Page 87 of Ivy & Bone

Prue called on Cyrus’s death magic once more, resisting the urge to cringe away from that deadly cold poison that swept through her. “Pomona Donati,” she said, her voice firm and commanding. “I summon your spirit to reunite here with your body. Be one and live.” Her magic swelled, growing more and more, until Prue felt like her body couldn’t contain it anymore. She thought the spell was done, but something inside her told her there was one last step.

Prue lifted a hand to her mouth, biting down hard until she tasted blood. Then, she brought the blood to the imposter’s chest. “Renovo!” she cried, just as an almighty boom shook the earth. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sky, and a clap of thunder rattled Prue’s bones.

Nothing happened. Prue sat there, drenched from the rain and still covered in blood, cradling her sister’s body. The foreigner inside Mona only stared vacantly, unmoving and emotionless.

“Come on!” Prue growled. Every part of her ached, throbbing from the intensity of the magic around her. She was spent. The adrenaline from the fight had vanished, and now she was ready to collapse and sob in frustration. This had to work. It had to.

From the corner of her eye, Prue caught movement. Her gaze snapped to the Book of Eyes, its pages whipping in the wind as it somehow magically stayed dry amidst the storm. Prue’s heart lurched as she remembered what Cyrus had said aboard the ship taking them to Voula City.

All the souls that are lost, that are possessed or obliterated . . . What if the book absorbs them? What if those souls fuel the magic in the book?

“Goddess above,” Prue whispered, her blood chilling with realization. “Her soul is trapped inside the book!”

She lunged for it, fighting off the urge to shudder away from it, to remain as far from that cursed grimoire as possible. She slammed her bloodied hand onto its pages, and her whole body lurched as if the book was trying to suck her in, too. Gritting her teeth, Prue crammed her eyes shut, wrenching herself and her magic away from the book’s influence. In her mind, she could hear the screams of the souls trapped within.

But she only needed one.

Pomona Donati, she thought, too afraid to use her own voice for fear it would break her concentration. I summon thee. She focused on Mona’s face, her brightened expression when she discovered something new about her magic, the high-pitched laugh that echoed in the air when she couldn’t control her giggles . . .

Next to her, Mona inhaled a deep, shuddering gasp. A wispy white form hovered over her before sinking lower and lower, vanishing entirely into the girl’s body. Light ignited in Mona’s sea-foam eyes, her face gaining color and her mouth hanging open in shock.

“Prue?” she whispered, glancing around in confusion.

Prue’s face crumpled, and she pulled her sister into a tight embrace, weeping into her shoulder. Mona softly patted her back, pressing her face into Prue’s chest.

“It’s all right, Prue,” Mona said. “I’m here. I’m alive.”

CONSUMED

CYRUS

Something was wrong. Cyrus could feel it. The coldness had completely taken over his body, numbing him as if he were dying of frostbite.

Surely, Prue’s healing spell couldn’t have drained him that much . . .

But no, this was something more. Something else. He’d sensed it since that morning, when he’d summoned his magic for the first time since bonding with Prue.

For several minutes, he lay there against the rocks and debris, unable to move, unable to muster any strength at all. Perhaps he would just die here, a feeble death.

But then he caught sight of something shifting in the rubble. Gaia, perhaps? No, he’d heard Prue shouting at her, had heard the goddess’s silence indicating Prue had bested her. Not that Cyrus was surprised.

No, this was someone else. Something else.

Distantly, he heard Prue sobbing. He had to move. To get up. To do something.

Gritting his teeth so hard his head throbbed, Cyrus pushed off the rocks, the sharp edges cutting into his palms. But the pain brought a burst of clarity to his mind, and he clung to it, relishing the metallic scent of his blood. His senses sharper, he staggered to his feet, then went perfectly still.

It was Vasileios, wriggling along the ground like a serpent, drawing closer and closer to Prue and—

Gods above. It was Mona. Even Cyrus could tell she was different, no longer wearing that hollow and empty expression. Her eyes were vibrant, and they crinkled in the same way Prue’s did when she smiled. Her mouth curved into a delighted smile as she held her sister’s hands. They only saw each other. They did not see the oldest prince of Hell drawing closer to them.

Cyrus wanted to shout, but cold fatigue had him frozen in place. He was too tired to even shiver.

Vasileios was only a few steps away from them now. In the darkness, the gleam of a dagger glinted against a flash of lightning. Vasileios would stab one of the twins—or both of them—if Cyrus didn’t interfere.

Death magic, come to my aid, he pleaded. One last time. I swear it.

The darkness in him seemed to laugh at his request. But before Cyrus could sink into despair, the black fire swirled inside him, roaring to life.

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