Did I do that? She stared at the thing. Mithrus Christ.
“Ruby!” Cami, scrambling through the hole behind her. “Look out! He’s—”
“It’s okay,” Ruby heard herself say, dully. She’d been far gone in the shift herself, and she could have killed him.
She could even do it now. She could let the rage take her, all the hurt and pain and frustration and fear, and she’d be unstoppable. For all Conrad’s bigger size and greater weight, he just didn’t get that she was the dangerous one.
Because she wouldn’t just kill him. She’d tear his body apart like he’d torn up those girls, and Hunter.
And then she would be what he was.
For a bare second she trembled on the edge of it, her gaze clear and steady, locked with the twin gold-ringed holes that were the beast’s eyes.
She could be exactly like that.
“Careful. Broken glass.” Ellie, practical as ever, a thin-thread whisper over the buzz and crackle of Potential. “I think he’s getting ready to tango again.”
“It’s fine,” Ruby murmured. The dominance in her swelled. It held the beast pinned, like a butterfly on a specimen board. Cami had cried during that Science class at Havenvale, when Mr. Rambling had explained the killing jar and the pins through gem-bright wings, and Ruby had given Binksy Malone a filthy look when the bitch sniggered.
She’d shut Binksy right up, thank Mithrus.
The memory helped, a little. There were others crowding inside her—Cami, pale and barely breathing on a hospital bed until a silver medallion was torn away. Cami sobbing in her arms, while she and Ellie held her and tried their best to soothe.
Ellie on the staircase of a slumping, sliding house, turning away from the spider-shadowed thing above her, the thing that had almost robbed Ruby of her friend. And finally, Ellie hanging between her and Cami like wet washing, sobbing Let me go, and Ruby’s own reply, ringing inside her like only the truth could.
Not now, not ever.
They’d come here to find her. They hadn’t hesitated at all, just leapt in on her behalf, just like she’d always jumped in on theirs.
They’d seen her shift, too.
The Conrad-thing strained, lunging against Ruby’s will. But there were other sounds in the dark now, too. Whispers and movement, and other gleams of eyes.
Woodsdowne kin melted out of the shadows, leaping the low stone wall around Gran’s garden, flowing around the corners of the house, clambering over the roof and dropping down to land with soft authority. There was Oncle Efraim and Tante June and Tante Sasha, and Brent and Carissa and Harper and Joel, Oncle Zech and Oncle Tod and Oncle Barry and others. There was Hunter’s mother, Tante Alissa, her lip lifted in a snarl as she scented the foulness that was the creature.
And there was Thorne, wet clear through, his dark gaze fierce and hot, his hair slicked down. He’d lost weight, but it just made the essential fire in him shine so much brighter.
He was alive.
The relief that hit her made her stagger, and her hold on the thing slipped a fraction. It scrabbled, but it was too late. The Oncles descended on him, snarling, but it was the Tantes who ripped his limbs free with heaving cracks, giving mercy as only the Moon’s daughters could. They gave life, like the Moon—so that mercy was theirs to give, and they granted it.
The cousins clustered around, a solid wall blocking the awful sight, their voices lifted in savage song.
Later, she heard that when they ripped the clan cuff away, the rash turned out to be from a long, thin spiraling wound on his wrist. As if he’d wrapped a thin jangling silver thing around and around it, and pulled the clan cuff tight enough to make the collar cut his skin.
Ruby sagged. Thorne was still coming, stepping through the hollyhocks, crushing the dying marigolds, paying no attention to the rosebushes, just walking right through them, straight for her.
But it was Ellie who grabbed Ruby and spun her around. She shook her, once, twice, hard. Then Ruby was enveloped in a hug full of ice and wildness, Potential and Ellie’s peculiar blue-tinged smell, sort of like the scented markers they gave you in fourth grade.
Cami flung her arms around them both, and it was her preternatural strength that kept them upright when Ruby’s legs turned to noodles. She crumpled, and they held her in the rain, Thorne hovering anxiously an arm’s-length away, smelling of worry and cinders.
The dam inside her broke again, and Ruby began to sob.
