Chapter 877
“We give her a fake,” Julian suggested. “I have a synthetic Moissanite in the lab. It passes the visual test. In the dark, she won’t know.”
“Celeste grew up with jewels,” Skye shook her head. “She knows the weight. She knows the Sterling cut.”
“We’ll adjust the setting,” Julian said. “Add lead to the core — it will pass a hand-weight test. It’s our only play.”
Skye looked at Alistair. “If this goes wrong,” she whispered.
“If this goes wrong,” Alistair said, cupping her face in both hands, “I will burn this city to ash until I find the cure.”
The Old Clock Tower stood like a skeletal finger pointing at the moon. Wind howled through its open arches.
Skye climbed the spiral stairs. Every step was agony. The adrenaline Julian had administered was warring with the toxin, making her heart race in an erratic, stuttering rhythm.
𝖭𝗲𝘸 𝗐𝗲e𝗸𝗹𝘺 c𝗵𝘢𝗉𝘁е𝘳𝘀 o𝗻 𝘨𝗮𝘭𝘯𝗈𝘷𝗲lѕ.𝘤𝗈𝗺
She reached the top. The giant bell hung above her, silent and ominous.
Celeste was already there, standing at the edge, the wind whipping her veil. Caleb stood beside her, his arm in a sling, watching Celeste with a gaze that was equal parts worship and madness.
“You made it,” Celeste said.
“The antidote,” Skye said, leaning against a pillar and gasping for air. She held up her hand. The yellow stone glinted in the moonlight.
“Give it to me,” Celeste stepped forward.
“Show me the vial first,” Skye demanded.
Caleb reached into his jacket and produced a syringe filled with a clear blue liquid. He set it on the floor between them.
“Kick the stone over,” Caleb ordered.
Skye hesitated. She looked at Celeste. “Why the veil, Celeste? Are you hiding from us, or from yourself?”
“Shut up!” Celeste shrieked. She tore the veil away.
Skye’s breath caught.
Half of Celeste’s face was beautiful — untouched, pristine. The other half was a ruin of melted skin and scar tissue, the permanent legacy of the blast wave.
“This is what his loyalty got me!” Celeste screamed, pressing a hand to the ruined side of her face. “He promised me power! Instead, I got fire!”
“You did this to yourself,” Skye said softly. “You chose to serve a monster.”
“The stone!” Celeste lunged.
Skye threw the fake diamond. It arced through the air in a clean, glittering parabola.
Celeste scrambled for it, her eyes wide with greed, and caught it — clutching it to her chest like a child with something precious.
Skye dove for the syringe. She grabbed it, uncapped it, and drove it into her thigh.
The relief was almost immediate. A cooling wave moved through her burning nerves.
“It’s beautiful,” Celeste murmured, holding the stone up toward the moon.
Then she frowned. She reached into her pocket and produced a jeweler’s loupe — an old habit from her days appraising stolen goods. She squinted at the gem.
“The refraction index,” Celeste whispered. “It’s too perfect. There are no inclusions.” She looked up at Skye with pure, undiluted hatred. “It’s synthetic! You brought me a lab rock!”
Skye rose to her feet, her strength returning by the second. “I learned from the best.”