Chapter 25 Ransom
In an old storage barn ten miles from Bellevue Castle, Paola Versini lay bleeding on a bed of hay. Seraphine knelt at her side, plugging the wound underneath her collarbone. A mortal blow.
Ransom stood guard at the door, his attention flitting between the sky and the scene before him. ‘She’s not going to make it, Sera.’
There was so much blood the ground was stained red. Her face was stark, her dying breath bubbling on her lips. The arrow had struck too deep.
Sera shook her head. ‘I can save her. I saved you.’
‘With sainthood.’
She didn’t respond. She was too busy unbuttoning Paola’s shirt.
‘Seraphine,’ he said, bristling.
‘I’m not letting her die, Ransom. Not like this. Not for me.’
‘You don’t know what it will do to you.’ His voice was strained, his concern selfish. His regard for Paola’s life paled in comparison to his fear for Sera’s, and he had almost lost her once this week. They were barely beyond Bellevue and she was running headlong into more danger.
After making Val, Sera had been a ghost of herself. Though she refused to admit it, the ritual had taken something vital from her. She had suffered for it. She was suffering still. And worse than that, she didn’t seem to care.
Fear bloomed into shadow, anxiety making him pace back and forth. ‘Sera.’
‘Shh.’ In the quiet of the barn, her stubbornness prevailed. Short of physically tearing her away from Paola’s body, he couldn’t stop her. It was not his choice, his risk to take. He could only watch in silent trepidation as the woman he loved poured her magic into another Versini.
For a long time, Seraphine was still, her hair falling like a curtain between them. Her nightgown was scuffed with dirt, the sleeves stained with Paola’s blood, her feet cut and bruised underneath her. His fingers itched to mend her, to take her away from this godawful place.
Outside, a thicket of clouds moved in front of the sun, and a cold wind rippled up his back. More shadows plumed, inking the outer walls of the barn and kissing the beams within.
He closed his eyes, listening to the soft hitch of her breath in the silence. She was trembling now, her head lolling back and forth.
He crushed his hands into fists, fighting the urge to go to her, to break the chain that now bound her to Paola. Sunlight streamed from her hand, gilding Paola’s chest. It rose as her breath returned, growing strong and even.
A groan seeped through Sera’s teeth.
He ran to her.
When she slumped to the side, he gathered her into his lap and pulled her close, bending his head to track the rhythm of her breath. It held steady, her pulse thrumming beneath his fingers.
He could do no more than that.
And so he waited.
Paola woke first. She gave a wet cough and her eyes flew open.
She frowned up at the shadowy beams. ‘Am I dead?’
‘Do you feel dead?’
She rolled her head around to look at him. ‘If you’re here, then we must be in hell.’ She coughed again, wiping the old blood from her mouth. ‘No offence.’
‘Your eyes are gold.’ They widened at his words. ‘You survived. And then some.’
Her hands flew to her face, prodding at her cheeks, like she could feel the heat beneath, the unknowable magic that now swam like a minnow through her blood.
She sat up, tracing the handprint on her chest. Her eyes glazed, and Ransom knew she was hearing that voice within. The call of her own magic. ‘Holy shit.’
The air grew close, a strange humidity gathering between them.
‘You were dying,’ he told her. ‘This was the only way to save you.’
She swallowed thickly, rubbing her chest. ‘Thank you.’
‘I was against it,’ he admitted.
Her gaze dropped to Sera, still cradled in his arms. ‘Is she all right?’
‘She’s exhausted.’
Paola stood and stretched her arms out, working the crick from her neck.
‘And you?’ he asked, warily. ‘What do you feel?’
‘Full,’ she said, turning her hands in front of her face. ‘Like a cloud, heaving with rain.’
Mist spun around her, fine as gossamer. She drifted through it, moving towards the doors.
‘Where are you going?’ he called after her.
‘To see what I’ve become.’
She slipped through the narrow gap, disappearing into the sunlight.
The silence stretched. Ransom’s spine was so stiff it ached. There was a growl of thunder and then a clap so close, the barn trembled. The beams shook and dust plumed from the ceiling.
The air grew dense. The hairs on Ransom’s head rose in every direction, and lightning erupted in the field behind the barn. A wink of silver heralding a sudden furious rain shower.
