Chapter 31
SERA
Nate and I do not see each other again before he and Rafe leave for the Tournament. He keeps his distance, speaking in my mind only to tell me that Rafe knows everything and that he has told Lizzie, too. When I protest, he barks at me that Lizzie needs to know about the bond and my magic if she is to be anything other than a liability, and then closes the connection between us.
He must run matters past Mrs Hawley, for she appears with a lecture on how reckless I am for going to House Azarov without Nate’s protection, and gives me the arrangements for the carriage that will take us there with a new driver once the vampires are all in the arena.
Facing Lizzie now she knows what I really am is easier than I expected. Everything she read as a child means she understands this world more than Charles ever could, and she does not eye me with the same wariness that glimmered even through him at times.
There is freedom in being truly myself with someone other than Nate, but I still cannot bring myself to tell her I was the one to kill Ambrose. Even though I know she would thank me for it.
“Are you worried about Rafe?” I ask her as we step inside the carriage. It is the same one that Nate and I travelled in from the ball and there are traces of my blood sprayed across the door.
“I cannot imagine Benjamin could defeat him without the agreement they have in place.”
“He put up a good fight last night. He can hold his own.”
“Yes, I suppose. When Benjamin wins, they will have to rethink their admiration of physical attributes over cunning. Brawn only gets you so far.”
“It is ironic when the Court is the most cunning of them all,” I mutter. “If it gives you any comfort, they will not want Rafe to suffer. They need House Vossler to look weak and I would not put it past the Court to try to manipulate the outcome, so Rafe is the victor. I dare say it will be harder for Benjamin than he imagines.”
Lizzie smiles, but it is sad and tight-lipped. She is deeply affected by the idea of Rafe being hurt — more so than she has been before. Something has shifted between them.
We travel in silence until we reach the Azarov estate. It sits on the edge of Bath where the streets fade away into rolling hills, surrounded by its own vast grounds. The building itself is a towering Gothic monstrosity of dark stone and pointed spires that seems to swallow the moonlight. A monster’s palace if ever I saw one.
The carriage judders to a halt at the gates and an ache settles in the back of my throat. It is hard to trust any vampire after Aulus pressed a blade to my neck and almost had Nate killed. But Nate and Mrs Hawley seem to trust this new driver, so we must, too.
“The gates will be unlocked.” Sam opens the door and helps us climb out. His face is softer, kinder than the other gutterfangs I have met. “They have all left. I made sure of it.”
Sam was tasked with watching the estate to ensure the Azarov’s procession of carriages made their way back into Bath. Only once they were gone was he to come to the house and collect us.
“I will be waiting for you down the road. I would offer to come in with you, but Lord Nathaniel tells me you can fend for yourselves.”
I feel for the stake I have strapped to my leg; another layer of security should my magic fail me. “Yes, thank you. We will be fine.” I drop into a small curtesy and Lizzie does the same. Sam looks taken aback, but bows deeply in return before he climbs back into the carriage and encourages the horses into motion.
“Charles will be waiting for us, won’t he?” Lizzie asks, staring up at the gates, her shoulder pressed to mine. “He is under their glamour. How can we be sure he will be the one to answer when we knock?”
I shiver despite the warm summer air. “He sent word to Mrs Hawley as he promised. And he seemed able to fight the glamour, more so than he did with Juliette. We just have to trust that he will not betray us.”
Lizzie steps forward and opens the gate. The clang of metal vibrates through the air; as loud as a gunshot. We both pause instinctively, holding our breath and waiting for a monster to appear from the shadows, but all is quiet. Still. No one is here.
We make it to the front door and for a moment, we just stand in front of it, hoping Charles has seen us and will be on the other side of it.
“He was told we would knock, wasn’t he?” Lizzie says, reaching for the iron knocker shaped like a serpent's head. “So we will knock.” The sound echoes through the night as she lets it fall, and we both hold our breath, waiting.
The door creaks open slowly, and for a moment, I fear it’s someone else — that we have been caught before we have even begun. But then, Charles’s familiar face appears in the dim light.
“You’re here,” he says, his voice low and hurried. “Come inside, quickly.”
We slip into the entrance hall behind Charles. The door swings closed behind us with a creak and a loud, heavy clunk. The air inside is heavy with the scent of beeswax, old parchment, and the familiar hum of blood. But the entryway is grand and well tended. Not a cobweb in sight, despite the ivy that snakes its way over the front of the building and presses in at the sides.
“The library is this way,” Charles mutters, striding ahead of us. He does not look back, nor offer us a reassuring smile.
When he was Juliette’s pledge, he seemed to sink further into his own sorrow and dismay. He shrunk at the edges, folded in on himself, and became cruel. Here, he walks a little taller. For a household that is supposedly the embodiment of evil, Charles looks better than he has done in weeks, even if he is torn by what has been asked of him.
