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Chapter 27

Nico swirled two metal fingers around the hole in my pants where the bullet had struck. I sat draped over his lap, sharing a leather armchair while we waited for Sabina in her parlor. The healer remnant extracted the bullet quickly and healed the wound like it had never happened, though the glint lacing the lead remained steady in my blood.

Vesper and Callow sat on a dark green velvet couch with a tufted backing. The room was a similar style to the grand homes of Lynchaven, though Sabina's decorum was more... rustic. Silken skins of animals lined the hardwood floors, contrasting with the elegant gold accents of the lighting fixtures and wallpaper that reminded me of a forest from its design. With the mounted head of beasts lining the walls, it was impossible to look anywhere in the room without something dead staring back.

My brother stood near a window, draped in the grey glow from the overcast morning—and ignoring us all. The healen had set his nose right again and sealed the fractures in his cheekbones from Nico's blow, but blood still stained the front of his white shirt. He'd dressed in an obvious hurry, as we all had, and I wondered if Esme had given him permission to use her bike. He might face worse than a punch to the nose if he did so without it.

"What happened today?" I asked Nico. "When you left to scout, why couldn't you get back to me?"

He sighed a long breath. "As soon as I crossed a boundary of some kind, my remnant stopped working. It wasn't like glint. I still had my power, but I couldn't use it. Almost like the kind of stuff they use in the homes in the Districts to keep out descendants and our magic. They were sure to drug me when they caught me. I think they wanted to use me to draw you out."

I shifted in the seat to sit up straighter, and his hand fell between my knees. "Well, it nearly worked. That watchman, though. He was different. Do you think he's a descendant?" Nico shook his head, quickly dismissing the idea.

I bit my lip. "There's no other explanation for what I felt. The power he wielded was too much like a Mirth remnant. Not even Delilah used magic like that in the tower."

"It sounds like your watchman has learned how to control the Arcane," Vesper said, crossing her legs to lounge back on the couch.

My interest piqued at the word. "Delilah mentioned the arcane frequently," I said. "Is that something they use on the Continent as well?"

She nodded. "It's a bit complex. The Academy controls most of the knowledge concerning the science behind it, but the Arcane is a way for—as you call them—natives to manipulate magic without a remnant."

"Without a remnant?" Nico's brows raised. "How could one use magic without access to a remnant?"

Vesper bit the inside of her cheek like she debated how to answer him.

Callow leaned forward, propping his arms on his knees with a thoughtful expression on his face. He finally said, "On the Continent, the Academies control the source of the Arcane. It acts like the fuel to their power. They use Siphons to hold an ancient kind of magic that was given to the world by Giver. The Arcane draws from the Siphon. So where the Siphon is power, the Arcane is the code that tells it what to do."

When Chaos sent her armies to fight against the natural order of the world, the saints had fractured themselves to distribute their power to their Remni, and every descendant alive was the product of that sacrifice. Giver and Greed, the two-faced saint, had given them something as well, apparently.

"I'm not sure I'm following," Nico murmured.

"The Arcane is the language of life," Aramis said. We all looked at him in mild surprise, but his stare remained on the view of the river. "There are three studies of the Arcane: Matter, Mind, and Myth. Everything in this life, the matter, has a code that keeps it in order. There are laws of nature, certainties in the way an object reacts with the world based on its code."

He pushed off the window, taking a sheathed blade from his pocket. "For example, if I drop this, it will fall to the ground. That is law, a measurable truth, an action, and a predictable reaction. But"—he pulled the blade from its sheath, revealing the bright blue glow from a dip of glint—"if you rewrite the law, combine it with something else that outsets the previous limitations, you have created something entirely new, and yet it still has order because it is measurable and predictable."

He pointed the knife at us all. "Order despises divine magic. It breaks the very laws the Creator made the world with. Normally, light shrinks the darkness, but as a darkthief, you can do the opposite with your remnant. The Attanos can move wind where there is no breeze, impossible things that go against nature itself."

Aramis tucked the knife back in his pocket. "There are alchemists, like the Firenzes, who have taken their studies beyond the laws of this world and have sought to use them to understand and control the divine. The goal is to provide order to what is undefined, a way to regulate remnants, give them restraints and laws. Because nothing, even the remnants that seem to defy the law, exists without a code. If the Creator made it, which he did the saints, then the Arcane exists as a fundamental form in each power of every descendant."

