Page 79 of House of Dusk
It shifted, showing her the agia, caught under one bony arm, limp and thin and undefended. Halimede gave a faint groan. Fates, was she awake?
Sephre held her ground, groping for a plan. The thing was smart enough to speak. She could take advantage of that. Keep it talking until the other ashdancers found her. “Why do you need Halimede?”
The skotos cocked its head.Our master promised us a feast.
“She’s the agia of Stara Bron,” Sephre scoffed. “She’ll turn your stomach. If you have one.”
It snickered. That was a bad sign. Something was wrong.
Not the blue one, whispered the skotos.She dies, as he commands.She has served her purpose.
It happened in a blink. So fast Sephre stared, the image making no sense, a jumble of white robes and sharp black spines and crimson splatters. Then it resolved into Halimede, hanging loose as a bit of washing out to dry, the front of her pale robes dark with blood, and a strange sharp, black flower bursting from her belly.
The skotos hissed, retracting the sinuous arm that had sliced into Halimede, then cast the agia aside like a bundle of rags. Fury burst from Sephre, a wordless cry. She hurled herself at the skotos.
The air around her filled with slithering shadows. Too late, she realized that the demon had been playing the same game she had. Keeping her talking, as it wove its tendrils close enough to strike. Now they snatched out, one coiling around her midsection, another catching her arm. Then tightened, squeezing her breath away.
She scrabbled at the thing, calling the holy flame to her palms. But she felt only the faintest flutter of heat. It was hard to think. The skotos shook her, making her body snap. Pain exploded along her side, through her skull. It must have slammed her into the wall.
Stars spun, an entire constellation filling her vision.
So much pain. So much shame. Andthis. The shattered heart of a dead god. Do you even know that you carry it? And why?Perhaps we will tell you the truth, as we strip the flesh from your bones and flay every sorrow from your soul.Something cold wrapped around her arm. Prickles raced over her skin. Not pain, but a shifting, sand under her feet, melting away. She tried to scream. It was like being underwater. Bitterness filled her mouth, her throat. If she breathed, she would drown.
Then the world burst into crimson flames. A wrench, and she was free, falling, caught in warm arms. Human arms that lowered her to the stones gently. She blinked, and looked up into a pair of familiar brown eyes, in a familiar brown face framed by dark braids.
“Timeus!”
He smiled. It was brief, and sweet, and she could not bear it. “You shouldn’t be here,” she croaked. “You’re a novice.”
“No,” he said. “I’m a red brother now.”
Crimson flames sparked in his eyes. Sephre’s own flame blazed in answer, filling her with hot pride. Of course he was. Brave, wise boy.
“Come on,” he began, gripping her shoulder. “We need to—”
The words cut off as a thick, oily tendril of shadow lashed around Timeus, tearing him away. Sephre shoved herself upright, cursing.
Timeus dangled in the air just beyond her reach, coiled in the grip of the skotos. The demon gave a sharp shake, making the boy flop. Sephre bit down on a shriek of outrage. It was like watching a hound with a baby rabbit.
“Let him go!” Fire wreathed her hands, snapping to match her fury.
You only delay the inevitable, the skotos hissed. We willconsumeyou, baleful one. You will be nothing but dust and dying memories.
“If I’m the one you want, then fight me,” snarled Sephre. “Not that boy!”
The skotos only snickered.You care for this one? Good. Then come and claim him.
Damn right she would. She flung a handful of flame at the skotos, aiming low.
The bolt spattered against empty stones. The demon was retreating. Where? The only door was behind Sephre. Surely it couldn’t—
A frail gray light split the darkness, somewhere along the western wall. The Serpent’s wall. She blinked, vision foggy, barely making out the shape of an archway. And beyond, nothing but mist. Or was it a river? A lake? A darker smudge loomed over it. Walls. Endless maze-like walls. A place she had only ever seen in ancient carvings, in nightmares. The Labyrinth of the Dead.
The skotos plunged into the apparition, with Timeus still struggling in its grasp.
And then it was gone. Winked out of existence. Sephre was alone, with a handful of golden flames, a dead agia, and her apprentice stolen.
CHAPTER 22
