Page 90 of Bad Blood
“No,” I said.
“Yes.”My mother circled me, the way her alter ego had earlier. “You have to fight, Cassie. One of us has to die.”
“No.” I was shaking my head and backing away from her, but I couldn’t make myself take my eyes off the knife.
You don’t have to play the game anymore. The promise I’d made my sister came back to me.Not ever again. You don’t have to be Nine.
“Take the knife, Cassie,” my mother said. “Use it.”
You do it, I thought.You kill me. I understood now why she’d asked me how sure I was that help was coming.If you thought you were dooming me to life as the Pythia, you’d give me mercy. You’d plunge your knife into my chest to save me from your fate.
But I’d told her that I was sure.
A piercing scream cut through the air. Laurel wasn’t silent now. She wasn’t stoic. She wasn’t Nine.
She’s just a baby. He’s hurting her. He’ll kill her if I don’t—
No.
“Yes,” my mother said, closing the space between us. She’d always known exactly what I was thinking. She’d known me the way only someone with our particular skill set could.
Someone who loves me, forever and ever.
“Do it,” my mother insisted, pressing her knife into my hand. “You have to, baby. You are the best thing I ever did—the only good thing I ever did. I can’t be that for Laurel, not now.” She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t panicked.
She was sure.
“But you can,” she continued. “You can love her. You can be there for her. You can get out of here, and you can live. And to do that…” She placed her left hand over my right hand, guiding the knife to her chest. “You have to kill me.”
Dancing in the snow. Curled up in her lap. Behavior. Personality. Environment.
I love you. I love you. I—
Her grip on my hand tightened. Her body blocking the motion from the Masters, she jerked me forward.My hand on the knife. Her hand on mine. I felt the blade slide into her chest. She gasped, blood blooming around the wound. I wanted to pull the knife out.
But for Laurel, I didn’t.
“Forever and ever,” I whispered, holding the knife in place. I heldher. She slumped forward, bleeding, the light beginning to drain from her eyes.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I didn’t look away. I didn’t so much as blink, not even when I heard a door slam open.
Not even when I heard Agent Briggs’s familiar voice. “Freeze!”
My mom isn’t moving. Her heart isn’t beating. Her eyes—they don’t see me. I pulled the knife out of her chest, and her body fell to the ground as FBI agents poured into the room.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Gone.
On some level, I was aware of the fact that shots were being fired. On some level, I was aware of the fact that arrests were being made. But as I stood there, the bloody knife in my hand, I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I couldn’t watch.
I couldn’t look at anything but the body.
My mother’s red hair was splayed out around her, a halo of fire against the bright white of the sand. Her lips were dry and cracked, her eyes unseeing.
“Put down the knife!” Agent Sterling’s voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. “Step away from the girl.”
It took me a moment to realize that she wasn’t talking to me. She wasn’t talking about my knife. I turned, forcing my eyes to the stands.
