Chapter 25 Seraphine

Chapter 25 Seraphine

At breakfast the following morning, Sera filled Bibi in on everything she had missed the day before. She listened, enraptured, and by the end was more than eager to help Sera plunder the Grand Versini Library and uncover the lost recipe for Lightfire.

Later that day, they set off with Val in good spirits, leaving Theo behind to tinker with the bloom Sera had brought back from the plains.

It was dusk by the time they reached the Scholars' Quarter, where the Grand Versini sat in a pool of dying sunlight. Barely a stone's throw from the Marlowe, the library occupied its own sprawling courtyard, which boasted a magnificent fountain built in honour of Celiana, Saint of Song and Poetry, whose marble likeness spouted water into a large stone pool filled with copper coins.

Bibi fished a coin from her pocket. ‘Shall we make a wish?'

‘Personally, I'd rather pilfer that fountain than add my hard-earned copper to it,' said Val, frowning at the water like she really was considering it.

‘If you steal those wishes, Saint Celiana will smite you.' Bibi chucked a copper in, closed her eyes and whispered under her breath. Then she smiled. ‘I've got a good feeling about that one.'

After what had happened to Mama, Sera hardly believed in wishes, but she didn't believe in ruining the moment, either. So she fished a copper from her pocket and listened to the satisfying plink as it hit the water. Her wish was a single word: Lightfire.

A handful of people were milling about on the steps of the Grand Versini, but the patrolling dayguards were already cautioning them to hurry home before the sun set. For that was when the monsters came out to hunt, and judging by the number of dead bodies that had been turning up over the last few days, they were hungrier than ever.

Oh, Mama, what did you do?

In the shadows of a nearby lane, they slipped on their cloaks. Once they were folded safely into the dark, they crept out of the alley and up the imposing marble steps of the Grand Versini, slipping seamlessly from one shadow to the next.

They convened in the reading atrium on the third floor, where a balcony looked over the entryway three floors below, and waited for the stragglers to leave. The librarians packed up, stowing the last of their books and grabbing their satchels, eager to beat the darkness home. After one last patrol of every floor, they extinguished the lanterns and left through the front door, closing and locking it behind them.

Silence, then.

The last rays of sunlight slipped through the arched windows, setting the entire atrium aglow. Bibi pulled her hood down, her floating head appearing behind a nearby armchair. ‘Too easy.'

‘Don't get cocky,' warned Val. ‘We're only halfway there.'

‘Why can't we ever celebrate the small victories?' moaned Bibi.

‘Because that's when things usually go to shit.'

They found a spiral staircase at the back of the fourth floor, and climbed it. Sera pressed her ear against the door at the top, listening for movement, but there was only the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears and the tell-tale creak of the stairs as her friends climbed up behind her. She tried her lock pick, twisting and jiggling it just as Theo had taught her.

Click!

Her heart hitched as the door yielded. She slipped through the crack, into the sprawling darkness. The top floor was much larger than she was expecting, at least twice the size of the dining quarters at House Armand. The low ceiling was criss-crossed with wooden beams. The air up here was cold and stale, a faint ray of light spiralling down from a row of narrow windows.

Sera drew her cloak tighter as she drifted inside, listening for signs of life. But the stacks at the Grand Versini were deserted. And in total disarray. There were bookshelves and boxes everywhere, tattered chairs and broken tables, cracked lamps and even a disused printing press.

‘What a dump.' Val's voice echoed in the silence. ‘How are we going to find anything in here?'

‘Divide and conquer,' said Sera, slipping off her hood and gloves, and removing a box of matches from her pocket. She grabbed three oil lamps from a nearby shelf, and handed one each to Val and Bibi. ‘I'll start on this side. Bibi you start in the middle, and Val, you can begin at the other end of the stacks. Shout if you find anything useful.'

Bibi took off in a clatter of determined footsteps, with Val trailing close behind. Sera hovered near the door, craning her neck at the surrounding shelves. It was difficult to know where to begin. Most of the books up here were dusty and falling apart at the spine, and there were hundreds of old penny papers that had turned stiff and yellow with age.