This was what Delilah had been doing all along. Her life's work, as she called it, studying the Arcane and the codes of existence. Those symbols she used as weapons, like magic when I first experienced them, were nothing more than the manipulation of the laws using science—manipulating with the Arcane.

"What the watchman performed," Vesper said, "confirms that your Society has learned how to not only use the Arcane, but how to use it against you. Though, I'm not sure what they're using as a Siphon. Not when the Academy holds the source of all arcanist energy on the Continent."

"Blood," I said. "They drew markings with the blood of the wearhs. Delilah mentioned the source of a bleeder's remnant was in their blood. Perhaps they're using that as well to source their arcane spells."

Aramis crinkled his nose and shook his head. "They might use blood, but there's something else here. Something not as difficult to distribute."

"But why?" I asked them. "What's the goal of all this?"

"Control," Nico muttered the word. "If they can figure out how to industrialize this power, they can manipulate everyone. Gavriel said it best when he explained how much he despised remnants for taking his family's empire. This is about control and money. Always has been."

"I was going to say Order," Aramis muttered. He paced up the length of the parlor, stepping between the bands of silver daylight.

I suddenly saw my brother from a different perspective, viewing a stranger where he stood instead. He'd never shown this much interest in the business of alchemists or their science. Nico seemed to sense something off as I did, sitting up from his leisure posture, his grip around my knee tightened.

"So you learned all this from our contact, did you?" he asked my brother in that sleazy voice, suggesting he thought otherwise.

Aramis shrugged a shoulder. "We used to be close to the Firenzes. I pieced together what I knew and what I learned from Narcissa. Why do you think I was desperate to get Camilla out of the city? I knew they were brewing trouble."

If Nico was unsatisfied with that reply, he said nothing. Though I could practically hear the wheels beginning to turn in his head, that beautiful mind of his conjuring his own theories and a hundred different possibilities they could spurn—never one to be surprised.

"Then my key, as they call it, is it a code as well?"

Aramis nodded slowly, as if unsure. "I would assume. If it indeed is a key to Oblivion, then taking it from you using the Arcane would allow them to use it."

"But why?" I asked. "Why would they want to open Oblivion?"

"Perhaps it holds something they want." Sabina spoke from the archway of the parlor, leaning against the thick wood frame like she had been listening for a while. She pushed off to cross the room, standing in front of the large hearth that dominated the sitting area. A smile stretched across her face as she noticed me. "Good to see you again, Camilla."

The bleeder queen didn't seem surprised I was sitting here, not like the wearhs who supported her. I had felt their stares, the weight of their whispers as we rode to her riverside mansion, and I'd been thankful the watchmen hadn't infiltrated Salt Street far enough to hit Sabina's home.

Her long silver-white hair was pulled up into a braided bun on the top of her head, away from the hood of a thin coat that hid the rest of her curvy figure down to her leather boots. A fur belt tied at the narrowest part of her waist. She appeared to have just arrived from being out, the bloodstains still fresh on the black fabric of her coat.

She glanced around the room. "And who are the rest of you?"

Nico gestured with his chin. "Aramis Marchese. Milla's family." My brother only nodded in greeting, clearly displeased with his introduction.

"Another Marchese back from the dead." She looked him over. "Saints, you're the spitting image of your father."

"You knew my father?" Aramis cocked his head.

She scoffed. "Unfortunately." Her stare fell to the couch. "And these two?"

Callow and Vesper stood slowly, stating their names. "They are the reason I was keen to set up a visit with you, Madame," Nico explained when Sabina was obviously confused about their presence, her smile wavering. "Are we alone?"

"At the moment. My staff is busy doing damage control." She sighed, her gaze flicking to the windows for a second. I thought I saw a flash of emotion on the frigid woman before she set her face again. "No one's around to hear anything. So get to the point. I have a lot to do today."

"Of course." Nico shifted, gently sliding me from his lap to stand. While I resettled in the wide seat, he stood behind it, bracing his hands on the backing. "But these two benders have traveled a very long way to speak with you. Or, more specifically, your mother."

That surprised the bleeder. "My mother? She's dead. Has been for years."

"As Nico said," Vesper spoke quickly, "we aren't exactly from around here. We traveled to Lynchaven on behalf of a resistance organization, and our leaders told us to find Rosa Bianchi so we could complete our mission."

Sabina looked at me, swallowing hard. It was the only time I'd ever seen her even slightly unsettled. "Where did you say you're from?"

Vesper glanced at Callow, who nodded. "We're from the Continent."

