The Deck of Omens (The Devouring Gray #2) - Christine Lynn Herman Page 0,108

her voice as sweet to May as honey. “What did you have in mind?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

They quarantined Justin in Isaac’s bedroom. It was brutal work, and he writhed and wailed as roots pulsed down his back.

He didn’t attack them as Violet had feared he might, but she was still worried enough about his mental state to remove everything from the room he could possibly use to hurt either himself or others. When they were done, there was hardly anything left besides the mattress he was lying on, wincing at the ceiling.

“It’s not… going so well,” he murmured. He was drifting in and out?—sometimes it was the Beast in there, sometimes it was Justin. Violet was all too familiar with the feeling.

“You have to fight it,” she said. “You’re still you. It’s still your mind. I promise.”

“I’m… sorry,” he croaked, locking eyes with her. “Wanted… to change things. But not like this.”

“I know,” Violet said. And she did know. “You saved me when the Church kidnapped me. Now we’re going to save you, okay?”

Outside the room, she found herself pacing back and forth in the kitchen, wrecked with exhaustion. Orpheus rubbed against her legs in a futile attempt to comfort her, but she was far beyond that.

Things had moved so fast, she’d had very little time to process what Juniper had told her?—or to worry about her. Now she let it all surge through her, utterly overwhelmed by its harshness. She had no idea where her mother was or if she was all right. And their last moments together before they’d been separated by the corruption had been a fight.

Violet was sad that Juniper hadn’t told her the truth earlier, but she also understood the rationale behind her mother’s lie. She had to believe for her own sanity that soon they’d get the chance to talk all this out in person.

For now, she had to focus. Justin was sick, and Richard had May in his clutches. They knew how to save them both, but the battle to come would not be easy.

She had the feeling that, one way or another, this fight would be her last.

Harper did not know how to say goodbye. She’d asked for a few minutes alone in the quarantine room, and it felt pathetic to spend them clutching her sword and choking back tears next to her not-quite-boyfriend. But the sight of him wincing with pain on Isaac’s bare mattress was too much for her to bear. It had occurred to her many times that their lives were in danger. But never before had it felt so immediate. They were so fragile, all of them, and Harper hated that the feeling she’d had at the lake had come to pass. That she hadn’t been able to save him after all.

Justin’s blond hair was slicked back against his forehead, his skin sweaty and discolored from the corruption. Nobody had bothered to put his shirt back on, so Harper could see every root wriggling beneath his arms and burrowing deeper into his abdomen.

“You asshole,” she whispered, staring at his slightly parted lips. “You should have told us you were sick. You should have let us try to help you?—”

“Harper.” His eyes fluttered open. His voice was weak, but unmistakably his own. “I thought I heard you insulting me.”

Harper had walked into the quarantine room like it was a morgue, braced for a body that was already too far gone. Finding Justin instead, shuddering with pain but still himself, was almost worse.

“It worked,” she said softly. “You woke up.”

“It wasn’t… easy.” His eyes focused and unfocused. “But it’s a little easier… when you’re here.”

“We’re going to stop this,” she said fiercely. “We’re going to help you.”

“Don’t—” He coughed, then lifted a shaking hand to his mouth. It came away gray and glistening. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Harper realized dimly that she had lost the battle against her tears, but these were neither iridescent nor crimson?—they were ordinary, and that only made them all the more painful as they rolled down her cheeks.

“You’re going to get better,” she said, her voice rising in volume. “You’re going to be fine.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re stubborn,” Justin murmured. “Have I ever told you that?”

Harper sniffled. “I think the corruption’s reached your brain.”

“Nah.” Justin’s mouth quirked up into a half smile. “I’ve thought that… for years.”

Before she could respond, his eyes glazed over, a convulsion racking his body. When it finished, he wasn’t Justin anymore. He rose in stiff, jerky motions until he was sitting,