Garden of Dreams and Desires - Kristen Painter Page 0,78
was going to turn and run.
Giselle pointed a finger at her. “Hold still, Sister.”
Zara froze from the waist down. She grabbed her leg, tried to move it and failed.
Giselle walked to her, shaking her head in obvious disappointment. “All this time, we were thinking what a burden you’d taken upon yourself. How dear you were to shoulder the weight of prepping for this spell. All the while, you were ready to serve us up if that’s what it took.”
“No.” Zara shook her head frantically. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I never planned for this to happen. If I hadn’t given your soul to the pond, we all would have died.”
“You’re only saying you’re sorry because you think it’s what we want to hear.” Giselle wound her hand into Zara’s hair, pulling her head back. “Too little, too late. You’ve proved you’re of no use to us. And since we can’t trust your disloyal ways, you must be dealt with.” Her black eyes gleamed. “We hate traitorous sisters.”
A low keening poured from Zara’s lips. Branches swayed toward the pair. “Don’t do this, Giselle. Forgive me. Let me live. I’ll never go against you again. I promise to serve you and do whatever you want.”
“You had already promised those things when you said you’d support us as high priestess, and look how that turned out.” Giselle sighed. “No, I’m sorry. You are a traitor, just like father was. He had to die and now, so do you.”
Perhaps fear gave Zara courage because she seemed to stiffen with defiance. “Did you kill him, too, Giselle? Did you drown him in his own pool?”
Giselle smiled that horrible, toothy grin. “We helped him in that direction, yes.”
Zara said something Augustine didn’t understand, a spell in Latin maybe. Vines burst out of the ground around Giselle’s feet. They crawled up her body, binding her.
Giselle spoke a single word and the vines withered and fell away. She looked at Zara and shook her head. “You tire us.” In one swift move, she snapped Zara’s neck.
Zara’s body fell lifeless to the ground. Giselle turned to face Ian. “Drag her body into the house.”
He nodded like an automaton, eyes as blank as a doll’s. It was as if fear had rendered him numb to everything else.
“Good.” Giselle started for the house. “As soon as you’ve done that, you will come with us to the French Quarter house. This property must be destroyed.”
“Wha-what about the bodies in the pond?” he managed to gasp out.
She whipped around. “What about them?”
“Aren’t you concerned that they’ll be traced back to you?”
“No. This will all be on Zara’s head. It will be clear that she was attempting something she shouldn’t and died as a result of it. Her body will be found in the ashes of the house and that will be that. Are you concerned for another reason? Something we should know about?”
He shook his head but looked utterly unconvinced. “No.”
“No, what?”
“No, my Lady?”
“Very good, Ian.” With that horrible, toothy smile stretching her face, Giselle strode out of Augustine’s sight and into the house.
Chapter Nineteen
Harlow’s heart ached with the horrifying loss of Cy, but along with that ache came anger. The kind that made her care not about the consequences, only the results. “We can’t leave Cy’s body here,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t leave one of us.”
“Agreed,” Dulcinea replied, the cry in her voice echoing the pain in Harlow’s soul.
“As soon as Giselle and Ian leave,” Augustine added.
“She’s going to set the house on fire,” Harlow hissed back. Below, Ian lifted Zara and carried her into the house. Her head lolled at an unnatural angle.
“I know, but we’ll have time. There’s no way it’ll reach the second floor before we can get down.” His gaze was fixed on Ian as well. “Once we’re on the ground I’ll get Cy and the senator’s son out of the pond while you and Dulce see if you can put out the fire.”
Dulcinea pulled her LMD out. “We should call the cops.”
“So Giselle can kill them, too?” Augustine shook his head. “We’ve had enough death. Let her and Ian leave, then I’ll call Fenton and Grantham.”
Dulcinea tucked her LMD back in her pocket. “You’re the boss.”
“I smell smoke,” Harlow said. She looked at Augustine. “And for once, it’s not you.”
The sound of doors closing, first the house, then the car, reached them. Augustine shifted, lifting up slightly, his gaze tracking something down below. “And… they’re gone. Let’s go.”