C
HAPTER
37
T
he effect was instantaneous—a roar of noise, the crowd beneath us surging forward. Just as quickly, Luc bounded up the stairs, sword drawn and pointing directly at Anton’s throat. “I will spill your blood right here if you don’t let her go.”
“You see?” called Anton. “The Heir chooses her over his own people. Even he is deceived.” But he released me. “I’ve made my point,” he said, as Luc took my hand.
We circled around Anton, Luc never dropping his guard. “Down the stairs,” he said, gesturing to the rear of the platform. I followed on shaking legs.
The Quartoren moved to intercept us.
“Get her clear,” Dominic said to Luc. “I’ll handle this.”
He strode to the front of the stage, his bulk dwarfing Anton, his manner infinitely more commanding. With a wave of his hand, silence dropped, as if he’d magically muted the crowd. Luc hustled me down the stairs, but I could still hear Dominic’s words, halting the ceremony, scorning the Seraphim and their desecration of Evangeline’s memorial. It was all spin, but I didn’t care. I only wanted to get away.
We hurried along a seashell-covered path, putting as much distance between us and the ceremony as possible. When we stopped, I sank to the ground, spent.
“Well,” I said. “That was not what I expected.”
Luc sat next to me. “You ain’t the only one.”
I leaned against him, the sound of his heartbeat calming mine.
“You said the Allée was neutral ground. That no one could use magic against another person there. How was Anton able to hurt us?”
He brushed at a smudge of dirt on my cheek, then helped me to my feet. “Neutral ground is a principle. A rule laid down in ancient times, designed to keep the peace between the Houses. Looks like Anton doesn’t have much use for the old rules.”
“He was making a statement,” Orla said. She and Pascal were walking down the path, their pace slowed by Marguerite. “The Seraphim consider themselves above the rules of our world.”
“Nice to see you admit they’re real,” Luc said.
“I was wrong.” She looked appalled at the thought. “They are real, and more important, they are dangerous. People listened to him. They’re worried, and his explanation, while ludicrous, gives them a target. It’s more important than ever that you repair the magic. Now. Before Anton and his people make another move.”
“This isn’t the time,” Luc said.
“It’s not the ideal situation,” Pascal admitted, adjusting his glasses. “But we may not find a better one. The magic reacted to Maura during the ceremony; it’s in a state of flux. I can’t predict what might happen next.”
“I can,” said Dominic, stalking toward us. “Anton vanished, but he’s got the crowd whipped up, calling for your blood. Only thing that’s going to keep them from hunting you down is to fix the magic. Prove him wrong and they won’t take his word about Evangeline.”
Pascal and Orla bobbed their heads in agreement. Luc stared at the ground, misery clear on his face.
Dominic said, “Marguerite predicted a new age would rise up, and that’s exactly what happened today. You need to do your part now.”
“You don’t know that,” I said desperately.
“ ’Course we do. We’ve known all along.”
There was a shout from the direction of the Allée. Constance stormed down the path, Niobe behind her. “Did you kill her? Did you kill Evangeline? You said you tried to help her, you liar!”
“Constance ... he’s not telling ...”
She didn’t lower her voice as she joined us. “The truth? Why would they say it if it wasn’t true?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Yes or no. Did you do it?”
“She was a really bad person,” I said. “You don’t know ...”
“You bitch!” she screamed, and flew at me, shoving me to the ground.
Before Constance could land a single punch, Luc dragged her off me, pushing her toward Niobe. “Get gone, little girl. Mouse, you okay?”
“Yeah.” I sat up slowly, picking grass from my hair. My pale blue sweater was covered with grass stains and mud. Wordlessly, Pascal offered me a handkerchief as Niobe restrained Constance.
“Calm down, or your next lesson is restraining spells,” she said, her voice like a whip.
“You have to believe me,” I said. “Evangeline was really bad. That group, the one that disrupted her memorial ... they’re called the Seraphim.”
“I know who they are.” Constance’s face was white as snow, but her eyes were navy with fury and tears, hair whipping around her face. At the base of my skull, a headache started to pound.
Luc frowned. “Your powers just came through, but you know about the Seraphim? How the hell does that work?”
“They targeted her,” Niobe said. “New, naive. Suggestible.” Constance whirled, and a sharp breeze sprang up. “I’m not naive! They’re my friends!”
“I had a friend,” I said quietly. “The Seraphim killed her. Evangeline was one of them.”
“I don’t believe you.” The hatred was pouring off her. I could almost see the black, crackling lines of it as the magic swelled.
