Page 17 of House of Dusk
A movement stuttered in the shadows to her right. The stench hit her a heartbeat later, curdling her stomach, making her gag.
Two gleams of light winked in the darkness. Eyes that were dark as a bruise, yet somehow luminous, burning between the ragged strips of a tattered linen shroud. The same shroud she had seen hours earlier.
But this wasn’t Iola. Not anymore.
CHAPTER 6
SEPHRE
The corpse stood lithe and sinuous, almost graceful. The shroud hung in ragged tatters, no longer concealing the dead flesh. Its bloated, purplish-gray feet were clotted with earth. The arms had an oily sheen, the fingers tipped with nails that were longer and sharper than they had been in the crypt. The little beaded bracelet was gone. At least she could not see the girl’s face. Only those horrible, dark-gleaming eyes.
Eyes that watched her now, filled with a terrible hunger.
Skotos. She knew the word from stories, from her training, from her vows. But she had never thought to truly face one. For a heartbeat, she froze, panic stitching her tight, promising that if only she stayed still and silent, she would be safe.
Then something slid into place within her mind, a key unlocking a door long sealed. It swung open easily, and everything was right there, waiting. She unclenched her fists, brandishing the sparks of yellow flame. Too late to try to sneak up on the thing. Just as well. Sephre had always preferred a straight-on fight.
The skotos gave a low, mocking hiss. It turned toward the workshop. Toward Timeus, still sleeping, innocent and powerless, with no flame to guard him.
“You’re not touching one hair on that boy’s head.” She moved to block its path, ignoring the snap and crunch of root and frond underfoot. She could plant more later. What mattered now was keeping this unholy thing away from her apprentice. Gold fire crackled in her hands. Cold fury burned in her heart. “You’ll have to get past me first.”
“Yesss. . .you. . .the one...we seek.”
The whispery words froze her. “Me?” she asked, stupidly, uselessly.
The skotos wove from side to side, like a snake preparing to strike. Linen still covered its mouth, but she saw the jaw working beneath. “To stop...return.”
“The return of what?” Not the Serpent. That would make no sense. Surely the skotos wouldn’t wish to prevent that. Maybe it was afraid that she would stop it? Because she was an ashdancer?
One arm lifted, rippling with a boneless grace that made her stomach clench. A taloned finger jabbed at her. “Destroy.”
“Right, thanks for clearing that up.” Enough. She wasn’t going to get answers from this thing. “Time to burn you back to whatever pit you crawled out of.”
The demon gave no sign of alarm. Only gave a low, slithering snicker. Its bruised eyes held her.“You...also . . . burn...baleful one.”
Sephre lunged, arms spread wide, flames licking from her palms. Bright gold, so pure it made her heart sing. She slammed into the skotos, grappling dead flesh and shadow. Cold tendrils slithered under her fingers, slick as oil. She gritted her teeth, willing herself not to let go.
Brightness spilled through her, no longer a gentle warmth to drive back the shadows. It raged, hungry and relentless, consuming all.A silent street. A cut-off wail. Blue eyes, transfixing her with their desperate plea.Yes. Burn it all away. For an endless moment she danced on the edge of the inferno, welcoming the coming immolation.
Timeus!Gasping, Sephre tore herself back from the brink. Not yet. Not until Timeus was safe. Not until the skotos was dust. She coiled the flames about her hands, then shoved outward, at the demon.
Engulfed in yellow fire, the corpse writhed. Its agonized shriek tore Sephre’s soul. Monstrous, but with an echo of humanity. A girl pleading desperately to be saved, even as she fell apart.
A gasp. Then sudden darkness, and only a shadow of ash sifting to the earth. It was gone.
Just as Sephre allowed herself to sag in relief, she heard a grunt from the direction of the workshop, followed by a sharp gasp and a crash of shattering glass. Summoning another handful of golden fire, she charged across the garden. “Timeus?”
“Oh no no no no,” he was saying, miserably, standing amid the ruin of a dozen cracked and shattered jars, and a spreading pool of dark, sweet-smelling tincture. “I’m sorry, sister! I was waiting for you, but I must have fallen asleep. I didn’t mean to knock them over. I was having a dream...” His lips twisted, brow furrowing. “A nightmare. But that’s no excuse,” he finished, dipping his head wretchedly. “I’ll get the broom.”
“No,” Sephre said, forcing calm into her voice. No need to panic the boy. “I’ve kept you up too late, brother. Go back to the dormitory. You need to sleep. And don’t worry about the jars. I startled you awake. It was...my fault.”
Thankfully, the boy still seemed to be half asleep. She held her tongue, held her swirling thoughts tight as she shepherded him out of the garden, through the halls, and safe inside the novices’ dortoir.
Safe. Was he? Were any of them? Sephre swallowed. She was shivering now, her body reacting belatedly to the rush of battle, grappling with the fear she’d blocked away in order to fight the demon. She wanted to flee back to the herbarium, to sweep away the broken glass and set it to rights and pretend none of this had happened.
But it had. And she could not run from it.
She gave herself five long breaths to steady the trembling of her limbs. Then she turned toward the stairs that would take her to the agia’s rooms.
