The Deck of Omens (The Devouring Gray #2) - Christine Lynn Herman Page 0,96

doesn’t just answer you,” Richard continued. “It listens, as it did when you changed the cards. It calls to you, even as you destroy it.”

He raised a hand.

May hit the ground with a yell as roots twined around her legs and feet, anchoring her to the soft, loamy earth. Something slithered from the corner of her eye and down her cheek?—a root, spiraling down her face like a wandering vein. It hooked on the inside of her lip. May snarled and bit it, spitting out bits of bark before they could make it down her throat. The sap inside it tasted rotten.

She struggled to no avail as the roots grabbed her wrists and yanked her forward, slamming her palm onto the nearest tree.

Dread surged through May’s stomach. She snatched her hand away from the tree?—the roots let her do that, at least?—and gaped wordlessly. Her handprint was burned into the trunk. Spreading out from it were writhing silver roots, infecting the corrupted tree even further.

With a sudden, sickening lurch, May put it all together. She’d been trying to figure out what had changed in the town to start this, when she had been the one to change things. Which meant…

“It’s me.” She could barely get the words out. “You said our powers are weak reflections of the founder powers, but the founder powers are what cause the corruption, aren’t they? And if I have Hetty’s power… I started the corruption when I decided to mess with the future.”

In front of her, Justin let out a horrified sound. She locked eyes with him and realized that he was no longer looking at her like she was something to save, but like something he would have to defeat.

It was a look that broke her heart, because she knew she deserved it.

“You did.” Richard’s voice was far too gentle, a feather when it should have been a razor’s edge. “And you should be very proud. But you must grow stronger before you can use that corruption to destroy the Beast. Before you”?—he gestured to the cauldron?—“is the essence of the forest, the power of Four Paths itself, the power that runs through your veins. I wasn’t lying. It will help you master your abilities.”

“And it will help you hurt everyone I love.”

“They don’t love you.” His voice broke on the last word, descending into a vicious growl. For a moment, the expression on his face flickered, and May saw the deep, unending fury beneath the mask he’d shown her.

“That’s not true?—”

“Look at how your brother fears you already.” His voice was soft again. “Why are you resisting when you know there’s nowhere for you to go home to, now that they know you’re the one behind the corruption? That there’s blood on your hands?”

He knelt beside her then, tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear. Wiped a smudge of grime off her face as if she were a child who’d fallen.

“You have talent, May. Talent that none of them can appreciate. Talent I gave you. So use it.”

May had grown up with the weight of the world on her shoulders?—her father’s strange expectations, her mother’s eternal disappointment, and the town’s perpetual disdain, no matter how well she performed the job she’d been born to do.

Maybe her father was right. Maybe it was too late for her to do anything but accept the fate she had so willingly led herself to.

“I’m losing patience,” her father said above her.

He waved a hand in the air, and a tree root snaked across Justin’s exposed throat. Justin let out a muffled noise of pain as it began to tighten.

It took everything May had?—but she did not flinch. Did not shudder. The only way to make him stop this would be to pretend it didn’t bother her.

“Is that what you think will do it?” she asked coolly. “Threatening Justin? You wouldn’t kill your own son.”

His grin in the light of the cauldron was ghoulish. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“That’s not true,” May said softly, as, behind them, the sounds of Justin choking began to echo through the clearing. “You killed your friends. You had children because you thought we were tools. But you taught me to be just as cruel, just as ruthless, as you.”

“You are weaker than you pretend to be,” Richard said. The roots continued to tighten around Justin’s throat. “And you cannot fool me, little Hawthorne. I’ll let him die?—but you won’t.”

The noises coming from her brother’s throat were unimaginable;