Chapter 20

There is no greater act of love than sacrifice.

-Hecate's Guide to Arcane Philosophy

Rorick

I leapt up the moment I heard Quiet scream for me. I clambered into her bedroom, hitting the door so hard it splintered apart. The Hobs were shrieking, tiny mouths open so wide I could see their little pink tongues as they wailed. She was gone, a blanket on the floor before the mirror that was facing outward.

I had two guesses who'd come to collect her, but it didn't matter who the culprit was. I was confident I knew where they'd gone.

Quiet needed me. Eager as I was to get to her, I wasn't stupid enough to try to take on the circus alone. I flew to the Home for Foundlings first. Prim summoned more witch sisters using some sort of magical bell I sensed was for emergencies only. Together we traveled immediately to the Castleway Circus

Something was happening. The sound of shouting and commotion reached us before we made it close enough to see. A trapdoor had opened up beside the circus, unleashing a horde of ichors and corpse-eaters.

And every single one of them looked just like Quiet. They wore day dresses and kept their black hair in a braid, and they clashed violently with the collection of cloaked fanatics known for worshiping the clowns.

"What did you do to them, you monsters?" they shouted. "Where have they all gone?"

Witches set to work, corralling the fighting, casting curses, pushing the onslaught of undead Quiets back toward the trapdoor in the ground.

"What if one of this lot is actually Quiet!" Goose shouted.

"Quiet isn't going to try to eat you!" Astor called back, aiming her wand at a charging ichor. She shot it down. Gold blood sprayed the air.

"Fair enough," Goose said. She opened her pocket watch and twisted the dial. A swarm of Quiet-monsters slowed from a sprint to a crawl before freezing in place completely, trapped there in a time spell. "We'll hold them back as long as we can," Goose told me. "Go and get our girl!"

"Quiet?" I screamed, shoving through the chaos. I crushed an eel-like coffin-dweller under my boot, then bit the throat out of an ichor that tried to strangle me. Gold blood speckled my waistcoat.

Another ichor leapt at me. Astor shot them down.

When I pushed inside the main tent, a horde of Quiet imposters descended upon me. They grabbed at my clothing, tore my coat, ripped my sleeve. One bit into my shoulder, tearing the skin. I cocooned myself in my wings, then burst upright, sending them flying into the amphitheater bench seats. Quiet bodies littered the way ahead.

Finally, I spotted Quiet—the real her. She was surrounded by glittering lightning beetles, sparring with a coffin-dweller. I flew to her side. The creature tried to wrap me up in its tentacles, pulling me toward its open maw. I sprinted forward and smashed my fist through the soft underbelly of the flailing monster.

"Quiet!" I pulled her against me, my fist covered in filth. I was ready to take off into the air, to fly her to safety. Her smell of wildflowers was thick in my nose, a reassurance I desperately needed.

Another imposter was right behind her, wielding a spike-like weapon.

"Ichor!" the Quiet in my arms shouted, pointing at the imposter.

I ripped the spike out of the imposter's hand and drove it straight through her heart.

I'd reacted on instinct, reacted without thought. And yet, almost immediately something seemed wrong. Time stopped around me as other details filtered through my anxious brain. The stormy shade of her eyes. The look of shock and betrayal that passed over her face.

"Stop now," the woman at my side said—the woman I'd thought was Quiet—and the other imposters fell away, retreating from the tent as though they were under her command.

A witch's hat and a dagger-wand fell out of the hand of the woman I'd stabbed. Why would an imposter have those? Lightning beetles swarmed over her, and her scent filled my nose.

Oh no. Oh bloody hell, no!

Quiet wobbled there, gray eyes wide. Her gaze jerked to mine, a silent plea in their stormy depths. The sound of Quiet's thudding heart stopped.

I reached for her as she fell, realizing much too late that I'd run a weapon straight through the heart of the woman I loved.

"No," I breathed as all the air left my lungs. My mouth gaped, unable to make another sound.

"Quick, Rorick," Hecate shouted at me, "give her your blood!"

"Quiet!" I crumpled to my knees beside my partner. "What did you . . . What have you done? What have I done?" Bile rose in my throat. If I spoke another word, I'd be sick.

I opened the vein at my wrist with my fangs. Then I pulled down Quiet's chin, parting her lips. I bled into her. My blood oozed slowly, coating her mouth and tongue. But she wasn't drinking it. It simply pooled there.