She tried to be methodical with her search, clearing one section of shelves before moving on to the next, stacking and arranging books and pamphlets as she went.

Bibi hummed as she worked and every so often, Val announced her boredom with a long-suffering sigh. A couple of hours into the search, Sera was beginning to lose hope when Bibi's voice rang out. ‘I found a cane! I think it belonged to Hugo! In a box of old penny-paper clippings about the Daggers. It was hidden under the stack.'

‘Unless that stick is engraved with a recipe for Lightfire then it's irrelevant,' Val yelled back.

‘I want to see,' said Sera, coming to meet Bibi halfway down the stacks.

Bibi presented the cane to her like it was the lost treasure of Valterre. Sera turned it in her hands, tracing the initials along the bottom: HRV. Hugo Ralphe Versini . How had such a valuable item accidentally ended up here? Along the top, a silver skull hid the sharp point of a blade.

‘Keep it,' said Bibi, sliding the skull back into place. ‘Might as well take something for our troubles.'

Sera took the cane back to her section, thinking it would make a nice gift for Theo.

Evening soon melted into night. Strands of moonlight slipped through the windows, illuminating the dust motes that spiralled around Sera's face. Her stomach growled as her disappointment grew. Val gave up entirely, leaving her section to join Bibi. By the sounds of it, they had happened upon a stack of love letters written by Armand Versini, and were taking turns doing dramatic readings between peals of hiccupping laughter.

Sera lingered over a bundle of penny papers dated from around the time of Lucille's death. One of the front pages was a black-and-white print of Lucille standing on the front steps of the Appoline. Sera lifted it to the moonlight, gazing up at the long-dead Versini girl like they were just now meeting for the first time.

‘Come on, Lucille,' she whispered. ‘Help me out.'

‘I didn't know you could speak to ghosts,' said a voice in the dark. Low, and soft as honey. Lethal as a snake bite. ‘You really are full of surprises.'

Sera bristled. ‘Shit.'

Ransom clucked his tongue. ‘Language, Seraphine. This is a sacred place.'

He was standing right behind her. She could feel the heat of his body rolling against hers, the air rippling as he chuckled under his breath. She tipped her head back and caught a glimpse of his eyes peering down at her. They were bright silver.

He had decided to kill her after all. She had pushed him too far last night, taunted him with that lullaby.

She was suddenly conscious of Val and Bibi giggling at the other end of the stacks. Unprotected. Unaware. She clasped her necklace in one hand, silently reaching for Hugo's cane with the other.

He crouched down, his mouth parting on a whisper that never came. She swung the cane, striking him on the side of the head. He groaned, slumping to one side.

She sprang to her feet and raced for the door.

Come on, asshole. Follow me.

She was down the spiral staircase in six seconds flat, her cloak and gloves forgotten. Ransom swung himself over the banister, landing right behind her. She bolted for the next staircase. He jumped that one just as easily, his silver eyes flashing. She shrank back from that menacing glare, until she was pressed against the railings of the third-floor balcony.

She brandished the cane like a sword. ‘Aren't you tired of chasing me?'

He cocked his head. ‘Aren't you tired of running?'

‘Nope.' She wrenched the skull off the cane and flung it at him.

He caught it in his fist, returning it at such speed, it whistled past her left ear and struck the window behind her, cracking the pane.

‘Warning shot,' he growled. ‘Play nice.'

She snorted. ‘Why? So you can kill me at your leisure?'

‘There is nothing leisurely about you, spitfire.' He stuffed his hands into his pockets, and the shadows stopped advancing, instead forming a pool of darkness between them. A truce. Or a trap. ‘I'm not here to kill you. I want to talk. Face to face.'

Sera kept her eyes on his shadows. ‘Then why are your eyes bright silver?'

‘Maybe I'm a little afraid of you.' He gestured to the exposed blade on the end of her cane. ‘I know what you can do with a letter opener. I shudder to think what you'll do with that.'

