Chapter 35
Brace Yourselves
E zra Darley.
The man who raised me. Moulded me. Shaped me into a hunter, a shadow, a tool to be used. The man I have hated and feared, the man my parents entrusted me to.
‘Sophia,’ he says, gesturing me to sit as he is, as always, sitting behind a desk.
I almost expect to see the map hanging on the wall to my left, the scurrying ant-like dots of every mark in the city of Dinas Tar.
At least, all the marks still living and not floating in the curves of the Serpentine. ‘Please, sit. Join me.’
I stalk forward but refuse to sit. The toquay I’ve consumed, the slow-building rose-tinted haze I was gathering in my head like -sugar-spun clouds dissolves instantly.
He may have guided me with the letters he concealed in that trunk, but I still cannot trust him.
He’s lied to me my entire life about everything. ‘You have five minutes.’
He raises his hands, palms out as though in surrender. ‘As you like.’
I clear my throat. ‘Well obviously, you were wrong. I didn’t die, as you see.’
He bows his head. ‘You surprised us all in the end. Would you like me to clap?’
‘I would like you to grovel,’ I hiss. ‘I would like you to explain every single decision you made in raising me.’
‘My job was to keep you alive and safe, which I did, and to raise you strong, which I did.’
‘And the vault? The threats? I was a child!’
‘I never pushed you beyond your limits.’
‘Some scars are not visible to the eye,’ I say darkly. ‘But I will carry with me the memories of every moment in that vault until the day I die.’
‘Which would have been a lot sooner if I hadn’t made you sign that contract.
If I hadn’t wrapped it around your wrist as a bracelet.
How do you think you never broke a bone, never suffered a terrible injury?
’ He leans forward. ‘That bracelet protected you. It bound you to me, so I could test you, push you.’
‘Until I what? Snapped?’
‘Until you sparked .’
I step back, reeling from this, my hand clamping around my left wrist where, for so long, that bracelet circled it.
‘And when you walked through the gates of Killmarth, that was the first time you were no longer under my protection. And you were not ready .’
I watch him for a minute, this cold, remote man, Ezra Darley. ‘And what made it spark in the end?’ I say quietly. ‘Love. Love made me dig deeper. Not fear, or pain, just love.’
We stare at each other, neither of us speaking as the seconds tick down on the clock on the mantelpiece.
He opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head ruefully.
‘I loved you, in my own way,’ he says, voice rough and low, as though the words pain him to say.
‘But in you, I saw them. I saw … her. And as long as you were with me, I knew they were never coming back to claim you. My friends, my dearest friends. They’re all gone. ’
Before I can ask more, before I can get to the heart of Ezra Darley, the Collector, the elusive alchemist, before I can ask him about my parents, a piercing cry echoes up through the floorboards.
It’s joined by another, then another, and we are both already making our way out of the office as we hear thumps and muffled shouting.
Then the string quartet screeches to a halt.
When the pleading starts, I begin running to Keeper’s Hall below, the Collector on my heels.
And what we find beyond the threshold is a nightmare.
Cold ones pour in, appearing from doorways beside the dais. Scholars, guests and professors alike scramble over each other, some wielding, illusions reforming then fracturing as the light gutters out, then on again, wild creatures, sharp claws, then back to true chaos.
‘Oh gods,’ I breathe.
The wards of Killmarth have been breached.
I spot Lewellyn, just feet away, her hands outstretched, a plume of what appears to be fire gushing from them in a roar, her lilac silk dress getting caught under a heel as she stumbles back away from a cold one.
The woman, pale and grey and monstrous bears down on her so quickly, I barely have time to understand what is happening, what I’m seeing, before she grips Lewellyn by the throat, and clamps down with her jaw.
‘No!’ I scream, moving towards her, Lewellyn choking, eyes rolling to mine, her hand outstretched towards me. Ezra throws out an arm, blocking me as the cold one drops Lewellyn’s limp body to the floor. And turns towards us.
Ezra shoves something in my hand, and when I look down, I find a wooden stake, laced with iron and I turn to him, not understanding, still not fully comprehending what is happening.
