Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
Seraphina
Sera jolted awake. Sweat plastered her hair to her temples.
Snik was curled in a ball against her stomach, and Al was still sleeping soundly at her back.
Both the warlock and the goblin were snoring in offset intervals, like a tracheal orchestra.
The three of them were piled on the bed, twisted in blankets, but neither of the others moved.
But she had slept. Without her elixir… and without nightmares.
Peeling herself from the middle, careful not to wake either, she tiptoed to the bathing chamber off the main room.
She’d certainly gotten herself into a mess.
Yes… to owe him is not good.
“Oh, shut it,” she said to her magic. The water basin was cool under her grip. She needed a plan, and to find the doorways to Gehenna, and to save her sister… and, and, and. There was nothing she could give him.
There is always something.
Her stomach sank. Shadow, she hoped it wouldn’t come to that, using her body as a form of currency.
Sera smoothed the creases from the gown and tiptoed out of the bathing chamber.
One by one, she blew out the candles in the sconces along the walls, stopping for a moment to touch the black flame in the tapestry, then headed out to meet her doom.
It must have been the early hours of the morning.
The manor was quiet, but for a sloshing of water filling the halls.
Sera crept down the tunnel and peered into the mirroring pool chamber.
Threads lifted and sank in dizzying procession, and Ophelia, arms raised, robes whipping around her, was the conductor of it all.
“Come in, Seraphina.”
Sera swallowed the lump in her throat and crossed the threshold. “Are you always looking into the pool?”
“My time here is ending, and I want to prepare as many of those who need it as I can.” Ophelia waved her hands over the water, and a different set of threads burst from the surface and wound their way to the cavern ceiling, tight as bowstrings.
The blue glow of the stones on the other side of the pool bathed Ophelia.
Sera approached her with caution. “Will you let us take you back to the Citadel, then?”
Ophelia’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she touched a strand, then let it go and grabbed another. “I said I would, and I keep my word. It’s for the good of Eraphon.” She turned toward Sera then. “But that is not your only question, is it?”
Sera wanted to ask what Lord Vasso was going to do with her, but thought better of it. “Do you know where the doorways to Gehenna are?”
“You’ll have to ask Vasso that.” Ophelia lowered her arms, and the threads dropped to the depths below. “He’ll be here in just a moment.”
“How did you—”
“I told you. I know all.” Ophelia turned, leaving her platform and threads behind. “He will help you. With the doorways and your magic.”
Sera’s mouth grew dry. “You won’t tell anyone… when you go to the Citadel?”
“Darling, that darkness will be your salvation.”
If she had her mother’s magic, she would have burrowed into the oracle’s mind and erased every memory that had to do with her.
“Ophelia, please stop giving my guests such cryptic messages.” Lord Vasso slunk from the corner of the room like a wraith emerging from shadows. He’d lost the jacket from dinner, though his sleeves were still rolled to his elbow. He was handsome, unassuming, seemingly harmless—a beautiful trap.
“I so prefer it that way,” the oracle cooed.
“Well, witch.” Vasso turned his gaze to her. “Shall we discuss terms?”
The darkness swirled within Sera, not in its usual irritated way but as if it was watching… anticipating.
“My lord,” Ophelia interrupted. “Take her somewhere more private. I have much work to do.”
The demon broke out in a wide grin. Sera swallowed her gasp; beautiful trap didn’t do him justice. Those harsh lines evaporated with his smile, and left behind was something carved by Shadow herself.
“This way, Seraphina.”
She followed him. With each step, his carved ruby ring glinted in the torchlight like a blazing beacon among the gloom of the cave.
Among Gehenna’s high court, the ring wasn’t just a show of wealth.
It was awarded to those with immense power.
Sera had studied the lords and their rings in textbooks.
She’d been obsessed with any information she could gather on demons.
Lavinia had banned her from researching them, but Sera had kept investigating, huddled in the darkest parts of the library, straining to see the forms on the page.
Her first day as a junior keeper, she’d searched the more restricted parts of the archives just to see what she could get her hands on.
Lord Vasso motioned to a dark doorway. “Go ahead.”
She hesitated.
