Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Seraphina
She’s alive.
Those words, those beautiful words, lived on a single page in Sera’s journal.
Dominick hadn’t elaborated further than that.
He didn’t have to. Her baby sister was alive.
Sera let out a trembling breath. She wanted to know everything Dom had uncovered, but it seemed like she’d have to wait for more information. It was going to be torture.
Damp from dew, Sera shook off her sleep. Alistair was noticeably absent across the fires’ smoldering embers. And her new green friend, who had curled behind her knees and kept her warm all night, also seemed to be missing.
Al’s pack and bedroll were still laid out, so he couldn’t have gotten far.
Sera took a moment to relieve herself in peace.
As she meandered between ferns beaded with large droplets of dew, dampening her boots, Sera was happy for a moment alone.
To take in the wind and the swaying branches of the canopy above.
To appreciate the way the sunlight danced through the trees.
Normally, Sera would have wished for her cloak in the chill of the shadows, but her sister was alive, and the brisk air filled her with a new purpose.
She had time, or at least she hadn’t failed Nora yet. And even though she knew she shouldn’t, Sera let herself release a little bit of that guilt.
The air had a sweet scent. She’d bottle it up and send it to Dominick if she could as a thank-you for this gift.
The ferns in their feathered greenery swayed around her with every step she took toward a trickling stream. She stripped off her tunic and proceeded to wash, scrubbing at the grime embedded in her knuckles.
The doorways. They needed to be her priority.
This evening, she’d get the map from Al and review it.
See where the trio were in relation to the Deadlands and where the ruins might be.
If demons were beginning to reoccupy Ceasefall, then things couldn’t be getting better between the coven and Gehenna. She needed to hurry.
Sera barely caught herself before she face-planted into the stream. A buzzing sensation was pulsing right from the center of her chest, and it… pulled.
“I swear…” she said as her dark magic rolled forward, almost asking for permission to exit.
Strange. That had never happened before.
The abomination swirling under her skin almost seemed polite.
Releasing it slowly hadn’t ever been an option, only keeping it in, buried deep down.
But what if she let it out? A quick glance around confirmed she was still alone.
“Just a little,” she whispered to her darkness.
A steady stream of black mist flowed from her fingertips into the wood. It slithered in an almost sentient manner, curling around the trunks of trees and weaving through the woody flora. Magnetic, just like it had been in the Menage…
Branches snapped. Snik ran for her on all fours, yipping excitedly at her magic. She pulled at the mist, and for once it obeyed, disappearing into her skin.
If only it were this easy every time.
“Our little secret,” she said to Snik. The goblin nodded and pulled at her with his mud-covered claws.
Hello… her magic said.
Sera peered through the thicket. “Come on, Snik. Let’s go find Al.”
Trudging through the forest was getting exhausting. Her feet were sore, which was to be expected, considering her boots still hadn’t broken in, regardless of the miles they’d covered. Her hips ached, her knees throbbed, and even her sides felt bruised.
The enticing wonder the trees initially brought her had faded with the monotonous trek through crunching leaves, as she scraped her forearms on thorns and low-hanging branches. Sera was even getting sick of her fuzzy rat friends.
Alistair, though, didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Not the walking, nor the bugs. It was like he actually enjoyed it. He snuck a glance at her from over his shoulder as they walked. “You’ve never learned how to use a weapon, correct?”
“We aren’t exactly allowed to use the weapons we find in the keepers’ wing.
” Sera swatted at a fly as Snik handed her another token from the forest. Raven feathers, shiny pebbles, a rodent skull: all little offerings she assumed were thanks for the meals and warm bedroll she shared with him. Sera kept every one.
Alistair sighed. “You should learn to wield one. Burnout is real, and having a backup—or, in your case, any form of protection—is crucial in a fight.” He picked up a stick and cracked it over his knee, then threw the stubs to join the other decaying foliage.
Sera rolled her eyes. “Next town we get to, I’ll be sure to hire a trainer.”
Al stopped short, giving her a forced smile. “I will teach you the basics if you’re inclined to actually listen to me.”
“You’d teach me?”
He cocked a brow at her, and the first time in a few days, that dimple made its appearance. “If you don’t want to learn, I won’t waste my energy on you. But if you do, yes, I’ll teach you. Unless you still have a reason to hate me.”
Why did this feel like a trap? She wasn’t completely helpless. Sera had been the one to save him when the demon lord attacked. It had been her abomination that frightened the demon off. And as troubling as those thoughts were, that she could be intimidating enough to scare away a demon lord…
Still, knowing her way around a simple blade couldn’t hurt, could it?
“All right,” she said.
“Good. We’ll start tonight. I suspect we’ll reach Ironoak in a few days.”
Al had a menacing look of determination on his face. He circled her, his large hands clasped behind his back, and scanned her as if she were prey. “You’re small, weak, and to put it plainly, out of shape.”
Sera crossed her arms. “You’re a shit teacher, you know that?”
He grinned. “Maybe, but it’s the truth.” He stopped before her. “Your greatest strength as a woman is that others will underestimate you.” He stepped closer. “You’ll have to evade, be quicker”—another step—“and learn how to fight at close quarters.”
She didn’t have a moment to breathe before he was on her. She was wrapped in his arms, the fabric of his uniform bunched between her throat and his bicep.
“What the fuck, Al!”
“Fight, Minnow.”
