In front of her, a pincushion, along with an equal-arm brass scale, sat on the edge of a polished mahogany counter. The scale’s pan for the goods was empty but the tray for weights contained an object that looked disturbingly close to a human heart. Scarlett had the alarming vision of her own heart being taken from her chest and placed on the empty pan.
The shopgirl continued, “For the dresses, that will be your worst fear and your greatest desire. Or you can pay using time.”
“Time?” Scarlett asked.
“We’re having a deal. Tonight it’s only two days of your life per dress.” The brunette spoke matter-of-factly, the same as if she were asking for ordinary coins. But Scarlett felt sacrificing four days of her life was no simple matter. She knew she shouldn’t have been keen to give up her secrets, either, but her fear and desire had been used against her already.
“I’ll answer your questions,” Scarlett said.
“When you’re ready,” the shopgirl instructed, “remove your gloves and hold the base of the scale.”
A few of the shop’s other patrons pretended not to watch while Aiko looked on eagerly from the edge of the counter. Scarlett wondered if this was perhaps what Aiko was really after. Of course, if she’d been watching Scarlett, she should have already known her answers.
Scarlett took off her gloves. The brass felt surprisingly warm and soft under Scarlett’s fingers. Fleshy, almost, as if it were a living thing. Her hand grew clammy and the surface grew slick.
“Now say your greatest fear,” the shopgirl prompted.
Scarlett cleared her throat. “My greatest fear is that something bad will happen to my sister, and I won’t be able to protect her.”
The brass scale creaked. Scarlett watched with marvel as the chains shifted and the side containing the heart slowly rose while the empty pan mysteriously lowered until the two were perfectly even.
“It’s always nice when it works,” said the shopgirl. “Now, let go.”
Scarlett did as instructed, and the scale reset, returning to an unbalanced state.
“Now grab hold again and tell me your greatest desire.”
Scarlett’s hands didn’t sweat this time, though the scale still felt too alive for her liking. “My greatest desire is to find my sister, Donatella.”
The scale shook. Chains rattled gently. But the side with the heart remained firmly weighed down.
“There’s something wrong with the scale,” Scarlett said.
“Try again,” said the shopgirl.
“My greatest desire is to find my younger sister, Donatella Dragna.” Scarlett squeezed the stem of the scale, but it made no difference. The empty pan and heart both remained unmoved.
She squeezed harder, but this time the scale didn’t even wobble. “All I want is to find my sister.”
The shopgirl grimaced. “I’m sorry, but the scale never lies. I’ll need another answer, or you can pay with two days of your life.”
Scarlett turned to Aiko. “You’ve been watching me; you know finding my sister is all I want.”
“I believe it’s something you want,” Aiko said. “But there are many things to want in life. It’s not a bad thing if there are other things you desire a little more.”
“No.” Scarlett’s knuckles were turning white—the game was playing with her. “I would die for my sister!”
Chains rattled and the scale moved again, balancing until it evened out. This statement was true. Unfortunately, this was not a viable form of payment.
Scarlett ripped her hands away before she was robbed of any more secrets.
“So, two days of your life it will be,” said the shopgirl.
Scarlett felt as if she’d been tricked. This must be what they had been after all along. She thought about backing out. Giving up two days of her life left her with a feeling of indescribable unease; the same sensation she experienced whenever she made a deal with her father. But if Scarlett backed out now, it would further prove finding her sister was not what she desired most. She wouldn’t get a glimpse into Aiko’s secret notebook, either.
“If you take two days of my life, how does it work?” asked Scarlett.
The shopgirl pulled out a miniature sword from her pincushion. “Slice your finger with the tip of this, then squeeze three drops of blood over the scale.” She pointed to the shriveled heart.
“If you want, I can cut it for you,” Aiko said. “Sometimes it’s easier to let someone else wound you.”
But Scarlett had had enough of other people hurting her.