FORTY-ONE
THIS BLUE-WALLED ROOM IN THE FLETCHER CHARMCLAN mansion was familiar, if only because little marks of Ellie’s personality were scattered all through it, from the shelf of heavy-duty tomes on charming theory to the cerulean scarves draped over the headboard of the wide, soft bed.
“It was Thorne.” Cami hovered near the small, obviously antique, white-painted vanity, watching Ruby’s face, anxiously. Her skin glowed in the warm golden light, and there was no trace of the sharp canines she’d shown earlier.
Ellie rubbed at Ruby’s hair with the towel, gentle and brisk. “It was kind of a shock to get a call from him, and he was so furious nothing made much sense. Livvie did some locate-charming—”
“Only because you were going to do it yourself if I didn’t.” Livvie Fletcher, Avery’s mother, folded her arms and gave Ellie a stern look. When she did that, you could see that she was older, and you could also see an echo of Avery in her high cheekbones and soft dark hair with its stubborn curl over her forehead. “Though I couldn’t get a lock on Ruby until this evening. Which distresses me.”
“I was hiding,” Ruby said blankly. In Juno’s boiler room. Nobody could have found her behind those walls.
She tried not to look in the mirror. She’d never shifted in front of them before, and uneasy relief warred with fresh worry. Ellie had shoved her into the scrubbed-clean white bathroom, and a hot shower would have been heavenly, except Ruby cried, softly, all through it. Not sobbing, just . . . leaking. Again.
“Hiding so well none of our clan could find you?” Mrs. Fletcher’s tone was a question, but she didn’t push. “Ellie took the charm-pendulum when it started twitching.”
“I stole it,” Ellie supplied, almost cheerfully. “I knew something bad was going to happen, and I left a note. But I suspect I’m grounded for it.”
“We’ll talk about that later. Avery’s furious you didn’t take him.”
“He was asleep. He was out all night looking for Rube.” Ellie didn’t look like the prospect of being grounded filled her with dread. She started combing Ruby’s wet hair with gentle, efficient strokes. “Cami picked me up, and we just followed the pendulum. It’s a good thing, too.”
“I’m sor—” Ruby began immediately, but Ellie tugged at her hair. Very gently.
“Stop that. Why didn’t you say something? We knew something wasn’t right, but you wouldn’t talk.” Ellie’s eyebrows had drawn together, and she looked almost fierce.
“F-for a change.” Cami shrugged when Ellie rolled her eyes. “Do you know how s-scary that was?”
Ruby hunched her shoulders. “I was trying . . . Gran wanted me to be . . . different.”
“Are you kidding? She’s so proud of you.” Ellie finished combing, stepped back to examine her work, and nodded once. “Okay, let’s get you some clothes. You can’t go anywhere in a bathrobe.” She bounded away, across the room, toward a cherrywood wardrobe that looked big enough to hide a small country in.
“It probably wouldn’t matter,” Ruby muttered.
Livvie Fletcher’s gaze was kind, and worried as Gran’s sometimes was. “Your uncle—Efraim, I think? He’s downstairs waiting to take you to the hospital. That’s where Thorne is, I gather. He’s a nice boy, very polite.”
Since when? She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him—they had whisked her away, Cami piloting the Spyder through slackening rain while Ellie huddled in the back with Ruby,
hugging so hard Ruby could barely breathe.
I need to go home, she’d moaned, empty of everything but shock and the idea that she had to start cleaning up.
No you don’t, Ellie had replied, fiercely. You need help, and you’re going to get it. Don’t argue.
“Ruby?” Cami, shyly. “C-can you . . . what was that?”
That was the question she’d been dreading. “Conrad,” she whispered. Even the name raised gooseflesh on her arms, under the soft, comfortable indigo bathrobe that smelled of Ellie and comfort. “He . . . he was sick. Taboo. He . . .”
“Don’t.” Mrs Fletcher was suddenly right next to her. She bent down, and the hug was awkward even though Ruby could tell she meant to help. “Now isn’t the time. I’m going to go tell your uncle you’re getting ready. The police will be at the hospital. You’re going to be all right, Ruby.”