‘Aim for the heart and do not falter. Gods be with you.’ Then he charges for the cold one, thrusting his stake up, deep into the foul monster’s chest, and she unravels to dust around it.
I run to Lewellyn, the lilac silk lump of her body on the floor, so fragile and small, curled up like an animal. I turn her over, blood gushing from her throat in a sticky stream. ‘Lewellyn! Hester! Don’t do this, don’t you do this—’
Professor Hess sinks to the ground on the other side of her, eyes wide as his trembling fingers reach for her face. ‘No,’ he murmurs. ‘Not you, never you …’
‘She’s dead,’ Ezra says at my side dispassionately. ‘Grieve her after we have saved the living. Remember your training, Sophia. Hess, on your feet.’
A werewolf howls across the hall, snapping my attention up and away from Lewellyn and Hess, and I see it leap, all fangs and fur, gnashing at a cold one, dragging it to the ground and ripping its heart from its very chest. ‘Frances,’ I breathe. ‘She’s transformed.’
More screams and moans and the horrifying squelch of bone and flesh fill the hall, the copper scent of blood everywhere, growing stronger. I’ve walked into a living nightmare. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening, not like this, not now.
But I have no time to find Alden, or Tessa, or even Greg as two cold ones round on Ezra and I’m suddenly fighting for my life.
Ezra fights with precision, quick, tight movements, twisting his hand up towards the chandelier above our heads, crystal and glass tinkling and glistening, then between blinks, it’s made of iron.
Sharp, dull and deadly. I duck, weaving away from a small, vicious cold one who appears as a child, almost angelic.
I dance around them aiming a kick at their head and when they’re down, pin them quickly and drive the stake through their heart.
They scream, long and shrill, and erupt in a haze of dust and ash before I’m up, moving again, finding Ezra standing over a similar heap of ash, just feet away.
He twists his hand and the chandelier cracks, detaching from the ceiling and crashing down into the centre of the hall. It takes out three cold ones, but also a guest, their legs trapped beneath it, a middle-aged man, his guttural cry of pain and shock making me hasten towards him.
‘Leave him,’ Ezra calls to me. ‘He’ll live if we kill the rest of them. Legs can be mended.’
The cold calculation guts me, but he’s right.
He’s always right in moments of tactics, and I fall back, searching the hall for more of their ilk.
Ezra darts towards two female cold ones stalking for Hess, who is creating a portal to shove them through, one that opens on nothing but sky.
Ezra kicks one in the chest, and she falls through with a stiff, surprised gasp.
Knox appears at his side and they nod to each other, before Knox reaches his hand towards the iron chandelier and beckons.
A spike shoots through the air and he catches it, skewering the other cold one and pushing her through the portal.
Hess stumbles away, back to Hester Lewellyn’s body, crouching over it, as though she will somehow wake.
That’s when I hear him. I hear him call my name. Turning, I see him, too far away. A cold one clutching his throat, their manic eyes huge and ravenous.
The world moves like treacle, time slows, eddies, as I take one step towards Alden, then another, my heart a heavy bell in my chest, chiming like a death knell, and I realise distantly that I’m screaming, bellowing as I raise the stake high in my fist. I feel the roaring rush of my breath, the flame in my throat as I cry his name.
Then in a blast of movement, he thrusts his raw power into the cold one’s chest and I reach him, slamming the stake into its heart.
The dust as it dies coats us both and I barely have time to glance at him before there’s a growl, low and threatening, the ground shuddering beneath my feet.
My heart stutters as Greg, mid-leap, transforms right in front of us.
He is huge and mighty, a terrifying creature of claw and fangs, barrelling into a cold one swiping for Alden’s back.
Greg sinks his teeth into the cold one’s arm, shaking him like a rag doll, throwing him at the dais.
‘I’ll help Knox; you get to Greg,’ Alden says, gripping my arm and I nod.
I’m on my feet, running again, when a cold one, a man, suited and smiling, steps before me, blocking my path.
I judder to a halt, breathing hard, my gaze tracking from the blood smearing his shirt, to the intensity of his grey eyes as they flare wide, then over his shoulder to Greg, fighting in a terrifying blur on the dais.
