Chapter 9 Ransom
‘I must be dreaming,’ said Ransom, when Theo Versini appeared in the doorway of Seraphine’s bedroom, where he’d been drifting in and out of sleep. ‘Or is this a nightmare?’
Versini remained where he stood. ‘Actually, your nightmares are still prowling around outside.’
‘Good.’ Ransom hated to close his eyes, even for a moment, in case his magic faltered. But by now, the churning inside him was so constant, darkness seeped from his soul like an open wound.
‘If you’re looking for Seraphine, she’s down in the rec room with Val.’ His voice was tight. ‘She’s discovered her gift. The making was a success.’
Theo’s eyes drifted. ‘Saint of Truth. Tobias told me.’
Ransom stared at the Shadowsmith, noting the way his fists curled.
Sensing Ransom’s scrutiny, he added, ‘I’m glad.’
‘Not jealous, then?’
‘Did you read today’s penny papers?’ he said, ignoring the barb. ‘We’ve already got two armies coming our way. The Rose-bearers are brainwashed. The Stargrazers are bought. And let’s not forget Lark and his corpses. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to start trusting me.’
‘So start acting trustworthy.’
Versini glared at him. ‘Says the Saint of Nightmares. Your beasts are so toxic all the flowers in the garden are dead.’
A regrettable error. Yesterday, Ransom had tried experimenting with smaller creatures.
He’d conjured a fleet of butterflies. By the time his little death-bringers had alighted on Fontaine’s rose bushes, it was too late to salvage them.
Not that he was about to admit that to Versini.
‘Would you rather I let the roses bloom, while your friends die?’
‘Andreas is a long way from House Armand.’
‘For now.’
‘You’re unhinged.’
Ransom shrugged. It’s true his magic was making him a little more… off kilter. But if that was the cost of his power, of her protection, then he was glad to pay it.
Versini chewed on his thumbnail, allowing Ransom a moment to take in how awful he looked. Drawn face, messy hair and dark circles under his eyes. It was the glint of worry in them that made him sit up and say, ‘What do you want, Versini?’
‘I need a favour. And unfortunately for both of us, you’re the only one who can help.’
‘What kind of favour?’
‘The kind that could save Fantome.’
It wasn’t until he reached the forest by House Armand that Ransom started having second thoughts about agreeing to Versini’s request.
‘Remind me again why we’re doing this all the way out here?’ he said, as they made their way through the thicket of trees.
‘Because it’s highly unorthodox,’ said the Shadowsmith.
‘And I don’t want Fontaine to hit me with her cane,’ said Tobias, who had come along too. ‘Again.’
They came to a clearing. Ransom pulled his shadows close while Versini fished a vial of gold liquid from inside his satchel.
‘Cool,’ said Tobias, edging towards the nearest shadow hound. ‘Look at those massive fangs.’
‘All the better to maim with,’ said Ransom, sardonically.
The Shadowsmith frowned. ‘I said we only need one.’
‘They’re pack animals.’
That earned him an exaggerated eye-roll.
Versini handed the vial to Tobias. ‘Plug your nose as it goes down.’
Ransom’s brows shot up. ‘Why aren’t you drinking it?’
Versini was nonplussed. ‘Tobias volunteered.’
‘I’m not attacking the kid.’
‘It’s an experiment, not a real attack. The liquid is a dilutant of Lightfire. A way to stretch out our supply. It should work.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘Then recall your hounds.’ His glare hardened. ‘You still have control over your magic, don’t you?’
Mostly. ‘Why don’t I set one on you now and see?’
Ignoring their spat, Tobias downed the liquid. And winced. ‘It tastes like a bonfire.’
Versini clapped him on the back. ‘Well done.’
Ransom glared at the gutless Shadowsmith. ‘Are you really so scared that I’ll accidentally kill you that you’re using your fourteen-year-old cousin as a human shield?’
Versini didn’t rise to the bait. ‘Let’s just get this over with.’
