Chapter 6 Seraphine
Sera sat cross-legged on the rug in Val’s bedroom while her friend drew the curtains and lit the pillar candles on her dressing table.
‘How’s this for ambiance?’ she said, scattering a few rose petals.
‘Depends. Are you trying to seduce me?’
‘You wish.’ Val popped the top buttons of her shirt, then spritzed some perfume. A heady lavender scent filled the room. ‘If I’m going to risk my mortal soul, I’m going to do it in style.’
‘No pressure, then.’ Closing her eyes, Sera attempted to quieten the doubt in her mind.
Val sat down on the rug beside her, and in a hushed voice said, ‘Ready when you are, Maker.’
‘You don’t have to whisper.’
‘Sure, I do. We’re hiding from Ransom.’
‘We’re not hiding from Ransom. We’re just not explicitly telling him what we’re doing until it’s done.’
Considering how her last making had gone, she figured it’d be smoother without an audience breathing down her neck. Or a roomful of shadow beasts. And anyway, Ransom was busy helping Anouk work on some version of magical self-control down in the garden.
There was no point in interrupting them.
‘Lie down and close your eyes.’
Val did as she was told, folding her arms behind her head.
Sera smirked. ‘You’re not sunbathing.’
‘I am bathing in the light of your extraordinariness.’
‘Stop sucking up to me.’
‘I’m just trying to better my chances. I want to be a cool saint.’
‘It’s not up to me.’
‘Yeah, yeah, so you keep saying…’
Measuring her breaths until they were deep and even, Sera laid her hand on Val’s chest. Magic jolted at her touch. Eager, already waiting there inside her, like a kettle on the boil.
Heat suffused her, flooding her bloodstream until she was awash once more with that ancient rippling power.
Val’s chest heaved, her body bowing off the rug to claim it.
A worthy choice, Sera’s magic purred.
And so began the making.
Sooner than before, Sera grew dizzy. Gripped tight in the flow of her power, she was only dimly aware of her body swaying back and forth, her breath quickening, her heart thundering.
Almost there.
She felt it again – that yawning in her core. The world was spinning and Val was groaning, and Sera’s magic was churning. Cleaving.
She was gasping now, air grating as she gulped it down.
‘Sera?’ Val croaked from somewhere far away.
She snatched a split second of consciousness – just enough to see her friend’s eyes staring back at her.
They were dazed.
Golden.
Saint.
There was a finger-snap of triumph. Then her magic receded in a rush, leaving behind a terrible coldness. It chilled her blood, turned her bones to ice.
She slumped over, that old voice humming in satisfaction.
Rest, Maker.
It is done.
The blackness was a wave. Sera let it take her.
‘Seraphine? Can you hear me?’ She woke to warm hands cradling her face. ‘Come on, spitfire.’
Ransom was here. His voice was a key unlocking the rest of the world. It all trickled back in: the sun slipping through a gap in the curtains, the faint scent of lavender. Val’s curls tickled her forearm.
They were slumped on the floor, side by side.
Wrenching her eyes open, Sera managed a croak. ‘Val.’
‘Sleeping.’ Ransom again.
‘Pretty soundly, if her snoring is anything to go by,’ added Anouk from the doorway.
There was a rush of relief.
Val was all right.
‘How long have I been out?’
‘I couldn’t say.’ Frustration scraped against his voice. ‘We walked in and found both of you lying here like a pair of corpses.’
‘Beautiful corpses, to be fair,’ Anouk chimed in. ‘You missed his meltdown.’
Sera sat up, rubbing the ache at the back of her head. Val was still out cold on the rug, her expression entirely serene.
Anouk moved about the room, tossing a blanket over her. Then, perched on the edge of the bed: ‘How did it go?’
‘Well,’ said Sera. ‘I think.’
‘How do you feel?’
‘Fine.’
It was a bold-faced lie. Her fingers were trembling, and she was not entirely sure she could stand up yet. But she could feel Ransom’s eyes on her, hear the strain of his breath in the silence.
She said, ‘I thought this one might go better without an audience.’
