All for a Rose

by Jennifer Blackstream

  “Why?” Maribel asked quietly.

  Corrine made no move to pick up her cup of tea, barely caressing the saucer with her fingertips. “You’re happy here, Maribel. There’s nothing I can do to make it better.” She let out a long breath. “And so much I can do to make it worse. It’s better if I go. Really it is.”

  The silence that fell between them was thick, charged with emotions the way the air before a storm is charged with the promise of lightning and the distant rumble of thunder.

  “I miss you.”

  Maribel’s words crept toward Corrine, hesitant, as if afraid of the reception they’d receive. A sob lodged itself in Corrine’s throat.

  “I’ve missed you too.” Her vision blurred. “Maribel, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  “No.” Maribel seized Corrine’s hands, her blue-eyed gaze boring into Corrine as though she could stop her from speaking through sheer force of will. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. We’re starting with a clean slate—all of us. I’m going to make sure you and Father have all the help you need—and you’re going to come visit—all the time.” Maribel’s eyes turned glassy, the threat of tears turning them into twin blue ponds. “Or you could stay here. I’m sure—”

  “No, no, I can’t stay here.” Corrine pulled a hand free, rubbing the arcane mark as the tattoo started to itch. “It’s better if I go. But I’ll…I’ll visit, yes.”

  Maribel smiled, sniffling and blinking away her tears. “If you’re sure.”

  No! I’m not sure.

  Panic reared its ugly head, wild eyes and screaming mouth painting a horrifying image on the inside of Corrine’s mind. Her sister’s words echoed in her head, and suddenly it hit her—really hit her.

  Maribel was staying. Corrine was going home alone. Alone. Alone to face those horrible people, alone to watch her father sink further and further into depression. She wouldn’t have Maribel’s energy anymore. The nightmares, the monsters…

  Her heart leapt into her throat. Mother Briar. She would be furious with Corrine for not getting Jeanne’s location. She would shun her, stop helping her, stop teaching her. She would be alone then, truly and utterly alone. Vulnerable.

  Dying.

  The bond between Corrine and her sister pulsed, throbbing like a second heartbeat. It glowed like a bright gold thread inside her and Corrine tugged on it, desperate, needing more energy to keep her sane. She needed more, more to get her through, more to keep her safe. Oh, Goddess, she was going to make the journey home alone. Again.

  The string gave easily under Corrine’s panic-fueled tugs, pouring a churning, roiling rush of energy down the connection. Corrine startled at the power of the flood, the weight of it. That shouldn’t be. Maribel was too strong, Corrine shouldn’t be able to pull so deeply from her. Until now, calling on that bond had only fed her minimal amounts of energy, like water dripping from a silent pump. It was as Mother Briar had said, she couldn’t take much from Maribel because her sister was so much stronger than Corrine.

  Unless…

  The amulet around Corrine’s neck had begun to glow. Red flame lit the crystal, pouring warm power out over Corrine’s body. It invigorated her, making her feel stronger, more confident. Secure.

  Corrine jumped as Maribel suddenly collapsed on the bed, blue eyes glazing over, shifting from a bright sapphire to a muted winter sky. Her head lolled from side to side and she let out a soft sigh as if she were falling asleep.

  I just need a little more. Just enough to get me home, to last me for awhile until I find some other way.

  Corrine held her breath and pulled harder on the thread, tugging at the energy that was so abundant in Maribel. The power came like a flood from a shattered dam. Corrine pulled again, trying to make the flow faster, to get what she needed quickly so she could get out of here, away from Daman and his smug face, away from Maribel and the temptation to use the arcane mark, to keep leeching energy from her. This was it, the last time, and then Corrine would break the link for good.

  Energy like nothing she’d ever experienced before washed over her. Her muscles swelled, flexing as if dreaming of great feats of strength. Her heart pounded, a firm, steady beat that invigorated her entire body. Her mind sharpened and it was as if she were thinking clearly for the first time in her life, as if a curtain had parted and she could finally see.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Maribel’s head throbbed, sending a pulsing wave of pain over her scalp to the back of her head. It flowed back like an angry tide, rose, and flowed forward again, bringing its agony with it like foam laced with broken shells. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into the down coverlet on Corrine’s bed, seeking relief.

