Book 3: Chapter 46 - Crime and Punishment

Violet Asher was violent, dangerous, and monstrous.
Prolific and theatric in the pain and death she caused.

And she should have been stopped the second she made it to Chromatic Academy.

She wasn’t.

Because even the people who hated her chose to be complicit in her crimes.
—Daisy Whitaker, Cruelty in Color

Violet waited in the same colorful hall that had introduced her to Chromatic Academy. The same chair, even. She was getting pretty familiar with it. Bouvier often made the mistake of making her wait.

She was feeling pretty good, all things considered. The trip back to the train had been unpleasant with her injuries, but it was worth it. For just a little pain, she’d sold her innocence well before a single question was asked. She’d let Angelo heal her entirely the next time, but having him hold back had been the right call. Although he had made a mistake in the process, and she’d have to punish him for the fact later. 

She hadn’t realized until she made it to the train. When she finally changed her clothes, she realized it. The lightning scars had been healed. It was a good thing she realized before Aubrey saw the fact, or she’d have to come up with an entirely new excuse. That would be a pain. She honestly might have just killed the banshee. The doubting and glaring every few months was getting exhausting. It was just that a team member’s death would leave Guy and Kiera depressed for months. Violet didn’t necessarily mind comforting them, but she would’ve preferred to avoid upsetting them if she could. Kiera had been through enough this past year, and Violet wanted to spare the fox any added anxiety if she could. She already felt guilty about the slip-up before she caught Angelo.

Thankfully, Violet had realized the problem first. She’d have to pack up all her crop tops, but that was a sacrifice she was willing to make for her friends. It was possible Aubrey would even appreciate the effort to hide the missing scars more. 

Things had been warming up a bit over the trip back as well. Guy was always good for that, if little else. He’d been the first to try and relieve tension with humor, and the poor lovestruck fox had joined in to impress him. By the time the team had made it home, they were even having casual conversations again. It had been a slow and boring trip—and Violet didn’t mind giving her friends space—but it had been awkward for a while.

Unfortunately, all four students had been separated the minute they’d made it back to Prism City. Four of the eight students who'd left hadn't made it back alive, and that was honestly four more than anyone should have expected. So without so much as a “see you later,” each member of Violet's team was isolated and interrogated. Technically, they were just writing mission reports. But it felt a lot more like an interrogation.

It was annoying, and it made Violet worry about Kiera. She'd been hoping to have at least a few minutes to talk in private before being separated, but they'd have a chance when they got back to their dorm. The report hadn't been a waste of time, at least. It had given Violet an outlet to call Bouvier a dumb fuck on an official record. And... it had inspired her to really examine why he'd given her the mission in the first place.

She really should have died. Even Bouvier would think she would die on that trip. The fact that he sent her at all was telling. She hadn't really thought about it much leading into the mission. She'd been focused on Cyan's orders to handle Angelo and Terry. She was the type of chess player to focus too hard on her own strategy to really consider her opponent. Which wasn't a great way to win at chess, but it worked fine for serial killing. 

Once she really sat in front of a paper and wrote down her thoughts on Bouvier, however, it finally clicked into place. He was either trying to kill her—which was unlikely—or he knew more than he let on. Either about her degree and category or about her control over hedron. The thought made her frown. It wouldn't get in the way of her plans. Not as far as she could figure, at least. But she didn't like the thought that he was more competent than he seemed.

Then again, he wasn't actually the one making these calls. So it was really the Inverted Prism Society that was more competent than they seemed. She still knew very little about that group. She couldn't even figure out why they seemed to value her so much. She'd tested their interest to know it was real. And consistent enough to rely on. Spying on the Ashers, however? It had seemed like a reasonable goal when Bouvier had first scouted her. But it didn't feel right.

She'd kept them at bay with regular reports on Cyan and his interests. But none of it seemed as important as Bouvier implied. She wouldn't learn anything truly worth the effort of protecting her until she was powerful enough that she was beyond control. The Society would know that. There was simply no way her current reports were worth letting her kill so freely. Especially considering her targets. And they never would be. 

Yet something about her was worth it. Otherwise she'd have been caught months ago. She was always confident in the moment of a kill, but looking back at them? She knew she should’ve already been in prison. 

She wasn't all that brilliant. Clever, at best. Often extremely so. She was still proud of Demetri's death. Forcing the crystal capsule down his throat had been tedious, given its size. But that same feature had ensured he wouldn't simply pass it. Then she’d just had to avoid using Tools of the Trade until he was in police protection. Two uses after that, and the tool in his gut had disappeared, releasing a particularly nasty poison. 

She felt smug about it. But she made stupid mistakes just as often, like the street vendor. The fact that she was free was evidence she was valuable. To both Cyan Asher and The Society. And both apparently understood her abilities better than she did.

She was a pawn in someone else's game, and she hated that thought. She had every intention of making everyone involved regret casting her in that role. She just needed to figure out what was really so valuable about her.

