27. Leah
Leah
We decide that, all things considered, Syrus and Viz looking human would be better than sneaking around Luminis as demons.
Like my grandmother all those years ago, there are a few Stratans scattered around Aradis, working for the ephilium, so a glimpse of them down a side street shouldn’t raise any alarms.
“We prepared for this,” Syrus says, fishing a vial out from a chain around his neck. He doesn’t need to explain that it’s holding water from the Morphos. “Or at least, for something to go wrong.”
He takes a swig from the vial, and I watch his horns melt away and his scars fade, until only the slight ring of red around his eyes hints at his true form.
Viz’s transformation is much stranger to watch.
Syrus still looks mostly human even with his demonic features, but Viz’s whole color changes, his bone-white skin gaining new warmth and his skull-like face fleshing out.
It’s surreal. When we’re done, I blink down at a very ordinary man that I wouldn’t look twice at in the street.
“Wings?” I ask, nodding at Syrus’s back as I roll my sleeves down to obscure the Cyrax painted on my arms.
“Those I can vanish,” he says, then his eyes brighten. “You could probably do the same with yours.”
I blink. On another day, I might have time to be surprised by this, but right now, I just nod. “Show me.”
“You need to tilt your wings down,” he says, lightly pressing the top of one of them, which sends an unexpected shudder through me. No one’s touched them like that, and it feels very intimate.
Syrus continues, ignoring my reaction. “At the same time, you need to picture tucking them away in your mind’s eye.”
“Tucking them away where?” I ask.
Syrus pauses, obviously thinking how to best describe it.
This would be so much easier if he could just slip inside my mind as usual and show me.
It’s crossed my mind that maybe this isn’t one of the specific abilities I’ve inherited from Syrus, but we won’t know until I try, and it feels strange, having to figure this out alone for a change.
Syrus is here, but it’s not the same as feeling his magic channeled through me, his presence guiding me from inside my own head.
“Picture it as like slipping them between two planes of light. You’re not disappearing them completely, just hiding them away in a pocket.”
It takes a few frustrating minutes to get it, but Syrus’s instructions are good.
After a couple of tries, I glance over my shoulders to see only thin air and a slightly odd set of shadows that you’d only notice if you squinted hard.
I wave a hand at the patch of air, and it passes through unobstructed.
It’s strange, how I can feel the weight of my wings but not the bulk of them.
Mostly, I’m just relieved that us breaking the bond didn’t strip me of everything Syrus has given me.
I’ve never been to my aunt’s house—have only ever laid eyes on her once—but I’m not operating totally blind.
Rowan gave me the address for the letter I wrote.
And Filippa told me a handful of childhood stories about growing up in Luminis—how she’d play near the fountain on her street or salute the statue of her great-great-great grandmother in the drive whenever she came home.
Once we’re in the neighborhood, it’s not hard to locate what we’re looking for.
“You’re sure about this?” Syrus says, adjusting Viz, still limp, in his arms.
“No,” I say. “But I’m trusting my gut.”
He looks unimpressed. “You’ve been in Aradis too long.”
“All right, it’s not just that,” I protest. “I saved her daughter’s life. That counts for something, especially with the ephilium.”
He makes no argument beyond that. We both know that asking for help is risky, but staying out in the open would be suicide.
My Aunt Ghola’s house is unsurprisingly grand, with a high wall around the driveway that shields us from the street as we wait for someone to answer the door. Syrus hangs back, out of immediate view, as I hover on the doorstep while a confused servant fetches my aunt.
“Leah,” Ghola says when she arrives in the doorway. “I didn’t expect—”
She stops, eyes widening. “But what happened to your wings?”
“I had to hide them. I’m on the run because your father attacked the Seraph Seat and tried to kill the seraphim,” I say. “Now the guards are looking for me. They think I was involved somehow.”
This part I need to say up front. I won’t trick Ghola into letting us into her home without all the facts.
She clutches the doorway for support, but she doesn’t look surprised, even if her complexion goes gray in the same way Filippa’s did the day of the first trial.
“You knew what he was planning,” I say.
“I didn’t.” She huffs out a heavy breath. “I knew he was up to something. But I thought it was his usual scheming. I didn’t think he would actually…Ancestors,” she mutters, her face tightening with anger. “What a damned fool. He’s ruined us all.”
“I need your help. In fact, we need your help.”
I turn to beckon to Syrus, who emerges with Viz slung over his shoulder.
