Page 70 of As Many Souls as Stars
Miriam found her, finally, on a terrace on the second floor.
Thomas’s corpse lay half propped against the railing, wreathed in fire that seemed to give off no heat, merely an unearthly, golden light. Esther stood between him and Miriam. She was radiant, the shadows lifting her an inch above the ground, blood coating her fingers.
‘You know,’ Miriam said.
Esther grinned, baring her teeth, more in fury than amusement. Blood splattered the front of her white dress like a scattering of rose petals, and the oyster knife—still smiling in its grim curve—was dripping gore onto the pastel-toned tiles of the veranda.
‘I know,’ she said.
‘Cybil—’
‘Esther. I am Esther now, remember? You just couldn’t leave me alone, even after all this time. And now—this is all your fault.’
‘My fault?’
‘Yes.’
‘I only wanted the best for you, my love, all this time.’ Miriam took a step closer. As she spoke, she lowered her voice, made it the same lull she had used when they were in bed together, when it seemed that Esther was nearing sleep. ‘Once there was a girl, brave and terrified, with fire in her veins and fury in her heart; and no one loved her, because she was too strange to love; no one wanted her, because she took all the wanting in the world for herself; but still, I wanted her, and still, I loved her, and I gave her another lifetime rather than lose her to the darkness.’
Esther shook her head. ‘No.’
‘No?’
‘You can’t lie to me anymore. You didn’t save me, Miriam. You brought me to ruin. I remember you. The clearing—the orchard—the deal we made—’
Miriam raised her hands placatingly. ‘Darling, listen to me—’
‘Youlied,’ Esther snarled, and her voice sounded like a thousand voices speaking in chorus; the air between them shimmered with heat. ‘You lied to me. You told me I would have a chance to break the curse.’
‘You never specified you wanted to keep your memories.’
‘Youlied!’ Esther cried. ‘I know that now, Miriam—I finally understand. It took Thomas’s ravings to make me realise. Because itisodd, isn’t it? You told me yourself, all those years ago: magic is an exchange, not a gamble. There are nocontingencies. I was dead; you held all the cards. Still, I asked you for a chance—I asked for an opportunity to break the curse—and you gave it to me. Why?’
‘I loved you,’ Miriam said.
‘No, you didn’t. You love menow, perhaps, in whatever twisted way you can—but not then. No—you agreed because of something else.’
Miriam cocked her head, playing dumb. ‘And what might that be?’
Esther laughed, a cruel laugh, jagged as broken glass. The shadows, seething around her like leeches, began to carve slits into her skin, golden soul-light leaking out; she didn’t seem to notice, even as they began to feed. ‘You knew I would never break the curse. Didn’t you?’
Miriam bared her teeth in both a grin and a snarl. ‘How would I know that?’
‘Because,’ Esther said, ‘thereisno curse. There never was.’
Miriam didn’t reply.
Esther bowed her head, light shimmering around her. ‘Magic is desire. You told me that, once. You want something, and you pay the darkness to give it to you. But these shadows aren’t simply servants. They areparasites.’ A tear trailed down her cheek. She wiped it away with a frustrated gesture, looking at Miriam with wet eyes. ‘I have been so alone,’ she said, broken. ‘For two lives now, I have believed Ihadto be, because the curse would hurt anyone who came near. And the shadows, those willing shadows—they made my belief reality. They saw my fear and they kept everyone away. A self-fulfilling prophecy.’
Miriam made a flippant gesture. ‘Many of the deaths you saw were simply accidents,’ she said. ‘Or caused by their own folly—yourmother, for example; or your nursemaid in this life who drowned. You saw the magic that followed you, you heard the fear of those around you, and you blamed them, blamed yourself. In your moments of anger, perhaps, the shadows tried to please you; but most darkness, darling, is nothing compared to that which lies in men’s hearts.’
Esther let out a sob, and she floated gently back to the ground.
‘You are not alone, Esther,’ Miriam murmured. ‘Many women with souls like yours have felt the same. Many have believed they were cursed, even when they were not. Hatred rots all it touches, victim and perpetrator alike.’
Esther took a ragged breath. ‘Even if it wasn’t all my fault—I am responsible for some. As Cybil, I killed the boy with the branch, even if I did not realise it. I burnt the Hall, and now I have murdered Thomas. I am amonster.’
‘And so?’ Miriam returned. ‘Why do you still aspire to humanity? What has it ever given you, apart from regret?’