‘Unleash the hounds,’ cried Tobias.
‘Just one,’ cautioned Versini.
‘Relax,’ said Ransom.
Like he was about to savage Tobias. The smallest of his hounds stalked forward.
For all his bravado, Tobias gulped.
Ransom bit back his smirk, re-misting the beast into a bunny rabbit with floppy ears. ‘Better?’
‘That’s insulting,’ Tobias complained.
‘Just pet the rabbit,’ said Versini.
‘If the Lightfire doesn’t work, I’ll dissolve him,’ promised Ransom. ‘You’ll barely feel—’
‘The brush of death?’ said Tobias.
‘Well, yeah.’
The boy inched forward. Despite himself, Ransom tensed. The rest of his hounds disappeared as he spooled his magic back, leaving only the rabbit. Small. Manageable.
The younger Versini reached out his hand. Tentative at first, and then—
He sliced right through the rabbit’s head. ‘TAKE THAT!’
The blow was only a light prod to Ransom. Quick and painless. Tobias gasped at the brief spark in his fingers, and then the rabbit dissolved entirely.
‘It worked!’ he shouted. ‘I’m a genius.’
‘I’m the one who cracked the recipe,’ said Versini.
‘Then you should have tested it,’ said Ransom.
‘It had to be Tobias.’
‘Why?’
Because you’re a saint, too.
Theo Versini was clearly already full of Lightfire, which meant he was immune to Ransom’s shadows.
Ransom wanted him to admit it, to confess to the power he had taken from Sera that night in the catacombs.
But the Shadowsmith ignored him, turning instead to make a note of something in his ledger.
‘If it works against your shadows, it will work against the prince’s compulsions. ’
‘For how long?’ asked Ransom.
He didn’t answer. Clearly didn’t know.
‘How many vials do you have?’
‘Not nearly enough,’ Theo conceded.
A speck of truth, at last.
Tobias bounced on the balls of his feet. ‘I want to try again.’
Ransom conjured a raft of beasts. A jackal to follow the bunny rabbit. Then a two-headed cobra. A trio of snarling wolves. Tobias slew them all, Lightfire painting his olive skin gold as he darted about the clearing.
Laughter echoed through the forest. For the first time since Ransom had come into his magic, he found himself enjoying it. When Tobias charged head first through the giant eagle he’d conjured, he surprised himself by grinning.
As the sun sank and evening arrived in a haze of grey mist, Ransom grew antsy. He was eager to get back to Seraphine.
At a sweep of his hand, his shadows reformed, the hounds gathering at his back.
Tobias, eager for one last go, pounced at the largest of them. Ransom let him chase it around the clearing. One final lap to burn off his energy.
He was so busy watching Tobias that he missed Fabian slipping through the trees.
By the time he spotted the younger Cloak, Fabian was leaping at a hound.
‘GET BACK!’ yelled Ransom, horror gutting through him.
Versini pounced at the same moment, shoving the boy out of the way and accidentally knocking into the hound himself.
It exploded into nothing.
The air was punched out of Ransom. His soul screamed, his magic buckling as though something had taken a bite out of it.
He swore, collapsing against a tree trunk. Dug his fingers into the bark.
Tobias rushed over to him. ‘Are you all right?’
He raised his head, clearing the sunspots from his vision.
The others stared at him.
‘What happened?’ said Fabian, bewildered.
‘I nearly killed you,’ he hissed. ‘Don’t ever sneak up on me like that again.’
The boy’s cheeks flushed. ‘Tobias was playing with them!’
‘Tobias is full of Lightfire. If you touched one, you could have been seriously hurt.’ He turned on Versini, who, apart from looking mildly uncomfortable, appeared thoroughly unharmed. ‘What was that?’
‘What?’ he said evenly.
‘You should be squirming on the ground right now.’
Halfway to death.
‘You don’t have to act so disappointed about it.’
‘Why aren’t you hurt?’
‘I didn’t touch your shadows.’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘You’re mistaken.’
