I figured he was welcome to keep his own secrets, so long as they didn’t hurt any of the people we care about.
But this feels like a betrayal. He’s orchestrated it so that Ihaveto show my powers. I have to out myself in front of a room full of the city’s elites, if I don’t want to watch them get torn apart by zombies.
If tonight doesn’t go the way he expects it to. If we show our cards and then it doesn’t cause a flip in the power structure of Arcanum society, then we’ll be arrested and executed by morning.
Not to mention all the people we care about are currently in harm’s way. Both here and out on the streets.
Fuck. They’re fighting literal dead things. How can any of them match up against something that’s already dead?
I stumble to a stop as soon as I reach the reception hall. I then freeze there in the shadows as I take in the scene. There’s broken glass all over the floor and a wall of people in ballgowns and dinner jackets, cowering.
There’s also an almost overwhelming stench of decay, like moldering meat that’s been left out for weeks.
An entire wall of windows is smashed to pieces, and I don’t miss the fact that there are a bunch of cameras pointed our way. Clearly, the media are willing to risk their necks to get a good shot of tonight and the chaos that’s unfolding.
The room seems to be frozen in horror, everyone’s attention on thethingin the center of the room. It looks like it’s been stitched together out of sinew and bone and not a lot else. The thing’s joints creak as it raises its skull face into the air andsniffs.
Not sure what it’s smelling. Or what it might be able to scent above its own stink. Looking at it, I can’t understand how the thing is moving. It surely can’t see anything and there doesn’t seem to be anything connecting the parts of it together.
It isn’t attacking anyone yet, and the entire room seems to be trying to pretend like they aren’t here. As if by standing as still as statues, the thing might not notice them.
I’m just as bad, holding back in the shadows until I can make sense of this situation. All I know is, that video Rook sent through showed that these things are just as monstrous as they look.
And Dante is in this room. I haven’t caught sight of him yet, but I know he’s here somewhere. I don’t know where Fabianhas got to either, so there’s also the chance that he might be somewhere in amongst the madness as well.
My hands begin to shake. My heart is pounding.
This is nightmarish.
I feel a warm body come up beside me and know without looking that it’s Ember.“You did this?”I ask him, not able to keep the judgment out of my tone, even inside my head. “Zombies, Ember? Seriously? If you’re able to threaten the entire room with their secrets, surely that would have been enough. Why did you need to bring fucking zombies into the mix?”
“Because it wouldn’t have been enough. They’d have worked out a way of silencing me before I even left the room. But this way, they know they’re fucked, Silver. Do you think any one of them can go up against that thing? And even if they could, do you think that theywould?”
“You need to stop this,” I spit at him. “Before anyone else gets hurt. Roscoe and Zeph are out there, fighting with these monsters. Fuck, Ember. Hanna and Rook are out there, too.”
My eyes widen in horror. The casual way he’s describing this whole mess is absolutely blowing my mind. Thismonster. This thing that’s stitched together with some messed-up combo of witchcraft and vampire leftovers is now practically crawling across the room, searching for something.
“Pretty sure they’re working on pure rage and... magic, I guess,”Ember says.
Fucking hell. This is why he’s never been the ideas man. I don’t think he’s thought any of this through. He just had an idea and decided to roll with it. Screw the consequences and the collateral damage.
“Isn’t someone going to do something?” I hiss, glancing around as the zombie creatureleapsat the closest person. An Archarcan witch dressed in a sparkling gold gown. Shescreeches, letting out a sound of pure fear and pain as the zombie latches its boney fingers onto her wrist andtugs.
It tears into her, leaving her bleeding and screaming. The thing then tosses her aside and skitters back, swiping at a nearby mage who lets out a panicked yell.
“They can’t,” Ember replies calmly, jerking his head in Simpson’s direction.
Simpson, who compelled me to come to him without me realizing.
“He’s using his compulsion to keep them frozen?” The realization washes over me with another wave of nausea and dread.
“How else can we ensure the Archarcans are shown to be useless? Dressed up in their finery, none of them taking action.”
A gut-wrenching wail comes from the witch who is on the ground, blood and curled in on herself. The only person in the room other than us who is unfrozen.
“Silver?” Ember asks in my ear. “Are you going to stop it from hurting anyone else?”
I glare at him. The absolute fucker. He’s turning me into a puppet, twisting and jerking my strings to force me into action.
