Chapter 17 Theo #2
Val and Anouk.
They were climbing out of a hydrangea bush on the other side of the quad.
Theo bolted, swinging onto the windowsill and leaping through the shattered pane, leaving the Appoline quaking behind him.
Val met him halfway across the quad. Anouk staggered after her, caught in the throes of a panic attack.
‘Where the hell were you?’ yelled Val, shaking him. ‘Seraphine’s gone!’
‘I saw,’ he said, looking to the skies. ‘Where’s Hale?’
‘Dead!’ Anouk sobbed. ‘He must be dead.’
Val’s eyes were as wild as her hair. ‘She’s going to tear this whole place down.’
‘Andreas is gone.’
‘Fuck Andreas,’ she cried. ‘We were fools to come here!’
Theo’s magic prickled, attuned to the nearby shift of power. Death magic rippled over the pool of his soul and the Necromancer appeared, slipping through the door of the clock tower, with Nadia and a blonde in tow.
They were carrying a body.
‘Hale.’ Even from here, he could sense Ransom’s waning magic, his languishing soul. Shadows dripped from him like blood.
Anouk flew like an arrow, her feet barely touching the grass as she vaulted across the quad. Val and Theo went after her. She flung herself at Lark, drawing Nadia to her too.
‘That’s the bitch who killed Bibi.’ Val lunged at the blonde with such a fury she ripped half her ponytail off. They fell to the ground, kicking and swinging, while Hale, without anyone to hold him up, collapsed in a heap.
Theo stood over him, cataloguing the damage. It was catastrophic. Ransom’s face was as pale as winter snow, the edges of his lips turning blue. Blood poured from a knife wound in his side. The blade was still stuck there. The hilt was familiar. Foreboding.
Steelfire.
It was leeching his magic and his life force.
Ransom Hale was dying.
The last of his shadows seeped through the stonework.
Take them, Theo’s magic keened.
Break him.
‘Help him!’ screamed Anouk.
Theo jolted from his thoughts. She was on the grass, pinning down Lark, while Nadia tried to drag her off. The Necromancer slammed his fist into her jaw, and she jerked backwards. He shot to his feet, coming for Ransom.
Stepping between them, Theo struck, grabbing the Necromancer by the neck.
Death magic suffused him, his magic rejoicing at the sudden wash of power.
Take it!
Take it all!
He was seized by a euphoria so divine, he almost howled.
The Necromancer choked, clutching desperately at Theo’s forearm. Theo felt Lark’s soul bleed, and he smiled, devouring every drop.
More! His magic rejoiced. More, and more, and more!
Anouk crawled to Ransom on her hands and knees, wrenching the dagger from his ribs. Her sobs thickened as she struggled to plug the wound. ‘He’s going to die. I can’t do it. I c-c-can’t do it.’
Nadia gripped Theo by the collar, trying to shove her way between them. ‘What the hell are you doing to him?’
‘We need to get out of here,’ said Val, who, having knocked the blonde out cold, was now crouched at Anouk’s side.
Dimly, Theo knew she was right. Hale was dying, and Anouk was floundering. It took every ounce of his self-control to release Lark Delano, and release his grip on all that potent magic.
The Necromancer collapsed in a heap.
Nadia threw herself on top of him.
The others moved in a hurry, Val and Theo hoisting the Saint of Nightmares between them while Anouk pressed her hand against the wound in his side. They retreated across the quad.
As the last of the Strix disappeared into the night and Andreas made his own skyward escape, his puppets scattered into the storm.
Glittering masks lay discarded on the ground, lost heels and forgotten suit jackets strewn like pebbles across the courtyards.
Even the soldiers ran, clambering through the shattered windows as the left wing caved in.
Ransom lolled in their arms, the last lick of colour leaving his cheeks as they made for the outer courtyard.
Rain soaked them through, plastering their hair to their faces as they weaved between the clamouring crowds.
Smoke clung to their skin and filled their tired lungs, as the pyres finally went out.
‘Hold on, Bastian,’ Anouk begged through chattering teeth. ‘Don’t let go. Please don’t let go.’
Once outside the Appoline, the crowds splintered, leaving a straight shot down the drive. Their carriage was just up ahead, the coachmen waving frantically.
They passed through the black gates into the shelter of the trees. It was there that Theo felt the brush of Lark’s death magic again, as corpses dropped from their nooses and lumbered after them.
The Necromancer was awake.
And he was pissed off.
A body landed in front of them, wrenching a scream from Anouk.
Val cursed, slamming her foot into its chest. It sprawled in a puddle.
They pushed on, panting now. The coachmen leaped from their seats, lifting Hale into the back seat.
Anouk dived in after him, her eyes blazing as she tried to focus on his wound.
Both a mender and breaker of clay, she was struggling to relinquish her grip on the Appoline.
‘Breathe!’ cried Val, climbing in after her. ‘Let go!’
‘I’m trying!’ sobbed Anouk.
The dead kept coming as the carriage turned in the drive. Grabbing a branch from the gutter, Theo swung it, beating them back. Sweat poured down his brow, blurring his vision. He didn’t dare stop, swinging until the corpses rested where they fell and the path around them cleared.
The carriage trundled on without him, faster now, and he ran for the open doorway, tossing the branch and making the jump. Val grabbed him by his lapels, heaving him inside.
They collapsed together on the floor, listening to the desperate sawing of Anouk’s breath as she channelled all that wayward magic directly into her brother.
Theo slammed his eyes shut, hiding the selfish gleam of his own power as it reached for hers.
‘Prayer,’ whispered Val, misunderstanding. ‘Good idea. Who should we pray to?’
‘Maud,’ he said.
‘Right.’ Her voice was grim. Anouk was crying. Hale had stopped breathing. ‘Dear Maud, Saint of Lost Hope…’
‘Dear Maud,’ he echoed.
They prayed as the world flew by.