“Don’t be scared. I promise I won’t bite… hard.” He winked at her, and moons above did it rage through her like wildfire. As Sera entered, the only thing she could think of… was how very fucked she was.
With a snap of his fingers, the walls sconces and the candelabras on the various tables in the room burst to life. They revealed stone walls with floor-to-ceiling shelving. There were books, so many books. But also artifacts, many she’d never seen the likes of.
A small bear carved out of wood was so detailed that she couldn’t imagine a regular-size knife had created it.
“The domovoi made that for me.”
Sera jumped. She hadn’t heard him behind her. If he hadn’t been solid in front of her, she would have thought he was an actual wraith. But that smell… sandalwood. That she would forever associate with him, thanks to their meeting in Ironoak.
“Come, take a seat.” He rounded the large desk in the middle of the room. She sat.
“You’re being very hospitable to someone who owes you a favor, Lord Vasso,” she said. The chair was plush on her back. She wished she could sink into it, but her nerves kept her upright.
“First of all, you must drop the lord… It’s utterly exhausting to listen to day in and day out.” He snapped his fingers, and two crystal glasses plinked on the desk, immediately filling with amber liquid. “A drink?”
“No, thank you. I’d rather get this over with, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“So touchy… but if you insist.” He swirled his glass and swallowed a mouthful.
He had to be stalling, and she hated him for it.
Hated that she was indebted to him at all.
But Vasso had done what she’d asked. Alistair was whole and healing, and whatever the circumstance, she should be grateful for that at least. Regardless, it didn’t stop her anger from curdling that darkness within her.
“I want you…” he drawled. Sera held her breath. “To show me your magic.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He smirked at her. His gray eyes twinkled behind dark lashes.
“But you’ve already seen it.”
Vasso swiped his finger across the scar on his cheek. The one she’d given him. Her hands trembled as she waited for his response. This was some sort of sick joke. He was going to kill her for what she’d done to him.
We will not let that happen… Sera shook her head to make the voice go away zipping her raven pendant on its cord. Vasso just raised one dark brow at her.
“Well, I definitely felt it. But I wish to see it up close.” He leaned back in his chair and rested his long legs on the corner of the desk as he continued to swirl his liquor.
“And that’s it? You won’t kill me?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die, Subdina.” He downed the rest of his drink.
Subdina… her magic echoed back.
“Okay.” Sera held out her hand. She’d read countless times that a bargain needed to be sealed with a handshake.
“None of that.” He swatted her hand away. “Just show me.”
Her magic swirled in answer, instantly heating her lungs, her skin. She could do this. Sera rose from her seat, closed her eyes, and, with a release of breath, let it go.
Her death fog fell from her palms. It bubbled and churned in a black mass over the study floor, clawing its way toward the books lining the bottom shelves.
Vasso straightened in his chair, his smoke-gray gaze darting from the mist back to her.
“There’s more,” she said. He worked his jaw, his brows scrunched tight. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
“No!” Her flame thrashed under her skin. Vasso cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. Please… continue.”
With every passing second, the crawling heat of her flames snaked through her body. Creeping… begging. “Can you control the fire?”
“The what?”
“The black flame—you can control it?”
His steel gaze bore into her, and he stood. Vasso’s face was so serious it looked like a snarl. “Of course I can control it.”
Sera held out her palm and summoned a flicker forward. Black flame burst from her fingertips. She breathed deep, trying to control the heat overtaking her. Perspiration dampened the nape of her neck, her chest. Moons, she was hot. This thick gown wasn’t helping either.
“Bloody Shadow,” Vasso whispered.
Yes…
His voice was like a switch, and her flames jumped to the floor, igniting the fog around them. “I can’t control it. Put it out!”
The demon lord pointed his palm to the floor and released his magic.
A dull static raced over her skin. This sensation was…
strange. Although their darknesses appeared the same, there was a difference between the two.
His flames danced beside hers. She dared to glance at him, not sure what to expect.
But he looked curious. Not scared or disturbed, but fascinated.
Vasso gripped his fist tight, and the flames, mist, fog—all of it disappeared at once. He plopped into his chair and undid the top two buttons of his black collared shirt. “I need another drink.” At once, his glass refilled, a full finger more than before.