’s lead: keeping this crazed wizard talking while waiting for our powers to build.
Then maybe, just maybe, we might have a chance.
“You would probably call our plan pitiful,” I go on.
“No doubt,” Pearce interjects.
I ignore this. “See, our plan was to cut off your head, Pearce. Or is it Darrius? Mr. Lost One? Whoever or whatever you are, it doesn’t matter. The point is, we were going to take you out. Then see what happens to a headless beast.”
Pearce halts his pacing as he considers this. He seems honestly surprised. “Really? That’s it? That’s all you had?”
“We were going to sacrifice ourselves to do it,” I say. “So yeah, I guess you could call it a suicide mission.”
Pearce looks delighted. “I’m so pleased to hear that we have the same goals: your deaths. I wonder, though—if I murder you both, would it still be considered suicide? Now, there’s a question worthy of The Book of Truths.”
My sister can’t hold her tongue anymore. “It’s already in The Book of Truths,” she shouts. “You should read your scripture more closely. This has all been foretold, Pearce. ‘From ashes and exile, vital leaders rise.’ You know what that means, don’t you?”
I look at my sister in surprise. I don’t know what it means—does she?
Pearce grins wildly. “A pre-death lesson in scripture?” he dares. “Let’s hear it.”
Then Wisty turns to me, and her fierce blue eyes meet mine. “You were exiled, Whit,” she says softly. “When you gave up your powers.”
“That’s only half of th
e prophecy!”
“It’s time,” she whispers.
She flexes her fingers, and sparks shoot out.
“My powers,” I protest. “I’m not ready—”
But Wisty never did know how to listen. The fireball shoots from her hands anyway, a huge, glowing star, and it goes flying straight toward Pearce’s heart.
Chapter 73
Whit
PEARCE QUICKLY LIFTS an arm and shoots a beam of cold blue light that disintegrates the fireball in midair. He laughs madly. “No, no, no! That’s too easy! Wisteria, you can do better than that!”
Beside me, Wisty curses as she starts to burn inferno-bright. I have to step away from the heat. She ducks her head, and I can tell she’s not thinking clearly anymore. She’s letting anger take her over. She’s going to charge Pearce, flames and all.
It’s all happening way too fast. She launches herself forward. The Horsemen are running at her, trying to grab her without being burned, and she’s sprinting toward Pearce now, her mouth open in a shriek of rage.
I’m summoning the juice to transform when I see a Horseman’s club fly out and connect with the side of Wisty’s head with a sharp, sickening crack.
She goes down immediately. Her flames flicker, sputter—and go out.
I race to her side, calling her name. I can hear Pearce laughing.
“Isn’t this fun?” he howls.
I turn Wisty over. Her eyes are closed and her hair’s already matted with dark blood. Her pulse is faint and fast.
“Wisty!” But of course she can’t hear me.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
Pearce watches with curiosity as I put my hands on Wisty’s cheeks and summon my healing powers. I pray they’re ready by now. This has to work.
I can’t do this without her.
But I don’t feel a single jolt of magic. Desperately, I reach back to the very first time I learned I could bring someone back from the brink of death—and how that someone was Wisty. It took days, and now I have only moments.
Concentrate, Whit, concentrate.
The whole world is hushed, like it’s holding its breath. Come on, magic: heal.
“Is it bad?” Pearce calls. “I certainly hope so.”
I grit my teeth and hunch over her, whispering how everything’s going to be okay. As if that’s not about the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
Then—slowly, achingly—I can feel the magic begin to build. It flows through my veins like my own blood, sluggish at first, but then circulating faster until I can feel myself heating up. As if I, too, have the power of fire.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” I keep saying, “everything’s going to be fine.” And I can feel how my magic leaves my fingertips like warm beams of light and pours into her thin, limp body. I sense how it finds the swelling in her brain and soothes it. How it stops the flow of blood. How it calms her labored breathing.
Bit by bit, the color returns to Wisty’s face. The blood stops staining the cobblestones. Eventually, she opens her eyes. Focuses them on my worried face.
“My head hurts,” she whispers.
“So does mine,” I tell her. I’m feeling drained. Shaky. Scared as hell.
From Pearce’s direction I hear confused muttering. Then he calls out, “So this is interesting! Either she wasn’t hurt as badly as I thought, or you’ve got a little magic in you. I thought we’d neutralized you, Whitford! You didn’t actually get your powers back, did you?”
My brain feels like it’s been beaten with a shovel. I don’t answer Pearce.
“Fine,” he says. “You don’t want to talk. So let’s just do a little experiment.” And with that, he points a finger at Janine. “Bang,” he says—like a kid with a toy gun. Janine’s eyes go wide in horror, and then she gives one earsplitting shriek and collapses.
Before I even have time to think, I’m by her side, reaching through the bars of the cage and screaming her name to her unhearing ears. My fingers dig into her neck; I can’t find a pulse.
“No!” I shout. She can’t be gone—not that quickly. That’s what I tell myself as I frantically try to bring my healing powers back. I’ve already had enough people I love die in my arms, and I’m not going to let it happen again.