The bleeder took a step back, like she'd been struck. I sat straighter in the chair, sensing a new tension in the room. "What the hells are you doing here?"

"We were sent to find Chaos." Vesper looked at me then. "But we found her Remni instead. We were hoping you knew more about Chaos, if your mother spoke of them—"

"Stop." Sabina spoke the word like an order, clipped and precise. "Stop talking."

"This is poor timing," Nico said. "We'll come back another time when you have less to worry about, Sabina."

"You'll sit the fuck down and wait for me to think, Attano," she snapped back. Aramis chuckled quietly, earning him a glare from my husband.

"Camilla," she said. "You must understand something first, before I indulge these two with some unsolicited information. And I think... I think it was obvious to us both from the moment I tasted your blood, when I tasted the fire of Oblivion, I knew what you were, and I denied it." Sabina appeared visibly frazzled now. I'd never seen her so beside herself, so out of control of her emotions. "For that, I must apologize."

The apology unsettled me. "Sabina, what are you talking about?"

She didn't reply at first, instead pulled off her coat and draped it over a nearby chair. She braced her hands on the back of the seat. "Rosa Bianchi brought Chaos to this Isle when we fled the revolution building on the Continent. If you recall from our previous conversations, I was just a girl then myself."

It was like I had swallowed a stone, and every word from Sabina sunk it deeper down my throat. "Then you knew Chaos as well," I said. The saint who gave me her remnant.

She nodded. "Yes, Camilla. I knew your mother."

"What do you mean,you knew her?" I asked as Nico handed me a drink. After the revelation Sabina had dropped in my lap, I found it difficult to sit. The bender made himself useful in the only way he could: by helping himself to the bar cart.

The sun had barely risen over the river, but I took a sip anyway, wincing at the burn. Nico's usual blend of tobacco dispersed in the air as he lit a new cigarillo, and I let it fill my lungs, let it loosen and soothe the knot in my chest.

"We found her on the ship. She claimed she was an orphan of the times. My mother, being the kind of woman she was, refused to let the child out of her sight for the next twelve years. She was..." Sabina sucked in a long breath. "She was my best friend. We grew up together. Close as sisters, honestly. By all rights, I could be your aunt."

"Then why keep this from me? Why didn't you say anything that day when you claimed you knew?"

"Because it was impossible for you to be hers! No matter all the similarities between you nor the taste of your blood." Her gaze shot to me, pinning me in place with its weight. "I sawNadine leave. I brought her to the damn ship myself. I begged her to stay, but she had..."

"She had what?" I snapped. Saints forbid she got emotional on me now—that she pretended to care.

"She had a baby," Sabine whispered. Her shoulders fell slightly. Nico offered her a glass of brandy as well. She nodded her thanks to him and held it close to her waist. "Nadine fell head over heels for that Marchese creature. I didn't see what was so great about him to risk her life and the rest of the realm, but here you are."

She threw back the entire shot like it was water. "I just don't understand," she said. "She disappeared on me after she married Gio. I thought he kept her locked away, but then I realized she was trying to hide her pregnancy."

"Why, though?" I asked. "What put us in danger in the first place?"

Sabina's crimson eyes narrowed. "I wasn't the only one who found out she was a saint in mortal form. There's a longer story behind what I'm telling you now, Camilla. And I will share it if you ask me, but for the sake of time, I must be brief." She pointed a finger at me. "Someone she foolishly trusted as much as she trusted me betrayed your mother."

"Was her name Delilah?" I asked. Judging by the way Sabina straightened, the name triggered a memory. I recalled the alchemist's words when I'd asked her if she killed my mother.

I did something worse.

There were few things worse than death, like losing a life while your heart still beat, having friends like family and true love just to have it ripped away.

"Tell me that bitch isn't still alive," she hissed.

"She's dead," I said, then took a small sip of amber liquor. "I drove a knife through her, just to be sure."

"Good." Sabina shut her eyes briefly. "But yes, Delilah the alchemist, distant family of the Firenzes and psycho scientist herself, tried to take advantage of Nadine. Gio got her a ticket out, though. Just to keep her safe. One good thing he did, I suppose." Her focus left me, staring down a thought. "Something must have gone wrong if you're still here. I watched her get on that damn boat."

Silence settled into the conversation, letting us all take a moment to think about the implications of Sabina's confession. If my mother was Chaos and she was last seen alive trying to leave the Isle, then perhaps she was still out there somewhere.