Ruby nodded, and the silence that fell when Livvie Fletcher left was full of awkward edges.
“Thank Mithrus.” Ellie grabbed a handful of clothes. “Cami, you want something to wear? That’s all wet.”
“I’m f-fine.” The Vultusino girl wouldn’t look away from Ruby’s face, which felt strange. Twitchy, as if she was shifting. “I’ve n-never seen you l-like that, Ruby.”
Ruby shut her eyes. Of course. What were they going to—
“Me neither.” Ellie padded toward her. “It was beautiful. I mean, scary as fuck, but beautiful.”
“Gorgeous,” Cami said firmly, and when Ruby opened her eyes she met Cami’s blue gaze squarely. “I loved the way your eyes glowed. Don’t you ever d-do that again, R-Ruby. We were scared. W k-kept trying to figure out how to help you—”
“She was trying to protect us.” Ellie, matter of fact, held up a thick black jumper. “I’d loan you panties, but that is just . . . well, I mean, unless you absolutely need—”
Ruby’s mouth twitched. A slow, delighted grin spread across Cami’s face.
It was no use. She couldn’t hold back the laughter. It spilled out, a little screamy and breathless, but with her friends laughing too, you couldn’t hear it, even with a kin’s ears.
All you could hear was love.
PART V:
THE WOODSMAN
FORTY-TWO
THE WAITING ROOM SEEMED A LITTLE SMALLER NOW. Ruby hunched, still shivering even though she was in dry clothes and Thorne’s jacket was draped over her shoulders. The chair was hard and uncomfortable, but she was dry, at least. There was no way one of Ell’s bras would fit her, but there was a soft cashmere jumper and jeans that should have been a little snug, but weren’t because Ruby was thinner.
When had that happened?
“Adam Tiercey.” Thorne was right next to her, perched on a chair just like hers. The fishtank burbled, and the nurses were giving them some odd looks.
Of course the rest of the waiting area was jammed with kin, Oncles and Tantes, and most of them looked angry. All of them were spotted with rain, and though the nurses probably couldn’t smell the blood, something deep and atavistic might have been warning them.
Ruby stared at the carpet between her feet. She felt exhausted. Hollowed out.
Ell even had a pair of trainers that fit her, and dry socks. Her feet still felt damp, though. “Is that his name?”
“Yeah. Rootfamily. Conrad’s twin, the younger one.” Thorne’s hand twitched, as if he wanted to touch her. Between them was a tiny little table holding two ancient yellowed magazines, both with grinning housewives on the cover. “He turned out to be a little . . . unsteady.”
“I guess.” She blinked, exhaustion turning everything into a leaden, unsurprising soup. Cami had to go home, and Ell was probably at this moment being read the riot act for getting into another crazy-dangerous situation. “How did . . .”
“Clanmother suspected something off when he showed up without a sub to clean his boots. She and that detective—Haelan—”
That managed to rouse her. “I told him it wasn’t you.”
“What?”
“I told him there was no way you would have done anything like that.” She didn’t look up, but she could feel his gaze on her. He leaned over a little farther. If he kept going like that, he’d probably end up on the teensy table between them.
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Haelan took me to the train station. Clanmother gave me a ticket to New Avalon. I went to go find out, she wanted it done quietly. And I think she wanted me out of the way.”
Maybe. Or she wanted you not to show up dead in the Park, too. “You went all the way to New Avalon?”
“Just told you I did.” He let out a sharp breath, almost a sigh. “Found out Adam and Conrad boarded the train together. Nobody’s heard from Conrad since. One of the conductors remembered a pair of guys at the Vairshall station, about halfway between here and New Avalon. Said one guy looked like he was drunk, and they went into the station house. Grimtree’s Clanmother sent a few of their cousins up there, they got off in Vairshall and looked around. Funny thing was, Adam was collared to keep him stable, they also thought some of our kin might be able to help him, teach him how to control himself. Wonder how he got it off.” He paused. “You . . . you want some coffee? Something to eat? You’re pretty pale.”
