Page 125 of At the Mercy of Midnight
“Are you alright?” he asked at once. “You seemed to be sleeping peacefully.”
Amelia sat up in the chair and glanced out the window. The sun was still up, but casting an orange glow, Brinkley’s common room lit like it was on fire.
“I was with Lyana again,” she said, finding Silas’ eyes. “She told me where to find Bane’s journal, the one with the ritual inside.” She paused, peering down at her fingers before looking back up. “Do you think…if we find the ritual, we might be able to adapt the words, to perhaps avoid…”
Silas’ face was absent of emotion. “What? Avoid the sacrifice?” He sighed as he shut the book. “Winslow, that’s a fool’s hope, and all it will do is get us both sent to the Midnight Realm and let the chaos continue. We can’t risk that.”
Emotion flooded her. “Finley…”
He just looked at her, serious as she had ever seen him. “Winslow.”
She swallowed, glancing away, unable to keep eye contact with his startling blue eyes.
Silas cleared his throat. “So where is it then?” A few minutes later, Amelia had explained, and he had stood. He paced across the carpeted floor like he wanted to tear holes through it by the pace of his feet alone. “Absolutely not.”
“I know, it’s awful,” Amelia said slowly, pain sitting heavily on her chest, “but we have no choice. They’re the only ones I know who have access.”
He stopped pacing and cut her a look, teeth clenched. “No. What about Halpert?”
Amelia shook her head. “I told you before…he’s high up, but he’s not that high up.”
Silas put his fisted hands to his hips and glared off into the corner. The sun had almost set now, darkness creeping into the cottage, a chill entering with it. He let out a heavy sigh through his nose, before looking back to Amelia.
“We find someone else, then.” He began to walk away, towards the small library that Brinkley had. “There will be records, someone we can approach…or steal from.” He stalked away, disappearing into the library as he muttered, “anyone else but them.”
Amelia stayed seated in the armchair, watching the space he disappeared from. She was not surprised by his reaction, yet time was not on their side. The choice, as she saw it, was made for them. For her.
She stood and walked up the opposite hallway to the guest bedroom. She pulled on the new cloak she’d had to buy since losing hers to the Sanctum, and packed several items she thought she may need into a satchel. The last item, she hesitated before reaching for it.
The pendant. The artificial siphon.
It had sat on the dresser in the corner since they had returned, steadfastly ignored. Silas had barely been able to look at it.
It pulsed with something that called her, like to like. She hated the feeling, didn’t want to touch it now, but knew it was a necessary evil.
Amelia picked it up and placed it around her neck. It sat like a heavy weight against her chest, unpleasant and unwelcome. It did not siphon her magic in the way it had to Silas, no…it strengthened her, made the magic in her blood stir awake, shake its head, and demand her attention.
She breathed out slowly through her nose, gathering herself, before walking back out into the sitting room. Brinkley was nowhere to be seen. He had left in the early afternoon and hadn’t returned yet. Silas was still inside the library. She could hear him muttering to himself and pulling books from shelves.
Amelia looked longingly towards where he was hidden, knowing he would only try to stop her.
She left, quiet as a whisper.
Outside, dusk and chill nipped at her skin. She pulled her clock tighter around her body and reached for the Waystone chip.
She swallowed once, allowing the smallest hint of indecision to root her feet to the spot for just a moment, before gritting her teeth with determination and pressing the chip with her thumb.
Magic whisked her away, leaving behind nothing but cold, damp air.
The large home of her childhood loomed ahead, its pristine facade stark against the ever-darkening sky. Each step on the gravel path felt heavier, memories of manipulation and betrayal pressing down on her.
I swore I'd never return here.
The pendant around her neck pulsed gently, dampening her bond with Silas, allowing her to be so far apart from him. The undercurrent of him remained, like a feeble, flickering heartbeat.
She hesitated near the picket fencing, glancing over at the hedging, trimmed to perfection as was expected of the homeowners. They sought nothing but excellence in everything around them. Even those they should love unconditionally.
Amelia took in an unsteady breath, eyes on the front door, forcing her feet forwards until she stood before it.
