10. Max
Max
Missy wasn’t on this floor either.
My heart sank into ice.
We’d swept the twelfth floor twice while the Oracle’s head turned its slow circle at the center. No cot. No small shoes. No little girl folded asleep in a corner.
“My sister isn’t in the Glass Tower. Where is she?” My voice broke.
“Missy is here,” Sera said. “Xander carried her up, and she never left.”
“We checked every fucking floor,” Caspian growled.
“Eleventh floor.” Her head rotated back to face us, pale lips barely moving.
“It’s just darkness there,” Nikolai said. “Even my sight couldn’t get through that mass.”
“The little girl is inside the darkness,” Sera said. “A pocket realm.” Her glassy eyes went pitch black for a second. “But your blood won’t open it, princess. Not the way it opened this tower.”
“Then how do I get in?”
“Talk to the voice in your head.” Her gaze came around again. “Ask for its help.”
My mouth dried out. She knew about the demon.
“Face your fear, princess. Accept it. Your sister, or yourself. Choose.”
A growl rolled out of Caspian. “We don’t have time for riddles.”
“Prophecy,” Sera said, “is a riddle with the mercy removed.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Caspian snapped.
“We find Max’s sister first,” Nikolai said. “That’s the deal.”
Missy was one floor down. I’d give anything to get to her. My soul included, if that was the price.
“How do I break the blood marriage contract, Lady Sera?”
“Did you see your father’s blood signature on the contract?”
I closed my eyes and pulled the parchment up out of memory. The elegant, hateful script. The seal. The rusty signatures pressed in blood, one of them mine, taken from an infant.
“Three blood signatures on that parchment,” Caspian said, answering for me.
“Max’s, Xander’s, and the White Witch’s,” Nikolai added.
“The strongest blood has the final say.” Sera’s head spun away. “Blood magic can be written over by one signature more powerful than all the signing parties together.”
The contract had sat on me like a coffin lid since the night Xander unrolled it. Now a seam of light showed from underneath.
“Only one parent signed on Max’s behalf,” Caspian breathed.
“There’s only one Lucifer Morningstar.” Nikolai’s crimson eyes had gone somewhere between calculation and doubt. “And he’s real?”
“There you have it,” Sera said. “Find the one blood more powerful than the Collector and the Witch combined. The blood that hasn’t betrayed you.”
Simple. Just go find Lucifer.
For once the demon had nothing to say about my sarcasm, though it stirred in me, pricking its ears to listen in.
“Where is…” The name stuck in my throat like a fishbone. “Uh, this Lucifer?”
“Come closer, princess.” Sera’s voice dropped. “Closer.”
I leaned in, and she whispered it straight into my head. Caspian and Nikolai looked from her to me and back, and neither of them heard a word of it.
Her head spun away. When it came back around, she said, “End me now, princess.”
I had a hundred more questions and no time left for any of them.
“How do I break the vault?”
“Your Coldiron blade can cut it.”
We can do it! We will do it! Coldiron chimed, vibrating in my grip like an overeager pup.
I let the metal flow back into a blade and drew it down the warded glass in one long slice. The glass parted, and the head dropped.
Nikolai caught it.
“How do we kill you, Lady Oracle?” He held her steady, looking down at her.
Happy to stab her in the eyes! Coldiron trembled with pleasure. Then we get a new name. Oracle Killer!
Hush, I scolded down the link.
“No blade, no spell, no fire can end me,” Sera said. “Only your Morningstar bloodline can give me eternal death. Put both palms over my eyes and will it, and it’ll be done.”
“Okay.”
“You have fire and steel in you, child.” She looked at me from Nikolai’s hands.
“Direct, but not unkind. Soft-hearted where it counts and nowhere else. Had I been made like you, I would never have fallen for Xander.” A pause.
“When the true horror comes for you and for those you love, hold on to your darkness, child. Not your light. Now do it.”
“What should I do with your head afterward, Lady Sera?”
“Leave the skull for the Collector,” she said. “I’ll see him in Hell.”
Nikolai set the Oracle’s head on a glass counter. I pressed the heels of my palms over her eyes. Her skin was cool and papery. I willed her death. Not with malice. As a gift.
At the touch, dark fire threaded with white light poured out of my hands and burned through the Oracle’s eyes.
She made no sound.
When the fire died, her eyes were gone. Two patches of scorched black stared back.
The Oracle was truly dead.
Her last message chimed in my head, like wind passing, like a door closing.
Find the second Fourfold prophecy. The first was concealed from you by the heirs. Men, especially powerful ones, can never be trusted. Do not fall for the wrong men, child.