“It is a vast space — I’m not sure you’re prepared for how large it is,” he continues. “There are no reception rooms. It is not a house at all, really.”
“Just a place to house the collection,” I say.
“Yes, indeed.”
We turn at the bottom of the hallway through a set of double doors and down a short corridor that acts as a bridge from the house to the library. If this wasn’t the home of vampires, it would be lined with windows. There would be glimpses into the grounds; the tangle of nettles; the clusters of wildflowers beneath towering oaks. But it is cold and dark; flickering sconces lining the walls, filling the passageway with shadows as thick as velvet. It widens when we reach the end and come to stand in front of even grander doors, knotted with carvings.
When Charles pushes through them, and the library comes into view, my breath catches in my chest.
I had expected a black, dusty abyss of shelves piled with ancient, leather-bound tomes. But it is more like a shrine than a dungeon. There are lights everywhere. At first, I think there are a thousand glimmering candles and wince at the thought of open flames near all these books. But as we step inside, I see then for what they are — glowing orbs floating impossibly between shelves and up to the domed ceiling. There are shadows, but they are few. The entire cavernous room is cast in the golden light — illuminating the pillars and shelves like something out of a dream.
“It’s like a Roman temple,” I say, my mouth hanging open.
My father may have kept my heritage from me, but he was keen to ensure I knew about the world — giving me access to the same tutor as my brother, so my world might expand beyond needlework and the pianoforte. He loved learning — he had a voracious appetite for it and encouraged it in me, too. But my father only wanted me to learn of ancient worlds and scientific discoveries — not magic and monsters.
I think of him as I stare up at the shelves. He would have been enthralled by such a place.
“The records are meticulous,” Charles says, steering us towards a large desk directly under the dome. “They reference everything in here.”
Sitting atop the desk is a series of thick, alphabetised volumes with references to shelves in the library. It is more detailed and elaborate than any I have seen before.
Lizzie opens the first volume and begins scanning a page with her finger. I look over her shoulder, wondering if it would be as simple for any reference to blood bonds having their own place in the library.
Charles turns away from the desk and gestures to a circular metal railing beyond it. “Everything they don’t want anyone else to see is kept in there.”
I approach it, peering down the smooth steps. Whatever is down there is swallowed up by darkness. “Is that where the ledgers for the luna children were?”
“Yes.”
“Then that is where we need to go,” I say. I try to put the thought of my mother out of my mind; the books that might be nestled in these shelves that tell me who she is and how I might be free of Nate. Somehow, it doesn’t matter tonight. Not when it seems there is a reason they are keeping me alive.
“There’s a door. They cut their palms and press the blood to some sort of panel. Then it opens. Lev took me in there, but when I tried again, my own blood didn’t work.”
“Perhaps it is only vampire blood it will accept.” Lizzie hovers at the top of the stairs. “Even so, we have to try.”
I feel something flicker under my skin — a sting like nettles that bubbles through my blood. “Mine will work.”
Charles frowns at me. “How can you know that?”
“This whole place is dripping with magic. It will let me in.”
Lizzie and Charles exchange looks.
“Did you truly expect me to not even try?” I give Charles an exasperated look, and he nods. He knows this is our best shot. “I’ll need a knife.”
Charles turns back to the desk and produces a paper knife from one of the drawers. “Will this do?”
I examine the blade. It’s blunt, but with enough determination, it will pierce my palm. I look down the winding staircase, chewing my lip.
“Come.” Lizzie takes my arm. “We’ll search together.”
“I’ll get you the ledger, then stand guard,” Charles says. “If anyone were to come back, I will be the distraction. I am allowed to be here.”
“We will need a signal,” Lizzie says.
Charles glances around the room. “There.” He gestures to a ladder that is leaned against one of the towering bookcases. It is propped up — not attached to runners like the rest. “I’ll knock it over. You’ll hear it.”
I nod in agreement, but a wave of dread hits my stomach, imagining the metal of the ladder hitting the cold, hard floor with a clang.
With a final, solemn look, Charles leads us down the staircase with soft, hurried steps. At the bottom, I press the paperknife into my palm and squeeze. The pressure finally splits the skin and blood pools hurriedly to the surface. I hold my hand against the panel next to the door. It is intricately carved with symbols I do not recognise, all stained with the thick hue of vampire blood.
Lizzie stands behind me, and I can feel her holding her breath.
Then, as if the doors themselves are exhaling, they swing open. Lizzie takes my arm again and squeezes it. Together, we cross over the threshold and into the dark room, Charles at our heels.
It is small and low-ceilinged — lined with smaller shelves and drawers in thick mahogany that press in from all sides. In the middle, there is a table, but no chairs.
