Book 3: Chapter 40 - A Bill Come Due

I will never understand why the Cruel Ivy Killer has fans.

I mean, I understand the mystery.
I understand she was beautiful, and funny, and her talents were interesting.
I do get that a dangerous, powerful, and mostly amiable woman is interesting.

But haven’t they read what she did to people?
Why do so many fans get invested in the killer herself and not her victims?
It doesn’t make any sense!
—Daisy Whitaker, Overheard While Venting

Terry shook the hand of the little construct, even as they ran. He offered constitution for agility, as he had for the others. It gave him what he needed to run just a little faster as he carried the homunculus on his back. The hedron chased his team with an aggressive determination that defied all reason.

“There has to be a queen!” Masaki shouted. “They wouldn’t be so organized without orders!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Lisa eloquently agreed. They all moved as quickly as they could, as if it mattered. Yellow and mauve blurred past them as each did their best to avoid every crooked footfall and sudden turn. But the hedron were united in their pursuit, and all of them far outpaced the three orange students. They were going to catch up in only a few minutes. Terry and his friends hadn’t been near the nest at all. Their instructions had been to wait from a distance and try to harass any single stray hedron that left the school.

It had been the safer of the two jobs. A kindness, from Violet. That was what Masaki and Lisa thought. They’d wanted to look for Angelo, of course, and they thought they’d have the chance to do just that. Once Violet’s team took the heart and led the hedron away. The other two actually thought they were supposed to survive. To find their friend, even.

Terry couldn’t blame them. He would have thought the same. He’d gone to Violet for help. Because she was smart, and because she was a good leader. Because she was charming, and competent, and had pulled off the impossible in the past. Terry wanted her to take over. He wanted to feel the relief of knowing she’d take on the risk no one else could. That was who she was. That was what she was famous for. 

Violet was a beautiful, selfless, goddamn fucking hero. 

Rumor had it she was going to live up to her name, and actually fucking do something with the power it granted her. Unlike the typical Category Violet—who could solve problems like a few yellow and green nests without breaking a sweat—she would do something. That was why people loved her. Even students at higher categories, or people who’d never met her. Because the rumors promised a powerful lancer who wouldn’t let her weaker peers die.

What a sick fucking joke.

This world wasn’t real. Terry still hadn’t accepted it. His mind was in some kind of haze, far thicker than any mist. Every step he took was false. He couldn’t feel the ground beneath his feet. He was missing that familiar pressure of pushing himself into his next stride. The mist had been mauve before, but it was an ordinary gray now, at least to his perception. 

It wasn’t that reality was hard to understand. It was simply that accepting it would mean grieving his own death. He was going to die. His own hands were going to turn on him and steal the lifeblood from his veins. 

Because he’d made a deal.

With a hero.

Something hurt, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He just had to run. As long as he had the strength to do so. There was only one thing left on the list, and once he stopped running, it would be time to follow the last of Violet’s instructions. 

She was an Asher, wasn’t she? They needed him, he thought. Something about Red Asher. They’d been pushing hard to pull Terry into the family. Enough that if he’d actually pressed the issue, they probably would have told Violet to marry him. That was part of the reason he’d tried to turn her down. He didn't want to force a kind girl into a marriage she didn’t want. 

Maybe she was lying. Maybe she actually was the girl who'd been promised to him, and she didn't believe the rejection. Or she'd liked him, and was offended by it. Or maybe she didn't know either way, and she just didn't want to take the fucking chance. 

He'd never know why he was dying. Not even as he was cutting into his own skin, feeling hot blood over his own fingers. He'd never fucking know why.

Violet hadn't offered to explain. And Terry had made a deal. Whatever she said, no questions asked. 

Some “Negotiator” he'd turned out to be. That was never a deal worth making. His only solace was that, if he was holding up his end of the deal, she'd also have to hold up hers. And if she didn't, he'd be released from the obligation. That was his only hope to survive, and he felt like shit for thinking it. Because it meant Angelo almost certainly wouldn't. 

On the other hand, if Terry died, Angelo might live. He didn't know what would happen when he was dead. Whether Violet would be bound by the talent or not. But she'd have to fight to keep him alive until then, at the very least. 

Unless... 

Terry ran through the exact phrasing of the deal in his head. He needed to know exactly what had been promised. He already knew he'd made a mistake, but he was suddenly realizing it could’ve been worse than he thought. If Violet had wanted Terry dead, she'd have been extremely intentional with her phrasing.

Until we either get Angelo somewhere he feels safe or we find him dead, you will do everything I say, she’d said.

Oh, God.

If Angelo is alive, I will make sure he makes it back to Prism City, she’d said.

Oh, Christ.

That wasn't right. That wasn't a promise of anything at all, was it? If Violet knew Angelo was dead, for instance... No. No, she had to actually risk something. She had to offer something of value to her, or the deal wouldn't work. 

Right?

He was fairly certain that was how it worked. But... was that always how negotiations worked? Or did one party simply have to believe both sides were offering something of value? The phrasing on his talent could’ve been interpreted either way. He wasn't sure if—

Blinding pain shot through him, turning the world to white for several seconds. He felt wounds form from every direction at once, on his arms, legs, and face. He'd collided with the ground, and his ankle had twisted. His uniform was ripped, and he could feel warm blood from gashes all over his body.

