Page 142 of House of Roots and Ruin
“It’s a remarkable facsimile,” I said, looking up at the vaulted ceilings of my ancestral home. Long tentacles, brilliant with silver gilt, trailed down from its zenith and I felt a surprising burst of homesickness. “But it’s a fake. We’re still at Chauntilalie.”
Kosamaras snarled and instantly we were back among the statues. “Wretched girl.”
“Why on earth was I so afraid of you?” I wondered, daring to advance toward her.
She stepped back, unfamiliar with being the one on the retreat. “Verity…I’m on your side in all this. Forget my past indiscretions and listen to the facts at hand. You are in grave danger. You need to leave Chauntilalie and you need to leave it now. It may already be too late.”
“What’s going to happen?”
I hadn’t thought she could turn a more ghastly shade, but she paled further, visibly shaken. “They’re going to use you—use your children—as a key. A key for terrible things.”
“Tell me,” I insisted. The smaller and more wretched she looked, the more powerful I felt.
“I can’t.”
I bristled. “You can’t do much of anything, can you? We’re taught as children to fear you, to fear the Harbingers and cower before the gods, and why? I’ve seen through every one of your illusions. I’m not scared of you. I’m not scared of Gerard’s plans.Butyouare,” I said, watching her face carefully. She looked absolutely terrified. “Whatever you think is coming has you breaking into a cold sweat.”
I wanted to laugh at the absurd turnabout.
“And it should you too, little Thaumas,” she hissed, her bravado slipping. “You and that boy will create things, terrible things. Things terrible enough to bring down even the gods.”
I blinked with surprise at the first bit of actual information she’d given me. “What boy?” My stomach lurched, remembering the vicious line of dismissal striking through Gerard’s observations. “Viktor?”
Too volatile.
There were jars and jars of creations Gerard had made and not blinked twice at. Babies with horns. Babies with tentacles. Babies with too many heads and not enough eyes.
Gerard had made those things without a pause of doubt.
And yet he so feared whatever Viktor and I could spawn—
Too volatile.
“Leave,” Kosamaras insisted, grabbing at my arm, her face contrite, beseeching, even as her nails raked my flesh. “Leave now while you can.”
“He’ll just keep making more children. Finding more women.”
“None like you. You are who they fear.”
Her words struck me like a battering ram to the sternum.
The gods feared…me.
“Me?” I sputtered, indignation broiling my middle. “It’s notmewho needs to be feared. It’s him.He’sthe one who needs to be stopped.”
“Stupid girl. Just go.”
“I’m staying,” I said, my mind made up, resolution flooding through my veins and rooting me here, to this place, to Chauntilalie and the Laurents. I would see this through. It was the only way to make sure Gerard was stopped.
The wraith’s face twisted with rage. “I tried to warn you. I tried to stop this. Whatever perdition you bring upon this world, I hope it eats you first!”
A giant bolt of lightning, wide and white and sizzling with ozone, struck the giraffe statue. The answering thunder punched a hole in my chest, tearing the world apart. I covered my ears, cowering against its force.
When the air calmed down, I opened my eyes.
Sunlight had returned.
The clearing was empty.
