Chapter 44 Seraphine
Chapter 44 Seraphine
The sight of Dufort running for the tunnels spurred Seraphine into action. She didn't even bother to wrestle the cloak from Ransom – it would only waste more time – as she vaulted past him, scrabbling to her feet.
Adrenaline pounded in her veins as she weaved across the room, narrowly avoiding a brawl of monsters tearing each other limb from limb. They snapped their heads up as she flew past, sniffing the air.
They must have sensed the handful of pearls in her pocket, the smallest shield of Lightfire now protecting her. She didn't know how potent they would be in a room of a hundred rabid monsters but she gathered half the pearls in her fist and, with her free hand, swiped a discarded blade from the floor, trying to ignore the dead Dagger bleeding out beside it. She hastily slid it into her waistband, replacing the one she had flung at Dufort.
Screams were a chorus around Sera, bouncing off the domed ceiling, the sound of bones shattering adding a sickening counterpoint. She pushed it all away – the noise and the panic and the fear paling against the blood-red promise of revenge. She darted between shadows and ducked under swinging punches as she made her way towards Dufort. He was ten steps from the doorway, and she was ten steps from him.
Nine steps. Eight. Seven. Hatred burned in her chest, quickening her pace. Six steps. Lightfire glowed in her fist, urging her on. Five steps. Dufort pivoted, flattening himself against the wall to dodge a stampeding monster. Four steps and she would be on him. She climbed onto an upturned chair, gaining the upper ground. He reached the doorway and Sera pounced.
For a heartbeat, she flew. Teeth bared and roaring, as if she was a monster herself. Then a figure swung in from her left, side-swiping her in mid-air. She landed on a broken table, the impact knocking the breath out of her.
She blinked, watching the skulls on the ceiling swim into focus. They were laughing at her.
You're delirious.
She sucked in air, trying to fill her aching lungs. Her back throbbed, and her leg was twisted underneath her body. The fall had cut her arm open, and there was blood everywhere.
She groaned, trying to sit up, but that figure came again, swinging through the air on a rope of shadow. At first, Sera thought it was a monster but then it landed above her, and she saw it was a man, not much older than her. Silver eyes flashing, pearlescent teeth bared in a savage smile. He was as tall and broad as Ransom, and for a delirious heartbeat, she thought she knew him. But she blinked, taking in his auburn hair and fair skin, and blamed the confusion on her concussion.
He straddled her torso, pinning her to the table. ‘Try not to squirm.'
She spat in his face. ‘Get off me, you prick.'
‘Actually, it's Lark.' His shadows slithered over her. ‘And if you could stay still while I'm killing you, I'd appreciate it.'
Seraphine crushed the pearls in her fist, willing the Lightfire to save her. A flash of heat, then a flare, and the shadows fell away.
Lark frowned. ‘What the—?'
She swung her fist, slamming it into his cheek. He reeled backwards. She bucked, knocking him sideways. He rallied, lunging at her again. This time, he used both hands on her throat. ‘Let's do this the old-fashioned way, shall we?'
Her eyes bulged as her throat closed. Saint Oriel, help me. He was strangling her with expert ease, the sides of her vision spotting as she tried to fight for a sip of breath. There was none. His thumbs pressed against her windpipe, crushing it, and for all Albert had taught her, Seraphine could not now think of a single move to free herself.
Lark brought his face close to hers, and she thought she glimpsed a flash of regret in his now-green eyes. ‘I have to do it,' he said, quietly. ‘He'll never be able to. And if he doesn't, Dufort will kill him. And he's like my brother. My only brother.'
Amid the sludge of her thoughts, Sera realized he was talking about Ransom. Lark was killing her to save Ransom. If she wasn't breathless, she might have laughed. But the thread of her life was fraying and her thoughts were slipping away.
In the end, it had all been for nothing. Lucille's life. Mama's life. Seraphine's life. The Versini legacy had smothered them all in a shadow so dark, not even Lightfire could fracture it.
Tears pooled in her eyes, the world growing quieter until there was only the slow thud of her heartbeat echoing in her head.
