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‘Those who refuse to wield the dagger are doomed to die by its blade.’
There had always been a darkness in Mama, and Seraphine feared that if she looked directly at it, it might become a part of her too.
Shade was the dust that lost golden age had left behind. A volatile substance that bent shadows to the will of man.
violent, quicksilver eyes.
saints,
That was, by all accounts, against the rules.
What do you want to be boy, brave or broken?
She laughed, awkwardly. ‘Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.’ He winked at her. ‘I have that effect on people.’
He peered at the knuckle where a shadow-mark had once been. His first mark. For nearly ten years, that whorl had curled around his fingers like a branch of inky thorns. It had stung like them, too. Now, it was gone.
The hand that had dangled Seraphine like a puppet on a string. The hand she had burned on that balcony. And now it was… clean.
searched the dark reaches of himself, prodding at the heaviness that lingered there. Was it his imagination or had it lessened? Had some of the darkness inside him been burned away too?
Could she burn all the poison away, so that he could crawl out of this cruel place and leave behind the yawning hollow of darkness that would one day swallow him whole?
What would you risk to go all the way back?
Everything.
He spun her at the waist and pressed her back against the wall, a strong arm braced either side of her shoulders in case she tried to run.
‘I’m flattered, but I’d rather not hold hands, Ransom. I don’t think we’re quite there yet.’
‘What do you have on you this time, Seraphine? A paperweight? A fountain pen?’ His gaze roamed the length of her body. ‘Do I need to pat you down?’
‘Maybe you should. Just to be safe.’
‘Nice try, spitfire.’
‘What was all that mouthing about at the Aurore, then? Foreplay?’ He blinked, then offered the slash of a smile. ‘Old habits.’
‘Perhaps it’s foolish to assume you have a conscience at all,’ she went on. He inched closer, daring her to flinch. ‘For your sake, you’d better hope I do, spitfire.’ ‘I’m not afraid of you.’ Lie, lie, lie. But he wasn’t watching her eyes; he was watching her lips.
He tapped the hand that clutched her necklace. ‘What’s in that thing?’ She tightened her grip on it, her words coming in a whisper. ‘A tiny, ancient piece of paper…’ His throat bobbed, his expression hungry. ‘What does it say?’ ‘It says, Fuck off, Ransom.’ He glared at her. ‘Are you always this immature?’
told you I’m not scared of you,’ she said, pressing her hand against his chest. She was surprised by the gallop of his heartbeat beneath her fingers.
‘You’re afraid of my magic. And you should be. Because sooner or later, it’s going to—’ He pushed her back against the wall, his hand resting at the base of her throat.
Her cheeks flared at the memory of his body pressed up against hers, his cruel mouth full of blood, the smell of wild mint on his breath. She shuddered, though she couldn’t tell whether it was from revulsion or something far more dangerous. Something she did not dare to name. Even to herself.
‘Consider this a peace offering, spitfire,’ he said, casually digging those violent hands into his pockets. ‘Next time, we’re going to talk about that antidote.’
In her desperation to save the mutt, she had revealed a naked terror Ransom hadn’t seen in her before. He had hated the sight of it.
in that moment, as he towered over Seraphine Marchant, he didn’t feel like a Dagger. He felt like his father.
Nadia wrapped her arms around herself, her voice quiet. ‘If that thing really was Kipp, then that means all these monsters… they’re just…’ ‘People,’ said Lark. ‘They’re just people.’
You are my hobby, Seraphine. Do you want to come out and play?
Nectar of the Saints,
‘The wine,’ he hissed back. ‘Sylvie poisoned the latest batch!’
doesn’t just poison the body, Sera. It poisons the soul. It changes you. It takes away the bridge between magic and mortality, until there’s no going back to who you were before.’
‘Because sometimes it takes a monster to destroy a monster,’ he said quietly.
‘Mama says Sylvie was working on an antidote too. Magic that would help the monsters.’ Sera’s eyes widened at that word – antidote.
Ransom had come all the way out here to confront Seraphine, but the sight of her bent double on the floor had done something unexpected to his chest. It had tightened it to the point of pain and he could not now bring himself to face her, to intrude on an aching loss that so closely mirrored his own.
If Ransom had taken Shade today, he would have leaped at golden Lorenzo like a panther and torn him off her. Threatening Seraphine was his job.
Dufort had been just as surprised by the monsters as anyone else. He was the last one to believe they even existed. Whatever she had died for, it was not this.
Hope dances along the horizon. And its name is Lightfire.
You missed my liver, Seraphine. If you come outside, I’ll let you trace my scar to prove it.
A violent heat erupted in her cheeks. She couldn’t shake the image of him lifting his shirt to her, of her hands trailing across the muscled planes of his torso – stop that.
Careful, Dagger. I might burn you again. The paper dart had barely left her hand before returning again. Maybe I want to burn, spitfire.
Sera’s grip tightened on the cane. ‘What the hell do you want from me?’ ‘I want you to touch me, Seraphine.’
‘Seraphine!’ He skidded to a halt in the middle of the courtyard, shadows trailing in his wake. ‘Don’t make me drag you back to me!’
She spun around, wild-eyed and breathless. Beautiful. Fuck.
He hummed in response, then turned slightly, pressing a kiss to her palm.
His lips were cool, but the soft press of them against her damp skin lit a fire inside her that devoured all thought. He opened his eyes, finding hers. ‘Thank you for trying.’
The monsters bow to the power of Lightfire. Become the flame and destroy the dark, Seraphine.
Perhaps, beneath the logic of it all, Lisette was right. He did want her. He wanted to take her more than he wanted to kill her. It was all he could do not to think about kissing her. Tasting the fire of her just to see what it would do to him. What she would do to him.
And saints damn her, she liked it. She wanted more of it.