“It’s like a vault,” Lizzie whispers. “A vault for all their secrets.”
“And I imagine there will be those far greater than the ledger if we look long enough.” Charles moves to one of the shelves and drags down a thick, leather-bound book. “Here. This is the one Lev showed me.”
With trembling hands, I take it from him and lay it on the table. It falls open naturally to a well-worn page, and there, among a list of names and dates, I see it:
“‘Seraphina Rosalind Sterling - 18th December 1795.’”
My date of birth. My name. Proof that I’m a luna child. No wonder Charles spotted my name — it is the only one not crossed out on the entire page.
“I thought I might understand it if I had it in front of me,” I murmur, tracing a finger over the words. “But of all the children born that year and the days before it, I am the only one alive. Why didn’t they kill me like the others?”
Charles shakes his head. “Whatever their reason, they will have documented it. They are vain creatures who think they are so terribly clever.” He glances up at another shelf. “It will be in here somewhere.”
I stand on my tiptoes, stretching for the top shelf. Charles helps me pull it down and set it onto the table with a thud, before leaving us to take the watch.
“This is a ledger of sorts,” I mumble to Lizzie, leafing through the first few pages. There are columns of numbers and letters and they all swim before my eyes. “It’s in some sort of code.”
“There was hardly going to be a confessional,” Lizzie says, her back turned to me. “How are your code-breaking skills?”
“Poor.” I look at it dismally. There are dozens of volumes just like this one. Even if they were written in plain English, it would be hard to get through them.
I slam it shut and return it to the shelf, my eyes drawn again to the ones above it.
Behind me, Lizzie rustles around with papers in the drawers.
“Anything?”
“Nothing I can make sense of.”
“You’re taller than me — can you reach the top shelves?”
Lizzie turns and nods.
“Swap.”
She fumbles with the papers, sliding them clumsily back into the sections they came from, then reaches up for the tomes with broken spines.
I turn my attention to the drawers, seeing if there’s anything Lizzie has missed. “More symbols and code?”
“Yes, but this one has a lot of crossing out. These look like…” she pauses, peering over the wrinkled pages. “Coordinates maybe?”
“Is there a map?”
“No.”
I pull out the second drawer and with it, a stack of thick parchment. Each sheet is covered with scrawled handwriting and ink blots.
Letters.
I frown, angling them towards the light.
Didn’t Lizzie already look at these? Why wouldn’t she mention it?
Each letter is addressed to Nikolai Azarov from someone called W. Ackley. I flick through them. The content is all different, but they are lists of dates. All from this year. Some are underlined. Others prefaced by a scrawl of a star or a cross.
“Did you see these? Dates.”
Lizzie turns sharply. “No, I was still working on the first drawer.” She closes the book of coordinates and stares at the letters in my hands. “I wonder what they are in reference to.” Her voice goes cold — the change enough to make me frown at her.
“They must surely be dates of attacks.” I run my finger down the page. “Here — the night of the ball. There is a star next to this one. Could it be Gregor?”
“Perhaps. But there is another the next night with the same code. And there are dozens from the months before. Maybe it means something else.”
“Have you heard any of them mention the name Ackley? Are they a vampire House?”
Lizzie shakes her head. “I’ve not heard it before. It would make sense for there to be correspondence between vampires here, though. And there are dozens of households we haven’t become acquainted with. It could be nothing.”
“It wouldn’t be down here if it was nothing,” I grumble, staring at the dates again and trying to burn them into my brain before setting them back in the drawer.
I reach into the next and the moment my hands set upon it, I know it is what we need. The stack of parchment is in its own leather binding. When I open it, there are no codes and symbols.
It’s a contract.
“Lizzie.” I stare at the words, my pulse pounding in my ears. “This is signed by the Court.” The wording makes me feel sick — an agreement for the culling of creatures of vampiric low-birth. “They’ve been working with the hunters. Just as Nate suspected.”
I take in the wording. The arrangement is mutually beneficial because hunters want vampires dead and the Court is willing to let them do it. But how long could such an agreement last before the hunters turn on them, too?
“Is there protection in it?” Lizzie asks. “A clause that stops the hunters harming the nobility or the Court?”
I scan to the bottom of the page. “Yes.”
“So the attack on Nate…”
“Was definitely an order, as Aulus said. It would be in breach of these terms if it wasn’t.”
“And the hunters wouldn’t risk such a thing,” Lizzie agrees. “It would mean war.”
“Can’t you see?” I shake my head. “The war has already begun.” I stuff the papers in my bodice. “One last search, then we need to go.”
We work quickly, flicking through the other volumes and tomes, looking for anything else that might explain the Court’s plans — anything we can use against them.
Neither of us knows exactly what we are looking for. The contract is crucial — it will undermine everything the Court is doing. But it doesn’t explain why they’ve kept me alive.
