59. Demise
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
DEMISE
Saya Claymore
Shards of light flake around the room, and a whirring sound, like a pulse of energy, grips the crystal. This is Mother’s light. A piece of her that’s left, scattered around Naylen—and I am here to kill it.
With every blink, I draw closer until I am in front of the cube.
Energy surges from it, and when I lift it away from the crystal, thousands of voices overlap in my head.
“Pir avacen. Pir avacen. Pir avacen. Pir avacen. Pir avacen.” Every word drums into my mind, and the sound of energy thrums, whirling around and around, detaching me from my surroundings until it’s just me and the crystal before me.
I lift the cube away from the crystal, and the tough glass clatters to the ground. Then I reach for the crystal, the chanting growing louder, bleeding into my gums. My fingers twitch, so close to grabbing Mother’s light.
“What are you doing here?”
Sucking in a shaky breath, I face the woman in a white coat. Dark eyes look at me, at the crystal, then back at me. She peers at me, as if seeing through my disguise, then reaches into her pocket.
I run at her, and as she takes a small tag from her pocket, I tackle her to the ground.
The button flicks open, revealing a knife, and I cry out when it sinks into my arm.
She uses her strength, rolling over me, and her hands snap to my throat before I can think.
This woman isn’t just a white coat. There is a fighter in those violent dark eyes, and her lip curls with disdain.
I inch towards my dagger as her hands clamp around my windpipe, cutting off my air. I gasp, struggling to draw breath, and my legs thrash out from under me. She’s strong. A slayer? Is she a slayer?
I suck in another breath, the tightness burning. My fingers curl around the hilt, desperate to get a proper grip, when my glamour shatters. Every ounce of magik disappears, and white hair burns down my chest before my blistering eyes.
The woman’s hands slacken, the anger on her face melting into shock. “You are a vegodia—” I plunge the dagger into the side of her neck, my ragged breathing giving way to panic, my chest rising and falling as the blood soaks into my clenched fist.
She collapses beside me and stares vacantly up at the glass-domed ceiling. Once I have enough air in my lungs, I push myself up and stumble towards the crystal. The dagger clatters to the ground from my loosened grip, and I grab each side of the pillar that keeps the crystal hovering.
“I’m sorry, Mother, but my brother is more important than your light.” Before I can regret my actions, before the voices can scream into my mind, and before I stare too long at the nametag: Imogen Hill, I smash the crystal on the ground.
Darkness shrouds the entire world.
Drawing another breath, my stuttering heart stirs at the softness cupping my cheek. Red eyes blaze in the black, and I am no longer so alone. “Serun,” I croak.
“Don’t talk. Your throat is tender.” Delicate fingers brush the spot that stings the most. “I will bite you afterwards. We don’t have time.
The slayers will be preparing.” Both hands cup my face, and his mouth brushes mine.
“You know that for this to happen, I will have to kill anyone who gets in my path from here to where I suspect the slayers would have taken them.”
I nod and say, “Only the slayers. Don’t kill the humans, especially the children.”
“No more talking.” He crushes his mouth to mine, and when he pulls away, he says, “Let’s find our family. I will return later to eliminate that not-lover of yours for what he fucking did.”
Serun keeps his hand on mine in the dark, and I am guided by his touch. I hand him the tag, and he takes it without a word. It’s hard to breathe. Each inhale stings, like razor blades slicing down my throat. Tears slip down my cheeks, not from sadness but from pain.
We enter the lift, and the lights still seem to be on, so it is only Mother’s light that’s gone. Everything else still functions.
Serun is pure shadow. Shadows split away from him, becoming long black claws. His creature-like hands scrape across the stainless-steel flooring, and the ones that creep out from behind his back hover above his head, ready to attack if needed.
He hands me my mask, and I cup the fox mask in my hands, my thumbs brushing the black-and-white pattern. Vervain florals climb the dark side near the eye, and the last petal grazes the pointed ears.
Placing it over my face, Serun then hands me my sword.
As I buckle it across my chest, he disappears in a cloud of black smoke as the doors close.
My ear twitches, and a spark of panic surges, only for him to reappear a moment later with my dagger.
“There will be guns. Amateur slayers may use them, while others may bring fire and useless stakes.” Serun’s voice is calm, with little to no emotion.
“No matter where I disappear to, keep walking and don’t stop. ”
I nod, not daring to speak.
“My shadow will be with you, too. A piece of Penumbra that will always protect you.”
I nod again, wincing as the ache flares across my throat.
“I’m not at my strongest, either. Slayer blood does little to a nightwalker—if anything, it hinders our performance. I also have back pain and am in no mood to fight.”
I take his hand and think, Bite me.
“Not unless I need to.” Serun punches in G4, then scans the card.
The lift descends, and my stomach, heart, and panic float back to the tower.
Sadness grips me at the shattered light and the realisation that this prayer sanctuary is no longer safe, with likely predators waiting to enter.
But Cole is important, and if Avianna believes he is here, I will tear this place down brick by brick to find him.
Serun powders away in black mist. I grip the dagger tighter until it trembles, and I glare ahead as the doors open.
My eyes widen at the red-painted hallway.
Serun stands in the centre of the mess, blood dripping from the ceiling, and torn limbs creating an abstract pattern around him.
The only souls left alive are two children huddled together, wearing the same clothes as the children by the fountain were.
We are the monsters.