Nameless

skulls atop the mirrors exploding in puffs of white sighing powder, each a small weeping voice lost in the storm, the other glass shattering over and over as the warcries of enraged Family bravos and the chatter of gunfire swallowed the Queen’s cry.

The White Queen went to her knees, her painted claws grasping at empty air, then swiping a stripe of fire across the girl’s thigh. The drugged body on the altar twitched before the black-haired boy grabbed her, yanking her free of the cracking, heaving stone. The crone hauled herself up, scrabbling across the crusted filthy obscenity as it split, its edges grinding. They fell, girl and boy tangled with each other, rolling down the sharp steps away from the thrashing monster as it broke into shards of bleached bone grinding itself finer and finer into caustic dust.

The Biel’y fought, but they were unarmed and weak, and the death of the brooding hungry goddess who had promised them an end to living’s pain made them witless. It was Ellen Sinder and Ruby de Varre who reached the foot of the dais first, Ruby snarling, her coppery hair full of dark dust, Ellen’s chant fading as the charm-chain looped around her slim fingers tugged sharply downward, indicating it had found what she sought. Potential flashed, and Underneath rumbled.

The Family boys, led by Nico Vultusino and a gaunt fierce Trigger Vane with a heavily bandaged head, pushed forward to the dais, the last of the Biel’y shrieking as they found a different oblivion than the one they were promised. They closed around the girls and the wounded boy, and the last thing the drugged nameless girl heard as she spiraled down into the dark was nothing but a dead collection of syllables, repeated over and over from different throats.

Cami? Cami, wake up! Camille, say something! Get her out of here—Cami, can you hear me?

It is comforting. There are soft beeps and boops as machines monitor respiration and heart rate, a cold weight on her throat. Her pulse is sluggish, murmuring instead of thundering. Slow and sleepy, a healing whisper.

I am. I am.

“What do they say?” Ruby, hushed and subdued.

“The drugs, maybe.” Nico. He sounded awful—hoarse, and flatly furious. As if something had gone wrong but he couldn’t fix it, the dull rage of unwanted helplessness. “We don’t know what they dosed her with. Nobody left to ask, either—the Family’s scouring the city, but they can’t find him. How’s Ellie?”

“Dealing, I guess. Her stepmother’s evil.”

“Well, I tried.” Nico sighed. There was a faint noise—was he scrubbing his hands through his hair?

I am, her heart said, slowly. But she was cold, and she couldn’t move. Who am I?

“Yeah, well.” Ruby, restraining herself mightily. She sounded awful tired. “Thanks for, well. You know. Fixing things.”

“It’s the only thing I’m any good at.” Was he giving her that toothy, dangerous smile? “I just wish she’d wake up.”

“Me too. Do you think . . . ” But whatever Ruby was going to ask went unsaid. An electric brush touched numb skin, and the girl on the bed strained to wake, to move a finger, to say something.

Her body lay, inert, only the heart slowly pounding itself along and her lungs rising and falling.

Something changed in the air of the room. Two more breathing presences.

A low growl. “What. Is. He. Doing. Here?”

Ellen, deathly tired as well. “Leave him alone, Vultusino. He saved her.”

“I told you, I’ll—”

“I said leave him alone. You really want to piss me off? You’ve seen me work, Family boy. I’ll charm your guts outside your skin and leave you screaming. Back off.”

Wow. The thought came swimming through syrup. Ellie’s pissed. Better not mess with her.

“I think she means it,” Ruby piped up, not very helpfully. But then, expecting helpful from Ruby was a couple steps too far.

“I—” A cough. A familiar voice. Male, and low. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, sorry.” Nico outright snarled. “Sorry isn’t enough, maggot. You lied your way into my house, you—”

“I thought I was an orphan!” Tor yelled, and her skin tingled with electricity again. Sounds—a thud, sliding against the floor, and Ellie’s sharp shout.

“Cut it the fuck out! This is not going to help . . . wait. Wait just a second.”

Silence.

“Ell?” Ruby, tentative as she never was. “What are you thinking?”

“What’s that?”

Tor choked. “That’s . . . what . . . I . . . came . . . for. To . . . take it . . . off.”

A snap. A sparking. A sting of pain, a numbness ripped away as a chain broke and the silver medallion, not quite round, a not-quite-star of apple pips carved onto its surface, tore free of her skin.

She screamed, thrashing wildly. It was Ruby who flung herself on top of the bed, her arms locking around her friend with preternatural strength. Ellen tossed the necklace aside with a cry of disgust and clambered on the bed too, the machines going crazy with whistles and beeps and sirens. The two girls held the third as she shook and sobbed and screamed, the cries taking shape as they burst free and raced around the room like white birds.

“Mommy no Mommy no Mommy please Mommy noooooooo—”

THIRTY-FIVE

THE THAW CAME EARLY, ALMOST-FREEZING RAIN SOAKING into packed snow until roofs all over New Haven groaned under the weight. Finally, the melt began in earnest, the bay and the storm drains swollen. Some of Simmerside flooded and the core birthed three minotaurs in a week.

The hospital kept her on an IV drip, bandaged and full of antibiotics, charmers visiting every afternoon as well as nurses and a doctor like a ferret, quick and sleek and deathly afraid of the Vultusino name. Trig, his head bandaged, was often just outside the door; if he wasn’t, another member of the security team was. When she tried to apologize, he just shook his head, the white gauze glaring. It happens, Cami-girl. Don’t fret. Get better.

She slept a lot. When she woke, sometimes Ruby was there, humming as she leafed through a magazine. Ellie was in Strep Durance Vile, but Rube reported that the Strep wasn’t hitting her for the moment, since Nico had probably scared the stuffing out of the woman. I hear he threatened to get her Sigil yanked. She probably doesn’t know if he can or can’t, but why take the chance and piss off a Family? Here, look at this—they say it’s the new fashion from the Continent. Ruffles. Can you believe it?

And that was all Ruby would say. Fashion, school gossip, and brushing aside her apologies as well. Don’t be ridiculous. Listen, if I bring my French homework, you think you could give a girl a little help? Sister Mary B is really biting my ass.

Other times, she would wake up knowing she had just missed Nico. She could sense his presence burning in the room’s still-shivering air, as if he’d scorched it in passing. But he didn’t wait for her to wake up.

He was busy, maybe.

Or angry.

The room was pretty, or at least inoffensive, a private hospital suite in pink and cream. Pills to swallow, dark restful sleep to fall into, watching the slant of light through the windows as it lengthened every day.

She was finally allowed to get up. Ruby brought her clothes—jeans that were a little too big, a T-shirt that hung on her like a scarecrow’s jacket, socks and everything but shoes. “Left them in the car, dammit,” Rube