“Sera,” Lizzie calls suddenly. “There’s something here…”
I hurry to where she’s standing, a yellowed piece of parchment in her hands. It is torn — half the page missing.
“‘A witch of lunar light, bound to night’s creature, shall hold the power to topple or elevate the eternal reign.’” Lizzie reads it aloud and my heart drops to my stomach. “It’s about you, Sera. It has to be.”
The world feels like it moves beneath my feet.
“They’re keeping you alive because they intend to use you.”
“I think Juliette knew,” I gulp, remembering the writing in her journals. “Where is the rest of it? If it is that important, they will have it here…” I turn back to the shelves, then freeze. The sound we have been dreading reverberates angrily through the ceiling. Metal on stone.
“What do we do?” Lizzie looks at me wide-eyed, panicked.
“We have to go.” I gesture to the door and encourage Lizzie through it.
It closes behind us with a thud and we stand for a moment, our backs pressed against it, listening.
Above our heads there is the low rumble of conversation — Charles and another voice I don’t recognise. Male.
I gesture to the stairs, mouthing to Lizzie that we need to run, hoping that Charles can cause enough furore to cover the sound of our steps. But if the creature he is speaking to is a vampire, then I don’t like our chances.
We hurry up the stairs, our hearts pounding in our throats. With each step, the voices above grow louder, more distinct. Then there is another crash.
“The glamour was not as strong as I had hoped. You should not have been able to plan such a thing without telling me. Although, I suppose, it is at least something that you have revealed your schemes to me now.” It’s Nikolai.
Charles’s reply is muffled, but I can hear a note of pain in his voice.
Despite everything, he’s trying to buy us time. But Nikolai knows we’re here. He knows we got in and he will surely not stop until he’s found us and ripped us to pieces.
We reach the top of the stairs, pressing ourselves against the wall. Through the gaps in the railing, I catch a glimpse of Charles crumpled at the foot of a bookshelf, his face pale but defiant as Nikolai looms over him.
“Lizzie,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper. “When I say run, you have to go. Don’t look back. Get to the carriage. Take this.” I pull the parchment and the now crumpled contract from my dress and hand it to her. “Don’t wait for us. Nate needs these. Go to the arena and find him.”
She stares at me. “What about you and Charles?”
“I’ll get him out of here. We’ll be okay.”
I close my eyes, reaching deep within me to the pulsing, simmering well of power that I have learned to control. It sparks and crackles beneath my skin, eager to be unleashed.
With a deep, steadying breath, I step out from behind the wall.
Nikolai’s head snaps towards me, his nostrils flaring as he catches my scent. His eyes widen, a flicker of recognition and shock crossing his arrogant face.
I don’t give him a chance to react.
With a cry that comes from the depths of my soul, a blinding blast of light bursts from my outstretched hands. It slams into Nikolai, sending him crashing backwards through shelves; books tumbling in an avalanche of leather and parchment.
“Lizzie, now!” I scream, already feeling the power beginning to ebb and my knees tremble. “Get to the carriage!”
Lizzie glances back at Charles, then sprints past me, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.
I hold Nikolai in place — my power vibrating.
Charles pulls himself to his feet and runs towards me. “Sera, I’m sorry?—”
“No time,” I gasp, my vision swimming. “We need to go. Now.”
We stumble towards the door, and my power buckles and snaps, releasing Nikolai.
The sounds of his furious roars chase at our heels.
I risk a glance over my shoulder and immediately wish I hadn’t. The vampire lord is rising from the debris, his once-immaculate suit torn and dusty, his face a mask of pure rage. Blood trickles from a gash on his forehead, but he barely seems to notice. His terrifying fathomless eyes are fixed on me with a hatred that steals the breath from my lungs.
I throw another wave of magic at him, sending him spinning into the dust.
Charles reaches for my arm, dragging me away.“Where’s Lizzie?”
“I told her to get to Nate. To give him what we have.”
Charles squeezes my hand just as Nikolai flies out of the dust once more. He is too quick to stop this time; grabbing Charles in a blur and clutching him to his chest like a shield. If I try anything to stop Nikolai now, it will hurt Charles, too.
“Go, Sera. Please.” Charles looks into my eyes then twists in Nikolai’s grip, clawing at his own skin. He’s trying to distract him. To draw blood. “Go!”
I run, tears stinging my eyes, until the Azarov estate is far behind me; until the stitch in my side is a searing agony and my legs are screaming at me to stop. I push through it. I have to get to Nate and Rafe.
Lizzie took the carriage. She should be there by now. But now Nikolai knows what we have found and what we’re doing. He’ll come after us, if he isn’t already. And Charles…
Name it, Sera. Whatever you need.
He will not die for me tonight.