  “Corrine…something’s wrong.” Her voice came out heavy and slurred. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth and she could barely hold her wits together long enough to swallow.

  “Maribel? Are you all right?”

  Corrine laid a hand on Maribel’s shoulder and Maribel rolled her head to the side to rest it on her hand, grateful for the comfort. Her sister’s skin was cool against her feverish cheek, a welcome balm to the miserable heat holding her in its suffocating grip. Corrine cupped her jaw, whispering soothing, nonsense words.

  A second later, Maribel’s stomach lurched. Something twisted inside her body, like a string was being pulled from somewhere deep inside her, a string connected to her heart and stomach both. The sensation wasn’t exactly painful, but strange and nauseating. Maribel leaned away from Corrine and the pulling sensation intensified and she groaned.

  “Corrine, I don’t feel well.”

  Corrine’s grip followed her, her fingers digging more firmly into Maribel’s shoulder. “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Corrine’s voice had changed. There was an excitement in her tone, a fluttering nervousness that left her words breathy. Maribel forced her eyes open.

  The paleness that had always given Corrine a haunted, ghostly pallor had been replaced by a rosy-cheeked glow. Her brown eyes shone bright and lively, more brown than the black they usually appeared as. She was curled to hover over Maribel, but her posture was different, more confident, nurturing instead of slumped under some invisible weight.

  Maribel tried to raise a hand to pet Corrine’s cheek, but her fingers were too heavy. “You look wonderful.”

  In an instant, the peaceful expression on Corrine’s face cracked, revealing wide, panicked eyes that darted from side to side, scrutinizing Maribel from head to toe. Her fingers curled into claws, digging into Maribel with painful stabbing motions.

  “Maribel? Maribel!”

  Maribel kept smiling, the fuzzy feeling in her head flowing down her body like warm honey, leaving her muscles limp. “It’s so nice to see you looking so healthy.” She blinked slowly, lethargically. “You’ll be fine. I’ll stay with Daman and you can go home… I’ll send you…so much money. You’ll be…”

  Pain exploded in her cheek as Corrine landed a ringing slap across her face. She grabbed Maribel’s head in her hands and shook her, Maribel’s body barely rocking where she lay on the bed.

  “Maribel!” Corrine screamed.

  “Get away from her!”

  Daman’s voice broke over the room like a tremendous clap of thunder. There was a flash of glittering scales and a jagged shriek tore from Corrine as a clawed hand wrapped mercilessly around her biceps and flung her halfway across the room.

  Maribel’s heart pounded, an acidic wave of adrenaline washing over her, pushing back the pain and nausea enough for her to struggle into a sitting position. She swayed, feeling like a small boat being tossed to and fro on a raging river, and braced both hands on the bed to hold herself up so she could see what was happening.

  Daman was on the floor, his tail wrapped around Corrine’s waist. The large bluish green scales of his lower body covered Corrine from her ribs to her hips in a punishing vice. His silver eyes blazed like liquid starlight, his lips pulled back to
reveal two sets of wickedly curved fangs. He lunged, reaching out for Corrine’s throat with a hand tipped with vicious, sharp white claws.

  Maribel tried to scream, tried to yell for Daman to let Corrine go, to stop. Then her gaze landed on her sister and the words faded away under a flood of awe.

  Corrine’s eyes were no longer the dark brown of pure bitter chocolate. They were green, a vibrant, glowing emerald like paintings Maribel had seen of the lights in the Dacian winter sky. Corrine was gripping Daman’s hand by the wrist, muscles trembling as she fought to keep his claws away from her throat. At the same time, she groped for his face with her other hand, straining for his eyes as if she would blind him. Only Daman’s grip on her wrist kept her from gouging out those silver, glowing eyes.

  “Stop!” Maribel tried to shout, but her voice came out a breathy plea. She closed her eyes but opened them immediately when the room started to spin. The tugging on the string inside her grew worse, the nausea threatening to empty her stomach. She swallowed hard and focused on the couple fighting on the ground.

  “Daman,” she tried again. “Stop. Please.”