“No, I can do it myself.” She ran the tiny sword over the tip of her ring finger.
Drip
drip
drip.
Only three dots of blood, yet Scarlett felt each one, and the pain went beyond her finger. It was as if a hand dug nails into her heart and squeezed. “Is this supposed to hurt?”
“A little light-headedness is normal. You didn’t expect losing two days of your life to be painless, did you?” The shopgirl laughed as if it were a joke.
“I’ll let you take the buttoned dress now,” she went on, “but the beaded gown won’t be delivered until two days from now, once your payment is fulfilled. After that—”
“Wait,” Scarlett interrupted. “Did you just say you want my debt paid now?”
“Well, it’s not going to do me any good next week, once the game is over, is it? But don’t worry, I won’t take the full payment until the sun is up, which gives you enough time to get somewhere safe.”
Somewhere safe?
“I think there’s been a mistake.” Scarlett gripped the edges of the counter. Was it just her imagination or had the heart in the scale started beating? “I thought I’d lose two days at the end of my life.”
“How should I know when your life is going to end?” The shopgirl chuckled, a harsh sound that seemed to make the world quake beneath Scarlett’s feet. “Don’t worry, as long as nothing happens to your body, you’ll come back to life at dawn on the eighteenth just fine.”
That was only two days before her wedding. Scarlett fought against a new surge of panic. It came in shades of hemlock green—the color of poison and terror. She had only lost three drops of blood, but it felt as if she were hemorrhaging. “I can’t die for two days—I need to leave in two days!”
If Scarlett died now, she’d never be able to find her sister and make it home in time for her wedding. And what if someone else, like Dante, found her sister while she was dead? Or the game ended early and Tella found Scarlett dead? The field of Scarlett’s vision was narrowing, going black around the edges.
Aiko and the shopgirl exchanged a look Scarlett didn’t like. Still gripping the shiny counter, she turned to Aiko. “You tricked me—”
“No I didn’t,” Aiko said. “I didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to answer the questions.”
“But I did answer the questions,” Scarlett tried to yell, but the effects of her trade were growing stronger, dulling her senses, making the world feel thicker, while she felt thinner. Powerless. “What happens if someone harms my body?”
Aiko grabbed Scarlett’s arm to steady her as she swayed. “You need to get back to your inn.”
“No—” Scarlett tried to protest. She couldn’t go back to La Serpiente; it was Julian’s day to use the room. But now Scarlett’s head felt like a balloon, trying to detach from her shoulders.
“You need to get her out of here.” The shopgirl cast a sharp glance at Scarlett. “If she dies on the street she’ll probably find herself buried underground.”
Scarlett’s horror spiked, turning shades of quicksilver. Her hearing was almost as fuzzy as her vision, but she could have sworn it sounded as if the girl wished this might happen. Something acidic and moldy and burnt bubbled up through Scarlett’s throat—the taste of death.
She barely felt strong enough to stand, let alone walk all the way back to the inn. When she woke, she’d have to choose between finding her sister—or leaving to make it back to Trisda in
time for her wedding. Scarlett knew it might come down to this, but she wasn’t ready to make the choice yet. And what would Julian do if he returned to their room and found her dead body?
“Scarlett!” Aiko shook her again. “You need to stay alive until you make it to safety.” She pushed Scarlett toward the door and shoved a sugar cube inside her mouth. “So you’ll have the strength. Don’t stop walking no matter what.”
Scarlett’s leaden legs quaked with lines of sweat. She could barely stand; she wouldn’t make it back. Aiko’s sugar had dissolved into rot in her mouth. “Why can’t you walk with me?”
“I have places I need to be,” said Aiko. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep my word. When someone takes days of your life, your body dies, but your mind exists in a sort of dream world. Unless your body is destroyed.”
Again, Scarlett tried to ask what would happen in that case, but her words came out garbled, as if she’d bitten them into pieces before spitting them out. She swore the whites of Aiko’s eyes shifted to black as she said, “You’ll be fine as long as you make it back to your room. I’ll find you in the dream world and show you my book.”