“You should,” Luc said, his voice deathly calm. “Verity came down to spend the summer with Evangeline, learn to use her powers right, fulfill the Torrent Prophecy. Evangeline tried to recruit her, same as they’ve done with you. Only your sister was too smart to bite, so they took her out.”
Constance started to cry. “You’re lying.”
“Not about this,” I said, fighting the impulse to ball up on the ground. Constance needed to understand. If I could explain, maybe she’d calm down. “They waited until she came home so she didn’t have Luc and the other Arcs around to protect her.”
“You’re lying,” she said again, sobbing, her nose running.
“Once Evangeline figured out I could finish Verity’s work, she used me to start the Torrent. Her plan didn’t work, and she died.”
“But it was an accident, wasn’t it? You didn’t mean to. You didn’t murder her.”
I bit my lip. I had done the right thing. But if I couldn’t admit what I’d done, then maybe I didn’t truly believe it, after all.
“She killed Verity,” I said. “She deserved it.”
“I hate you! I hate you! They were right about you. You ruined everything!” she screamed, and the magic whipped around, knocking me down.
“Niobe!” Luc snapped. “Take her!”
Niobe nodded and grabbed Constance’s arm, pulling the two of them Between. The press of the magic let up, but only slightly. There was no reversing it.
“The lines can’t contain the magic,” Pascal said. “The girl triggered something. We need to act quickly.”
Luc crouched next to me. “It’s time.”
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
He cupped my face in his hands. “Me too.”
Dominic shouted. “Now, Maura!”
He, Pascal, and Orla had positioned themselves in a triangle around us.
“Don’t fight it. You’ll be okay if you don’t fight it.” Luc pressed his palm into mine, like we had during the Binding Ceremony, and reached out his other hand, the words of the Arc’s language pouring off his tongue, the Quartoren’s voices chiming in. Around us, the air started to whistle and creak as the lines broke through, suddenly visible to me. Rents in the air and the ground, jagged slashes, power bleeding through. They built quickly, crisscrossing the air around us. My heart pulsed in time with the magic, and each beat pushed it further inside me, like the poster from Biology class—big, round vessels to smaller, spindly ones, diffusing through cell walls, filling up my lungs. I could feel it in my spine and radiating out to every nerve, yearning for connection to the web of lines around me. Steeling myself, I reached out, and the world blurred as the magic threatened to burst free. Luc’s hand curled around mine, our connection flaring. Instantly, my vision cleared. “Thanks.”
He nodded, sweat beading along his forehead.
Around me, three of the four elements were coalescing as the Quartoren called up their magic. With all four concentrated in one spot, we’d have a nexus, an entry point into the raw magic. Last time, I’d used the pillars of the Binding Temple, but the temple was gone now. There was no place I knew of where all four elemental magics came together.
Except, I didn’t need all four types, did I? The lines determined the element; the force inside—unfiltered, straining for release—was raw magic. We’d made it so complicated, but all I needed to do was reach inside the line, past the elemental barriers I’d created, to the power within.
A few feet beyond Luc, one of the lines was buckled and swelled, seconds away from bursting. If I could get there first, I could follow it back to the source. If I couldn’t, and the line split open, I’d be dead. “Let go of me.”
“What?” His fingers fumbled for mine, but I wriggled away and reached out.
The influx of power shuddered through me. I felt the coolness of it against my hands, smooth and rippling like muscle. I had to do this before Luc could interfere. I dragged in a breath, planted my feet, and dug my fingers into the line until the surface gave way, and raw magic flooded me again.
It was like a dam breaking. One moment, a trickle, and the next I was drowning, swept away by the force of the raw magic. I knew enough not to fight the barrage of chaos and energy, and as my body acclimated, the rest of the world faded away. Now my only tie to the outside world was the silvery thread around my wrist. The familiar sweep of omnipotence was powerful, but I turned away. It no longer held any allure. I’d sought answers on my own and found heartbreak instead of peace.
I’d had enough truth to last a lifetime or three.
The magic seemed to hold back, waiting for direction. In my mind’s eye, I saw lines—beautiful and complex and strong, weaving together like a braid. My fingers shaped the raw energy, twisting and coiling to form new lines, guided by instinct. As the magic began to flow true again, I breathed a sigh of relief and began to pull back into myself, leaving the lines behind.
And then something went wrong.
The flow of magic through me slowed, turned, began racing back. Exactly as it had at the country club.
This time, no one shut it down.
