MECHANORECEPTION
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Saya Claymore
Serun leads me down the stairs and into the main foyer. Darkness cloaks us like fog, creating a thick haze and making it hard to see anything. A stark difference from the corridor we just came from.
To protect him from intruders?
Serun’s shadows wrap more snugly around him, as if he’s expecting someone to trespass, and he’ll need to conceal himself in an instant.
He takes me through a door just off the main foyer.
Vervain floral patterns glitter around us as soft lighting fills the room like an overflowing cup, spilling from the fireplace near the two black leather couches with red silk pillows.
Tall bookshelves fill the space around the fireplace, cluttered with stacks of leaning books.
“We are training in…here?” I say with a lifted brow and side-eye at the Nightwalker Lord. He makes his way across the room, stepping onto the soft rug running thick across the dark stone, while I wait near the door.
Sinking into the leather couch, his crimson eyes settle on me, and a hint of a smile chisels his face. “In your first training session, you will conjure your magik and hold a glamour for more than a minute. Fear…anger…and even frustration will be of no use if you cannot do the basics, kamai.”
“Stop calling me that if you aren’t going to tell me what it means,” I mutter, my fingers curling until my hands clench into a fist.
He smiles sweetly at me, tilts his head, and shrugs. “Perhaps after you do this one simple task for me, I might entertain the idea of releasing you from your torment.”
“You might be calling me something nasty,” I claim.
“Could be.” He nudges his chin towards me. “Can we focus, or do you want to keep taking jabs at me with a blunt blade?”
I clench my teeth together. Goddess of Light, I hate how he speaks sometimes—but I also hate how right he is. I need to learn to use my magik to the fullest of my ability.
I move further into the room, towards the fireplace. “Why in here? What if I destroy something of yours?”
“Do you think I would care?”
I hint at a smile. “No…I don’t believe so, nightwalker.”
Running my fingers along the spines on the bookshelf, a softness I’m not entirely used to smooths out the tense muscles in my face. For a fleeting moment, I look to Serun and his twisted smile before I snap my focus back to the bookshelf.
There’s a music box in the middle row, holding its own space.
I gently cup my hands around it, as if capturing a bird with a broken wing.
Touching the intricate wood, moonflowers and vines with golden-flaked leaves spin a web around the lid.
My thumbs press to the join, and as I push the lid up, faintly musical metal clinks and wires twang into a sweet sound.
“Shall we get started, then?” he says.
I release my hold on the music box, the lid snapping shut. Dust from the bookshelf stirs, and a sound reminiscent of two wires sliding against one another fades until I only hear the flickering flames stirring in the hearth.
“Where do you want me?”
Serun’s gaze moves to the leather couch across from him, then back to me.
He’s a watcher. Eyes never leave me as I make my way to sit down.
Hands twitching nervously on my lap, I run my palms across the stockings.
Serun’s eyes follow, dilating when I reach higher up my thighs. He looks away quickly.
Before any fluttering can rise, they’re plucked of their wings. My mum’s words slip back into my mind, telling me to be proper, courteous, and perfect in every way for my husband.
A toxic mindset that women were trained to uphold, for we were trophies in the end. A product to sell and spit out babies.
I’m not sure why my body is reacting this way towards Serun. He isn’t like my Blessed. He won’t threaten me with double meanings. His eyes won’t ask me to always say yes like Jax did…right?
“What do I do?”
His eyes narrow, and his right ear flicks back in irritation, as if a fly had landed on the tip.
“You need to tap into your magik. Close your eyes and listen for it. It will feel familiar, but you must shatter the wall you have created around it. Once you have, your magik will be like mine. Unlimited.”
Digging my fingernails into my knees, I shut my eyes, my body startling at the strange sensation of his eyes on me when I can’t see. “What did you hear when you took down your walls?” I ask.
“Death.”
“And what does death sound like?”
“A thousand screams from the same mouth…”
“Sounds sad.”
“Death is sad.”
I bite my lower lip. “I am scared, Serun.”
His breath brushes against my cheek. “Then focus on life.”
Life?
My brow twitches at his words. I’m in a fucking Undercity filled with dead things.
He chuckles.
I roll my tongue across my top teeth, steeling myself. A deep breath in, and my shoulders sag in acceptance on the exhale.
I find nothing. Only loud thoughts telling me this is a stupid idea. But then, the spark of burning wood pricks my ears. The fire devours, burrowing deep into wood and blackening it until it becomes ash.
Then there is the sound of leather groaning when I shift in my seat. My breath becomes harsh in my lungs. The fabric of my dress scrapes against my skin and flames whistle softly on candlesticks.
And through all of that, a rustling slaps along the shell of my ear. Bunching my brows together, I focus on the sound, peeling it away like dead flesh from a festered wound. As I do, a wind brushes against me, light enough to feel, but not enough to cause me to flinch.
Then the leather swallows me. I sink between the cushions, falling inside the black abyss of my mind. The stutter of panic in my heart is a warning siren telling me this is wrong.
Vines appear, snapping onto my body, twisting across my ankles and arms. Sharp thorns tear at my skin, cutting into flesh and stretching out my arms and legs, pulling them in different directions before bursting into bright red flames. Heat burns across my body, eating my skin.
With one final, jagged inhale, I let out a guttural scream.