‘It's not the blade you should be worried about,' she said, hardening her voice. ‘I have the power to destroy you. To destroy your entire Order.' Silence yawned. Not a single shadow moved. Not for the first time, she wondered what he knew about Lightfire. She watched him closely as she said, ‘That power is why Dufort killed my mother. It's why he burned our house to the ground.'

Not even a twitch. ‘So, you believe me, then.'

Sera frowned. ‘What?'

‘I told you I didn't kill her.'

She curled her lip, thinking again of that figure in the flames. ‘Isn't the depravity all the same in the end? Who you are. What you do.'

His eyes flashed, but he held the line, even as his shadows strained against it. ‘You want to talk about depravity? Then let's talk about the poison, Seraphine. What was it your mother called that wine of hers, Nectar of the Saints ?' He sneered. ‘Ironic choice.'

Sera quailed. He couldn't possibly know about the wine… the poison … Unless… She winced. Of course he knew. He hadn't followed her all the way to the plains just to smell the lavender. He'd gone through the shed and found that damning label, those crimson berries. Heartsbane. But still, how had he managed to put it all together? It hit her, then – Lorenzo. He must have sung for his freedom.

‘What's the matter?' he taunted, coming closer. ‘Monster got your tongue? You can thank Sylvie for that.'

Slowly, almost tentatively, his shadows licked her shoes. The bead of her necklace flared, flooding her body with warmth.

His eyes widened, hunger thickening his voice. ‘There you are.'

Sera's grip tightened on the cane. ‘What the hell do you want from me?'

‘I want you to touch me, Seraphine.'

She blinked, momentarily shocked into silence. The bead grew brighter, pulsing against her throat like it wanted to touch him too. ‘You mean burn you,' she managed.

‘Yes,' he said, reaching for her like a drowning man.

She watched the shadows darting across his knuckles and fear took over. She flung the cane at him. It struck his shoulder, ripping his shirt. His nostrils flared at the unexpected assault, his shadows rising in a sweeping black wave. In a panic, she reeled backwards and fell right over the railings.

‘NO!' Her arms flailed, grasping at nothing. She was already plummeting. The ceiling fell away, her scream dying in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the hard slap of marble.

Sera halted right before the moment of impact, as though someone had set the world to pause. The ceiling loomed high above her, reminding her of how far she had fallen, but she was alive. She was floating. She looked down to find herself in a cradle made of shadows. The second she noticed them, they frayed, shredded by the Lightfire at her throat.

She fell as they snapped and landed with a soft thud, releasing a strangled cry of relief.

Ransom arrived in the same breath, swinging down from the third floor and landing right in front of her. He extended his hand to her, and for an absurd moment, she thought about taking it.

She scrambled to her feet. Her legs were trembling badly. Her body was here, but her mind was still plummeting from the third floor, still reeling from the nearness of death. But there was no mistaking what had just happened. He had saved her life.

Maybe he was telling the truth after all. Maybe he really had come here to talk.

He frowned as he looked her over. ‘What are you even doing here?'

‘I'm researching Lucille Versini,' she said, because in the receding tide of her panic, she couldn't remember how to lie. She found she didn't want to. ‘I was hoping to find her old journals.'

He blinked, showing his surprise before he masked it. ‘Scholar, are you?'

‘Something like that.'

His frown sharpened his cheekbones. In the moonlit dark, he looked like a statue cursed to life, a thing so cruelly perfect, he belonged in a museum. Somewhere far above them, Sera heard the distant echo of her friends' voices. Val and Bibi were looking for her, every step nudging them closer to danger.

The Dagger might have offered her a truce, but he had made no such assurances for her friends.

She had to move. Now.

‘Lucille was buried with her journal,' he said, almost as an afterthought. ‘You won't find anything of note in this dusty old place.' Seraphine blew out a careful breath, trying not to show her excitement at this new information. But he was watching her far too closely, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. ‘Tell me, spitfire. What information do you seek?'

She smiled at him. ‘I'll tell you if you catch me.' Then she turned on her heel and bolted for the door.