Chapter 42 Seraphine

Chapter 42 Seraphine

Sera came to with a jolt, jarred back to life by the unmistakable bellow of her father.

‘ALL DAGGERS TO THE NORTH ENTRANCE! BARRICADE THE DOOR!'

For a brief moment, it was like being nine years old again, hiding in the darkness under her bed. She kept her eyes shut, steadying her sawing breaths before they gave her away.

Breathe.

Don't react.

She lay perfectly still, listening to the thud of his footsteps around her, the bark of her father's voice, so familiar it raised the hair on her arms. She pushed her fear away, closed the door to her memories and bolted it shut.

Breathe.

Even with her eyes shut, she could feel the chaos all around her. The lingering mustiness of old bones and damp stone told her she was in the catacombs. Cloakless and concussed. And by the sound of things, there was a monster in here somewhere.

I hope it kills you, Dufort. Sera could feel his nearness, crackling in the air. One wrong move and he would strike her down. Which begged the question – why the hell wasn't she dead already? She tried not to frown and give herself away as she recalled those last moments in the alleyway, pressed up against Ransom, gasping between kisses… then the blow on the side of her head.

Had he betrayed her after all?

She bit down on her tongue, fighting to keep her brow from furrowing.

‘ MOVE , YOU IMBECILES, BEFORE THEY TEAR THIS WHOLE PLACE DOWN!'

The patter of footsteps around her faded as more distant screams rang out.

It occurred to Sera that she should move, too. Mama's monsters might have followed her to the catacombs but she no longer had her cloak to command them. Which probably meant she was in just as much danger as the rest of them. She subtly flexed her hands, her feet. They were unbound. Apart from the dull ache in her head, she was in good shape. Fighting shape.

She cracked an eye open and slowly, carefully, turned her head. She was in a great cavernous room, which was all but deserted now. A small mercy. As a chorus of shouts echoed through the catacombs, the last of the Daggers scattered, making for the north passage.

Dufort stalled in the doorway, a hand braced on either side of the arch as he looked out on the chaos, listening to the screams of his Order as they died to defend him.

Rotten coward.

Sera's hand inched across her hip, finding the outline of the switchblade in her pocket. She exhaled in quiet relief. For the first time in her life, she had an open shot at Dufort. She would never again be this close to her father.

She sat up, slipping the knife from her pocket and flicking it from its sheath. She drew her arm back, angling it towards the back of his head.

A hand curled around her wrist.

She tipped her head back to see Ransom standing over her, a warning in his eyes. Wait.

No. No. She was done waiting.

Sera struggled against him, desperately trying to free her hand. It was reckless, she knew. An impossible shot. The signature on her own death warrant, but she might as well be dead already. Please , she screamed at him with her eyes. Silent tears burned, as eighteen years of pain and anger and frustration all bubbled to the surface. She was so close. So achingly close .

‘It will take a lot more than a blunt pocket knife and your shitty aim, Seraphine.' Dufort's voice rose over the distant commotion. He had turned around, and was watching them struggle from the doorway. He smirked at Ransom. ‘Impressive foresight, son.'

Son. Sera nearly retched at the word. She cut her eyes at Gaspard, channelling a lifetime of hatred and disgust into her glare. Here he stood at last – her constant nightmare, a terror far worse than the skulls that haloed him. ‘You are no father.'

‘Well, you would know, Seraphine.' He flashed his gold filling as he came towards her, but there was no warmth in his smile. Fury shone from the metallic sheen of his eyes, the Shade in his system smothering their soft cerulean blue. ‘Let's not pretend you've been much of a daughter either.'

Sera felt Ransom stiffen.

‘What kind of daughter did you expect?' she said, curling her lip. ‘The kind that hugs you after you tried to strangle her mother on her ninth birthday? The kind that picks blackberries to make you a pie with the same wrist you broke in one of your Shade-fuelled rages?' Sera's voice hitched, matching the shrill of panic around her. She could hurl a hundred knives at him, and it still wouldn't be enough to equal the pain he had caused her. ‘The kind that lies down at your feet to die after you murdered the only person – the only parent – who ever cared about her?'

