Page 108 of The Dagger and the Flame
‘Come out,’ she whispered into the night.
Another gust cast her hood back, as lightning forked downinto the sea. Her hair tangled across her face, momentarily blinding her. She heard the water surge. It churned and thrashed as the deep answered her plea. Hands broke through the surface, followed by hunched shoulders, twisted arms and hulking bodies. The long dock creaked as it took the weight.
Her cloak flared as the monsters emerged, one after another after another. Each one was impossibly horrifying and utterly unique, a cursed creature mangled by poison and Shade. Mangled by Mama. They were groaning, hungry…suffering. As Sera stood among them, she felt their anguish sweeping over her like a scream.
Her stomach turned as they crawled towards her. She pressed her palm against her pocket, feeling the ridge of the pearls inside. Her switchblade wouldn’t buy her much time against a monster, but if her cloak failed, the pearls might end up being the difference between life and death. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. The monsters crushed and fought each other in their thirst for magic, snapping jaws of needle teeth. She pulled her cloak tighter, fighting the urge to turn and flee.
‘Stop!’ she called out.
The monsters froze. Some dangled from the pier, mid-climb. Others halted less than ten feet from her, their silver eyes wide and unblinking. Just like that monster in Saint Celiana’s fountain, they were waiting, all of them, for her command.
Power swelled inside Sera, fast and warm and dizzying. As her cloak shone out across the docks, she scanned the pier. There were forty or so monsters down here, and more skulking under the water. There would be others stalking the streets of Fantome, floating in the river, hiding in the sewers.
‘Heel!’ she cried.
The pier creaked as the monsters bowed, pressing their misshapen skulls to the wooden slats. Her jaw tightened as she stood before them, glowing like a saint. Seraphine Marchant, Saint of Monsters. She could almost hear Mama’s laughter on the wind. Sera was so giddy she almost laughed too. Her cloak tingled along her skin, sharing in the unexpected trill of amusement.
It was so different to being cloaked in Shade – that strange heaviness that laced her bones and the headache that always lingered after she removed it. The cloak of Lightfire warmed her. Its magic nestled in her blood, sharing the swell of her emotions as though this strange, ancient power belonged inside her just as surely as her bones did. It stoked her confidence, telling her she could easily command this sea of monsters. That it was as simple as breathing.
‘Come with me!’ she called out, adrenaline making her bounce on the balls of her feet. The thud of lumbering footsteps followed her back across the pier. Two feet, then four, then so many it sounded like a fleet of wagons were trundling up the dock behind her. Sera sneaked a glance over her shoulder and saw bloated silver eyes flickering in the night.
Her lips spread into a slow smile.
The plan was working. The monsters were following her.
She looked north, to where the Aurore pierced the belly of a low-hanging storm cloud. The others would be there soon, but first, Seraphine and her monsters had a date with the devil of Fantome.
She walked on and the monsters followed, away from thesea and into the heart of the city. As she went, more emerged from the lost alleys of Fantome, crawled up through sewers and dropped from the rooftops, falling into line behind her.
Soon, there were over a hundred creatures at her back, and their numbers kept growing.
She crossed the Verne and broke into a run, eager to be on the other side of this night, but when she neared Old Haven, her feet got heavier, slower. As she steeled herself for her final showdown with Gaspard Dufort, an old, festering fear emerged. It sat like a thorn in her chest, pricking at the thrall of her magic. Her cloak dimmed, responding to her dread.
She pushed on, refusing to be afraid. She was no longer a little girl cowering under the kitchen table while her parents screamed at each other, flinching as her father flung everything he could at the wall. She was a woman now, a living flame of power and vengeance, and she was done hiding.
Soon, only a handful of cobbled streets separated Sera from the entrance to Hugo’s Passage. Dufort would be waiting there, led up the steps like a lamb to slaughter. In a matter of minutes, it would all be over, her father sacrificed to her mother’s swarm of monsters, and his reign of terror at an end. Freedom waited just up ahead. Freedom at last…
Then the wind changed.
The air rippled as a shadow dropped from a nearby rooftop, and suddenly Ransom was before her. He landed in the middle of the narrow street, rising from a crouch with predatory grace. Dressed all in black and with those glittering silver eyes, he looked like a demon that had crawled straight out of hell.
Sera skidded to a stop. Twenty feet behind her, the monstersreared up at the sight of new prey. Her hand shot up. ‘Fall back!’
The monsters froze mid-lurch. For a moment, it seemed like the entire city had fallen under a spell, but Ransom was still moving, closing the space between them in six strides.
Unease coiled in her gut. ‘Where’s Dufort?’ she said, her eyes darting around.
‘We have to wait, Seraphine.’ His own eyes moved from her flaming cloak to the swarm of monsters at her back. A muscle ticced in his jaw but if he was afraid, it didn’t show. ‘Things have changed. I’m sorry. I need another week. Two, at the most.’
She blinked at him. ‘Have you lost your mind? I’ve just dragged an army of monsters into Old Haven! It’s too late, Ransom.’
He held his ground, his feet planted. ‘I can’t bring him to you,’ he said, voice strained. ‘Not yet.’
Sera flinched at the sting of his betrayal, but she was angrier at herself. It was her own fault for trusting a Dagger in the first place. For pouring her heart out to him and expecting him to care, for tricking herself into believing there was something real between them.
‘Then get out of my way,’ she said, hardening her voice. ‘I’ll go get him myself.’
Ransom didn’t move. She tried to arc around him, but he slid in front of her. His hands curled into fists, and she wondered if he was thinking about throttling her, weighing his odds against her cloak of Lightfire and the army of monsters halfway down the street.
