Chapter 31
I wake in darkness. It takes me a heart-pounding moment to return to my body and feel the warmth of my bed.
For a moment, I wonder if my enchanted windows are malfunctioning, but no.
Outside my heavily warded home is a raging storm rattling the bones of the city in an unseasonable torrent.
It is one of many ramifications of a weaver civil war.
Soon, there will be rolling blackouts and devastating plagues.
Oh, and more unusual weather. Delightful.
Vincentius and my father better hurry the fuck up and come to an agreement. I was really looking forward to enjoying the summer.
With a sleepy groan, I roll to my other side and reach for Lucas’ warm, solid body, only to encounter the cold of unslept-in sheets. “Lucas?”
Silence responds. The inky blackness around me crawls over my skin and seeps into my pores. Memories of the black sea surge in me and bile burns the back of my throat. I swallow and flick a finger out to magically turn on my bedroom lights.
The lights flicker, bathing the room in darkness before flaring back to life. I sit up, clutching my blankets to my bare chest. The chill prickles my skin, eliciting a small shiver.
If I wasn’t deliciously sore from a thorough fucking, I’d wonder if the previous night was a vivid dream. I never expected Lucas to fuck me and leave in the middle of the night. A foreign sensation tightens my heart and I shift my shoulders to ease the discomfort.
I scowl and throw off the blankets. When I find that asshole, I’m going to verbally rip him apart, piece by piece.
Snatching up my favorite white silk robe, I fasten it hastily and make my way down to my door, throwing it open and frowning at the pitch darkness below.
“Wonderful. Now the crystals are out,” I grumble as I grip the iron railing.
I descend the spiral staircase carefully, leaving my loft door open to provide some light.
It was the risk I took when I chose to purchase the crystals for my shop instead of crafting them myself like I do for my loft.
An unfortunate necessity, since I had so little power to give back then.
About halfway down, I roll my wrist, gathering tendrils of my own energy before casting them out. A few of the crystal lights flicker to life, providing flashes of a low light down below.
The dark outline of a man stands at the base of my stairs, watching me silently. The crystals extinguish and darkness swallows us both.
I stumble back, my eyes flaring bright green as fire erupts along my body and illuminates the space. “WHO THE FUCK—”
But there’s no one there.
I rub my face, heating as embarrassment floods me. I really need to get control over my nightmares before my mind plays any more tricks on me. No one can come or go from my shop without me knowing. My hands drop down as realization sweeps me. That means Lucas is still here somewhere.
I call out, “LUCAS!”
Silence. My hand instinctively tightens on the railing, but I shake off my disquiet and straighten my shoulders. “Fine! If this is a trick, don’t come crying to me when I accidentally incinerate you.”
I stomp down the rest of the way, letting my frustration drown out the unease within me.
My fire dances around my body, flickering gold and black as Creation and Entropy weave together in harmony.
My halo of light illuminates the books around me, my magic awakening many of them.
They grumble mutinously, tightening up to try to return to their rest.
I shake my robe sleeves to my elbows as I prepare to force my shop from its natural magic state to the mortal front that has gas lamps. My hands turn to claws as I sink my nails into the fabric of magic and turn as if winding a large crank.
It doesn’t budge. I blink. “The fuck?”
I try again, throwing more power and strength into the action, but my chest aches and not from the fire that crackles around me. It’s an entirely new sensation, like forcing two opposite magnets together by will alone.
I drop the fabric to rub my chest. The books hiss and shift, malicious magic swirling as they resist my call.
I stomp my foot. “Oh, come on! You little fuckers. I am bathed in fire. Just be easy for once and get back into your pocket.”
But they do not shy away. A prickling unease crawls up my spine.
The magic I created for my shop is entwined deeply into my own soul, but now…
my soul is different. I’m Heir to Antonia.
My threads are no longer warring. They are entwined directly to the Weave instead of my families’ lines.
There aren’t even two of them, but four in a single rope.
Could it be that becoming Heir has disrupted my connection to the shop’s heart?
If so, then Lucas could’ve left without me knowing it.
Yet, Dimitar and his crew slipped in without me noticing. My body washes cold. The corruption. My wards could’ve been weakening for months or even years, and my mind was too clouded from the side effects to notice.
Which means someone else could’ve come in.
I call for Lucas again, my voice pitching higher, my arms wrapping around my middle. The darkness of the shop presses in all around me, like it’s a living thing trying to snuff out my light.
I steady my breathing, speaking to myself as I make my way through the once comforting towering stacks.
They arch over me, disappearing into the shadows like haunted trees leering down at me.
It’s okay. Just get to the front of the shop.
He could be down in the basement… except, he can’t get in there without me.
He must be here. Somewhere. Just. Find. Him. “LUCAS!”
I’m running now, my robe whipping around my legs. My lungs are heaving, my eyes wide. My flames trail behind me, my feet smacking against the hardwood. I scream again, “LUCAS!”
No one answers. The only sounds are from me as I tear through the stacks in a blind panic, trying to make sure not to touch anything flammable as my fire flares with my spiking heart rate.
I burst from the stacks and come to a careening stop, my arms flailing as my feet slide along the wet floors before wiping out.
My side hits the ground hard, the pooled liquid splashing and soaking into my white silk robe.
The sticky-cold fluid coats my palms and fingertips as I push myself off the floor to brace myself with outstretched arms. The red is vibrant in my fire and I whip my head up to behold the front foyer of my shop.
Blood is everywhere, bathing the wood floor, dripping down the walls in long rivulets, and splattered up along the high ceiling. A body lies before me, devoid of skin, grotesque muscle and sinewy feet pointing towards me.
A strangled, inhuman scream rips free from my throat, the force of it trembling my bones as my soul rips apart for the second time in my life.
My hands slip, my forearms crashing into the wet ground.
A metallic tinge fills my mouth when my face hits it.
Sweat blooms over my body, slicking me with a cold that has me shivering so violently that it’s a battle to lift myself back up again.
All I can think, or feel, or see is Lucas as I grapple with the real possibility that the mutilated body is him. But I thrash against it. It can’t be him. It must be someone else. Anyone else. Please, be anyone else. But if not him, who is it? And who could’ve done this?
The memory of the shadow at the base of my stairs has my eyes opening.
My hearing goes white as I pant, my pulse beating so hard that my vision begins to darken in the corners.
I was so confident in my new Heir status that I didn’t see the ripping holes in the safety net around me.
Now, Lucas could be dead. Someone else is hiding in here.
I’m alone with no one to help me. An insistent drumming beats against my panic, demanding to be let in, and I can’t tell if the pounding is my own heartbeat or a fist hammering on my door.
A haunting whisper from my memories sends my panic careening so chaotically that my flame douses, bathing the shop into a living, breathing, blackness.
I’ve missed you…
To be continued…
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