The Sweet Far Thing (Gemma Doyle #3)

The Sweet Far Thing (Gemma Doyle #3) Page 238

“I am more powerful than they are! They don’t frighten me. I am the way! I am the one! Bessie, we need another volunteer,” Pippa commands.

I am pulled from my seat and up to the altar, where I fear I may meet the same fate as Miss McCleethy. Pippa forces more berries into my hands.

“Eat, for I am the way.”

The berries stain my palm. I said I would safeguard the magic, but I have no choice: I must use it. We must break free.

I draw deeply on my power and it surges through me with renewed vigor. Pippa locks her arms with mine and we are joined in struggle. The magic feels new and hard and terrifying. My mouth tastes of metal. It’s as if my blood is no longer in my control. It pulses out of time, rushing through my veins till I shake. I feel everything inside Pippa—the rage, the fear, the desire, the longing. And I know she feels what is in me as well. When I find the secret wound, Felicity, a look of terrible sadness passes over her face.

“Let me go,” she croaks. “Let me go.”

“Only if you let us go,” I say.

She unleashes her power in full, and I am blown back against the wall of the castle. I fall into a crumple.

“Stop!” I shout. And when I let loose, she falls to her knees. But I can feel the magic turning, and I dare not be without my wits now. I have to rein in my power a bit, and in that moment, Pippa lets hers soar, pinning me against the wall, where the vines begin to crisscross over my hands and feet.

“Pippa!” Felicity shouts, but Pip is beyond caring now.

“I am the way!” she shouts.

Felicity swings the flat of the sword against her, knocking her over. The magic’s hold loosens.

“Fee?” Pip says, eyes wide. And then she sees the gash in her arm, her blood trickling down into the velvety vines. With a mighty groan, the castle shifts and bucks till we tumble one over the other.

“What is happening?” Mae Sutter shouts.

The vines whip about, reaching for whatever they can grab. There is a deafening roar as the ancient stones begin to tumble. We run for the doors in a panicked clump, dodging the falling debris.

“Pip!” Felicity shouts. “Pip, come away from there!”

But Pip’s face is alight with some terrible joy. She lifts her arms to the sky. “There is nothing to fear! I am the way!”

“Pip! Pip!” Fee screams as I yank her away.

We watch, helpless, as the desperate vines find Pippa, pulling her down hard. “No!” she shouts. “I am the way!” But the sky is raining stone. And then the great castle falls in on itself completely, entombing Pippa deep within its broken walls, silencing her forever.

Felicity, Ann, and I barely escape. We are left panting in the grass as the castle sinks back into the earth—the land reclaiming its own, and Pippa along with it. Bessie and Mae have escaped, as have some of the others. Mercy has been buried along with Pippa.

The girls stare at the spot where Pippa was standing.

Mae smiles through her tears. “She meant it to be this way,” she says in utter rapture. “Don’t you see? She sacrificed ’erself. For us.”

Bessie shakes her head. “No.”

Mae grabs her skirts. “We have to keep doin’ what she told us to do. Keep eatin’ the berries. Follow her ways. Then she’ll come back. Pray with me, Bessie.”

Bessie shakes her off. “I won’t. It’s done, Mae. Get up.”

“She was chosen,” Mae insists.

“No, you’re wrong,” I say. “She was only a girl.”

Mae will not see it any other way. She grabs handfuls of rotting berries and swallows them, calling Pippa’s name like a prayer after each one. She holds fast to her belief; she doesn’t want to know that she’s been misled, that she’s abandoned here, alone, with no one to guide her but her own heart.

Bessie runs after me. “Can I come?”

I nod. She’s a brawler, and we might have need of one.

I catch up to Felicity.

“Fee…,” I start.

She wipes her nose on her sleeve, turning her head away from me. “Don’t.”

I should leave her to it, but I can’t. “She was gone for some time. You were the only force that kept her from turning completely. That’s magic. Perhaps the most powerful I’ve seen.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

GORGON HASN’T WAITED FOR US TO RETURN. SHE HAS sailed after us, and now she waits for us on the river. Kartik takes one look at Felicity’s tear-streaked face and lets well enough alone. He and Bessie size each other up, and she moves onto the boat without a word.