Page 90 of The Dagger and the Flame
His voice just echoed back at him. His mind must be more addled than he thought, the guilt of what he was doing weighing heavy on him. By coming here, he wasn’t just helping Seraphine. He was betraying Dufort, stealing from the Daggers who had taken him in.
But he thought then of the monsters and the screams that filled Fantome night after night, and pushed on. Not just for Seraphine, but for the city. For his home.
He stepped inside the crypt. The darkness was cold and grasping. He lit the closest oil lamp, relieved as it sparked to life. The shadows fell away as the door closed behind him. The room was small and musty, hewn with exquisite stonework and hung with tapestries of a faraway mountain village.
In the middle of the crypt sat a small stone coffin with a golden plaque fixed to the lid.
HERE LIES LUCILLE VERSINI,
BELOVED SISTER AND CHERISHED DAUGHTER,
SAINT AND SCHOLAR
Ransom trailed his hand along the coffin, raising a spiral of dust.
Someone sneezed.
Ransom spun around, sparking another oil lamp to life. The darkness rippled and he lunged, catching the end of a cloak before it disappeared. He yanked and it fluttered to the ground, revealing the horrified figure of Seraphine Marchant.
Ransom closed the foot of space between them, and she flattened herself against the wall. Fear sparked in her blue eyes, making that bronze fleck shine.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he hissed through his teeth.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. He could feel her leg trembling between his, her chest fluttering as she searched for her voice. ‘Helping you?’ she managed.
His face tightened. ‘Are you trying to get us both killed?’
She shook her head. ‘I was… I just… I was… curious.’
‘You and your damn death wish.’ He pushed off the wall, needing to put some space between them before his anger warped into lust. He folded his arms, still glaring at her. ‘A Cloak has never set foot inside these catacombs.’
‘That you know of,’ she said, with an awkward chuckle. Slowly, she peeled herself off the wall. ‘But now that we’re bothhere, we might as well work together. That lid looks heavy as hell.’
Ransom banked his anger, if only to keep himself from throttling her. The sooner it was done, the better. ‘Fine. Let’s just get this over with.’
She rounded the coffin, working her fingers under the lid. ‘You pull, I’ll push.’
As he worked to dislodge the ancient grave of Lucille Versini in order to commit a grievous robbery against his own Order, with the mark he was supposed to have murdered several weeks ago, Ransom dimly realized that he had completely lost his mind. The coffin lid was made of granite, and so heavy it was like moving the earth itself. Eventually, the lid yielded, but no more than six inches. A cloud of dust shot out, and Seraphine sneezed again.
‘Shh!’ he snapped, eyes darting around.
She pinched her nose, eyes streaming. ‘Sorry. I’ve never been in a crypt before!’
‘And you think I have?’
‘You practically live in one,’ she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. ‘Don’t think I didn’t notice all those freaky skulls on the way down here.’
‘I suggest you keep your mouth shut if you don’t want to become one of them.’
‘Next time I have to sneeze, I’ll just implode instead, shall I?’
‘I wish you would.’
‘No. You don’t.’
And that was the problem.
They glared at each other over the length of the coffin.
