Criminy was at my side in a heartbeat, holding my hand with both his own. “Are you all right, love?”
“The baby—” I started, and he shook his head.
“I’m worried about you now. The world’s full of babies.”
“But—”
From the ground came a strange, mad sound: Merissa laughing.
Criminy let loose my hand and turned to her slowly. “Why won’t you die?” he asked, exasperated.
She sat up, put a hand on either side of her face, and twisted her head until it was facing forward, although something about it was still eerily skewed. Clearing her throat, she said, “I told you, Stain. I’m a necromancer now. You can’t kill me. I possess—”
“No,” he said simply. He bent over, and with the knife I’d pulled from my side—the same knife he’d put in her throat—he slit her neck open from ear to ear.
“Finish it this time,” I muttered.
“Damn skippy,” my grandmother added.
With a dark look between them, Criminy and Torno grabbed Merissa’s arms, dragged her into the witch’s workroom, and threw her thrashing body onto the scarred wooden table. After her first scream, someone stuffed something in her mouth, and the door closed. The sounds I heard—sawing and wet thumps—were too much. I was going to throw up if I had to keep taking it all in.
“I’m going to pass out now, Nana,” I said.
“Go right ahead, sugar. You’ve earned it.”
23
When I woke up, I was curled on the witch’s sofa under a mound of dusty blankets. The fire burned just as cheerfully, smokeless and cold. Across from me, Hepzibah the witch was awake and tied to the wingback chair with the golden rope that Merissa had used to bind Criminy. The magician himself was flat on the ground at my side, still clutching my hand in sleep as the knife slices on his face faded to pink scars.
“Do you know what else I saw in your cards?” Hepzibah said, a cruel smile on her lips.
“I don’t want to know.” I let go of Criminy’s hand and gently placed it on his chest before cautiously sitting up, one hand to my belly. The wound hurt, and I was sore inside, but I’d know if the baby was gone, wouldn’t I? Did predators bleed or just reabsorb their losses? I’d barely lived through a miscarriage on Earth, and I was terrified of the emotional and physical desolation it would put me through on any world.
“I can tell you the truth of it, if you like.” Her eyes shot to my belly and back to my face, taunting.
I stood and walked over to her, feeling fragile in my skin. “You’re a shitty aunt, you know that? I mean, I get that you’re a mean old witch and a vampire and you tricked me fair enough before either of us knew we were kin, but what’s your problem now? Why do you want to hurt me so much?”
She shrugged. “I have my reasons. You’ll understand one day. Probably soon.”
And then, like a mad-crazy bitch, she started whistling an off-key song.
“Oh, sweet Aztarte,” Criminy groaned, sitting up and plugging his ears with his fingers. “Will she never stop torturing me? I should’ve left her for the bunnies.” Then he looked up, keen, at the witch. “Speaking of, how did you come to join forces with my darling Merissa?”
Hepzibah giggled. “I was traveling, and she came to me for some powders. We found a shared interest. As it turns out, we both have trouble getting rid of pesky Stains.”
I looked around the witch’s lair. “Where are Ruby and Torno?”
“Distributing bits of Merissa to impossible places,” Criminy said, standing and putting an arm around my shoulder.
“Good,” I said. “Because I’ve got a score to settle, and I’m guessing my grandmother wouldn’t agree with what I’m about to do.”
Hepzibah cocked her head. “Sororicide? Aunticide? You don’t scare me, kid. Besides, you glanced on my death. You know how it’ll end.”
I laughed, one hand to my belly. I’d seen so much over the years, little flashes of lives both happy and sad, of moments quiet and loud and terrifying and beautiful. And yes, I had seen her death when I touched her hand and lost five years of my life. Because of this woman, or whatever she was, the last six years had been a slow death, a constant worry, a heavy tread toward a choice I wasn’t ready to make. All because she couldn’t handle getting old, all because she wanted to be beautiful and powerful and didn’t care whom she hurt on the way there. And for what? Ruling this pathetic underground lair, alone with her stupid clockwork lemur?
It waited patiently by her side, still and nearly silent in the manner of automatons, its eyes blinking occasionally and its tail curled up in a question mark, just like Pemberly’s did at rest. My mouth slowly curled into a smile.