‘And here, the prize of the hunt,’ the cold one says.
I blink at him, dimly registering how close he is before he backhands me across my jaw, and I crash sideways, seeing stars.
Before I can rise, before I can do anything, he’s on me, punching me in the gut, and I double over, coughing and choking.
The violence, so sudden, sends me reeling into shock as I suck down a breath, scrambling away.
‘I find that with your kind, you’re most averse to physical pain …’ He backhands me again, on the other cheek, blood flying from my mouth as I see white and stars. ‘Pity your blood doesn’t taste as sweet when you’re scared. If you just relaxed, gave in, it would be far better for us both.’
I spit blood on the floor, still reeling, catching the fight between Greg and the cold one from the corner of my eye on the dais, wincing as Greg slams into the wall.
Gathering myself back together, I wrench the damn vampire off me, freeing my stake, and skewer him in the throat.
He gurgles, eyes wide as he bleats, fingers raking down my sides as I rip the stake with both hands down his throat and through to his chest. It parts his grey, hideous flesh, until it hits his heart and he flakes away into nothing but dust. I spit again on his ashes, wiping at my mouth and turn back to the dais.
‘Greg!’ There’s a shriek, and I whip around just in time to find Tessa on the other side of the dais, half a hall away from me, alone.
And Greg is losing. The cold one pinning him to the floor.
For a beat, Greg just stares at Tessa, huge wolf eyes blinking as she shrieks again, hands flying to her mouth.
Terror fills me, thick and cloying, as I take a step, then another.
The cold one Greg’s fighting grips him around the neck with his arm, squeezing and squeezing, before twisting viciously.
There’s a loud crack and Greg’s werewolf form slumps on the dais.
Unnaturally still.
Tessa gasps, running to him, reaching for him, and I draw a breath, fear gripping me like a vice. I have to stop her. I can see what will happen, what the cold one will do … but I’m too far away.
I lift my hand, summoning all that iron, twisting my raw power around the broken chandelier just behind me, and hear the clatter of metal as it all raises from the ground at my back, just as the cold one turns on Tessa.
‘Noooo!’ I cry, throwing my hand towards that monster, the iron all rushing past my sides, right at the cold one, where it’s skewered into the wall before bursting into a cloud of ash.
Tessa falls to her knees beside Greg, pulling at him and begging, crying his name.
I shudder, the horror of it. My friends.
I walk on unsteady feet to Tessa, climbing up on the dais, trembling as I sink down beside her, a tinny whine building in my ears.
It’s like I’m floating, like I’m not here at all, like this is all a nightmare, an Ordeal.
It’s not real, it can’t be real. But Greg – Greg’s not moving.
‘Tessa,’ I croak, putting my arms around her and she moans, low and guttural.
Then Alden is there with me. He’s talking to me, shaking my shoulder but I can’t hear him, can’t understand, as Knox turns Greg over and I see the truth of it. He’s dead. Greg is dead.
I fall back as Tessa buries her face in Greg’s neck, shaking and sobbing.
The hall is unnervingly still and quiet, and as I look round at the carnage, there are no cold ones left alive.
This can’t be real. It can’t. There’s blood smeared everywhere, dead bodies, shattered glass and pieces of the chandelier embedded in piles of ash where a vampire drew their final breath.
Torn silk, suit jackets, the awkward angle of limbs and staring, unseeing eyes. I cannot make sense of it.
Greg is dead. Hester Lewellyn is dead. So many, scholars and guests … all dead.
That tinny whine builds and builds in my ears as Alden braces my shoulder with his hand. I look up at him, then over at Knox on the other side of Greg’s lifeless body. His gaze locks with mine, and a cold certainty grips me. I know what this means for us all.
Caroline Ivey, wooden stake in her hand, a great gash on her cheekbone, caked in ash and ruby blood, walks slowly towards the centre of the hall.
She surveys us all, the quiet sobbing, the carnage, the death at her feet and pulls her shoulders back, standing tall.
‘Brace yourselves. The Great Hunt has begun.’
Sophia and Alden will return! Until then, if you loved The Ordeals check out The Woodsmoke Women’s Book of Spells