Vicious (Villains, #1)

by V.E. Schwab

Life—the way it really is—is a battle not between Bad and Good, but between Bad and Worse. —Joseph Brodsky

All Eli had to do was smile. All Victor had to do was lie. Both proved frighteningly effective.

The moments that define lives aren’t always obvious. They don’t always scream LEDGE, and nine times out of ten there’s no rope to duck under, no line to cross, no blood pact, no official letter on fancy paper. They aren’t always protracted, heavy with meaning. Between one sip and the next, Victor made the biggest mistake of his life, and it was made of nothing more than one line. Three small words. “I’ll go first.”

ExtraOrdinary. The word that started—ruined, changed—everything.

The smile on the man’s face was unmistakable, young and proud, the same smile he used to flash Victor. The exact same smile. Because Eliot Cardale hadn’t aged a day.

becoming unsettling. Victor struggled to assess it. The absence of pain led to an absence of fear, and the absence of fear led to a disregard for consequence.

Victor saw Eli’s shoes walk away before everything faded.

Sydney Clarke could raise the dead.

“When no one understands, that’s usually a good sign that you’re wrong.”