Page 124 of The House Saphir
“Julie was killed in the trophy hall. Gabrielle in the chapel. Lucienne in the tower and Béatrice in the conservatory. And… you. You were killed at the fountain. Funny, isn’t it? Five deaths. Five sacrifices. And if one were to draw them on a map, they would make almost a perfect pentagram. Which, if my spell holds, means that five spirits can never again leave this place. Including yours.”
She couldn’t help glancing at Triphine—alone not included in the spell, and yet, still captured by Bastien’s dark magic. Though she was hanging from the ceiling, Triphine’s eyes were open, watching her.
“Forgive me,” Mallory whispered.
Then she pulled her arm back and threw the knife, striking the priceless vase on the vestibule table. It wobbled and fell, shattering to pieces on the floor. Velvety black roses were flung across the marble tiles.
Bastien stared at them, and she was glad to see that she had, at least, surprised him. “Now you’re just trying to annoy me,” he muttered.
“No. I’m trying to distract you.”
Mallory grabbed the candle from the center of the circle and threw it onto the wine-soaked carpet. She held her breath and—
Nothing happened.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The flame extinguished.
Her jaw fell. No, no,no.
Bastien smirked. “I do enjoy a good monologue. Unfortunately, one needs actual magic to back up a speech like that.” His grin dissolved as he thundered down the stairs and grabbed the knife she had thrown. Then he was upon her, yanking her arm, hauling her body against his.
When he raised the knife, preparing to drag the blade across her throat, Mallory let her instincts take charge. She reached over her shoulder and took hold of his arm, before bucking her hips backward. It was a bit of déjà vu, tossing Bastien to the floor as she had once tossed Armand. He landed with a pained grunt.
Perhaps he couldn’t be killed, but if his breathless cough was any indication, he could certainly be hurt.
Mallory snatched the knife from him while he was still laid out on the floor and drove it into his heart.
He snarled at her, before his body dissolved into wisps of black smoke.
Having no idea how long she had before he returned, Mallory took the tiny salamander ornament from her pocket and threw it as hard as she could at the floor. It shattered, and like a lizard from an egg, a shiny, slimy salamander emerged from the wreckage. It flattened its sticky little toes onto the tile floor, momentarily transfixed as it took in its strange new surroundings.
Then it scuttled toward the fireplace.
“Hold it!” Mallory leaped forward, landing on her stomach with a grunt and a jolt of pain that vibrated up her spine. Her hands clasped around the salamander, trapping it. “I need you!”
Scooping the creature into her fists, she spun around, arms outstretched, and aimed the annoying little pest at the nearest patch of wine-soaked carpet.
When the salamander did not immediately comply, she growled and stuffed its sharp little face into one of the tumbled rosebuds.
The salamander stiffened. Pulled back. Squirmed.
Then it sneezed. A blast of orange fire burst from its mouth.The carpet ignited. Flames flared upward and billowed down the corridor, toward the kitchen and cellar.
Heat surged through the room. The salamander squealed. As soon as Mallory dropped the creature, it disappeared through the narrow crack beneath the entryway door. As the heat singed Mallory’s skin, she threw open the lock and yanked on the door handle.
The door did not open.
Vision going white with panic, she yanked harder, rattling the door in its frame.
It refused to budge.
She ran toward the door to the parlor.
It slammed in her face.
She approached the doorway to the drawing room. A chandelier dropped from the ceiling, directly into her path.
She spun around.
