Chapter 4

The hatch slid back. Wind tore into the cabin — cold, hard, smelling of pine smoke and coming snow.

The helicopter dropped low and hovered above the town square.

The rotor wash hit the ground like a bomb.

Streamers and balloons ripped from their moorings. Folding tables and plastic chairs cartwheeled across the cobblestones. The giant red banner reading HAPPY HARVEST FESTIVAL got shredded down the middle and ended up flapping from a lamppost like a dirty rag.

A barbecue grill flipped over. Hot coals scattered across the ground in a spray of orange sparks, catching the edge of a hay bale. Black smoke rolled upward.

Below, the crowd broke into screams. People threw their arms over their heads and scattered in every direction, stumbling over each other to get away from the debris raining down. Women's skirts inverted in the wind. Men's hats vanished into the dark. Someone tripped and went down into a mud puddle and kept crawling.

I watched them scatter from above. Cold, quiet, completely unmoved.

The pilot set us down in the open center of the square.

The rotors wound down.

Alice jumped out first, turned back, and offered her hand to help me down.

I ignored it.

I stepped off the boarding ladder on my own, and my ten-centimeter heels hit the cracked asphalt of Oakvalley with a clean, sharp sound.

The searchlight sat full on me.

The crowd stopped running. They rubbed their eyes and squinted, trying to make out who had just stepped out of a helicopter worth more than this entire town.

"Chloe?" someone said. The name came out like they'd seen a ghost.

Dead silence.

Then the square erupted.

"The freak! She actually came!"

"Nice helicopter rental — spend all your dirty money on that?"

"You filthy witch, you came here to die!"

The grocery store owner pushed to the front of the crowd. He was holding a thick chain leash, his fat face creased into the most revolting grin I'd ever seen.

"Chloe! I've got your collar right here! Get on your knees and put it on yourself!"

He swung the chain at my face.

I didn't blink.

The bodyguard behind me stepped forward and kicked him in the stomach.

Two hundred and fifty pounds of self-satisfied fat man sailed backward, crashed into a folding table, and went down under a cascade of wine bottles, cake, and roasted turkey. His howl split the night. He rolled in the debris, clutching his gut, body shaking like pudding.

The crowd stepped back half a pace.

"Security!" Jessica's voice cut through from somewhere behind the crowd. "Arrest her!"

She shoved through to the front. The expensive burgundy gown, the heels, the calculated beauty — all of it went rigid when she saw my face.

"You piece of trash," she snarled, pointing a finger right at my nose. "You think renting a few bodyguards gives you the right to act like this? This is Oakvalley. My father is the mayor. Say the word and I'll have you kneecapped and stuffed in that cage before you take another breath."

She jabbed her finger toward the iron cage in the center of the square.

The raw meat inside had been there long enough. It reeked. Flies circled in lazy loops above the bowl.

I looked at her face.

"That dress is Chanel," I said. "Last season. And the waist seam has been let out — you've gained weight."

Jessica's face went the color of raw liver.

"Shut your mouth!" She lunged at me, palm swinging for my cheek.

I caught her wrist.

One clean twist, applied in the wrong direction.

The joint popped.

"AHHH—" She dropped straight to her knees. Sweat broke across her face immediately. Her features buckled inward with pain.

"Let her go!" Liam came charging through the crowd.

He was in full uniform — pressed, perfect, hand already moving to his holster. He drew his gun and leveled it at my head.

I looked at the face I had once, God help me, loved.

Now it only made my skin crawl.

"Pull the trigger," I said.

I stepped forward until the barrel pressed into the center of my chest.

"Go ahead, Liam. You're all about justice, aren't you? Ten years ago you put my face in the mud. Why are your hands shaking now?"

Liam's grip trembled. His eyes cut to the four armed bodyguards behind me. He swallowed.

"Chloe, stop making a scene." He dropped his voice low, generous, like he was doing me a favor. "Kneel down, apologize to Jessica, spend half an hour in the cage. I won't press charges. I'll let you walk."

I smiled.

Then I laughed.

I slapped him across the face.

The crack of it rang off every surface in the square.

His head snapped sideways. His police cap hit the ground and rolled twice.

The entire square went airless. Nobody made a sound.

"What exactly are you," I said quietly, "that I should apologize to you?"

I took a wet wipe from my pocket, cleaned the hand I'd hit him with, and dropped the wipe on his upturned cap.

I looked out across the frozen crowd.

"Where is the banquet hall?"

"In — in the town hall," the butcher stammered. His boning knife clanged off the cobblestones.

"Good."

I stepped over Jessica, still kneeling in the dirt, brushed past Liam, and walked toward the town hall.

"Bring the cage," I said without looking back.

"Yes, boss."

Behind me, iron scraped against asphalt — a long, teeth-grinding shriek that cut through the whole square.

There were going to be a lot of people needing that cage tonight.