She ripped at his arm, but it was like trying to grip a single brick in a wall. Alistair squeezed tighter. Unease slowly grew into terror.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Come on, Minnow, do something,” he whispered in her ear, which made her shiver for a completely different reason.
Sera tried to elbow him in the stomach, which was just as firm as the bicep curled around her throat. But there was something lower that was quite soft. Sera picked up her leg and aimed straight for his balls.
“Motherfucker…” Alistair let her go and cupped himself before hitting the ground.
Sera heaved in big breaths and sank her nails into her palms to stop the swirling. “That’s what you get!”
Alistair groaned. “Okay,” he said, sitting up. Leaves tangled in his hair as he attempted to right himself. “That was a low blow.”
“You said fight.” Sera crossed her arms and eyed him.
Al brushed off the dirt and got to his feet. Sera couldn’t help but smirk as he limped over to her. “Make a fist.”
He grabbed her wrist and rearranged her thumb so it lay below the second knuckles of her first two fingers. She wondered how often he had to adjust the grip of his soldiers and if they also experienced the fluttering in their stomachs when his hand enveloped theirs.
Was she ever going to get over this crush and act like an adult? Sera bit back her sigh. Every skip of her heart brought her back to the slight glance he’d given her when she was fifteen. The time he’d been close enough to kiss before he’d pulled her hair and run away.
“I’m going to try to hit you. I want you to move your forearm to the side of your face to block me like this.” He made the motion. “Ready?” He swung his arm, aiming for her left cheek.
Sera blocked.
“Again.”
He swung. She blocked. They did this repeatedly, switching sides while he corrected her form.
“Okay, now I want you to hit me.” He pointed to the center of his chest.
“You want me to punch you?”
Alistair smiled, showcasing his perfectly straight teeth in a look that could almost be called flirtatious. “I want you to feel what it’s like to make contact with your fist.” Sera glanced below the belt. “Do not even think about it, Minnow.”
She snorted. “What if I hurt you again?”
He laughed. Moons, he was gorgeous. Sera couldn’t look away from his corded neck, the way his throat bobbed with every chuckle, then that chiseled jaw. “I’ll be all right. I’ve sparred with bigger warlocks than you.”
“If you say so.” He came straight for her, and she punched him as hard as she could. It was like hitting a brick wall—a very handsome brick wall, a brick wall that smelled like her favorite parts of the Citadel.
“Oh, you’ve got some power in you, Wildrick.” Al rubbed his chest. The look he gave her made her stomach flip.
A mistake.
A movement in the corner of her eye had her lurching backward. “What the fuck!” she screamed at him, her back end now firmly planted in the dirt.
“Don’t let your guard down.”
Sera swatted his gloved hand away as he tried to help her up. She slapped the dirt from her pants and set back up to continue the lesson. He threw punches, and she blocked until she was slick with sweat and her chest was heaving.
“Starting tomorrow, we’re running part of the day.” He wasn’t even winded.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re huffing and puffing from a few sparring exercises. I haven’t even given you a weapon to hold yet.”
“Sorry I’m not made of muscle like you.”
“Oh, Minnow, are you saying you noticed my muscles?” The bastard flexed, and she swore. Of course she’d noticed them. How could she not? The damn moons probably noticed them.
“You know, Alistair, I never knew you to go fishing for compliments. Has your well of eligible witches so dried up you need to pull tributes out of me?” She smirked, thinking she’d won.
She didn’t expect his eyes to grow darker and his smile more wicked. “My well is never dry.” He winked at her. Her core temperature rose a few degrees.
“Such a shameless flirt,” she said and flopped onto her bedroll.
Alistair shrugged, worked that powerful jaw on a piece of jerky, and tended to the fire. Settled, she reached into her pack, looking for her journal.
Dominick’s words fluttered to the page.
Sorry for the short message, but I wanted to let you know as soon as I heard.
Thank Shadow, she is still alive. I’ll have Theo check every day if I can.
There are some other weird happenings going on in the lifeline pool.
Theo and I are working on figuring out what exactly it is.
Right now, all I can tell you is that there seems to be an uptick in demon-coven interaction.
Also, in response to your comment concerning potential sexy time with Al, it’s semantics. Alistair is like a brother, but he isn’t my brother, so in this case, I am demanding details even if you refuse to share them.
Your mother has kept her head down in the mastrias’ wing. I’ve no doubt that she knows more than she would ever tell me, even if I could get her to give me the time of day. But I’ll keep trying to spy. Hugs and kisses.
That didn’t sound good. Increased interactions with demonkind? She needed to find those doorways, at least one, before Al brought the oracle back to the Citadel.
You have no idea what relief I felt when I read your words this morning. I owe you your weight in brew at Mystic’s, but something tells me I’ll ask for a few more favors before I return.
I hope you didn’t break the poor lock’s heart. Please thank him for me.
Have you heard from Colton?
Sera closed her journal and sent the goddess a kernel of her power. The blue spark floated in the air for a moment, then fizzled out, accepted by Shadow herself, as the saying went. An offering. A prayer.
“Who are you praying for?” Alistair asked over the crackle of the fire he was feeding.
“Colton.”
Alistair was silent. He didn’t offer any words of assurance when she met his gaze.
Out of anyone, he must know what it felt like, not knowing if your friends would return alive.
A piece of her heart cracked at that, and a little more as she watched him rub his chin before pulling a kernel of power and releasing it into the night.
“For Colton,” Alistair whispered.