Book 3: Chapter 42 - Oh. Well, Fuck You, Then

I have no idea what the Ashers are up to.
I don’t know their goal, and I have no way to find out.

But I know how many people have died in service to it.

That’s reason enough to give our lives to stop them.
—A. Whittaker, Attributed

Every muscle in Violet’s body was screaming when she finally stopped. She’d wanted to pull Angelo out as soon as her fight was over, but she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t confirm that Terry was dead yet, and she wasn’t sure how his talent worked in its entirety. She knew he would be bound by the deal so long as she upheld her end of it. But not whether she would be compelled to follow through or not.

Unfortunately, there was no way to know for sure that Terry was already dead. He should have been, if the signal had gone off. But his friends could have stopped him from completing his final task, for the time being. It was unlikely, considering the horde Violet had sent after them. But it was possible. And she wouldn’t have felt a rush of clarity at his death, since it had been ordered by Cyan.

What all this amounted to was simple, but extremely irritating. Violet couldn’t risk Angelo’s life by dropping him in the middle of a nest that might’ve been swarmed. She had to try and get him back to Prism as she’d promised, or Terry could survive and start trying to defame her. As such, she stored the paralyzed but still-living hedron in Quiet Purgatory and made her way out of the nest. She wasn’t entirely certain why she decided to keep it. But something in the back of her head had an idea for the creature. She’d found a quiet cave about two hundred yards away from the nest, created entirely of yellow crystal. She didn’t have the heart, and she wasn’t in the school, so hedron wouldn’t be interested in her anymore. And they wouldn’t know she’d taken the heart, so it was possible they’d even follow her orders again.

She could finally get some healing, assuming Angelo’s cowardice held strong like Guy’s had. But she wasn’t truly worried about that. Every day, she grew more certain that fear was the most reliable emotion in the world. She released the paralyzed hedron, leaning it against a crystal wall to whimper on its own. Finally, she extended her shadow to the ceiling, allowing Angelo to unceremoniously fall to the ground in front of her. Behind him, she dropped the monster with all the teeth. She needed Angelo to comply, and she decided the unpleasant noises of the wounded animal would provide a helpful ambiance.

She wrapped Angelo in ivy before he could so much as react to his freedom, binding his arms and legs together and pressing his cheek to the cold floor. She made sure he was facing her, at least. He would be able to hear the near-mechanical howling of the wounded hedron behind him, but all he would see was Violet.

She didn’t exactly look threatening. She was badly wounded herself, leaning against a stalagmite just to sit upright. Her left arm was draped around an outcropping of crystal, and only her ivy actually moved to interact with the world at all. Her left shoulder was twisted, and scraps of flesh mixed with torn fabric where it had been injured. Her face was barely recognizable behind the bite marks, and her torso looked like something had taken a bite out of it. Like her shoulder, there was a hole piercing through her entire abdomen and exposing a broken rib. Despite these being the most dangerous of her injuries, the boils covering her skin somehow looked worse. Her gravest injuries were stymied by Quiet Ivy, preventing her from bleeding out. But the flesh wound had been left to fester as she’d escaped the nest. The rain of boiling water and crystal shrapnel had left her scarred all over like microwaved bacon, and each wound was oozing blood and pus of its own. 

Angelo choked as he tried to laugh at her, but she gagged him with shadow. 

“Hey there, sport,” she rasped. “I need a bit of a touch-up, if you don’t mind.”

Angelo didn’t struggle like she expected, but he didn’t start healing her, either. Instead, he glared. 

Violet watched the angel’s eyes for a moment. She could see a few warring emotions in there. He was trying to force amusement. She couldn’t blame him for that. She had to admit, she’d laugh, too. If someone she hated showed up in front of her looking like the rejected design for Freddy Krueger’s wife, she’d laugh at them. It was only fair that Angelo wanted to do the same.

He was struggling, though, which she found funny. Because rage and defiance were winning the battle for his attention, which undercut the laugh that would have stung far worse. And behind them, fear remained. Like the embers in a firepit. And Violet knew she could fan that flame so it took over entirely.

