Page 76 of The Dagger and the Flame
Part III
‘Content are the souls who submit to the winding strands of fate.
Blessed are those who dare to spin their own.’
Oriel Beauregard,
SAINT OF DESTINY
Chapter 28Ransom
With the body from the fountain in his arms, Ransom trudged back to the catacombs, damp and exhausted and full of thoughts of her. He couldn’t stop replaying those final aching moments… The gentle caress of her hand against his cheek, how her trembling breath had feathered his skin, her mouth so close he could almost taste her. He would not sleep easy tonight. Or perhaps ever again.
His legs were leaden as he walked, his shirt so torn that one of the sleeves had fallen off. It was the least of his concerns. He reached the catacombs and took the steps two at a time, passing under the blank-eyed stares of a hundred skulls and bumping right into Lark, who was on his way out for the night.
Lark stumbled backwards, nearly dropping the vial of Shadein his hand. His gaze swept over the body in Ransom’s arms, which was really more of a damp sack of skin and bones. ‘What… is that?’
‘It’s Kipp,’ said Ransom, working to keep his voice even. Trying to pretend like he hadn’t retched when he saw Kipp’s hollow eyes staring up at him as he lifted him from the fountain. ‘He’s dead.’
‘No shit,’ said Lark.
They were interrupted by approaching footsteps. Nadia’s voice floated down the tunnel. ‘What are you two whispering about?’ She stopped short, her brown eyes widening. ‘Is that your mark?’ She jostled Lark aside. ‘The farmgirl?’
Ransom stiffened before he could help it. The thought of Seraphine Marchant dead in his arms was a whole new level of horror he couldn’t afford to imagine. Not after tonight. Not after the fountain and what had come after.
Lark moved his hand to the small of Nadia’s back. ‘Take a closer look.’
‘Oh, Kipp.’ She clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘He looks like hell.’
‘Well, he is dead,’ said Lark, unnecessarily.
‘He looks more than dead,’ she said, recoiling from the body. ‘He lookswrong.Like someone plunged their hand down his throat and yanked out his soul.’
Ransom’s Shade was wearing off. His head was beginning to pound, the body growing heavy in his arms. ‘Is Dufort here?’
‘He’s drunk in the Cavern,’ said Nadia. ‘Piss-poor mood. As usual.’
‘I bet this will cheer him up,’ said Lark dryly. He pocketedhis vial of Shade and followed Ransom down the north passage.
‘I thought Kipp was a monster,’ said Nadia, hurrying after them.
‘He was,’ said Ransom, flatly. ‘He changed back.’
‘How?’ the other two chorused.
Ransom shrugged, trying to shake off the memory of Seraphine standing in that fountain, glowing like a human flame.
‘Ransom.’ Lark came to his side. ‘How?’
‘I don’t know, Lark.’
‘Why do you sound so angry?’ said Nadia, coming to his other side.
‘Maybe because I’ve been carrying the dead body of our friend around for the last hour,’ said Ransom, all but spitting the words. His friends exchanged a loaded glance, and he fell silent, prickling with guilt.
A hush fell over the Cavern when he staggered in. Daggers stopped their conversations and set down their drinks, straining to see the dead body in his arms. He paid them no mind, striding straight to the back of the room, where Dufort was necking whiskey by the roaring fireplace, with a handful of older Daggers.
Lisette was perched on the arm of his chair, wearing a midnight-blue dress with a low neckline and a thigh-high slit. Her blonde hair was scraped into a tight bun and her eyes were bright silver. When she spotted Ransom, she rose from her seat. ‘Are you drunk?’ she hissed, through coral-stained lips. ‘You know better than to bring a mark down here.’