Although before that, she wanted to deal with Abel Bouvier. 

No secretary came to retrieve Violet this time, which she thought was off. The headmaster almost always had her escorted in. Instead, the door seemed to open on its own, and she felt an intense compulsion to enter. It wasn’t like the feeling she got when Mr. Clay gave the class instructions. Rather than a direct instruction, it was more like an elimination. She no longer had the will to do anything but enter Bouvier’s office. She could refuse if she wanted to, technically. But on some level, doing what she was told was the only option that felt like living. The thought made her want to retch. 

But she didn’t react. Not even with her expression, as much as it tried to contort itself with each involuntary movement of her legs. She simply followed the silent order and entered the headmaster’s office. She stepped through the first room. It was quiet and surprisingly clean, compared to her past visits. She passed through to the private room where Bouvier waited, smoothing her skirt before taking a seat in front of him.

He looked twenty years older than when they’d met. Or perhaps fifty years would’ve been more accurate, at his category. Either way, his face had grown entirely new wrinkles, and his hairline was fleeing in absolute terror. Violet took great pride in that fact. She wondered if seeing the cause of his anxiety with so much hair of her own was enough to fully drive the man to madness.

But her musing didn’t last long. 

The man had a dangerous aura around him, like his cold fury was creating crystals of ice in the air. She’d been pushing him. Ridiculing him. Mocking him at every opportunity. Powerful men always had trouble with that at the best of times. But when someone supposedly under their authority did it with impunity? She knew he’d break eventually. It made sense that it would be now, although Violet didn’t like the way it was manifesting. If only in her own mind, she had to reluctantly admit to a tiny spark of fear. One fanned by her inability to control her own actions at the moment. She didn’t really fear death, and she could handle any level of pain. Many of her plans risked both. But helplessness? That was a terror burned deep into her soul.

“The entire team,” Bouvier said. It wasn’t a question, but an accusation. He didn’t need to elaborate. They both knew what he meant. Violet had told him she was going to kill one of the students before coming back. Yet Angelo’s entire team was missing.

The deaths of four orange lancers in a yellow nest were so expected it was obvious, and Violet tried to say so. But her mouth refused to open. Or, rather, she refused to open her mouth. Intellectually, she wanted to respond, but emotionally, she couldn’t muster the desire. So she remained silent, and Bouvier glared.

“I have given you a lot of freedom, Miss Asher. I’ve even supported you. Defended and protected you. I gave you a necklace to maintain your privacy, and those are far from cheap. I have turned a blind eye to your atrocities, because that is how important my job is. Stopping your family—because they are capable of far more damage than you—matters more than even an innocent life. It matters more than a hundred innocent lives. Even when those lives are my friends. Even when they are important to me, I have protected you as you hurt them. It was a necessary evil. I still believe it is, if I’m being honest,” he monologued. 

Violet was looking forward to killing him. Even his threatening speeches sounded whiny and spineless. She tried to say so, but she still couldn’t convince her mouth to move.

“But you’ve inspired me, I’ll give you that much,” he continued. “Go ahead. Ask me how.”

“Is that so?” Violet finally replied. “Well, I’m sorry, but I simply don’t care if I am inspiring to you. Are you making this speech because you’re finally planning to stop me? Are you going to kill me? Turn me in? Otherwise, I’m not really interested.” He couldn’t influence her on what to say, which made sense, or he’d have forced honesty from her months ago. That was relieving. It still pissed her off that he could decide when she could and could not speak, though.

“No. No, I won’t be stopping you. Keep killing my students. Keep killing my peers. Keep murdering my agents. I can’t stop you, as much as I want to. My sponsors really do value you that much. And they are right. The stakes are that high. We could lose... everything. The rest of humanity. If we don’t get the information we are sending you after, the world will likely whimper out of existence at long last. The hedron will grow too numerous and too powerful; we won’t keep up, and the Ashers will be responsible. So I will do everything I can to keep supporting you. Even if you murder a healer, and a Negotiator, and two other innocent children. I will follow my sponsor’s orders and keep you free. As repugnant a task as that is,” Bouvier replied.

Violet smirked, leaning back and crossing her arms. “So nothing is changing, then? What is this, some kind of humiliation fetish? You called me in to explain how helpless and impotent you are? News flash, bestie. Absolutely no one was confused about that. You’re like the human version of wet paper. Talking to you is like drinking ipecac on an empty stomach. I wasn’t going to make the mistake of thinking otherwise,” she taunted.

Bouvier smiled. “No. Like I said, you inspired me. The way you always push, even when it might get you killed. You always find out exactly how belligerent you can be without facing consequences, because you are willing to take the risk to find out. I respect that about you, if nothing else. So I decided to do the same,” he corrected.

Violet smiled. “Oh, so you plan to start being mean! Well, alright, I think I can handle that. I’m not sure if you can really capture my charm, though. I don’t know if you can pull off the sidetail,” she joked.