“Alright, fine, let’s have it,” Violet sighed. She released the ivy gagging his throat and let him gasp for air. If he had to get his anger out of his system first, she’d allow it. Just so long as he was frightened at the end. “Tell me why you won’t heal me. I’m a bit uncomfortable like this, so I’d prefer to get the performative defiance out of the way.”

“Fuck you,” Angelo spat. His jaw tightened even as Violet pressed his head into the ground. She thought he might be trying to manifest actual violence with his gaze as she watched him. That was actually a possibility, as far as Violet knew. But he didn’t. Not a single talent was activated to harm her, which was how Violet knew this battle was already won. If he was willing to die, he’d be fighting. However hopeless, he’d use one of his talents to try and kill her. Especially in her current state. The fact that he wasn’t already meant he never would. And if he was too afraid to fight, he’d be too afraid to say no.

Violet let a breath out of her nose and nodded. “Yeah, alright. Anything else?” she asked.

“You fucking deserve this!” Angelo hissed. “I hope it’s goddamn agonizing! I hope you can never sleep again!”

“‘Kaaaay,” Violet sang back. She did deserve it, so that didn't really hurt to hear. Everyone deserved this. People were, at their cores, selfish, evil, and entirely deserving of the bad things that happened to them. But everyone fought to survive anyway. And she would fight the hardest. So his hopes wouldn't be coming true. “Is that all?”

“I will never heal you. I don’t care what you thought you were going to get out of this, but I won’t use an ounce of clarity on your safety or comfort. I don’t care how long you keep me in that... I don’t care. It’s not happening. You can suffer, and hurt, and wail. Or you can die here! I don’t fucking care!” he shouted. As he did, drool escaped his mouth and pooled around his cheek, which really undercut the anger in Violet’s opinion.

He was right, in a way. She probably would die if he didn’t heal her here. She had to make it all the way back to the train for healing otherwise, and she couldn’t explain the bleeding in that case. It would be less than ideal to stop it with ivy, of all things. The stakes here were high, and she was willing to push a little harder than usual. Just a little. She wouldn't torture him. Not really. Even she had limits. She would make whatever she did quick—and frightening. Just enough to push him over the edge.

She couldn’t actually kill him, of course. That would be breaking her end of the deal. But she hadn’t promised to get him to Prism intact. Just to get him there. 

“Great, thanks,” Violet replied with a yawn. Just extending her cheeks for the casual gesture was painful, but effective. Whatever the Seraphim wanted to communicate to her, she could see the rising panic at her lack of concern. 

She lifted his left hand in the air with ivy. His dominant hand, if she remembered correctly. She began to swallow it into Quiet Purgatory as he continued to glare. First his fingers, then his palm, and finally his wrist.

“I said I don’t care if you put me back,” he insisted. “Just fucking do it.”

“Mhmm,” Violet acknowledged. Then she deactivated her talent, leaving only his hand inside. His arm was still raised by Quiet Ivy, but it ended just under the wrist. The blood was immediate, and it was decorating the yellow cave before the pain caught up. And Violet saw the moment it did, Angelo's face twisting into agonized shock. The scream was choked and silent at first, but like air escaping from a pressure cooker, it built over a few seconds until it echoed off every surface in the cave. Finally, Angelo used a talent for the first time since he was captured. This proved he was fully capable and simply holding back. First his arm started to heal, exposed sinew closing up as it was replaced with clean skin. Then burning beams of light shot out in every direction at once. 

Interestingly, Violet’s ivy did seem to weaken at this, but a few more vines were enough to make up the difference. It made sense a shadow-based talent would struggle with light. Violet didn’t even have to dodge, however. The light wasn’t aimed, and even when a beam did hit her, it lacked strength. She was simply too much more powerful than Angelo. She let him watch his attacks fail, not even wincing as they burnt raw wounds. 

She was surprised at how strongly he'd reacted. The hand wasn't gone, just... in storage. His talent could reattach a severed limb with enough time. And if he'd reacted more quickly, he wouldn't have even felt the pain. If she could handle her injuries, he could handle this. She was certain hers hurt more. He was weaker than she thought, and she'd need to be a bit gentler with her next moves. Thankfully, she was pretty sure she could just scare him from here on out. She wouldn't need to hurt him again, most likely.

