I hadn’t considered that. Those damn apples may actually bear some impact.
Arion shakes his head slowly. “Nadine backing Violet will only cause Idun to lash out at her mother’s favorites as punishment. She’d never risk it.”
“Unless Marta knows something we don’t and has leverage,” I prod. “Because that certainly sounds like Marta.”
“Violet’s going to be entangled right in the middle of this,” Vance states as his jaw grinds more.
My eyes dart to Violet when I hear her speak, her words nothing more than a tired, rasp whisper. “That feels better.”
Before Violet even gets to meet the ones she’s raised, her head lulls to the side, eyes rolling back. Emit’s gaze swings to her as her arms drop and her body goes slack in his arms.
The doll Violet stitched pops into my mind as the fog lifts, revealing the army of men and women, long forgotten, with lacing on leathery skin of varying colors.
The only one with the signature bolts jutting out horizontally from his neck is Bobo, as he emerges to the front, carrying the limp, mummified-stitch-doll Nadine.
Arthur is on his other side, with their mummified, pieced-together father in his arms.
None of their eyes even glance our way. Aside from the still-downed, mummified skin walkers, all Neopry eyes are on Violet. Emit takes a cautious step back.
Bobo’s jaw wobbles as he glances up at the sky, squinting into the sunlight that begins to peak through the clouds, as the first tear slides down his ashen cheek. His eyes close as another tear slips out…and another, and another, until his shoulders begin shaking with a silent sob. He staggers down to his knees, rocking his mother in his arms, as we all just look on in silence.
As if it sets off a wave of emotion, various others drop to their knees, as a small shower of snow starts sprinkling from the clouds that bore rain and lightning not too long ago.
Some laugh.
Some cry.
Some do both, as they all reach for the sky, feeling the soothing balm of the cold to ease the pain.
“That’s more Neoprys than I remember,” Vance murmurs under his breath. “Stay with her,” he adds to me. “Arion and I have somewhere to go.”
“Emit and I will ready Violet when she’s conscious, and we’ll meet you,” I tell him as Emit starts walking toward us, cradling Violet to him until her head is tucked under his chin.
“Leave Violet in Marta’s care. She’s safer with her than with us right now. We shouldn’t be taking her to hunt for Idun. It’s fucking stupid,” Vance bites out, even though we just took her here for us to start our chase for Idun.
He’s gone before I can argue, and Arion purses his lips as he stares in the direction I can only presume Vance went.
“We voted she’d stay with us because it was safer than leaving her on her own,” Arion points out, frowning. “He gets to veto votes on his own now?”
“Marta wasn’t an option before,” I grind out, feeling painfully like it really is a better idea.
“Marta shows up, digs up some small scraps of info on Idun, runs into us by chance, and somehow the impossible is achieved when no one was even expecting it,” Arion states so quietly I almost don’t hear it. “It’s just as possible she’s using Violet to get to Nadine.”
The sides change.
Alliances shift with each new agenda.
The rules get made up as we go.
The secrets double.
The paranoia spreads.
The suspicion mounts.
Everyone is on edge.
I say nothing as Arion backs away, but I don’t have to say it.
The smell of war is in the air. We all know it too well.
All the players just have to pick a side before it can begin.
My eyes drift from Violet to Emit, guessing he’s thinking the same thing, given the intent way he’s looking at her.
We all went and developed a weakness, and were too numb to realize just how bad this could be.
“We never should have touched her,” Emit says like he’s just come to the same conclusion.
“We’re monsters, Emit. We always do the terrible things we’re not supposed to. It’s how we became monsters,” I tell him as I turn and walk away.
I’ll not fucking give her up.
As Emit trails me, I hear him mutter, “And so it begins.”
End of book 4.