‘You mean without me,’ he said.
She hesitated. ‘Well, with all the shadows and the beasts … I just thought …’
‘Overkill,’ said Anouk, with a knowing nod. ‘I agree.’
Even now, his eyes shone gold. Jaw tight, fists closed. Who knew how many shadows were patrolling the perimeter of House Armand.
‘It can be a bit … overbearing,’ she said, carefully.
Ransom canted his head. ‘Me or the beasts?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I’m not sure I do.’
Her skull throbbed, and there was a familiar tightening sensation in her chest. ‘Can we talk about this later?’
His brows shot up. ‘Do you have somewhere else to be?’
‘Yes. In the future. When you’re in a better mood.’
He remained unamused. ‘You might be waiting a while.’
Anouk stuck her head in between them. ‘Is this how you two flirt?’
‘No,’ they chorused.
Sera scowled. ‘How did you even know we were up here? Did Theo tell you?’
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Even Anouk winced.
Ransom’s eyes darkened, the gold turning to burnished amber. ‘So you told Theo.’
Worse than that, actually. ‘I told Theo because I wanted it to be Theo. I thought we could try again.’
Ransom just stared at her.
‘Even I know that’s a bad idea,’ said Anouk. ‘It didn’t work the first time. Why waste your time? Or worse, risk your magic?’
‘Because it feels like …’ The truth suddenly sounded so pathetic. Because it feels like he’s disappointed in me. She went with: ‘Unfinished business.’
‘I see,’ said Ransom in a way that made her feel like he didn’t get it at all. He didn’t want to get it.
Anouk cut in. ‘It was Tobias who tattled on you. He was down in the garden, skiving off.’
That little snitch. ‘Is there no privacy in this damn place?’
‘Not when you make reckless decisions,’ said Ransom. ‘You know a ritual like this needs a chaperone.’
Eye-roll. ‘Since when?’
‘Since you nearly smashed your skull off the fireplace in the Cavern.’
‘I didn’t need a chaperone when I made you.’
‘You had no idea what you were doing then.’
Sera’s hackles rose. ‘And yet here you are, magical and mouthy and perfectly fine.’
‘And what about you?’ Those eyes flashed. ‘You’re so weak right now, you can’t even stand up.’
Damn him. ‘Yes, I can.’
‘Show me,’ he said.
Sera shot to her feet and immediately regretted it. Steadying herself on the bedpost, she tossed her hair back and tried to look like she wasn’t about to keel over. No way was he getting the satisfaction of saying I told you so.
‘Very convincing,’ he said, drolly.
She stuck her tongue out at him, then turned to Anouk and said, ‘Can you stay with Val? I’m going to go get some fresh air.’ She glared at Ransom. ‘Alone.’
Pride be damned, she staggered from the room, praying she wasn’t about to pass out in the hallway. The tightening in her chest was getting worse. She was halfway to the stairwell when a hand closed around her wrist.
‘Sera.’ Ransom’s touch was gentle, his voice beseeching. ‘Don’t run away from me.’
‘We both know I’m hobbling, at best.’
He resisted the I told you so. ‘You’re not well.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ If she could just learn to ignore her rapidly deflating lungs. ‘I don’t want to be yelled at right now.’
‘When have I ever yelled at you?’
‘Imminently, I’m guessing.’ Even now, shadows streamed from him, snatching at the daylight. ‘You’re practically vibrating with anger.’
He frowned. ‘I’m not angry. I’m afraid. I’m scared all that volatile power inside you is going to end up harming you.’
‘Because I can’t handle my own magic,’ she said, flatly.
‘I never said that.’
‘You just implied it.’
He rubbed the space between his brows. Quieter then, like he was afraid the portraits on the wall were listening, he said, ‘Seraphine, you look like hell.’
‘Now you’re just being cruel.’
But Ransom wasn’t cruel. Even in the throes of his magic, he was never cruel to her.
He tugged her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. Hands coming to her shoulders, he moved her in front of the mirror, his chin resting on the crown of her head.