Ghola squints, baffled by the sudden appearance of the two humans. Then she sees the green of the blood on Viz’s head, and when she looks to Syrus, horrified recognition slips into her expression.
“What are they doing here?” she demands, taking a step back like she might slam the door in our faces.
“It’s a long story,” I say. I rehearsed a bit of this on our way here, but it was difficult to plan when I didn’t know how she’d react. Now, in the moment, I find myself opting for the simple and frank approach. “He came to Aradis for me.”
She stares at me. “You’re in league with Infernum? And you come to my house? Leave.” She waves her hand violently at me. “Get out of here now.”
Syrus clears his throat.
“Lady Ghola, believe me, I’m not interested in attacking Aradis.
But your father was. In fact, his impromptu visit to the Seraph Seat this afternoon managed to nearly kill my friend here, and it put a target on both Leah’s and my back.
So really the least you could do is invite us inside before the whole street hears you’ve had a demon lord come calling on you. Let’s not make things ugly.”
The red ring around his irises flashes a slightly more dangerous shade.
My aunt wavers under the intensity of his stare, and I apply a little more pressure.
“What about family?” I demand. “What about honor? I saved Filippa’s life; doesn’t that earn me some loyalty?”
Ghola closes her eyes, the feathers on her wings ruffling briefly, and I guess she’s trying to use a bit of foresight to decide what to do.
“All right,” she says a moment later, sounding defeated. “Get inside. I’ll make sure the servants don’t see.”
I get brief glimpses of the interior as she ushers us through a hall and into a side room. The house is big, but it’s not as grand as Ustarne’s, nor is it decorated as lavishly as the academy. It’s more homey, and I can picture Filippa here.
After checking the coast is clear, Ghola leads us down some steps into a cellar. It’s clean and warm at least, with a low table among the wine racks and storage boxes for us to lay Viz down on. Once she’s deposited us there, Ghola hesitates by the door, looking at me.
“My father, is he…” She stops, unable to finish the question.
“He tried to fight Seraph Orelle,” I say, ducking my head. “He lost, and Orelle killed him. I’m sorry.”
She exhales shakily, her hands twisting knots into her dress.
“It was his own doing. He always struggled with getting older, especially after he left the Brigade. He couldn’t stand the idea of meeting his end quietly and comfortably in his bed. This will at least have given him a death he’d want.”
I don’t bother pointing out it’s come at the cost of a lot of people’s safety. Ghola seems like a woman who’s well aware of her father’s flaws.
“I’ll bring something to clean that,” she says, nodding at Viz’s bloody head.
“Along with some bandages, and food and water for all of you. But I need the demons out of this house by sunrise.” I open my mouth, about to protest, but she cuts me off.
“I’ll stick my neck out for you, Leah. You are still an Illidore after all, regardless of the company you keep.
But I owe no such allegiance to Infernum. ”
She turns to Syrus, and I’m rather impressed at her nerve, even as her hands still clutch the fabric of her skirts tightly. She’s afraid, but she won’t back down. “I trust you have plans to leave Aradis before morning?”
Syrus and I exchange a look, then he nods at my aunt. “We will be gone by sunrise, as you ask.”
She disappears for a few minutes, and Syrus and I try to get Viz comfortable while she returns with the medical supplies—the kind of rudimentary items ephilium keep in their homes in place of actual healers—and food too. I wait until she’s gone again before speaking.
“You shouldn’t have agreed to leaving so soon,” I say to Syrus. “I think we could’ve bought ourselves more time here if we pressed her.”
“We don’t need it,” Syrus says, starting to clean Viz’s wound. The chamberlain stirs a little under the cold, stinging touch of the alcohol. A good sign, I think. “Once we’ve bandaged him up, you can take Viz to Strata and get him the help he needs—”
“Syrus,” I say in warning, even as I know it’s a warning he won’t heed.
It’s time for us to have the argument we’ve been avoiding since the Seraph Seat.
I go to sit down beside him, where he’s knelt next to Viz.
When I cross my legs, my knee touches his thigh.
I try not to dwell on the way the closeness feels like a relief—a touch of comfort across the yawning emptiness where our bond used to be.
“I’ll find somewhere else to wait out my time in Aradis,” he continues. “Once you’re in Strata, you can get a message to Aster, and she and Quill can work on opening another rift from Infernum to here.”
“Syrus,” I say again. “That is the stupidest fucking plan I’ve ever heard.”