“I think it’ll take about an inch at a time until you heal me,” Violet mused. “Just bit by bit, over the next few days. Although, I don’t know if I want spare bits of you floating around in there, so I might start using a knife instead. It’ll be slower, but we have time.”

Angelo stared at her. She puppeted his arm and shoved the gory, still-healing stump in his face to block his vision. Then she created a serrated knife. She tossed it toward him, catching it with ivy just before it clattered against his skull. This she pressed against the arm, a little under an inch below the ending. She pushed down just hard enough to draw blood and a renewed whimper from the defiant angel. 

“On the other hand, if you do heal me, I can give you your hand back in time to reattach it. You help me, I help you,” Violet continued.

“It's all fake, you know,” Angelo whispered.

Violet paused, frowning. She was surprised he was holding out for so long. That usually wouldn’t bother her too much, but she really was in a lot of pain. Pain was easy to handle when she knew it would end, but the delay was making it hard to ignore. It was a bit like approaching a toilet with the intent to piss. Proximity to relief made the problem spontaneously more urgent in her mind.

She hoped the boy wasn't going to press any more. She had no intention of actually sawing bits of him off. She didn't have the stomach for true torture. She was a Reaper, not an interrogator. There were more elegant types of control in the world. But walking back a threat would take the bite out of what she was doing. Once Angelo knew Violet wouldn't torture him, he would try to avoid healing her for as long as possible. She needed him to believe she didn't have lines like that. Even if this particular line was more about personal comfort than anything.

“No, this is very real,” she insisted. 

Angelo finally managed to get a chuckle out. “Oh, I know. This is real. The way I'm looking at you is real. The hate, and the loathing, and even the fear. It's the rest that's fake. The smiles and the jokes. Kiera, Guy, and Aubrey. The idea that any of them loves or wants you,” he explained.

Violet felt ice running through her veins, and she couldn't quite understand why. Angelo was just spouting the first shot that came to his head. It didn't matter, and it shouldn't have bothered her.

“Are you really going to make me do this to you?” Violet asked. 

“Do you really think you are anything at all, except for completely alone?” Angelo mocked, even as the blade pressed against his skin and made him wince.

“I don't enjoy this part. I'd really rather avoid it, wouldn't you?” Violet pushed.

“That's why you were so happy, wasn't it?” Angelo asked. “So pleased with yourself when you shoved me in your little bottle? You thought you were in control, didn't you? You had my trust, and you believed it made you powerful to use it against me. But I can see the truth in your eyes. You know it's the fucking opposite. Because any trust I had for you was based on how goddamn fake you are.”

Violet felt an aimless anger growing in her gut. Like thirst and an empty stomach, it was a hollow rage. Inspired more by what was missing than anything else. 

“I am capable of causing more pain than you have ever imagined, Angelo. Shut your mouth and heal me,” she ordered.

“But are you capable of causing anything else? I mean, anything real? Love? Affection? Joy? Any positive emotion at all that would survive a single look at your actual smile?” Angelo asked. “I don't think you are. I think pain is all you are capable of creating. And I think that's left you frightened and alone. I think it's left you powerless, and you don't even realize it. You will never experience genuine love from anyone, and you will never have enough control to change that. You, Violet. You are weak, and pathetic, and everyone you love will one day loathe you. You know it, and you are entirely incapable of changing it.”

She felt cold fury like an empty glass, and she dropped the knife. Everyone deserved the death Violet brought. But Angelo deserved pain.

She picked him up with her ivy. Like a broken toy she was considering for the local landfill. She lifted him in the air, and she pulled the groaning hedron from the back of the cave to the center. When its bloodied body was perpendicular to Angelo in the air, she lowered the angel so his face was hovering over teeth and hot breath.