The hope bloomed and died just as quickly in my heart. If my mother was still alive, surely she'd try to get back to me. If I was important enough to take when she left, wouldn't it have been just as important to find me if we were separated? Unless...

"What if Nadine isn't really my mother? What if, like the saints before, she just gifted me a piece of her power? Perhaps I'm just her Remni, not her daughter."

Sabina shook her head before I could finish. "You are Nadine's child. I'm disappointed in myself that I didn't see it as soon as you approached me in the Salt Exchange. Being a Marchese with that hair and those wild eyes... hells."

It didn't feel like enough, being identified by someone who knew her. But when I looked at my brother, who picked at his nails with a knife as he listened, the differences in our features were damning. "Then how do I have the power of a saint? I've never heard of the divines having children before."

Sabina took a long breath before she explained. "Chaos, as I'm sure you remember from our biased books, came from the Creator's soul. The other saints came from his hands, his mind, his body, and his heart. Those things can be broken, and the remnants inherited. But a soul cannot be split. Chaos couldn't break herself apart to defend herself like the others—"

"That's why she made the demons." Aramis spoke up then, flipping the blade around his finger.

Sabina squinted at him. "Yes, she made the demons to fight against the divine armies, but that is a history lesson for another day." She placed her empty glass on the wood table between us, looking at me. "Chaos couldn't fragment herself, so she multiplied. Nadine was afraid of what was happening on the Isle. She demanded to return to the Continent, insisting it was safer—bigger. That she had allies there now."

"She did, and she does," Vesper spoke as she stood, squaring her shoulders as she looked at me. "Many of us know the truth about the First War and we are ready to stand against the Orders. As long as Chaos exists, as long as she lives, there is hope for us. Order cannot exist if Chaos does."

A bubble of laughter floated from my chest. "What could I do?" I gestured to the window. "Look at what happens when I fight back! I took out an entire warehouse because I couldn't control my fire—"

"You did what?" Sabina asked with new interest sharpening her voice.

I dismissed her with a wave of my hand. "What about my power gives anyone hope? It's not like other remnants that can be controlled. There's something volatile about its nature. It unravels everything it touches—"

"Nadine had the same fire, Camilla," the bleeder said. "She kept it similarly hidden for years, but I saw it work when she needed it to. It destroys, but it can also create. If you only knew what you were capable of..." Sabina glanced toward the archway as if worried someone would overhear. "The OIC wants you, Camilla. Thank the saints Nico got you out of that prison before they could use you. Because your power in the hands of the ones who want control over us all. Well, the rest of us wouldn't stand a chance."

My hands gripped the crystal glass firmly, swirling the last sip of brandy in thought. This was too much to take in at once. Between Aramis and his understanding of the Arcane, Sabina and my mother, my mother being a shitting saint...

"We need to find out what is in Oblivion," I murmured. "If we are to stop whatever the OIC has planned, we need to know what they want."

"And how will we do that?" Nico asked. He'd been quietly listening the entire time, pacing behind the sitting area.

The answer, I found, was surprisingly simple and difficult all at once. "The book. Delilah had a book that Chaos herself wrote. Everything she knew about me, she learned from that book."

"And where is this book?" Sabina asked.

I flinched. "Felix has it."

"Well, since your brother is so close with the Firenzes," Nico spoke as if he weren't standing there, "perhaps he can figure out a way to get the damn thing from him."

To my surprise, Aramis didn't fight him on it. Instead, he shrugged. "Give me a few days to contact Narcissa and work something out. I'll try to learn what I can."

A loud knock interrupted our scheming. Sabina cleared her throat of whatever emotion lingered from her outburst and started toward the archway. "That'll be for me." She snapped at Nico. "Attano, walk with me upstairs for a moment. We need to discuss matters for the rest of the Row."

Nico snuffed out his cigarillo in a nearby ashtray. "I'll be right back," he said, then placed a kiss on my temple. "The cousins are out front if you wish to go home."

"I'll wait for you," I told him. He seemed to hear all the words I didn't say, for he squeezed my shoulder, replying in his own nonverbal way that everything was going to be alright. That he was with me in this mess. There was so much communicated in that single touch that I nearly broke from the overwhelming flood of them all.

"Attano!"

"Seven hells," he murmured. "I'll be back."

Their footsteps disappeared out of the receiving room door. Vesper had a strange look on her face. "Milla, can I ask you something strange?"

I almost laughed. Because what could be more bizarre than the previous conversation? "What is it?"

"Your husband," she drawled. "What happened to his shadow?"

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