She met his eyes in the mirror.
‘Look,’ he said.
A ghostly pale face stared back at her, her blue eyes rimmed in shadow. The veins in her neck were like fine blue threads, the scattering of freckles across her nose all but faded. Even her hair was wan, the wheat-blonde strands clumping in messy tangles.
‘You win,’ she said, wincing. ‘I look like I just crawled out of a dumpster.’
She felt exactly as she looked. Like she could close her eyes and sleep for a hundred years, like if she stopped concentrating on standing, she would collapse.
‘Seraphine, this isn’t normal.’
‘When have I ever been normal?’ She managed a weak smile. ‘And isn’t that the point of magic, anyway?’
Brushing her hair from her shoulder, he bowed his head to place a kiss there. Her eyes fluttered shut. For a fleeting moment, it was the only part of her body that didn’t ache. ‘Please don’t do it again,’ he murmured against her skin.
Winding her fingers in the ends of his hair, she turned her back to the ghost of her reflection. ‘It worked, Ransom. I saw her eyes this time. They were gold.’
‘Promise me,’ he said, as if he hadn’t heard her.
Frustration nipped at her. Couldn’t he share in this triumph? Couldn’t he see the bigger picture? ‘Are you listening to me?’
His frown deepened. ‘I’m looking at you, and I’m not about to celebrate what I’m seeing.’
For hell’s sake.
‘It’ll get easier.’
He gave her a flat look.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she snapped. ‘You’re the one wringing out your soul night after night. Filling this whole place with demons just for the hell of it.’
‘I’m trying to protect us.’
‘And what is it that you think I’m doing?’ She couldn’t tell whether it was his bad mood or her own, but the tension between them was rising, and it was not the heady, delicious kind that made her want to rip his clothes off.
‘Maybe I’d know better if you told me what you were up to. Don’t leave me in the dark, Seraphine.’
‘You are the dark, Ransom.’
He recoiled from her.
She leaned against the sink, gripping the marble to keep from slumping. ‘I don’t need your permission to use what Saint Oriel gave me.’
‘I never said you did.’
‘And if you’re going to skulk around and do whatever you feel like, then so will I.’
‘So mature.’
‘How’s this for mature?’ She swatted him with a towel.
He grabbed it and wound it around his wrist, pulling her in. ‘Spitfire,’ he said, in that lethal honeyed voice. ‘Every minute with you is more precious than gold. I won’t waste them fighting with you.’
She splayed her hands against his chest. ‘Then stop being so difficult.’
‘Stop being stubborn.’
‘Stop being all dark and broody.’
‘I love you, Sera.’
She stilled, her ire dissolving. ‘You’re playing dirty.’
He stepped in close, tipping her chin up.
‘I’m going to kill him, Seraphine.’ Deadly words feathered her lips, as soft as a kiss.
‘When Andreas sets foot in this city, he’ll meet the end of my dagger.
I’ll gut him, burn him and scatter the ashes in the sewers of this kingdom.
And then it will be over. No war. No suffering. ’
He looked her over. ‘I’ll get you your peace, spitfire. No matter who I have to kill for it. Then you can rest.’
He made it sound so simple, but that voice in her soul was impossible to ignore. Even now, it prodded at her.
There is more to do, Maker.
The truth was, she had only just begun.
Her magic had no interest in rest.
It was not an argument worth having. The designs of fate were beyond them. They were only players in this game, slaves to the tides of their magic. Not each other. Not even love.
‘All right,’ she surrendered.
‘All right.’
‘Can I…?’ She gestured around her. ‘I just need a minute.’
‘Right. Of course.’ He pulled back. ‘I’ll go and check on Val.’
She locked the door after him, turning the key just as the coughing fit seized her. She barely made it to the sink, collapsing over the rim and retching until the taste of copper filled her mouth.
Forehead pressed against the cold basin, she endured the violent shifting inside herself. The feeling that a strip was being torn from the very fabric of her soul.
When she finally lifted her head, the face in the mirror was a haunted mask.
And the sink was stained blood red.