Page 64 of The Dagger and the Flame
Cabbage-head was standing in the shed doorway, a hand braced on either side to block him in. Ransom remained wholly unthreatened. Even without Shade, he could knock this farmboy out in seconds.
He decided to greet him. ‘I’m Ransom,’ he said, flashing his teeth.
‘Is that supposed to mean something to me?’
Ransom shrugged. ‘I don’t really care what it means to you.’
‘What are you doing in Seraphine’s shed?’
‘I was just about to ask you the same thing.’ Ransom held up the jar of heartsbane. ‘Does this belong to you?’
‘Who’s asking?’
‘I am,’ said Ransom, waiting a beat. ‘Or Gaspard Dufort, if you like.’
Lorenzo’s throat bobbed.
Ransom offered him a bland smile. ‘Shall I ask again?’
‘The berries belonged to Sylvie.’ He stepped back from the door, as though the sunlight might save him. Ransom remained where he was, allowing him the illusion of safety. ‘The Shade, the poison. She sourced it all. The wine was the last ingredient, but the plan was Sylvie’s. All of it was her idea…’
Ransom let the silence linger.
Lorenzo filled it with his own panic. ‘She mixed the poison with the Shade to see what it could do.’ It occurred to Ransom that this dithering farmboy thought he was here to kill him, and that talking might save his life. They always thought that. It had only ever worked for Seraphine. ‘She had her sights on Dufort. Always did, as long as I knew her. She was obsessed with him, obsessed with making those monsters. She finally pulled it off.’ His gaze flicked from the shed to the shell of the house, as if he was afraid Dufort would come stomping through it. ‘She picked a fight with a dragon. I guess the dragon was smarter than she thought.’
Ransom raised his eyebrows. Was this why Dufort had killed Sylvie? Because in a fit of boredom out here in the plains, she had decided to fuck with the world order and make monsters more vicious than the Daggers of Fantome?
But— No. Dufort had been just as surprised by the monsters as anyone else. He was the last one to believe they even existed. Whatever she had died for, it was not this.And yet, there was no denying that Lorenzo had handed over a huge piece of this strange puzzle. ‘What about the girl?’
Lorenzo stiffened, finally showing a hint of courage. ‘Seraphine had no idea about any of it. Not until today.’
‘Nice of you to trample her mother’s memory.’
‘She deserves to hear the truth.’
‘Well, that explains the lovers’ quarrel.’
Lorenzo frowned. ‘She’s innocent. Leave her alone.’
‘An admirable suggestion,’ said Ransom drolly. ‘I’ll take it under advisement.’
Lorenzo was starting to sweat. He shifted from one leg to another, as if he was trying not to piss himself. Lately, Ransom had received so much smart-mouthed insolence from Seraphine Marchant, he had almost forgotten the effect he had on common folk. How terrifying he truly was.
‘Are you going to kill me now?’ said Lorenzo meekly.
‘I’m thinking about it,’ lied Ransom.
‘Please. I have a life here. A family. A farm. A—’ He stopped short.
‘Vineyard?’ prompted Ransom.
Lorenzo quailed. ‘The b-b-batch is g-g-gone.’
Ransom almost laughed, but he didn’t want to ruin the suspense. He was quite enjoying this feeling of being feared. Respected. It had been a while since he had experienced it. ‘Why don’t I count to ten, Lorenzo?’ he said, indulgently. ‘And if you’ve made it past that fig tree by the time I turn around, I’ll let you live.’
Lorenzo was already running. He bolted across the garden,making it to the fig tree in seven seconds. Ransom leaned against the doorframe, chuckling as he watched him flee, his plaid shirt billowing and long arms flailing, like a scarecrow cursed to life.
Chapter 23Seraphine
