Chapter 2 Ransom
Ransom was going mad. In the inky dark of the bedchamber he shared with Seraphine, he swore he heard scraping. Fingernails dragged across stone. Over and over. Every time he bolted upright in bed and turned up his oil lamp, there was nothing but the same old shadows spilling across the walls.
He flung his hand out, reaching for Seraphine. Her side of the bed was warm, but she wasn’t there. She must have slipped out to use the bathroom. Flopping backwards, he traced her handprint on his chest, the golden skin there proof that she had saved his life.
That he was a saint now.
His blood, his heart, his destiny belonged to her.
She’d been passed out when he came to bed earlier, her golden hair like a halo across the pillow. Making Theo Versini had wrung every last drop of energy from her, and the bastard was still sleeping. After almost a week of badgering Sera, he’d finally got his way.
They had yet to find out what divine gift – or curse – Versini would discover once he bothered to wake up.
If it was worth what Sera had suffered for it.
In the dark, the smell of her lingered. Lemon blossom in the spring, along with a new disquieting feeling. Something he could not yet name.
It was nearing dawn, and Ransom had barely slept.
He scrubbed his hands through his hair, sensing the ever-present tug of his magic at work.
Even now, his bloodhounds were stationed throughout the catacombs like sentinels.
Seraphine hated the adders, and his ravens always flew a touch too low in here.
The hounds were the most civilized of his creations, but as thoughts of the Silver-tongue Saint and his grasping plans for the kingdom festered, Ransom found himself itching to try grander designs, deadlier beasts…
Seraphine would chew him out for it. He was already pushing himself too far, staying awake most nights, wringing out his magic for all it was worth and leaning ever further into that dark pool inside him.
If he went on like this, he’d burn out.
Or worse – become one of the monsters he conjured.
He wanted more than anything to give Seraphine the sun. Breezy days above ground where Arthos and all its kingdoms were theirs to explore, and fear was a distant thought. But with Valterre on the brink of war, what choice was there?
With only shadows to his name, Ransom could offer simply this: a dark undying devotion.
He would die for her.
He would kill for her.
Clack… clack… clack…
That bloody noise again. He turned the oil lamp all the way up just as the door to his bedchamber creaked open.
‘Hey,’ he said, a tired rasp. He swung his lamp around, searching for her face in the dark. ‘How are—’
Ransom froze. His heart juddered, ice-cold dread pouring through him.
A corpse stood in his doorway.
Towering and bone white in the half-light, and bedecked in a frock coat so pristine, Ransom recognized it at once.
Here stood the earthly remains of Hugo Versini, founder of the Order of Daggers.
Someone had sprung his skeleton from the tomb hidden deep beneath the catacombs.
‘Fuck.’
That scraping came again, ten ivory toes sliding across the stone floor towards him.
Ransom leaped from his bed, swinging the oil lamp like a battleaxe. Hugo Versini’s skull shattered, casting gold teeth like marbles. He leaped over the crumpled torso without looking back.
Out in the hallway, the walls were coming alive. Bones broke out of the clay and stacked themselves into crooked skeletons, grabbing whichever skull was closest. Sometimes two or three at once.
The macabre spectacle meant only one thing.
Lark was here.
Ransom spun on his heel, frantically scanning the main passage for the Necromancer. Revulsion twisted into panic, urging him into a sprint. Attuned to the shift in his mood, his bloodhounds bolted after him.
His sister’s scream rang out.
‘Anouk!’ he yelled.
He pivoted, making for the Cavern. There he found Anouk standing on a table by the fireplace, surrounded by an army of skeletons. Her dark braids whipped around her as she brandished a candlestick like a sword.
Her teeth were bared, those gold eyes burning.
‘I swear to every living and dead Dagger, I will rip this cavern down!’ she roared.
Now that he was closer, Ransom realized her scream was really more of a war cry.
All around her, stones trembled, filling him with an entirely new kind of panic.
More than just his fiery little sister, Anouk was the Stone Maiden of Valterre. And her magic had been known to have a mind of its own.
‘Easy, Anouk!’ he shouted. ‘You’ll bring the whole place down!’
Jerking her chin up, Anouk decapitated a skeleton without even looking at it. ‘It’s all right, Bastian. I’ve got this under control!’
Ransom did a quick sweep of the Cavern while she lopped off three more skulls. ‘Where’s Versini?’
‘No idea,’ she huffed. ‘I fell asleep in the armchair. Woke up when the bones on the ceiling started crawling down the walls!’
‘Lark is here.’
Anouk froze mid-strike. ‘Bastian.’ Her face paled. ‘Where’s Sera?’