“But”—Scarlett swayed—“I usually forget my dreams.”
“This you will remember.” Aiko steadied her, and thrust another sugar cube into her mouth. “But you must promise not to tell anyone. Now”—Aiko gave Scarlett a final shove as she put the cherry-blossom dress in her hands—“get out of here before you die.”
20
Scarlett would remember only one thing clearly about her journey from the dress shop. She would not remember her limbs feeling as light as feathers, her bones turning to dust, or either of her attempts to lie down in the boats. She would not remember being prodded out of those same boats, or dropping her cherry-blossom gown. Though she would recall the young man who picked it up, and then took her arm to help her walk the rest of the way back to La Serpiente.
The words uselessly pretty came to mind, though as she looked up at her attractive companion, his face no longer looked quite so pretty. Hard lines and harsh angles highlighted dark eyes shadowed by even darker hair.
This person did not like her. She not only knew it, she could feel it in the rough way he handled her. The way he held on to her arm as she attempted to pull away.
“Let me go!” she tried to yell. But her voice was feeble, and the passersby who might have heard were too busy scurrying to their own snake holes. A quarter of an hour was all that remained until the sun rose and erased the magic of the night.
“If I let you go, you’ll just crawl into another boat.” Dante dragged her through La Serpiente’s rounded back door. Noise from the tavern circled around them. Mugs of cider clinking against glass tables. Snorts of amusement mixed with grunts of satisfaction, and groaned tales of things unsatisfying.
Only a sharp-looking gentleman with an eye patch and a crimson cravat noticed her being dragged onto a set of stairs, where the air darkened and the noise quieted. Later Scarlett would remember him watching, but just then her main concern was escaping from Dante.
“Please,” Scarlett begged. “I need to get to my room.”
“First we need to talk.” Dante cornered her in the stairwell, long legs and tattooed arms boxing her against the wall.
“If this is about the other day … I’m sorry.” It took what felt like all of Scarlett’s strength to force the words out coherently. “I didn’t mean to trick you. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“This isn’t about your lies,” Dante said. “I know people lie in this game. Yesterday—” He broke off, sounding as if it were a struggle to keep his tone even. “I was upset because I thought you were different. This game, it changes people.”
“I know,” Scarlett said, “that’s why I need to get to my room.”
“I can’t let you do that.” Dante’s voice hardened, and for a rare moment of terrifying clarity, Scarlett could see he’d fallen apart even more than the last time she’d seen him. His eyes were lined in dark shadows as if he hadn’t slept in days. “My sister is missing; you have to help me find her. I know your sister is missing too, and I don’t think it’s just a part of this game.”
No. Scarlett couldn’t be hearing this now. Tella’s disappearance was simply another magic trick. Dante was trying to frighten her. Hadn’t Julian said he’d been cruel to win the game before? “I can’t talk about this right now.”
She needed to make it back to her room. It no longer mattered if it was Julian’s for the night. She could not die right there. Not in front of Dante, as crazed as he was. Somehow she managed to pull her dress from his hands. “Why don’t we meet in the tavern—after we’ve both gotten some sleep?”
“You mean after you die for two days?” Dante’s hand formed a fist against the wall. “I know what’s happening to you. I can’t lose another night! My sister is gone and you—”
Smack!
Before he could get another word out, Dante flew backward. Scarlett didn’t fully see the blow, but it was enough to knock him halfway down the stairs.
“You need to stay away from her!” Heat poured off of Julian as he gently peeled Scarlett from the wall. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“No … I just need to get up to the room.” She could feel the minutes slipping away, draining her of life, turning her limbs into flimsy strands of gossamer.
“Crimson—” Julian caught her as she started to fall. He was so much warmer than she was. Scarlett wanted to curl into him like a blanket, weave her arms around him as firmly as he’d wrapped his arms around her.