The raw magic began to fuse, joining with my bones and muscle and blood. The pain grew inexplicably hotter. It hadn’t been like this the last time, like every single cell of my body was turning itself inside out. My vision went black and endless, a night sky without stars. I flashed from hot to cold and back again, like a fever. It was the magic, searing me like a brand, and there was no escape.
No escape but Luc. He’d pulled me back last time, the bond between us a lifeline. Now it was my only road home.
I felt blindly for the glowing thread connecting us. “Where are you?” I wailed, but there was no answering surge of magic, no sensation of him reaching for me.
“Luc,” I screamed. “Please!”
The magic was voracious. I was losing myself, and I scrabbled against the nothingness, trying to haul myself away, too weak to do it alone.
And then Luc grabbed for me, yanking me away with a shout.
Something tore—both deep within me and just out of reach, more agonizing than anything that had come before. I tumbled out of the web of lines and into Luc’s arms, knocking us both down.
Luc took the brunt of the fall, landing on his back, and I slid away bonelessly. He hunched over me, shouting something.
I couldn’t hear him through the rushing in my head. His eyes were the greenest thing I’d ever seen, like the leaves of a crocus poking up through the snow, even as everything else was fading into the grainy black and white of a silent movie. His eyes were fading, too, at the end, and then there wasn’t anything to see at all.
C
HAPTER
38
P
anic fluttered through my chest like a trapped bird. I opened my eyes to see snowy linen stretched out in front of me, a marble-topped table with a glass of water. Through the window, the brightly lit revelry of the French Quarter at night was visible through wavery glass.
And then I was abruptly aware of an arm, draped heavily over me, fingers wrapped snugly against my rib cage, a few centimeters from second base. Luc’s body was curled into mine, our knees nestled like puzzle pieces, our feet tangled together. His breath drifted over my shoulder, stirring my hair, but he slept on. The rise and fall of his chest against my back stayed slow and regular, unlike my erratic heartbeat.
The thin veneer of my control started to crack. Any moment, it would vanish completely. Underneath lay bottomless wanting, the knowledge that if I dove in, I’d never find solid ground beneath my feet again. Trying to put some distance between us, I wriggled out from beneath the weight of his arm.
“Keep movin’ like that, I’m going to think you’re interested in more’n sleep.”
I froze. “You’re awake.”
He shifted, his body aligning with mine again. The hummingbirds in my chest beat faster, and only some of them were afraid. “Been waiting on you. Gettin’ pretty good at it.”
Lightly, he pressed a kiss to the nape of my neck. “You feeling okay?”
Okay was not the word I would use, especially now. I tried to turn, but his leg anchored me in place and his hand splayed against my chest, directly over my heart.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You lived,” he said, pressing even closer. It wasn’t only lust driving him, I realized—though with Luc, lust was always a factor—it was relief.
He tucked his face into the space between my neck and shoulder. Without the tiny cues I’d learned to look for in his expression—the movement at the corner of his mouth, the direction of his glance, the lines in his forehead—it was his touch and slow, unsteady breath that told me how badly things had gone.
“It didn’t work.” I wasn’t asking. The real question was how much damage had occurred, but I wasn’t ready to hear the answer. “How long have I been out?”
“Awhile. It’s midnight. Quartoren’ll be here soon.” He sighed and released me. I twisted around, startled by his pallor. Normally his skin was a tawny gold, but there was a grayish cast to it, and his eyes were dull.
“You healed me,” I said.
“Not going to apologize,” he said.
“No. I’m glad. Thank you.”
He traced his fingers across my forehead, down my cheekbones, dragging a thumb across my lips. The sadness in his face belied the tenderness of the gesture. There was something he wasn’t telling me, something awful. “Why are the Quartoren coming here?”
He slipped out of bed, tugging me after him.
“Strategize, I suppose. Not entirely sure.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know everything the Quartoren does. You’re practically an honorary member.”
“They’re closin’ ranks,” he said, looking down like the admission was shameful. “I pulled you out. When the magic started to take over, I felt you trying to get away. I felt how scared you were, and I couldn’t ... I couldn’t leave you there.”
“You saved me. Isn’t that a good thing?”
“I thought so,” he replied. “But they aren’t likely to view it the same way.”
There was a knock at the door. I finger-combed my hair, a last-ditch effort to look like I hadn’t been asleep with Luc five minutes ago. The disdain on Orla’s face when the Quartoren filed into Luc’s living room indicated I hadn’t been successful.
We stood in silence, Dominic and the others on one side of the room, me on another, Luc caught between us.
Orla spoke first. “I think we can all agree that today’s events were unexpected.”
Dominic’s eyes burned holes in me.