There was a ragged shout. Through a haze, Seraphine saw Ransom's fist connect with Lark's jaw with such force, his head spun around. Lark's grip on her slackened and her windpipe expanded. She gulped down air as both Daggers tumbled to the floor, swinging at each other.
A dark-haired girl rushed into the fray, trying to drag them apart.
Sera sat up just in time to see a monster charging at her. It was twice her size and three times as wide, its shadows lashing like whips. She rolled off the table, landing on top of Lark. ‘ Ooof .'
He shoved her off and swung for Ransom again. Missed by an inch. ‘Have you lost your mind?' Lark seethed.
‘Keep your fucking hands off her!' said Ransom, dodging the next blow before landing one of his own with a sickening crack.
Lark roared in anger as the girl hooked her arm around his chest and dragged him away from Ransom. ‘Cut it out, you idiots,' she snarled. ‘We have bigger problems right now!'
Seraphine left them to their argument and made for the door, slipping into the north passage on the hunt for Dufort. The tunnel was deserted, save for several dead Daggers strewn across the ground. Sera winced as she stepped over them, making her way down the main passage.
Thanks to the night she had followed Ransom down here, she knew exactly where Dufort's chamber was. With any luck, she'd find him cowering inside it.
As she set foot in the smaller east passage, a frigid wind swept over her, extinguishing the oil lamps on the walls. There was a monster here. By the time she turned around, it was already leaping. It landed on her in a crushing heap, slamming her into the wall.
She slid to the ground, her teeth singing from the impact, the gash on her forearm ripped further open. Streams of blood were pouring out of her, making a puddle at her feet. She groaned as she lifted her head. The beast blurred as it rounded on her. It swept closer, the darkness around it rising like a wave. Sera whimpered, desperately flinging the pearls.
There was a snap of blinding light, magic swallowing the monster in a crackling gulp. The tunnel shimmered and for a moment it looked like a thousand fireflies were flitting around her. The scent of Lightfire hung heavy in the air, like lemon blossoms in the spring.
In the afterglow, Sera saw that the monster had become a young woman. She lay curled on her side, the skirts of her fine pink dress fanned out around her like fallen rose petals.
Sera struggled to her feet, and saw that she was drenched in her own blood. Her arm was bleeding badly and her head was starting to spin. She tipped it back, steadying herself against the rough stone. She had to make a tourniquet before she passed out from blood loss. Out here like this, she was monster-fodder. As good as dead.
But to turn back… A chorus of howls rang out, warning her off.
She clamped her fingers around her arm above the wound and shuffled towards the entrance, following the flickering oil lamps. Every step was like wading through quicksand. She slumped against the wall, fingers catching at the rough stone for balance. She shoved herself along, one small step and then another, but her head was impossibly heavy and her vision was narrowing. She stumbled over a fallen body, her knees stinging as she hit the ground.
Shit.
She crawled onwards, leaving bloody handprints on the stones. She had no idea how far she'd come but the clash and clamour of fighting had faded and the only sound remaining was the rattle of her own breath.
How the hell had it all gone so wrong?
I will not die here.
I will not die tonight.
‘Where do you think you're crawling to, little firefly?' A familiar voice crooned from the darkness. Sera closed her eyes, praying she had imagined it.
Dufort's nearness was punctuated by the tell-tale crunch of footsteps. He sneered as he walked towards her, kicking bodies aside without glancing at their ashen faces. His eyes were as blue as her own. He had surrendered his Shade – or perhaps the monsters had eaten through it all – but the silver glint in his hand told Sera he was not weaponless. He had a knife.
She was so weak she didn't trust her own legs to stand, let alone run. But she would not die cowering in the dirt like an animal. So she raised her head and met the hatred in his gaze with her own.
He stalled a few feet from her, taking in the blood pouring from her arm, then the crimson puddle in which she knelt. She was losing sensation in her body, and there were stars exploding in the sides of her vision. She patted her pocket desperately, but there were only four pearls left, useless against this particular monster. Her father. Her tormentor.
Dufort closed the space between them, then sank to his haunches. He took his signet ring off and dangled it before her, as though he were presenting a toy to a child. The ring was as ugly as the smirk on his face. ‘Is this what you came for, Seraphine? My hard-earned legacy. All my gathered riches.'
