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For a tense fifteen minutes or so, the three of us stand there. An occasional gust of wind blows from the tunnel, smelling of mildew and wet clay.
Siaka and I steal a look at each other, and Maurice taps the hilt of his sword, reminding us what will happen if either of us makes a move. Siaka looks devastated, as though someone has just died. Which, I’m sure it must feel like—his cousin just stole the birthright his dead mother gave him.
Finally, there’s a sound of footsteps from the tunnel, and Liv appears in the opening, holding her bag up victoriously. “Look, Reece! I have them,” she says to Maurice. “All five books.”
“That’s my girl,” he says, lips twisted in a cruel smile.
She steps through the magical doorway as nonchalantly as if she were exiting a subway. “Let’s go!” she says impatiently, pointedly avoiding looking at me and Siaka.
“We’re not quite done yet.” Maurice’s words are like lava, hot and glowing with malice.
“What do you mean?” Liv replies. “We have the books and the gift.”
“Yes, but the gift won’t work for my purposes until you’re transformed,” he replies.
Her brow furrows. “Transformed into what?
“You want to be the numa Flame-finger? You have to be a numa first.”
Liv looks confused. “And?”
“You might not be clear about the fine print,” Maurice says. “To become a numa, you must betray someone to their death. You took the first step by bringing your cousin here and stealing his gift. Now all that’s left is the part where he dies. Would you like to do the honor, or should I?”
“Wait a minute,” Liv says, with a haunted expression. “I agreed to the betrayal part, though it should have been my gift in the first place. Whatever. But you swore you wouldn’t hurt Siaka.”
“Technically speaking, it will be so fast, it won’t hurt him. Not much, at least.” Maurice lifts the knife and aims it at Siaka’s head.
“No!” Liv and I yell as one. But while she freezes, my reaction is immediate.
Lunging down, I scoop up my sword and swing it hard, knocking the knife from his hand. It lands with a thud on the ground a few feet away.
“You are starting to annoy me,” he growls, drawing his sword and thrusting it my way. I squeeze the hilt tightly to keep his powerful stroke from knocking my blade to the ground.
“Run!” I yell and brandish my weapon toward Maurice. In my peripheral vision, I see Siaka charge toward Liv. He attempts to pull her away.
“Stop it!” Liv yells, twisting to break free.
Siaka shoves her behind him, shielding her with his body. “You idiot! He plans on killing you right after he kills me!”
“Her death will only be temporary,” Maurice replies calmly. He spins sideways and deals me another heavy blow. I skip backwards and his sword strikes the ground with enough force to send up a spray of dirt and pebbles.
“You don’t know she’ll turn into a numa.” I back away, readying myself for another round. “Gaspard says it’s impossible to detect if someone’s predisposed to become a revenant.”
“Well, he doesn’t have access to the same source materials Violette did,” Maurice says. He charges toward me, initiating another violent round of sparring. I’m just able to keep the pace.
Maurice pulls back and pauses. Sweat gleams on his brow. He looks me up and down, like he’s searching for a chink in my non-existent armor.
“What exactly did Violette tell you?” I ask.
His lips form a twisted smile. “She said that if a Flame-finger dies betraying someone to their death, they become a numa. Automatically. Finding one to join her was in Violette’s plans. Bran’s mother refused her and... Well, you know the outcome. But while Violette didn’t live long enough to find another willing Flame-finger, I did.” Then, moving so quickly I don’t have time to react, he shifts his sword to his left hand, draws a dagger from beneath his coat, and throws it.
“No!” I yell. I lunge to protect Siaka, but it’s too late.
The blade flies and lodges so deeply into his chest that only the hilt is visible. His mouth opens, his eyes grow wide, and he lets out a groan.
Liv shoves Siaka forward. “Get out of my way!”
Siaka keels over, falling in slow-motion. He lands on his knees, propping himself up with one hand and pressing the other to his chest, as if checking to see if the knife is actually there.
“What’s wrong with you?” Liv says. But she freezes when she spots blood pooling on the ground beneath him. And then she sees the knife. “What the fuck!” she screams at Maurice. Throwing herself down next to Siaka, she scrambles to help him lie down.
The ensuing second of silence is split by an anguished cry. It’s only when I’m running toward Maurice, sword raised, that I realize the cry is coming from me. I swing my weapon furiously. I don’t even think about what moves to take, my anger propels me forward. Maurice’s sneer disappears, and now he’s really fighting.
It’s as intense as the three-way sparring with Ambrose and Gaspard, but with only one foe. And maybe because this thought is in my mind, when a voice appears, I recognize it as Gaspard’s disembodied spirit and don’t miss a move.
Hold him off. I’ve told the others what’s happening. They’re on their way.
The news that my kindred will be arriving acts like kindling to my flame, and I’m gaining on Maurice when something whizzes by me and strikes him on the forehead. I back up, keeping my blade lifted, as we both turn to see where the missile came from.
Siaka is lying on his back, eyes closed, pressing Liv’s wadded-up T-shirt to the wound. She stands a few feet in front of him, stripped down to her tank top. Her face is red with fury. In one hand she clutches a couple of stones and in the other she holds the bloody knife. She chucks another rock at Maurice, missing this time, and screams, “What the hell! You probably killed him, you psychopath!”
Maurice’s sneer returns. “That was actually the point,” he says. Then, turning his attention back to me, his eyes widen in shock as I thrust my dagger deep into his side. He looks down at it and roars.
Releasing the hilt, I sprint toward Siaka. Throwing myself down, I kneel over him. “Are you okay?” I gasp.
His face is pale. His shirt is sopping with blood. “I’ll be fine,” he says through clenched teeth. His eyes are glazed with tears.
“You don’t look okay.” I carefully lift the bunched-up cloth he’s holding to his chest. The wound is deep, and from the amount of blood pumping out of it, I’m guessing his heart was pierced.
He shakes his head as if it doesn’t matter. “Don’t let him kill Liv. Get her through...” He stops and squeezes his eyes shut, before forcing them open again. He searches my face.
“What? Get her through what?”
And then I understand.
I hear a roar from behind me and turn to see Maurice marching furiously toward us like that robot cop in Terminator. The red stain on his shirt is proof I wounded him, but it obviously wasn’t bad enough to stop him.
I scramble to my feet. Aiming carefully, I fling my dagger toward Maurice.
With his attention on Liv, Maurice doesn’t see it coming. It lodges deep into his bicep, but he doesn’t even flinch. Yanking it out with his left hand, he hurls it back in my direction. It whizzes past me, and I exhale in relief. Then I realize he wasn’t aiming for me. I turn and see the knife planted in Siaka’s neck. His eyes are wide and unblinking.
Liv stares aghast, heedless to the fact that Maurice is heading toward her with sword drawn. I pick myself up and run straight for her, desperately trying to reach her before Maurice. And when I do, I ram her like a linebacker, plowing her toward the doorway in the rock. As we reach it, I give her a shove, and she stumbles through, falling to the ground inside the tunnel entrance.
For me, touching the invisible force field is like hitting an electrified fence. A sharp current courses through me as the magical entrance repels me. I pitch backward, landing on my back on the ground.
And that is how I’m lying when Maurice steps up into my line of vision, sword raised above his head, point aimed at my chest. With a roar, he plunges the blade downward, driving its tip through my heart. My chest explodes with pain, and my body convulses with the shock. My vision floods with black, like ink spilling over glass. And then I am gone.