Free Malevolent (The Puzzle Box Series Book 1) by K.M. Carroll

she brought me word from God himself that I had not been forsaken. Judged, yes--but still a frail vessel of precious treasure. It was like a divine hug. And I, who had condemned myself to loneliness and silence, found my hopes unexpectedly growing.
    Perhaps, despite my condition, there is yet a way that I might be restored.
    I now owed Libby a debt of gratitude. I must heal her, if only to lend aid to a brave soul who had fought the corruption for so long.
    My trunk hid among the hives, appearing as one of them until I opened it. Inside, among other oddments and my puzzle box, was my particle viewer. It resembled a small telescope with several seashells tied to it, although its inner workings were far more delicate than that. It was wrapped in a plastic garbage bag. I lifted the telescope out into the rain, shielding it with my raincoat, and examined the nearest hive with it.
    The bees appeared as spots of bright yellow light. Dusty golden particles swirled around them. More light glowed from inside the hive, where the colony was spinning pollen into gold. The light was not as bright as I would have liked, but they were recuperating from their poisoning.
    I beckoned to Libby. She looked through the telescope, and gasped. "It's all glowy! That's what life motes look like?"
    "Yes." My heart swelled with pride. I had never shown anyone my bees through the viewer. I was revealing one of my secrets--one that I had wrested from the Marchers themselves.
    Deep in my heart, however, uncertainty ate at me. Trust few . Yet I was trusting Libby with the secret of magic. Perhaps I was truly making a fatal mistake.
    Libby was unaware of my struggle. She stepped back from the viewer and gaped at me. "You should write papers on this for the science journals! This is amazing!"
    I nodded, now weighing every word I spoke. "There is a dark side. Hold your hand in front of the lens." I adjusted the focus.
    Libby examined her injured hand through the viewer, and recoiled, squinting as if she had been given a close-up look of roadkill. She looked at it with unaided eyes, then again consulted the viewer. "There's black junk on my skin--like mold on bread. That's what death motes look like?"
    "Yes. It is ... unpleasant."
    She gazed at me for a long moment, as if thinking, the viewer in her hands. "You know, I didn't think I would believe you. But here's the proof--life and death motes, and the way that honey made me feel. I keep trying to argue against it, and I can't."
    I shrugged. "Why would I lie to you? I have nothing to gain." And everything to lose. Why had I told her so much?
    She hefted the viewer. "Have you ever looked at Robert with this?"
    "Yes. He appears as a black, rotten mass. It is little wonder he spreads sickness wherever he goes. He is like an uncovered septic wound."
    Her jaw clenched. "Well, he's not going to kill me." Her fierce determination boosted the vitality in her blood, and for a moment, golden motes gleamed through the blackness that covered her. I swayed backward by instinct, keeping enough distance between us so that I did not draw on that iota of life.
    Her fighting spirit had kept her alive. In all my life, I had never met anyone able to fight death itself in such a way.
    In one fatal second, I began to admire her. I blame the proximity of the puzzle box.
    Libby turned the viewer to examine the other hives. "Your bees are much brighter than the rest. Except those four on the end--they have black around them."
    Oh no. I took the viewer and looked. Four hives had nearly ceased to glow, and black motes swarmed around the entrances like gnats.
    "I did not replace those hive boxes," I muttered. "Now I see that I should have."
    "Won't the rain wash off the poison?"
    "Yes, but the motes are targeting weakened bees. And my honey is gone." I replaced the viewer inside the trunk--it would not do for Libby to inspect me--and knelt beside the hives to listen.
    The colony's songs were discordant, almost painful to my ears. I said