Ransom was already running, shooting like an arrow towards the north passage. If Andreas had sent Lark into the heart of his enemy’s lair it was for one reason only: to capture the Saint-maker.
The door to the bathroom swung open just as Ransom reached it. Sera appeared before him, bleary-eyed and frowning in one of his nightshirts. ‘What’s going on?’
Ransom hauled her to him. ‘The walls are crawling.’
She looked up, quailing as a skeleton wrenched itself from the wall. ‘All hell.’
‘Lark,’ he said.
She stiffened. ‘Where?’
‘No idea.’
Lark Delano knew these catacombs like the back of his own decomposing hand. He could be anywhere.
‘We have to get everyone out,’ she said urgently.
‘Stay with me, spitfire.’
Sera grabbed his hand so tight his knuckles cracked.
They ran for the other passages, slamming their fists against every occupied bedchamber door.
Soon, the halls were flooded with Order members, shouting and swinging whatever they could find: oil lamps and pokers, jugs and canes.
They made quick work of Lark’s army; the skeletons down here were so old they were half dust anyway.
Some of the younger ones, like Tobias, even made a game of it, eagerly counting their slain.
Until the roof began to tremble.
Dust streamed from the ceiling as the bones that made up the infrastructure of the catacombs cleaved away. The passages turned cloudy.
Ransom called back his shadows, seeing how useless they were in this fight. He couldn’t kill a man that was already dead, or hold up the damn ceiling.
The east wall caved in with a shuddering groan, and that panic came again.
Anouk was still in the Cavern.
Move, Hale.
They bolted for the main passage where they crashed into Val. ‘The west tunnel’s just buckled,’ she cried. ‘The whole thing is coming down!’
‘Make for the exit,’ said Sera, shoving her north. ‘Drag everyone you meet with you.’
A rare spark of fear flickered in Val’s eyes. ‘But what if Andreas is out there?’
A stone slab came down, nearly flattening all three of them. ‘One threat at a time,’ said Ransom, pushing Sera after her. ‘Go! Both of you!’
She stalled, gripping his shirt. ‘What about Theo? He was asleep in the—’
The rest of her sentence was lost to the thud of another falling slab. Ransom swung her out of the way, taking the brunt with his left shoulder. ‘Forget Versini,’ he gritted through the pain. ‘He’s already gone.’
The walls shuddered.
Val grabbed Sera’s free hand and yanked her away. ‘Theo’s a Versini. They know how to survive!’
Sera went north towards the exit, while Ransom went back for his sister. When he reached the Cavern, Anouk was standing in the doorway with her hands braced on the frame. Her cheeks were red, her dark hair matted with sweat and dust.
Gone was the ease and confidence of just a few moments ago. She looked frightened now, her arms trembling with the weight of the stone above her.
With a sickening jolt, Ransom realized she was holding the entire place up with her magic.
‘Is everyone out?’ she rasped.
It was impossible to know. There were only thirty or so of them here now, a mere fraction of the Daggers who once filled these halls. But half the tunnels had already caved in.
‘I c-c-c-an’t hold on much longer, Bastian.’
She stumbled forward, and Ransom lunged, catching her as the door frame cracked in two. Pain lanced through his shoulder as he carried her down the north passage.
Behind them, a thunderous roar filled the Cavern as the dome finally buckled. Rock and bone rained down, spitting up plumes of dust.
Cradling his sister against his chest, Ransom waded through the falling rubble. Anouk was boneless in his arms.
He willed Oriel to clear a path for them.
He’d spent half his life praying to find Anouk again; he would not lose her now.
Head down, heart pounding, he surged forward. Ignored the searing pain in his shoulder, the ash clouding his lungs.
Up ahead, dawn light filtered through the hazy passage.
A narrowing gap to freedom.
Beyond it, there was shouting.
He ducked a falling slab only to narrowly avoid another. Anouk stirred as he pushed through shattered bones, shoving them towards that slant of dying light.
Sera and the others were waiting on the other side, frantically moving the fallen boulders, widening the gap just enough that Ransom could squeeze through it. He stumbled up the stairs, gasping for clean air.
At his back, the entryway to Hugo’s Passage buckled. Steps crumbled underfoot, his heart thundering as he leaped to freedom, falling to his knees beneath the statue of Saint Lucille.
The Order swarmed him. Anouk groaned as she was lifted from his arms and carried to a nearby bench. Someone had brought a canteen of water from the well and was passing it around. Grabbing a wet rag, Ransom shook the dust from his hair and rubbed his eyes clean.
The world was far too bright. Bodies milled around him, coughing, frantic, but his eyes went to her – always her.