“My sponsors want me to control you, and they seem to think it will be as easy as giving you orders. Using my talent to dictate your behavior. But I think we both know that would backfire. Cyan would just overrule my own control with his far more binding talents. And you would be even less helpful. But my solution has been wrong this entire time. I see that now. You’re not going to side with me no matter what incentives and protections I offer. I didn’t want to risk losing you as an asset before, but I’ve realized I am going to, if I keep bending over backwards,” he clarified.

Violet lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so? So you aren’t going to keep protecting me? That’s fine. I never really needed it. What, do you want the necklace back? It doesn’t matter. It won’t stop me from killing you eventually,” she reminded him.

“No. Like I said. I will keep supporting you. We need you powerful enough to learn the Ashers’ secrets. I’ll keep pushing you. And I will hold my tongue when your cruelty costs innocent lives. But I’m also going to find the line. The edge I can approach before I lose you as an asset. If I can’t win loyalty with honey, I’ll use the stick. And get just a little justice for your victims in the process,” he explained.

“Oooh, scary,” Violet laughed. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she wasn’t going to let it show. But she remembered how she’d first started working with this man. He did have the power to hurt her in the only way she actually cared about in the long term. At the same time, she’d always expected him to repeat his first mistake. It was only a question of when it happened. If anything, she was impressed by how long it had taken.

Bouvier offered a tight-lipped smile. “One minute. For every life you take, I will use Nightmare for one minute. Two if they are one of my students or assets,” he promised. Violet didn’t have to ask what Nightmare was. It was obviously the same talent he’d used on her in Shepard’s office. Nothing described the void he’d sent her to quite so well as the name of his talent. It was, quite legitimately, an expression of her worst fear. “And yes. Koral Kiln counts. Even if she is still alive. So that makes it five minutes today.”

Violet was gratified by the confirmation that Koral had taken the fall in some capacity. She was upset with her own body. The beating of her heart had sped up in anticipation of Bouvier’s so-called punishment. She loathed that she couldn’t entirely conquer the terror of his threat. But it was a world of helplessness. She had no chance of facing it without fear. Thankfully, Bouvier had made a mistake.

“Is that supposed to terrify me into compliance?” Violet asked. “Because I'm struggling to conjure the response you're looking for here, babe.”

“No,” Bouvier dismissed. “I'm done trying to control your madness. Honestly? The only reason I think you'll be useful at all is because you're selfish. When you finally understand that this isn't a game, you'll help out of simple self-preservation. You'll want a world to do your hunting in, so you'll help us save it. Until then, you and I simply have to suffer each other's existence.”

“So, what, then? You just like to monologue like a cartoon villain? You're just petty? It's not ‘justice’ or whatever you're telling yourself. If you cared about that, you'd stop me. Not slap me on the wrist,” Violet replied.

“You're probably right,” Bouvier agreed with a sigh. “It's not real justice. But I don't care. I liked those kids, Violet. They were good students. Bright and driven. I liked a lot of people you've hurt. And I can't stop you while still saving the world. It's a horrible choice, and maybe you've found exactly the right word for it. Maybe all that's left of me, after making these choices, is pettiness.”

He was still furious, but there was a resignation in his voice Violet didn't like. Angry and hopeful was always far less violent than just angry. “Pathetic,” she sneered. 

Bouvier nodded. “I am. I understand that now. Either way. This is all about exactly one thing. The only thing I've been able to think about since you returned with such fresh blood on your hands. If I must watch you kill, the least I can do is to also make you suffer.”

And with that final word... everything stopped. It happened in an instant, like the ground had collapsed beneath her. Bouvier had been forcing a smile, and then everything ended. Her sense of sight, taste, smell. She couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t process time, even as she tried to count in her head. She existed as every moment of panic she’d ever experienced. Every instant of fear. 

She was alone.

She was powerless.

She hurt so much more than physical pain could ever match, and she had no sense of direction. 

There was absolutely nothing she could do to feel okay. It was like her skin was pulling in on itself, strangling her a little at a time. Except she had no skin, as far as she could feel. So it was just the sensation on its own. 

It was so much worse than she'd expected. It was so much worse than she'd remembered. 

Oh, God, it was worse.

Violet wasn’t in control, and it fucking hurt.

Hours had already passed like this. Eons. Empty lifetimes of pain, and Violet nearly lost herself in an instant.

But she didn't. She held on. Because Bouvier had made a mistake. He’d told her this would end. It felt like it had always been happening the instant it had started. It seemed like an eternity. But it wasn’t. And since she knew that, she could endure it.

So he wanted to punish her? To make himself feel better about being her accomplice? Fine. She could endure anything that had a point of termination. This was the worst she’d faced, but she forced her mind into a state resembling calm. She meditated in her mind, and she focused on the end. Of this agony, and of Abel Bouvier. 

Both were on their way.