  “Sshe wass hurting you.” Daman lurched forward another inch, claws flexing as he strained to rake the tender flesh of Corrine’s throat.

  “I was not!” Corrine’s voice rose an octave, her eyes wild. She risked a glance at Maribel. “Maribel, are you all right?”

  “Do not pretend you care for her!” Daman bellowed, rage tearing his voice to shreds on his fangs. “What were you doing to her, witch?” His tail flexed, squeezing Corrine until she gasped. “Tell her!”

  “Daman, stop, please,” Maribel shouted hoarsely. “Don’t hurt her.”

  Daman faced her, reptilian eyes widening even as the black slits narrowed to the width of a hair, almost completely lost to the silver. “Sshe hurt you.”

  Maribel cursed as the haze refused to lift and every movement sickened her further. “I’m fine. Maybe a little tired.”

  “Perhaps you wore her out,” Corrine snarled, the strain in her voice betraying how hard she was struggling. “Being taken on the floor like an animal can be hard on a woman.”

  Maribel sputtered, her cheeks suddenly scalding. “You…”

  Daman focused glittering eyes on Corrine. “You have been sspying.” His voice dropped to a deadly hiss and his coils flexed as they covered more of Corrine’s body. “Why are you really here, witch?”

  “I’m here to get my sister back.” Corrine choked, her voice growing raspy as her chest was constricted by the scaled body clutching her tighter with every breath she released.

  “No. No, that iss not why you’re really here.” Daman flicked his forked tongue into the air between them, so close to Corrine he could have licked her. Corrine shrieked and angled her face away. “You tasste of magic. What sspell have you been working on your ssisster?”

  A garbled sound came from Corrine’s throat, but no words. She thrashed feebly and the hand holding Daman’s away from her throat trembled. His claws inched forward, closing the distance, tips brushing pale skin.

  Maribel shoved herself up, ignoring the fresh wave of nausea that swept over her and nearly threw her out of the bed. She thrust out a hand as Daman’s claws dimpled Corrine’s skin, sharp points pressing in.

  “Daman, stop!”

  Corrine tried to suck in a breath, but it came out a skin-crawling wheeze. Her face darkened to purple, green-glowing eyes dulling.

  Maribel lurched, shoving herself off the bed. Her feet hit the floor and her legs threatened to give way, half-spilling her to the rug. She grabbed the edge of the bed, holding on, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Panic sent adrenaline through her system like an acid wash, and she gritted her teeth.

  “Daman, get away from her.”

  Daman’s gaze was locked on Corrine’s neck, followed a drop of blood that had welled out around one of his claws. “You are too closse, you cannot ssee the truth right in front of you. Sshe caress nothing for you, Maribel! You are a changeling, a child left at her housse in the middle of the night. Whatever sshe’ss ssaid to you, sshe caress only about your power.”

  His face twisted with fury. “Sshe’ss done ssomething to you. I know sshe hass. Sshe wass holding you and you were getting weaker while sshe sseemed only to grow sstronger.” The muscle in his jaw tightened and he flexed his muscles, leaning forward. Corrine’s arms trembled, but she held him back. “Don’t you ssee how much sstronger sshe iss? I know there iss a connection.”

  Every word out of his mouth was another needle in Maribel’s heart, another strip of skin peeled away to leave her raw and vulnerable. It was only minutes ago she’d been so happy, everything had been settled, all was right with the world. What was this nightmare, where had it come from? She stared at Daman, willing him to listen. “You’re the one who can’t see what’s right in front of you. Corrine has been studying magic in the hopes of coping with her illness. It makes sense that she’s getting stronger. That’s why she studies magic, why would she continue to study if it wasn’t working?”

  “Do you hear how sshe defendss you?” Daman pulled Corrine closer, constricting, tightening his coils around her. “Do you hear the love in her voicce? Sshe musst feel what you’ve done to her, ssomewhere insside her, sshe musst know. And sshe defendss you anyway—lovess you anyway. How heartlessss musst you be to usse her?”

  Corrine’s eyes flashed, then the green light died, leaving them a brown so dark it was nearly black. Her gaze flicked to Maribel, her face a sickening shade of bluish purple. Maribel tried to meet her eyes, tried to offer her encouragement, support, some sign that she had more faith in Corrine than Daman did. Corrine’s eyes glistened with tears and she looked away.