Ransom stared at the Shadowsmith.
The Shadowsmith stared back.
‘So… that went well,’ Tobias piped up. ‘No one died.’
‘And I learned a valuable lesson,’ added Fabian, cheerfully. ‘We should get back. It’s almost dinner time.’
‘Run on ahead,’ said Ransom, ushering the younger ones on. ‘We’ll be right behind you.’
He lingered by the treeline waiting for Theo to collect his satchel.
‘If you’re spoiling to have an argument, I’m not biting,’ said the Shadowsmith, stalking past him.
Ransom went after him. ‘Save us both the trouble. Give me the truth this time.’
Theo walked on.
Ransom grabbed his shoulder to pull him back and felt that ripping sensation again. He stumbled. ‘Fuck.’
Versini shook him off. ‘Get your hands off me, Hale,’ he said, his eyes glinting.
Ransom’s magic surged. Stay back, it warned.
Like hell he would.
‘Keep walking and I’ll drag you back here,’ he threatened.
‘With what?’ Versini sneered.
Ransom had killed hundreds of marks with his bare hands. His shadows might not hold against Versini but he could do it without them if he had to.
Stepping in close, he said, ‘What kind of saint are you, Versini? What divine gift did the descendant of the most evil man in Fantome wrench from the hand of destiny? What did you make Seraphine suffer to give you?’
‘I told you,’ he said through his teeth. ‘The ritual failed.’
‘You’re lying.’
The Shadowsmith curled his lip. ‘You’re raving, Hale. What you felt just now was the rebound of your own twisted magic. Are you really so surprised that the darkness inside you would betray you? That, like its wielder, it can’t be trusted?’
A whisper of doubt crept in.
Versini smirked, sensing it. ‘There is no secret here. Just the erosion of your own sense. All those shadows are eating away at your mind. I’m surprised there’s any of you left at all.’
It was not such a reach to imagine that one day the darkness might bury him entirely. That his shredded soul would not survive the voracious appetite of his magic, but there was no mistaking the gleam in Versini’s eye. Or the cool prickle of his own magic, hissing, Run.
But from what? What was the dark in him so afraid of? What kind of magic could frighten death itself?
‘You’re lying,’ Ransom growled. ‘And I’m going to find out why.’
‘Make me your enemy if you like, Hale,’ said Versini, turning from him. ‘Waste your time. I’m going to devote mine to helping the woman you claim to love.’
It was a clean parting shot.
Both seething, they stalked through the trees towards House Armand, where a figure was pacing by the outer wall.
‘That looks like a scholar from the Appoline,’ said Versini, noting the hooded blue robe.
‘Or an assassin in disguise,’ cautioned Ransom. Anyone could don a scholar’s robe.
Theo vaulted ahead, ignoring his warning.
Ransom cast out a flock of ravens.
The scholar stumbled, covering his face as the birds circled above his head.
Versini glared at Ransom over his shoulder. ‘That’s hardly necessary.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
When they reached the scholar, he was sitting on the kerb, hyperventilating into the sleeve of his robe.
Ransom stood over him. ‘Who are you?’
The man peered up at him with vast grey eyes. He was only a few years older than Ransom, with a sorry goatee and a crooked nose. ‘Jules,’ he said, glancing nervously at the birds. ‘You’re him. The Saint of Nightmares.’
‘You’ll find out why if you don’t state your business.’
‘I’m a messenger. I’ve come from the Appoline.’
Ransom looked him over, noting the scuffed hem of his robe and the mud stains on his boots. The spittle around his cracked lips spoke of dehydration.
‘Did you ride here?’
The scholar nodded. ‘All night.’
‘Why?’
‘To see the Saint-maker.’ He choked on a sob, the fear in his eyes so convincing that Ransom scattered his ravens, sending them soaring over the garden of House Armand. ‘The Appoline has fallen. Provost Ambrose is dead.’
Shoving in front of Ransom, Theo held out his hand to the scholar. ‘You’d better come inside.’