Paola’s laughter trilled as she returned, breathless, to the barn. Her eyes were gleaming, her smile so wide, he could see her back teeth.
‘Looks like I’m a natural.’
A Saint of Storms, then.
It was a fitting choice for a woman who spent her life outside in the elements and rode like a storm through the world. He sensed no mystery to her magic, no dark writhing underbelly.
Not like her nephew.
‘It suits you,’ he said, the tension easing from his shoulders. It was the closest he could get to congratulating her, knowing that her making had taken a bite out of the woman he loved. He would not fully relax until he saw the blue of her eyes once more.
Paola’s excitement tempered. ‘When will she wake up?’
He traced the curve of Sera’s cheek. ‘I don’t know.’
She looked to the doorway. ‘The Strix will return for us. We should leave before we’re surrounded.’
‘I can hold them off,’ said Ransom.
‘How many? And for how long?’ Her questions stirred his unease. Paola was right. His magic was not infinite, and his assault on Bellevue had ploughed through his reserves. They would take another day or so to recover. A day Andreas would not give them.
They were vulnerable out here, too close to Bellevue Castle and the Silver-tongue’s vengeance. Once the mistbane wore off, he would come for Seraphine at full force.
‘Bolt is fed and rested,’ said Paola. ‘We should ride out while we can.’
Still cradling Sera, Ransom stood and went outside. To the south, shadows blotted the sky. The Strix were circling the forests near Bellevue Castle.
A brisk wind blew, stirring his own shadows. Pushing them west, towards Fantome, as if to say, Go.
They rode out together. Paola kept her eyes on the road ahead, while Ransom watched the sky, tracking the beasts there. As they drew closer, their shrieks echoed in the wind, raising the hairs on his arms.
‘They’re gaining ground,’ he said to Paola’s back.
‘We can’t go any faster.’
Another shriek sounded. Too close.
Paola stiffened. ‘Night will fall soon.’
Night wouldn’t save them. ‘They can see in the dark.’
She muttered a curse.
Dread dogged them as the Strix edged ever closer, the Urnican flock speckling the sky like black stars.
‘We can’t outrun them,’ said Ransom, searching the horizon for another safe house. Fields spilled out in a patchwork of green and gold, the land surrendering nothing of use. He conjured his shadows. ‘I can try and hide us.’
‘No.’ Bunching the reins in one hand, she tipped her face back to the sky. ‘Save your shadows. We’ll need them if the Stargrazers land.’
The air grew heavy. Droplets clung to his skin and curled the strands around Sera’s face as a grey mist thickened around them. He didn’t have to glimpse Paola’s face to know her eyes were alight, her magic, newly sown, was already in bloom.
Soon, the storm swallowed them, a canopy of clouds forming like a bruise. They sank low, coming to rest on their shoulders. The sky blurred and Ransom lost sight of the Strix.
They rode on into the darkening night.
As rolling farmland narrowed into cobbled streets, Paola began to tire. Her storm withered to a lone cloud. She would not relinquish it, and as they finally ducked under Hangman’s Pass, her eyes burned low, like dying embers.
By then, the Strix were a distant fear. Ransom pictured them circling the eastern farmland, futile and furious.
When they returned, at last, to House Armand, it was almost dawn.
The Hollows slumbered, save for the rats skittering in the alleys.
Paola’s cloud came to settle on the roof of the old manor.
Pricked by the weathervane that spun there, it dissolved in a brisk shower, baptizing the old woman who was waiting for them in the garden.
Rain drenched the shawl around Madame Fontaine’s head and dripped off the end of her nose as she glared up at them.
Drawing Bolt to a halt by the gate, Paola offered a sheepish wave. ‘Apologies, Madame Fontaine. I didn’t see you there.’
Unbothered by the unexpected deluge, Madame Fontaine’s lips flickered into a rare smile. ‘Fate has favoured your quest. I was not convinced it would.’
When Ransom dismounted with Seraphine in his arms, the smile slid from her face. She shuffled closer, shivering through her teeth.
‘Wake her up for hell’s sake,’ she hissed. ‘It’s not time yet.’
Sera’s lids fluttered. She stirred awake, and at the sight of her soft blue eyes all thought and worry left him.
It was only after, when they were safely inside, that Ransom recalled the old soothsayer’s words and wondered what they meant.