  Maribel stifled the roll of unease at the way Corrine wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Daman, please. I care so much for you, and I do want to stay here. But Corrine is my sister. If you hurt her… I don’t know how I would ever move past that.”

  Daman’s face twisted in pain. “Maribel…”

  Suddenly his entire body spasmed. A muffled choke garbled from his mouth, his coils going limp around Corrine as his body arched back, face going taut. The blade of a dagger protruded from his chest, just to the side of his heart. Ruby red blood welled up in the wound, spilling down his body and outlining his silver scales with rivulets of crimson. A trickle of blood escaped his mouth as he blinked down at the weapon, the black slits of his eyes flickering, silver irises shifting from silver to dull iron. Maribel screamed and stumbled forward.

  Corrine gasped, choked, the ragged sounds speaking to the condition of her ravaged lungs. She lay on the floor like a ragdoll, half of her body still lying on Daman’s coils where she’d fallen. Brown eyes too wide, she lay on the floor, staring up at Daman like a sinner on his deathbed, gazing into the face of an avenging angel.

  The hand that had been trying to claw at Daman was free, extended toward the naga as though she’d thrown the knife. Her bag was open on the floor beside the bed, a silken scarf trailing out of it as though something had been pulled in a hurry from the depths of the satchel. By magic.

  Maribel hovered in front of Daman, afraid to touch him, afraid that she would only bring him pain. Tears blurred her vision and she spoke to her sister without facing her. “Corrine?”

  Corrine heaved herself away from Daman, scurrying away from his coils as if they might grab her again. “He was going to kill me.” Her voice was a broken rasp, each word sounding like a struggle. “I had to do something.”

  A sob broke from Maribel’s throat, tears welling up to blind her. Daman was still frozen, whether from shock or pain she didn’t know. He wasn’t looking at her. Rather, his leaden gaze was zeroed in on Corrine.

  “Daman…”

  The naga dove for her sister with more speed than a human, but less than he’d been capable of before. His silvery-scaled body flashed, his arm rising above his head, slick white claws spread. Corrine opened her mouth to scream, but the noise never made it past her lip
s. Daman brought his hand down, slashing her throat and upper chest. Maribel screamed again as Corrine fell back against the wall, sliding down into a crumpled heap.

  “I won’t…let you hurt her,” Daman rasped.

  Time slowed, becoming thick and palpable. Maribel had all the time in the world to see the light die in Daman’s eyes, the tension melt from his face as a ripple moved from one end of his body to the other. His torso hit the ground with a dull thud and a rustle of scales. He didn’t get back up.

  Maribel’s heart constricted in her chest, so tight she could scarcely breathe around the solid weight of it. Panic, fear, desperation all braided together, forging strength that rushed through her body with nerve-sizzling intensity. She half-fell toward Daman, hands out, choked cry lodged in her throat. A wet wheezing sound came from behind her.

  Corrine.

  The sound drew Maribel, some instinct telling her that she might be too late to save Daman, but her sister was still alive. Corrine held her neck with one hand, blood seeping through her fingers. Her face was deathly pale, her lips nearly white. Blood soaked her gown, some of it hers gushing from the wounds in her neck and chest, flowing down her body in a broad ribbon, and some of it Daman’s splattered over her like some macabre rain. She didn’t speak, just stared at Maribel.

  “No!” Maribel sobbed and fell to her knees beside Corrine. “No…”

  Corrine’s lips moved but no sound came out. Maribel searched the floor around her, searching for something, anything to staunch the flow of blood. She spotted Corrine’s bag on the floor, but Corrine’s hand scrabbled at her arm.

  “Maribel…”

  Her voice was so faint, Maribel nearly missed it. She clutched Corrine’s hand in hers, fingers slipping in the slick coating of blood. She leaned closer so her ear was right next to Corrine’s mouth.

  “S…sorry…”

  Maribel shook her head, warm tears streaming down her face. “No. No, don’t be sorry, don’t be sorry, Corrine.” She hesitated before brushing Corrine’s hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you, I’m sorry I brought you here, I’m just,” she choked, “sorry.”