She wished she had the strength to spit at him. ‘I don't want anything from you,' she croaked. ‘Go to hell.'
He smiled pityingly. ‘We're already in hell, Seraphine. And in case you haven't noticed, it belongs to me.' He sighed. ‘In another lifetime, it might have been yours. If only your mother had—'
She struck out, smacking the ring from his hand. It hit the wall with a clink. Dufort caught her by the throat.
She swung her fist again, but it was like moving through water. Too slow. Too heavy. He brought his knife to her neck. He hesitated, and she saw a ghost flitting behind his eyes. The shadow of the man he had been long, long ago. The one who had loved her.
He blinked and it was gone.
He leaned on the knife, and it bit into her skin.
Sera reached feebly for the collar of his shirt. She was too weak to fist it. Her hand slid down his chest, to the place where his heart should have been. She mouthed the word Monster as blood trailed down her neck.
Then that wind came again, cold and sweeping. It rippled up her spine and blew the stray strands of Dufort's hair back from his face. He froze with the knife at her throat, his eyes widening at something behind her. In the reflection of his pupils, Sera saw the monster loping towards them. It was haloed in the flickering lamplight, so big it took up the entire passage. So loud its footsteps made the ground rattle.
The monster roared as it lunged, and Sera's body reacted before her mind. She reeled backwards, flattening herself against the ground, as the beast leaped right over her and barrelled into Dufort.
Dufort screamed as the monster landed on his chest, but its shadows choked the sound from his throat. Its jaws unhinged in an awful screech as it pitched forward. It was all Sera could do to scrabble away from them, every part of her trembling as she clung to the wall as if the bones inside it could save her.
She watched in horror as the monster closed its jaws around her father's neck, plunging its reaching tentacles down his throat. Dufort twitched, his chest heaving as he tried in vain to fight the shadows inside him.
She knew she should run, or at least crawl, but she was rooted to the wall, unable to tear her gaze from her father. The man who proclaimed himself the lord of hell. Well, hell had other ideas. And as it bore down on Dufort, sucking the last drop of life from his body and turning the whites of his eyes black, Sera's entire body went cold.
She didn't know if it was shock or blood loss that stole the feeling from her face, but when the monster pulled back from Dufort, leaving him nothing but an ashen husk, she didn't even flinch.
The monster looked at her, and she at it. It cocked its head, as if it was curious. Then it loped towards her, slow and thudding, its eyes still glowing with the promise of death. Sera was not afraid of that promise. She had spent all her terror already. There was only purpose left.
I will not die here.
I will not die tonight.
She slipped a pearl of Lightfire from her pocket.
The monster opened its mighty jaws, its shadows filling up the passage until there was only darkness and within it, the gleam of its fangs. It screeched as it swooped down at her, and Sera rose up, meeting it head-to-head as she hurled the pearl into the blackness of its throat. Fire met darkness in an explosion of light. It splintered the darkness, and the monster along with it, scattering the last of its shadows into the walls.
She collapsed in a heap, tears streaming down her face as magic flickered around her like fireflies. They gathered around the body of an old man, still wearing his captain's hat. He looked so peaceful, he might have been sleeping. Sera prayed that somewhere on a different plane, Saint Maurius was folding him into his embrace and carrying him over a distant sea.
A few feet away lay her father. She wished for him only a deeper, darker hell than this.
Gaspard Dufort was dead. And as Sera studied his lifeless face and the awful twist of his lips, caught in a silent scream, she could not bring herself to mourn him. She did not have the strength for feeling at all. Only the relief that it was done, at last.
She slumped against the wall, listening to the shallow flutter of her own breath. She rolled her head around, the stone cool against her cheek as she fought the blackness in her mind. She flitted in and out of consciousness, not sure if she was dead or dreaming when she spied a figure flickering in the darkness.
She was so spent now, so delirious from blood loss, she thought she was imagining it. But then the figure swept towards her, and she saw that it was Ransom, wearing her cloak of Lightfire and a look of such crushing dread she hardly recognized him. ‘ Seraphine .'