There are probably all sorts of ways to take a collar off. On a train, there would be no place for the real Conrad to hide the key. Or if he was buzzy on liquor, or asleep, maybe he hadn’t kept track of it as well as he could? Or maybe he’d been talked into taking the collar off for just a few minutes, because they were brothers, after all. . . .
She shook her head slightly. She’d probably never know. “You came back on the train. When?”
“Just got in, actually. Oncle Efraim met me at the station, told me Clanmother was sick, then it all made sense.”
“What did?”
“Well . . . they found Conrad. The real Conrad, I mean.”
Murmurs of conversation around them. Tante Alissa kept glancing over at Thorne, a line between her eyebrows. Had she believed him responsible for Hunter’s . . . death?
Her throat was dry. “They . . . found him?”
“Yeah. He’d been stuffed in a dustbin about two blocks from the station, probably hadn’t been opened since the Reeve. The lock was torn off. His body . . . well, he’d been poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” She dropped her head forward again, because Oncle Efraim was looking at her. His mouth was thin, turned down at the corners. He hadn’t said a word the whole way here.
“Aconite.” Thorne’s fingers twisted together.
But that’s . . . “Wolfsbane,” she heard herself say, and a laugh bubbled up in her throat. Died away on a tide of sourness. “We can’t smell it as well.” It’d be easy to slip in a drink. Or train food, it’s supposed to be nasty. Then he could take the key and . . . She shuddered.
“Yeah. Tox screens came back positive for it, so the Grimtree Clanmother started calling around down here. Adam had been calling as both of them, I guess he was pretty good at it. Mimicking his brother. According to them, everything was just fine, but then . . . silence. She finally got Oncle Zech on the wire, and things started to come together. So when I got back there was the good old detective waiting for me with Oncle Efraim, and a couple cousins too. They told me you’d disappeared.” He cleared his throat again, harshly. “I, uh, I went a little crazy.”
“Uh-huh.” She hunched her shoulders.
“I had to make sure you were safe. I couldn’t believe they’d . . .” A deep breath. “So I called your friends, trying to find you. Nothing. I went to the Clanmother’s looking for you, or for your trail, or anything. He was gone, but I found his ID in his wallet. And there was something under his bed. A hachet. Silver chasing on the . . . on the blade.”
Her gorge rose, briefly, pointlessly. Oh, God. “That’s what he used on the . . .” The girls. Mithrus. And Hun
ter, that was why the body was . . . scorched.
“Yeah.”
A long silence stretched between them. Everything made sense now. Finally, Ruby wet her dry lips, a quick nervous flutter of her tongue. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything.” He sounded baffled, and he leaned over a bit more. He was going to fall out of the chair if this kept up. “The reason I went to the Clanmother in the first place was because of . . . of Hunter.”
“Hunter,” she repeated, to keep him talking. Her arm muscles twitched a little, burnt out. Even though the cuts and clawmarks had healed, there was still a deep ache left behind everywhere the thing had managed to get her.
“Hunt swore up and down that it wasn’t the real Conrad, that it was probably his twin. He said he remembered both of them, even that long ago, and Hunt just knew. He was absolutely certain, and I brushed it off. Told him he just didn’t like competition. He . . . I think he went to meet this Adam guy in the Park and . . . Ruby.”
He slid off his seat and was on his knees in front of her. He had her hands, lying limp and discarded in her lap, and peered up into her face, her hair brushing his forehead and cheeks.
This close, she could see the circles under his eyes, and the piercing of his gaze had grown more intense, if that was possible. “It was my fault.” Low, and fierce. “I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry. If I’d believed Hunt, none of this would have happened. He’d be alive, and you’d be safe, and . . . I just didn’t . . . Ruby, I’m sorry. You’re not ever gonna forgive me. I know that, I’m okay with it, I just . . . I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
The massive injustice of it stung her, giving her a small flush of energy. “It’s not your fault.” Her hands came back to life, grabbed his, and squeezed. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. I covered for Conra—for whoever he was. I thought Hunter was maybe waiting in the Park for me to sneak out. I kept my mouth shut every time Conr—Adam did anything. I should have seen everything before.”