“Maybe I’ll just shove your arm down this fucker’s throat until you do as I say?” Violet threatened. She pushed his head down against the whining hedron, letting his cheek scrape against half a dozen teeth. “Or maybe I’ll drag one of your friends back here and feed them to this thing instead. It’s your call, really.”

“Are my friends even alive?” Angelo asked. There was a resignation in his voice, as if he knew the answer. 

“Do you really want to find out, sweetheart?” Violet countered. “Or would you rather suffer alone, as I supposedly do?” With that, she lifted his head away and followed through on her first threat. He tried to pull his arm away this time, but he didn’t stand a chance against her ivy. All he could do was tremble as his arm was pushed toward the hedron. He shook as he slowed his descent as much as he could, but Violet simply kept pushing. His skin touched teeth, and she continued to push. Cuts opened up as filthy yellow caught his flesh. Torn skin bunched up around each tooth like the film on the surface of rancid milk. And Angelo howled in a way Violet had never heard from a human before.

It was all, frankly, disgusting.

She almost retched at the sight, but white fury blinded her to her usual revulsion. Violet really didn’t like this part. She much preferred clean kills. The slow, painful, and gruesome nature of this was hard for even her to justify. And she knew this particular scene would show up frequently in her daily nightmares. But Angelo...

Violet was in control, whatever the angel believed.

She enjoyed control, and she was aware of the fact. She could revel in fear, and even despair. Those were exactly what the world had offered her before her calling. And they were all it would offer if anyone learned what that calling turned out to be. It was intensely gratifying to turn the tables. To hold the reins and spit that despair back in the face of her would-be conquerors. It felt good. And it felt good to go home to her friends at the end of it.

But torture was different. She was no less capable of empathy than anyone else. She simply suppressed it as the weakness it was. It was a common skill among her family and their peers. Visible, messy pain couldn't be ignored nearly as easily. It wasn’t like Guy, welcoming a few hits with a bat. It was something far worse. It didn't make her feel as guilty anymore. Not since she'd killed Caitlyn, really. It manifested as a sourceless aching in her skin and muscles. Like watching someone else fall while fighting a fever. And in the state she was in, it was worse than usual. 

It was necessary this time. Angelo had made that clear. And somehow, he had made her incredibly angry, even with his empty words. One day, it would never be needed again. One day, she would be strong enough that she'd never feel powerless. She'd have nothing and no one to fear, and such methods wouldn't be forced on her. She'd simply have Kiera, and maybe Guy, and no need to worry about anyone else. But she'd need days like this to get there. If anything, the extreme violence was a reminder why it was necessary.

Besides. Angelo could heal all of this for himself. He would be fine as soon as he accepted that Violet was in control. He would even understand this, on some level. By refusing to heal her, he was trying to rule her. To punish her. He wanted control, and he was using her pain to get it. As if his friends hadn't happily left him in the nest. Violet's had resisted, actually. But Angelo’s? They’d run to the safest place they could find without question. He was alone. He was powerless. Violet was better than him.

She couldn't think about this anymore. She hated it. And she was worried peeling apples would be ruined for her if she continued to watch this, so she closed her eyes and started humming to herself. She made it halfway through “You Are My Sunshine.” Her mom used to sing the same song to her as a child. Before Violet had proved herself to be a disappointment. For some reason, the song still made her feel better. Although she hadn't thought about it for years. She didn't have time to consider why.

Because she could feel her injuries start to heal.

She pulled Angelo's arm free and let the sobbing boy rest on the cold ground. “Let's just skip to the healing next time, yeah? I don't really like this part, either,” Violet said. “And don't heal me all the way. The group knew I was fighting, so they'll expect some of these injuries. Unlike you, they'll care enough about what happened to me to ask questions.”

Angelo cried, failing to swear at her for the first time since she'd captured him. She shrugged. He would be alright. They were past the worst of it, and she'd never have to do that again. He knew who was in control, and she could finally bask in the joy of the fun part. And she could have some curiosities answered. Like whether he was aware while trapped inside. Or if he saw the hedron she'd thrown in after him.

“Let me know when you're feeling better; I've got a few things I'd like to chat about. I'm dying to know what it's like in there. Do you feel, say... lonely?”