When he could finally make the world out again, he was crumpled up into a broken pile. Yet... he seemed to only have cuts, bruises, and the twist in his ankle. Whatever had hit him had hurt like hell, but it had only knocked him off his feet. Any real damage had been caused by the ground after that. Or, more realistically, the scattered yellow crystal all around them.

He blinked and looked toward the nest. He'd gotten turned around during the fall, and that was the only direction he could see from his position.

He wished the attack had killed him.

He'd been at the front of the group when he was hit. So he could see Masaki and Lisa, frozen in place, staring at him. He'd been carrying a homunculus, and that had broken against the yellow crystal beside him. Behind his halted friends, maybe a hundred or so hedron were rapidly closing the gap. His team would be lucky to beat one of them in a fight. 

And when he fell... Lisa and Masaki knew. 

He could see it in their eyes. They knew they were out of time. In order to keep running, they'd have needed to leave him behind. He desperately wished they had. Instead, Lisa and Masaki shared a look, then nodded at Terry. 

It was time to call for help. To send the signal for backup. The last resort, and the final instruction Violet had left behind. In case something went wrong and they ran into more hedron than they expected. 

At least. The final instruction for anyone but Terry.

They should have done it much earlier. The moment they saw so many monsters all in one place. But they wanted to draw them away from Angelo. From the nest. They hoped Violet would pull the heart from the nest before the hedron caught up, and it would distract the beasts. In that case, they would want to lead the hedron as far as possible, so the team inside didn't get swarmed. 

It had made sense. To the two team members who thought Violet was on their side, it sounded like the best plan. Like bravery, and valor, and everything lancers were in the stories.

Terry knew it would get the rest of his team killed. But he'd made a deal. And Violet had ordered him not to let on that she couldn't be trusted. She'd been practically giddy at the idea, all while horror and fear crashed down on Terry like an ocean storm. She'd happily laid out strict boundaries on how he was allowed to behave. And he couldn't warn Lisa or Masaki. He couldn't even try.

So here they were. Standing still. Lisa's construct began to howl, a shrill siren splitting the world in a call for help.

Terry could feel the tears, but they wouldn't come out. He could wrap his fingers around the scream, but his throat refused to let it escape. 

Run. Just run. She is evil. She wants us dead. You will die if you don't just leave me.

I don't want to do this.

This isn't real.

It isn't reality.

It's not.

None of the words formed as Terry pulled himself to his feet. There was no scream. No goodbye, and no apology. He saw his frightened companions preparing for a battle they would lose. Lisa was already asking for some kind of deal. Masaki was looking for something in the terrain to trap the hedron.

And Terry was silent. He pulled a camping knife out of its sheath at his side. Orange, and just sharp enough. He'd traded his constitution away, so a red knife would do, too. It was good that this one was sharp. Violet hadn't ordered him to do it slowly.

He wanted to cry for help so badly. He wanted to die fighting with his friends. To believe for his final moments that he'd made a difference. If he could only leave a mark on any one of those hedron, he could stomach his death. He wanted to do anything but what he'd agreed to.

But Violet had wanted to be certain, apparently. Whatever her twisted reason might’ve been. Letting him fight would have given him some small chance.

They called this a talent. A gift. A kindness that saved humanity from the end of the world. But Terry understood. As his own ability seized his muscles and forced him to comply with someone else's will. He understood it was nothing more than a part of his leash. It was a curse, and he loathed it.

“You're both amazing,” Terry said. His voice didn't even waver. That would have been too close to warning them. “I truly hope you survive.” That was it. The closest to a goodbye he would be allowed. He was lucky he managed even that.

Lisa and Masaki clearly didn't understand what was going to happen when he lifted his knife. When it sank into his throat from the right side, their faces didn't shift at all. For a split second, they failed to process what they were looking at. He felt every instant of pain. Every centimeter the blade sliced through. He choked on the taste of blood, and his lungs screamed for air they'd never touch again. But that confused look hurt more than any of it.

He saw attacks coming from behind. Talents and magic of too many kinds to interpret. But something cut into Lisa’s leg, white and burning. And when it was gone, she was on the ground screaming, her entire calf missing. Blood was hot and too thick as it oozed from the torn flesh on his wounded friend. Her screams were too surreal to process. Everything was wrong. Masaki was still frozen, trying to understand what was happening. The homunculi charged toward the hedron to defend their master, but it was too late.

When Terry pushed the knife forward, tearing skin and opening his throat, Masaki’s eyes finally widened in agonized realization. Even Lisa seemed to freeze and stare, her own blood far less shocking than the stringy flesh splitting for Terry's knife.

That was the last thing the negotiator saw before red filled his vision and he crumpled to the dirt.

He'd fulfilled his end of the deal. 

He was dying. And as he did, he offered his blood to the earth. It wasn't much of a deal. He was giving his life either way. And he didn't believe in any god to accept the other end of the bargain. But he offered it anyway.

For his life. For his friend's lives. For the hope he’d lost when Violet smiled at him, too many teeth showing at once. He wanted that girl to suffer. He offered this with his final moments of clarity.

And then he died.