Chapter 20 Theo
Theo was expecting Val when the knock sounded at the door to the cloakroom, and was relieved when Tobias bounded in instead.
The feeling was short-lived. His cousin, who, thanks to Fabian, had heard about his fight with Ransom approximately four minutes after it had happened, had come running to the basement at once.
While Theo busied himself at his workbench, he followed him around like a gnat, begging for the gory details.
Who swung first? What started the argument?
Was it about Sera? Did his hounds try and bite you?
Did you feel the cold brush of death on your shoulder?
Should I go up there and defend our family’s honour?
When Val finally did show up, Theo was almost grateful for the reprieve.
Until he saw the apprehensive look on her face.
She stood on the threshold, with her arms pulled tight around her.
A defensive stance. He could tell by the frizz of her hair and the puffiness under her eyes that she had just woken up.
Or, more likely, been shaken awake by Anouk.
Hale was making good on his threat.
Oriel has anointed us a Saint of Truth to weed out lying traitors like you.
He muttered a curse.
‘I heard that,’ she said, pointedly. ‘I think it’s time you and I have a talk.’
Theo turned on his cousin, inventing an errand. ‘Go and find Mercure. Ask her for the latest update on the Strix.’
Tobias’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you want to get rid of me, just say so.’
‘We want to get rid of you,’ said Val, stepping into the room. She shooed him out, then closed the door behind him.
‘I’m guessing Hale sent you down here,’ said Theo.
You should have stopped him, the old voice said leeringly.
Snuffed him out like a flame.
Taken your due.
‘Theo?’ Val’s voice tugged him back to himself. Her brows knitted as she studied him. ‘Is it true you met Andreas at the Appoline?’
He sensed her magic like a spiderweb between them. One wrong step and he would be caught in its snare.
Saints were supposed to be immune to each other’s powers.
But not to truth.
Truth governed everything.
Even magic.
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘It’s true.’
Her brows shot up. ‘You never said anything.’
‘There wasn’t a good time.’ He rolled his hand. ‘What with the whole exploding Appoline situation. And Hale dying in the back seat.’
You should have killed him yourself.
Worn his shadows like a cloak.
Val canted her head. ‘What did you and Andreas talk about?’
‘Hugo.’
It was not quite a lie.
Her eyes narrowed.
Not the whole truth either.
‘Andreas invited me to Bellevue Castle,’ he relented, hating how it sounded. A traitor’s deal. And for a fleeting moment he’d considered it. ‘He thinks I can be swayed to his cause. That, in the end, we both want the same thing.’
‘Which is?’
A sharp inhale. ‘Greatness.’
The silence swallowed them.
Val chose her words carefully. ‘Is it possible that you might be swayed, Theo?’
He shook his head.
Her eyes gleamed gold, and the truth was yanked from him like a fish on a line. ‘It’s possible.’
‘So you’ve considered it?’
A sharper tug. ‘Yes,’ he eked out.
‘Hell’s teeth.’
‘Wait!’ But Val hadn’t moved. She couldn’t stomach being close to him. His magic, its grasping nature… it was leaching the colour from her cheeks.
‘It’s not me, Val. They’re not my thoughts. My ambitions.’ This truth came easier, like a sigh. ‘It’s this… thing inside me. It seems to know just what to say. Where to prod.’
‘Your magic?’
A nod.
She hesitated, steeling herself. ‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘What does it do?’
The web truly was upon him. He opened his mouth, closed it. The truth was nebulous, even to himself. He could offer only this. ‘I don’t know exactly. But it’s dark. And it’s ancient. And it feels… powerful.’ Another word shoved its way out. ‘Hungry.’
She came towards him, one careful step and then another. Pushing into the swell of his magic. ‘What else, Theo?’
‘There’s an ache in me, Val. My magic has its own needs. It wants to be powerful. More powerful than all others. It hisses at me, tells me to take what I want, without regret.’
‘Is it winning?’ There was fear in her voice.
‘Not right now.’
She frowned. ‘That’s not reassuring.’
‘It’s the truth.’ He offered another. ‘I don’t want it to win.’
She buried her face in her hands and groaned. ‘I can feel it. Even now.’ When she looked at him again, there was such sorrow in her eyes. ‘How can you ever rest?’
‘I’m the one in control,’ he said, desperate to convince her.
‘I’d sooner lock myself in this cloakroom than take one step towards Andreas.
’ He should have stopped there, but her magic was still at work.
‘But there are times when I question myself. Whether I’m strong enough to fight the will of fate. ’
She stepped closer, shaking off her revulsion. ‘Let me look. I can see the truth in your soul. I can tell you what power moves there.’
He frowned, another truth trickling from him like water. ‘I’m afraid.’
‘So am I.’ Her smile slanted. ‘But when has that ever stopped us?’ For a moment there was no magic between them at all. Just friendship. History. ‘Better to know what we’re up against, right?’
He liked that word – we. It blunted the edge of his fear.
‘You can’t hate me, Val. Whatever you find, whatever I am, please don’t hate me for it.’
‘I didn’t hate you when you put a frog under my pillow when we were twelve.’
Theo smiled. ‘You were always harping on about how badly you wanted a pet.’
‘I didn’t hate you when you gave me that horrendous haircut three summers ago,’ she reminded him.
‘I warned you it was a bad idea. You insisted you could pull off that bob.’
She stuck out her tongue. ‘I didn’t hate you that time you kissed me and Bibi on the same night.’
‘It was my birthday!’
Her face turned serious. ‘I’ve never hated you, Theo. I never will. You’re my oldest friend. We’ve been to hell and back together. Whatever magic is inside you, we’ll figure out a way to tame it.’
Bolstered by her words, he undid the buttons on last night’s shirt, revealing the planes of his chest. Where once, long ago, a heat might have stirred between them, now there was only friendship, and the kind of deep-rooted trust he would stake his life on.
In the dying sunlight of the cloakroom, Sera’s handprint shone all the brighter. Val pressed her palm against it.
His magic lurched, and he groaned, bracing himself against the workbench. He felt that awful gnawing hunger again. Greed erupted like a bonfire in his soul. But there was something pure in Val’s power, something unconquerable that lorded over his own. It stayed his reach, shoved his magic back.
Even in the full flush of its appetite, his power could best truth itself.
It could not cannibalize it. Or take it for its own.
Val’s brows knitted as she pushed deeper. Truth magic flooded his blood, her command rippling through the pool of his soul.
Reveal yourself.
His power shifted, emerging from the deepest cavern of himself. It burst like a star under his skin, revealing itself to the Saint of Truth. Every speck splayed out like a canvas.
Val’s magic moved over it, like a roving eye.
It was a deeply unpleasant sensation – the feeling of being known – like being wrung and drawn and strung up like a sheet on fate’s clothes line.
She released him with a gasp, stumbling back. Her eyes, once warm, turned haunted. The gold flickered out.
‘Say it,’ he said.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Instead, she glared at the mark on his chest as though it had betrayed her. Betrayed them both.
In a small trembling voice, she said, ‘Soul-eater.’