“And so this is how it ends.” A click of a pistol. Dimitri was loading in his bullets. “It shall truly be a new era.”
“Marshall!”
Marshall jolted, stopping dead in his tracks. He was breathing hard, the sound audible even before Benedikt tumbled out from the car. Marshall had never looked so horrified in his life. His expression flashed with surprise, then relief in sighting Benedikt, but it didn’t last long.
“Ben,” Marshall gasped. He hurried to him, clasping on to his hand. “Ben, Ben, we have to go help them. Roma and Juliette—”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Benedikt reassured him, smoothing his other hand against Marshall’s neck. “I’ll explain. Alisa, get in the car. We need to be ready.”
“Freed from Scarlets. Freed from White Flowers,” Dimitri continued.
Juliette started to count, wondering when Benedikt would make his move. Surely, soon. Surely, very soon.
“Instead,” Roma said, “it is a city ruled by monsters.”
One of the workers nudged his rifle hard into Roma’s head, shutting him up. Dimitri maintained a neutral stare. He was still pretending.
“What convenience that you bring it up,” Dimitri said. He looked the picture of innocence. “Then I shall reveal to the city that I present to it two gifts. The end of gangster tyranny, and—” He gestured to several bags on the ground by his feet. Juliette hadn’t noticed them before, but they looked like the sort used to store flour or rice, found in multitudes at the food markets. These were tied up at the ends with string, the cotton fabric looking like it would fray at any second to give way for whatever was bulging inside.
“—a vaccine, distributed to all who are loyal to me.”
A murmur spread through the crowd, and Juliette’s gaze flickered up with surprise. So that was how he was going to play it. Exactly as the Larkspur had done: set ruin on the people with one hand and offer salvation with the other.
The wind blew cold against Juliette’s cheek, and she let it—she let the seconds draw long, squirming against the rope around her waist. They hadn’t bothered securing it very tightly because she was supposed to be dead in seconds. Her hands were still freed. Within reaching distance of the worker to her right, his rifle in line with her face.
Dimitri raised his gun. “The history books will mark today momentously.”
“Yes,” Juliette said. “They will.”
A gurgling noise came from above. That was the only warning that rang into the night. In the next second, a rain of gasoline was showering down, covering the crowd, the workers, the entire street side. It stung her eyes dreadfully, but Juliette had the advantage of knowing what was coming. The worker keeping guard next to her screamed out and covered his eyes with his hands, leaving his rifle free for the snatching. Juliette spared no time in yanking it from him and turning the point down, slashing the sharp end on the rope around her waist. Her hip stung; it had caught a cut, running fresh blood, but Juliette didn’t pay it any mind. She coughed hard against what had trickled into her mouth and turned to Roma.
“Open your eyes, my love. You’ll need to see if we’re going to escape.”
Roma’s eyes flew open just as Juliette sawed through the rope on his arms.
“What is this?” he demanded, shaking the slickness off his arms.
Juliette nodded out into the crowd. She cut through his waist bindings too. “Look.”
Before their very eyes, five monsters burst into shape. The screaming was immediate—the chaos that Juliette had expected. The civilians scattered in all directions; the workers abandoned their posts as monsters roared up into the night. With a brutal curse, Dimitri finally forced his eyes open just as the gasoline came to a stop, screaming, “Release!”
It was too late. Dimitri was too late. Even as the insects poured out, Juliette dropped the rifle and reached for Roma’s hand, tugging him forward, searching for a good pathway. Just as she started to move, there was a click from behind them, and faster than Juliette could react, Roma yanked her down, narrowly avoiding a bullet that skimmed the concrete ground.
They turned around. Dimitri was holding his pistol out. “You should be dead,” he seethed at Roma. A clump of black ran over his shoe. “The insects should be killing you.”
“It would take more than that to kill me,” Roma replied.
Dimitri tightened his grip on the pistol. Destruction tore through the scene before he could shoot: a bloodbath, infecting those who hadn’t run fast enough. Juliette’s eyes swiveled to the side. A woman: dropping to her knees, fingers sinking into her neck and pulling without any hesitation. A scream—a figure, running to her. Her husband: cradled over her corpse and keening a loud, desolate noise. Then he too gouged at his own throat and fell to the ground.