“Crimson, you need to talk to me.” Julian’s voice was no longer gentle. “What happened to you?”
“I … I think I made a mistake.” Her words came out sticky and thick like syrup. “Someone, a girl with very shiny hair and a girl with a waffle … I needed to buy dresses and they made me pay with time.”
Julian uttered several colorful curses. “Tell me they didn’t take a day of your life.”
“No.…” She fought to stay standing. “They took two days.”
Julian’s handsome face twisted, turning lethal, or maybe the whole world was twisting into something lethal. Everything spiraled sideways as Julian picked her up, tossing the cherry-blossom gown over his shoulder. “This is all my fault,” he muttered.
Julian held her close as he carried her up the stairs, down a very wobbly hall, and into what Scarlett took to be their room. All she could see was white. Endless white, except for Julian’s brown face, hovering over her as he gently laid her down onto the bed.
“Where were you … earlier?” she asked.
“In the wrong place.”
Everything was hazy around the edges, like dusty early-morning sun, but Scarlett could see the dark fringe of lashes around Julian’s concerned eyes.
“Does that mean—”
“Shh,” Julian murmured. “Save your words, Scarlett. I think I can fix this, but I need you to stay with me a little longer. I’m going to try to give you a day of my life.”
Scarlett’s head was so muddled, so broken by whatever magic worked its way through her body, that at first she thought she must have misheard him. But that look in his eyes was back, as if he wanted her to be his undoing.
“You would really do this for me?” she asked.
In answer, Julian pressed the pad of a finger to her parted lips.
Metallic and wet and just a little sweet. Bravery and fear and something else she couldn’t distinguish. Dimly, she knew she tasted his blood. It was like no other gift she’d ever received. Strangely beautiful, alarmingly intimate. And she wanted more of it. More of him.
She licked the tip of his finger, but Scarlett hungered to taste his lips as well. To feel them against her mouth and her throat. To experience the solid touch of his hands on her body. She craved the heavy weight of his chest crushed to hers, to find out if his heart beat equally fast.
Julian’s finger lingered a moment longer, pressing her lips back t
ogether, but the taste of his blood remained. And her desire for him intensified. He hovered over her, and she could hear the rhythmic beat of his pulse. She’d been sensitive to his presence before, but never more than this. She was mesmerized by his face, the dark freckle beneath his left eye, the subtle sharpness of his cheekbones, the line of his chiseled jaw, the coolness of his breath on her cheek.
“Now I need some of your blood.” His voice was so gentle, made of gentle, the same way his blood had been made of everything he was feeling.
Scarlett had never felt so close to another person. She knew she would give him what he asked for—whatever he asked for—that she would eagerly let him drink a part of her the way she had him. “Julian,” she said in a whisper, as if anything louder would destroy the delicacy of the moment, “why are you doing this?”
His amber-flecked eyes met hers, and something in them made her breathing hitch. “I’d think that answer was obvious.” He took one of her cool hands and held it near to his knife, but she imagined he waited for her permission. And she knew, he wasn’t doing this because of the game; this felt like something entirely separate, existing only for the two of them.
Scarlett pressed down on the tip of the blade. A single drop of ruby blood welled. Carefully Julian brought her finger to his mouth, and when his soft lips touched her skin the entire world shattered into a million shards of colored glass.
Her dying heart beat faster as his tongue gently drew her finger between his teeth. For a moment she could feel his emotions again, as close as if they were her own. Awe mixed with fierce protectiveness, and a thread of pain so intense she wanted to take the hurt from him. Her finger dipped deeper in, pressing against one of his sharp incisors. Days before, she’d stiffened at his touch, but now she wished she were strong enough to wrap her arms around him.
Not quite sure how far she’d already fallen, she imagined loving him would feel like falling in love with darkness, frightening and consuming yet utterly beautiful when the stars came out.
Caraval Series, Book 1 Page 15