And if I can’t save Janine, then what else matters?
“Whit, I’m fine,” says a familiar voice.
I whirl around and see—Janine?
My eyes dart back and forth between the girl on the ground and the girl standing before me. Each one has the shiny curls I loved to twirl around my finger, those tiny ears I loved to kiss, and those damn combat boots I would have loved to throw out. Am I going insane?
The conscious Janine smiles at me. “Whit, stop messing with that thing on the ground,” she says. “It’s nothing. An illusion. Let it die.”
Suddenly I have no idea what’s going on. It’s like a spell has been cast over me, and I’m frozen in indecision.
Janine beckons me forward. “Whit, come here. I’ve missed you so much.” She holds out her arms to embrace me.
Helplessly I’m drawn to her. I start to stand. It’s been so long since I’ve kissed her.…
“It’s a trick,” Wisty shouts. “Pearce can transform into anyone!”
It takes me a moment to understand what she’s saying. My mind’s clouded with confusion and longing.
“Heal her, Whit,” Wisty screams. “The real Janine needs you!”
The panic in her voice is enough to make me stop and turn back to the body on the ground. Janine, is that you? I put my hand on her cheek. It’s cool as marble. My heart feels like it’s breaking open.
“Heal her!” Wisty yells again.
I give one last look to the standing Janine. And I watch as she shimmers, melts—and then Pearce reappears. Laughing.
“Just playing around,” he says. “Isn’t this fun?”
“You’re sick,” I spit.
I grab Janine’s hands and hold them to my chest. I will all the strength of my heart to surge into hers. Mine pounds harder and harder. It feels like it’s going to jump out of the cage of my ribs and explode like a firework in front of me. I’m burning up; I have to clench my teeth so I don’t shriek in pain.
Behind me, Pearce watches closely. Gauging how much of my powers I’ve gotten back, no doubt. Reconsidering his plans for my demise.
The magic streams through my body, flowing into the girl I love.
When I finally feel Janine’s pulse beating lightly under my hand, I drop my hands in relief. She’s not conscious yet, but I know she’ll be okay.
And then I hear clapping.
“There you go with that mercy business again,” Pearce says. “Wasting your strength to save someone else. Making it so much easier for me to kill you.”
I struggle to my feet, and Wisty comes to stand by my side. We’re both breathing hard. Trembling.
We reach behind us through the bars of the iron cage and meet the clutching hands of our parents. “We love you so much,” my mother sobs.
I don’t have the strength to speak.
“Anyway,” Pearce says, “I’m bored of this. It’s time to say good-bye. First to you, and then to your parents.” He laughs ruthlessly. “What’s The Book of Truths say? ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’ ”
And he points his fingers at us, and a corona of light surrounds his body. Inside it, he shakes and convulses as lightning shoots toward the sky. He bends down, as if summoning his strength—and when he stands up, shrieking, and flings out his arms, a huge wave of invisible fire comes roaring our way.
Our skin immediately dries, shrivels, crackles. In one moment, we are flesh; in the next, nothing but air and heat.
And ash.
Chapter 74
Pearce
HE’S DONE IT. He’s actually done it, and he wants to scream in triumph.
The raging power still courses through him, sucking energy from every single nerve, every single cell. Pearce’s heart pounds in his chest
like a drum, and white noise roars in his ears.
He raises his fist in the air, and the Horsemen lift their clanging spears and shout in victory. The Lost Ones merely leer and grin. They’re hungry, and soon, they know, it will be time to feast.
Pearce walks toward the small pile of cinders that was once a boy and a girl, a witch and a wizard. How puny it is! He almost kicks at the ashes with his foot, but then he stops, out of a spontaneous—and uncharacteristic—sense of respect.
How strange to think that some of these minute gray particles were once his greatest love and his greatest enemy. He will never forget when, as Heath, he kissed Wisteria Allgood with a passion hotter than fire.
Pearce turns to her parents now. The father’s screams sound from the cage, and so do the mother’s sobs. Janine, now conscious, only weeps silently. The scene could melt a heart of ice. But Pearce’s heart is made of stone.
With a wave of his hand, the cage around them vanishes. Why not? They’re too broken to run. They have only a few moments of life left anyway.
The battle’s over. The war has been won. And though he’s weakened now, Pearce knows his full powers will return soon enough.
He shivers with pleasure.
Though, he must admit, he feels a minuscule shred of regret. Yes, he’ll miss Wisteria Allgood a little. The girl had fire.
With her wild red hair and her ocean-blue eyes, she was a sight to see. An image of her comes to him so clearly, it’s almost as if she’s standing before him again. Glowing. Shimmering. She’s so real, he could almost reach out and touch her—
Chapter 75
Wisty
YES, IT WAS THAT EASY. We explode into cinders.
I’m everywhere and nowhere at once. I am myself, and I am also the whole great, spinning world. There is no pain. No fear. There is only light and wind and a thrilling, dizzying sense of weightlessness.
Where is Whit? Is he feeling what I feel?
Peace?
Believe me when I say there is a part of me that doesn’t want to come back. Ever.