“The magic turned,” I said, wanting to defend myself against their wordless accusations. I glanced at Pascal. “Like before.”
Pascal coughed. “We’d discussed the possibility that bonding with the magic would stabilize it. It was going as planned. Why did you stop?”
“It was too much.” I swallowed, remembering the feeling of the magic crowding me out of my own body. “It would have killed me.”
“Because you wouldn’t commit to it,” Orla said. “If you’d stayed—”
“I’d be dead now. We decided that I should make new lines instead, remember? If I’d bonded with the magic, there wouldn’t have been any ... me ... left.”
“You’re the Vessel.” Dominic spoke, and the warmth he’d always shown me was gone. “If the magic hollows you out and wears you like a hermit crab’s shell, so be it. That’s what you swore to. And you,” he said, turning to face Luc. “This wasn’t our agreement.”
“What agreement?” I asked.
“She would have died.” Luc spoke through gritted teeth.
“You knew what she needed to do. What had to happen. Still does. What did you gain by throwing us over?” Dominic’s lip curled with disgust. “A few hours?”
He jerked a head toward the bedroom door, the rumpled sheets clearly visible. “Hope she was worth it.”
“Luc?” I backed away, banging into a side table. The hurricane candle sitting atop it tumbled to the ground, but I was the only one who jumped at the crash.
He turned slowly, his expression pleading.
“It was never about making new lines, was it? You wanted me to bond with the magic all along. That’s why ...” My voice cracked. “That’s why I couldn’t find you. They told you to leave me there, and you did.”
“Mouse ...”
“Don’t talk, Luc. All you’ll do is lie.” I turned to Pascal. Of any of them, I trusted him the most—not to protect me, but to answer my questions. The scientist in him couldn’t resist. “After I passed out, what happened?”
He recited the facts with clinical detachment. “Picture the lines as a circulatory system, and the magic is like blood. We had hoped that, once you had bonded with the source of the magic, you would function as the heart, directing power to the lines at a manageable rate. When you failed to complete the bond, you created a tear, very close to the source of the magic, like a rupture in the aorta. Now the magic is leaking out of the system.”
I grabbed on to the couch for support. “I started another Torrent?”
“The opposite, actually. The Torrent was deadly because the eruption of raw magic would destroy the weaker Arcs. In this case, the magic is diffusing as it spreads into the world. There, lines can’t replenish the power with them, and without lines to draw on, most Arcs will be rendered powerless.”
“Most, but not all?”
“Arcs with the strongest talents can use even a minor line to cast a working. They should be able to do the same with a low level of ambient magic. But weaker ones will be stripped of their abilities.”
Orla cut in, her expression pained. “They’ll have to either live among Flats or rely on the largesse of more powerful Arcs.”
“Same result,” said Dominic. “Only the strongest will remain. It’s exactly what the Seraphim want, to make a new race of Arcs and rule the others.”
“You’ve handed Anton his victory on a silver platter,” Orla said.
I’d helped the people who killed Verity. That was what they were saying. My entire body went numb. She’d died trying to stop the Seraphim, and I’d given them exactly what they wanted. My promise to her had meant nothing at all.
Dominic grabbed my arm and shook me. Luc, standing with his back to us, didn’t react. “Are you listening? You forged a Covenant. You swore to fix the magic, and all you’ve done is make it worse. You have to go back.”
I marveled that I’d ever thought he seemed nice. “There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t. The magic is failing. We have a day, perhaps two, before it’s gone completely. Either uphold your part of the Covenant and fix it or your life is forfeit. And you,” Dominic continued, glaring at Luc’s back. “Remember who you are.”
Pascal shot me a look of apology as they filed out, stopping next to Luc to exchange a few words. And then it was just Luc and me, alone again, and the world had turned inside out.
A soft breeze blew through the room, carrying the scent of sweet olive.
“I couldn’t do it,” he said. “That’s why Dominic’s so angry. I couldn’t leave you there, no matter how much it cost.”
Despite the warm Louisiana night, I was cold to the marrow. “You were going to.”
“But I
didn’t
. Shows you just what happens when you try to cheat fate. Disaster. Turned my back on the prophecy, the way you’re always after me to, and now everything is falling to bits.”
“Would you do it again? Save me but ruin the magic?”’
“Don’t ask me that.” His eyes were wet. “I’m doing my level best to find a way through. You and I are bound, but we’re talkin’ about my whole world. How am I supposed to choose?”
“You can’t,” I said, feeling my heart fall into jagged pieces at my feet. That was when I knew that something between us was broken, irrevocably. I straightened. “Take me home.”