Page 35 of Poison Nights & Twilight Alchemy

His mouth was close to hers now, and Reed swore his heart would soon tear his chest open. His fingers made their way up her back, to her neck, until they wereentwined in her hair, and Dulce, instead of pulling away from him, inched closer, her eyes never leaving his. Her lips were so near that he could feel their beguiling warmth.

That was when the screaming began.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DULCE

Dulce broke away from Reed and whirled around as the screaming grew louder. Thick smoke filled the air in gusts of black, accompanied by yellow flashes of light streaking within the night, illuminating faces, their skeletons visible through their skin before their bodies collapsed to the ground.

“Don’t tell me the world’s endingnow,” Reed said, his eyes wide.

“I should hope not.” Yet Dulce had no idea—there was nothing she’d read in her mother’s book that illustrated this, whatever this horror was.

A woman near a collection of rose bushes shrieked inpain when crimson flames shot from the smoke and caressed her flesh, leaving boils bubbling across her arm.

Dulce struggled to think of a conjuration to help dispel this nightmare, but she didn’t have anything in her satchel that could combat this.

“Why is this happening?” a bald man screamed in confusion as the wind snapped like a whip around them, snuffing out the row of lanterns and overturning a table of food.

Lightning cracked, its veiny glowing web illuminating the fright across the crowd’s faces. Reed grasped Dulce by the hand and drew her out of harm’s way when a large branch snapped and fell from a gnarled oak.

The Duke stepped forward to stand before the ailing Tree of Life and held up his arms, a stone glowing an iridescent hue at his throat within a glass orb on a golden chain. He closed his eyes, moving his lips, and the stray magic stilled. Soon, the crowd quieted except for the sounds of heavy breathing and a few cries.

“All is well,” the Duke bellowed, lowering his arms to his sides. “As you can see, I have been granted the power to protect Alder Bay.”

Dulce gasped, and Reed pulled her close, his gaze full of concern. “La Bisou Morte isn’t working for the Duke,” she whisper-shouted at him. “The Duke works for her!” She recalled one of the passages in her mother’s book about stones of pearlescent crystals and how only witches could produce them. A wearer who wasn’t a witch—such as the Duke—meant they belonged to the maker.

“Does it matter who works for who?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “It means the witch is much more dangerous and powerful than we thought.”

Reed frowned. “And so I imagine that he most definitely will not tell us where she is.”

“We don’t need him to tell us.” Dulce smiled. Finally, they would have a clear plan. “If we can get that necklace, we can locate the witch ourselves.”

He arched a brow. “Locate her … how?”

“With the help of alchemy in my mother’s book,” she explained.

“Mm, so should you or I flirt with the Duke to steal it?” He smirked. “With so many enforcers lingering around his lumpish loutness, this could be challenging...”

The ground shook suddenly, the oak’s roots lifting with an ear-splitting crack as the trunk smashed to the earth. A creak then stirred from a conifer as the flowers along the Tree of Life’s bark moved, its gray-speckled roots slithering from the ground like tentacles. The crowd turned frantic once more. Fear stormed through Dulce at the thought that soon her mother’s tree, if it hadn’t already, could turn into this if she didn’t find La Bisou Morte and make her undo her wretched spell.

A woman wearing lacy layers of sapphire fabric shoved into Dulce, tearing her away from Reed, and she fell to the ground hard. She gasped, trying to rise through the stampede of running guests, but there were too many. A pudgy man nearly stomped on her stomach in his clumsy panic before she was finally able to scurry back, her hands stinging with the effort, her dress unraveling, and she staggered to her feet.

Securing her gown around her, Dulce pushed through the sea of costumes, shoved helplessly along with the current of terror-struck bodies, her thoughts too jumbled to think clearly. Only one thought repeated in her mind.Find Reed.

“Mrs. Jones Taylor!” Reed yelled off to her right, using her false name, and she sighed in relief.

Just as she opened her mouth to call for him, a callused hand grabbed Dulce’s arm and yanked her backward.

“Unhand me!” she seethed, slapping blindly, and the grip on her slackened.

“You’re not my wife.” A middle-aged man realized, removing his arm from her, his expression dazed. “Apologies, she has hair just like yours.” His eyes were frantic as he searched for his wife.

Dulce turned, a flash of golden hair near the stone bird baths catching her eye, where a woman stood alone, holding her middle, trembling in apparent fear. “Is that her?” she shouted, pointing in the woman’s direction.

He didn’t answer, only dodged through the fleeing throng of partygoers to reach the woman. Dulce focused on finding Reed, wishing he still had his ivory hair so he’d be easier to locate. No more wild magic erupted, but the crowd continued to depart, shaken, taking the injured along, and leaving the dead.

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