‘Dramatics,' he said, nostrils flaring. ‘Just like your meddlesome mother. Everything is dark and bad and evil. And anyone who drinks from the darkness is evil, too.' He curled his lip, matching her expression with disconcerting ease. ‘I secured an empire for her, and she turned her nose up at it.'

‘You secured a fucking tomb,' spat Seraphine. ‘Lie down and die in it.'

‘That's exactly what your mother said,' he remarked, coldly. ‘And tell me, little firefly, where is she now?'

Anger ripped out of Sera like a scream. ‘I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!'

She bucked and thrashed but Ransom would not let her go. And yet she felt him trembling against her, the heat between them surging. Was it his anger or her own?

‘I wouldn't have had to terrorize you if your mother could hack this world,' Dufort went on – like it mattered, this twisted narrative he told himself. ‘But Sylvie never saw the beauty in the darkness, the possibility of what we could have been together. All she cared about was that fucking dead Versini girl and her dreams of Lightfire .' He spat the word. ‘I wanted to make a name for myself – for all of us – and Sylvie wanted to destroy everything. She wanted to make a stand against Shade. Against the whole Versini legacy. Against me . And you —' He raised his finger, and shadows slithered from the walls around him. ‘ You had the reckless stupidity to stand beside her.'

‘I'm still standing beside her!' Sera yelled.

Dufort's silver gaze flicked to Ransom. ‘Finish her.'

‘Let go,' demanded Sera, at the same time.

‘Ransom.' The walls trembled and a plume of dust clouded the air between them. ‘Do your damn job.'

But Ransom didn't move, didn't tear his eyes from Dufort as the leader of the Daggers continued towards them, shadows billowing at his feet.

Silence. Defiance. Ransom's fury turned him into a predator. It squared his jaw and simmered darkly in his gaze. It curled his fists and his lips, made his teeth seem sharper somehow. In that moment, it felt more powerful than even Shade.

Dufort sensed it, and paused. Sera's fingers twitched on the hilt of her knife, and she wondered if Ransom had baited Dufort with his defiance, used his silence to lure him closer.

‘Bastian.' Dufort uttered the name like a spell, and for a moment it hung between them, turning Ransom, this vicious, expertly honed Dagger, back into a ten-year-old boy. Bastian. Sera felt his hand tremble as he let her go, hissing through his bared teeth.

‘Go to hell, you prick.'

Sera flung the dagger straight at Dufort's head. He jerked aside at the last second and it sliced into his cheek. Not a death blow, but she had drawn first blood. At least she would go down swinging.

Dufort lifted a hand to his cheek, and found it running with blood. ‘That was your first and last shot at me,' he said, smearing it across his shirt. Shadows surged, the darkness coming at Sera like a swarm. But Ransom was quicker, grabbing her by the waist and swinging her off the table before they sheared her in two.

She landed on her hands and knees.

‘You stupid little bastard!' roared Dufort.

When Sera looked up, the shadows had Ransom by the throat. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Dufort was choking the life out of him, heartbeat by heartbeat. Ten seconds was all it would take. Ten seconds and he would be dead. Sera was already moving.

One – Darkness plunged down his throat, tearing a silent shriek of pain from him.

Two – His eyes found Sera's, and she read the plea inside them. Run.

Three – The barricade at the north entrance failed, and a stampede of monsters barrelled inside.

Four – Sera spotted something twinkling in her peripheral vision. It was her Lightfire cloak, which had been discarded in the chaos.

Five – Sera lunged for the cloak, as fresh screams echoed down the north passage.

Six – Ransom stumbled to his knees, his skin turning grey.

Seven – Sera threw herself at him, slinging the cloak around his shoulders.

Eight – There was a blinding flash of light.

Nine – Ransom inhaled in a sucking gasp, his eyes glimmering with Lightfire.

Ten – Dufort's shadows shattered into a hail of darkness, and Ransom fell forward, into Sera's arms.

She curled herself around him, sharing in the buzz of Lightfire. Dufort downed another vial of Shade as he came towards them, but he was too late. She met his silver glare over Ransom's shoulder just as a swarm of monsters came crashing into the Cavern. ‘Look, Papa,' she said, tossing him a cruel smile. ‘It's a gift from Mama.'

And all hell broke loose.