She wasn't with me anymore to drink it. You killed her , a tiny voice in the back of my mind hissed at me. You always knew you'd be the end of her, you horrid monster.

"Please. Please, Quiet." My vision blurred and my throat burned. "Gods . . . any god! Oh please. Don't leave me, Quiet! Just drink !" A tear leaked from my eyes and dripped down my nose. The droplet hit her cheek and broke apart.

I grabbed at her, unsure where to touch her, how to help. I squeezed her arm, her wrist, her fingers. In my movements, I smeared my blood across her face. It leaked from her lips, down her chin. I shook her gently, willing her to live . To wake. To come back to me.

The light was gone from her eyes.

I cast a desperate look around and found her hat bunched up on the floor beside us. "Anita!" I shouted at it, yanking Quiet against my chest.

The scar-weaver spiders poured from the hat en masse, Anita leading the charge.

"Fix her, fix her!" I begged them.

I tore and peeled her clothing away from the wound, then jerked the spiked blade out of her heart. It came free with a wet slurp, and more coppery blood gushed from the wound. The spiders set to work, pressing inside the opening, one by one, gathering their silk and starting their weave. I dribbled more of my blood into the wound, over the spiders. I tossed the blade aside as the whole world continued to blur around me.

The spike clattered across the floor, the sound amplified under the big tents.

Hecate stepped on the blade, stopping its skittering with her boot. She scooped it up and held it limply at her side. Crimson dripped from its tip. "Let's hope this sacrifice is finally enough."

"What the devil have you done?" I gasped. "Why? Why save her as a child only to . . ."

But I didn't really need her explanations and excuses. She'd already given them. I hadn't been enough when she'd tried to sacrifice me to reclaim her constant. She shoved me off that balcony, gave me to Death, but I hadn't meant enough to her for the sacrifice to pay the price she owed. Death spat me back out again.

But Quiet meant everything to me.

It wasn't enough just to take her. She had to be given. I hadn't meant to do it, but I'd delivered her to Death.

Just as Hecate had orchestrated. She'd pulled our strings like we were puppets. Watched us fall in love, made sure we had a chance to meet in the first place.

Then she'd taken Quiet away.

Hecate removed her pocket watch and opened it. The watch was dead and silent, and there were no hands on its face.

"It's done now." The time witch pulled her cloak out of her pocket next, and she flung it around herself. "I promised her I'd go all the way with her, and I intend to keep that promise."

The rustling fabric full of illusion turned into wings the color of midnight. She sent me one last fleeting look full of an emotion I couldn't place before she flew into the mirror by my feet, leaving me there with my constant. My love. My Quiet, dead in my arms.

* * *

I lost track of time, sitting there beside grave dirt and a standing mirror, rocking Quiet in my arms, palming her head, my fingers full of her hair. Her sisters tried to come to her, but I roared at them to get out. I was a horrid sight, no doubt. A screaming devil with fangs.

They fled in fear of me, but I sensed them hovering close. I could hear their hearts beating anxiously, waiting just outside the tents for the sun to finally rise so they could come and collect their beloved sister.

"Haunt me if you must," I begged Quiet, brushing dark hair out of her cold, pale face. "Come and scream at me as a vengeful spirit. Take me apart piece by piece. I deserve no less. Torment me. Just please don't go away from me."

When I tried to speak again, I choked. My nose dribbled, and I swiped at it.

"Take me with you, at least," I whimpered.

The spiders finished their work. Her wound was sealed. Anita emerged, covered in blood, but Quiet remained lifeless. They couldn't repair a heart that was already dead. I'd known that, but I'd demanded it anyway. The spiders stood there on her body, staring at their witch with their many beady eyes.

"Be gone," I growled, sweeping them off her chest. "Just go."

They didn't deserve my temper, but it was all I had, the only emotion keeping me upright.

Scar-weavers scampered back toward her hat. Anita took her time before returning to the void, leaving furry little bloody prints in her wake.

I pulled Quiet upright. Her head lolled, and my anger slipped. I tried to clutch at it to keep from crumpling.

Her empty eyes pushed me over the edge, sent me spiraling into a loss so deep I'd never find the bottom. I squeezed her to my chest and sobbed.