She blinked and he was closer now. He dropped to his knees and took her face between his hands, his nose brushing hers as he searched for life in her eyes. ‘Can you hear me?' he said in a ragged whisper. Perhaps it was his nearness, or maybe it was the warm glow of Lightfire moving through him and into her; either way, Sera found new strength.
Enough to moan weakly in response.
He sagged against her. ‘All right,' he said softly. ‘All right, Seraphine.'
His hands left her face to trail across her body, searching for the source of the blood pooling between them. He swore when he found the gash on her arm. At another delicious spike of Lightfire, she reached up to smooth the lines on his forehead.
‘Could be worse,' she croaked.
He gave her a flat look. ‘How so?'
‘Dufort is dead.'
‘So I see,' he said, looking past her.
His face was like stone, those eyes unreadable.
‘Are you angry?'
‘Oh yes,' he said, brushing a knuckle along her cheek. ‘But only because you got to do it without me.'
‘I didn't do it at all,' she admitted.
‘Good,' he murmured, looking past her again. Studying the husk of Dufort's body and then that of the captain, no doubt putting together what had happened. ‘Then it was Saint Oriel.'
‘Or Mama.' Sera felt herself smile. ‘The Lightfire… It's helping me.'
He moved in a blur, shrugging off the cloak and throwing it around her shoulders. Such instant relief. She felt like she had been swept into a warm hug, the searing pain in her arm quickly fading.
‘I tried to free as many monsters as I could but there are too many,' he said, as he ripped a strip off the bottom of his shirt. ‘This whole place is crawling with them. The cloak alone won't be enough.'
Sera watched him work, quickly and efficiently making a tourniquet for her arm. She had lost so much blood by now, she should be close to death but every second in that cloak filled her with new strength.
When it was done, he scooped her up, folding her into his arms and carrying her away from the body of her father. She turned her face into his chest, breathing in that heady mix of woodsmoke and sage. His heart thrummed beneath her cheek and she listened to the music of it, steeling herself for what would come next.
When they reached a fork in the passage, he set her down again. ‘Can you stand?'
She showed him that she could. Her eyes darted back towards the common room, to that well of screams that went on and on. ‘I'm going back in there, Ransom. I have to finish what I started.'
He nodded slowly, but when she turned, he grabbed her hand and tugged her back. She looked up at him, his drawn face lit by the glow of her cloak. He was covered in ash, his hands streaked with her blood. She was sure she looked even worse, but by the way he was gazing at her she'd never have guessed.
‘You never gave me your answer,' he said.
It took her a minute, her sluggish mind sorting through the chaos of tonight, but she remembered – the thing he had asked of her in that alley before she got knocked out.
‘You still want to run away with me?' she said, in quiet confusion. ‘Even after everything that's happened?'
He was already nodding. ‘For ten years, I've prayed to Saint Oriel,' he said, as if he was telling her a secret. ‘Asking her for a better life than this one. For a kinder fate. The courage to chase it. I never really believed she could hear me down here in the dark, or that even if she could, she would ever bend her ear to the pleas of a Dagger. I almost gave up.' He laid his forehead against hers. ‘And then you came barrelling over the horizon like a runaway sun. You shattered the darkness, Seraphine. And I realize now that all these years I wasn't wishing for freedom. I was wishing for you.'
His face blurred and Sera realized she was crying. She didn't know if her tears were born of grief or hope, or the soaring relief at having found a kindred soul in this dark circle of hell, who wanted to climb out of it with her. He swept his thumb across her cheek to catch them, and she smiled, and said, ‘Yes, Bastian. My answer is yes.'
His name felt like another secret between them. She liked what it did to his face, filling it with light, and a kind of beauty that was different from the brooding handsomeness she had come to know. It was like sunlight on the plains, the first fall of snow in winter. It was hope for something beyond this night, beyond this place, and whatever that something turned out to be, she wanted to be a part of it.
‘Tomorrow, when this is all over, we'll leave this city, Seraphine.'
‘Together,' she said, kissing him.
‘Together.' He answered her kiss with his own, his hands smeared with blood and ash as they cradled her face. His tongue swept in to meet hers as they held tightly to each other, blood-soaked and smiling at the mouth of hell.
And this kiss – the taste of it – was freedom.