Page 56 of As Many Souls as Stars
Esther pulled the shadows around herself and began to run.
15
The night had brought stars with it, clear and indifferent. They watched Esther’s flight as she weaved through London’s streets; the cobblestones made hazy mirrors with the afternoon’s rain. Moving through shadows was different than moving when tangible—faster, lighter, more difficult to control—and Esther made her journey without a destination in mind, thinking onlyGet away, away,awayfrom there. She could feel the phantom pressure of Thomas’s grip on her arm, still, see the white flash of his teeth in the darkness as he smiled. Part of her felt as if she was still in poor Lily’s bedroom, staring at the coffin on the bed as Thomas explained—pleaded—demanded… And part of her, even now, thought that perhaps she should turn around and return to the townhouse, return to his offer of redemption.Your sacrifice. Your absolution.
Esther was still running when she reached the riverbank, the grimoire gripped in both hands. But she remained half a shadow, mostly immaterial, and she failed to judge her momentum; unable to stop moving, she tumbled over the edge of the quay and floated toward the water like a falling feather.
The Thames itself was still and silent, reflecting Richmond Bridge in a haze of grey brick and purple sky. Esther’s impact made no splash, not even a ripple—she didn’t break the surface of the water. Instead, she landed on two feet, the river lapping gently at the soles of her shoes. She was so surprised by this that she laughed, despite the horror of the evening so far.
Esther fed another mote of her soul to the shadows, to ensure their compliance. Then she tucked the grimoire beneath one arm and pushed herself forward, as a skater would on ice. She turned a wide loop, feeling the gentle hand of a breeze.
Where would she go now?
What would she do?
Isaac would soon return to the townhouse.Thomaswas still at the townhouse. The curse remained, her guilt remained, and all she was doing to deal with these things was spinning around on the river. Esther wanted to slap herself. She wanted to release the shadows and fall into the water, sink like a stone until she drowned.
She paused. In the distance, a figure was approaching. It was Miriam, walking across the water with messianic confidence, arms linked behind her back.
‘What are you doing here?’ Esther demanded, as she came nearer. ‘Did you follow me?’
Miriam’s lips quirked. ‘Would you believe me if I said no?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then why ask the question in the first place?’
Esther kicked at the water, frustrated when her shadow-leg failed to create a splash. ‘I am not in the mood for your games, Richter.’
‘After all this, you still won’t call me Miriam?’
‘Miriam,’ Esther snarled. ‘I hope you are pleased to know that you were correct. My cousin is a madman. He wishes me to swap my soul with his wife’s.’
‘I thought his wife was dead?’
‘She is. He’s kept her soul inside the house with salt.’
Miriam snorted. ‘Poor fool. Hope springs eternal, after all.’
‘So it isn’t possible, then?’
‘To swap souls? I presume it must be, although it would take an exceptional amount of power. But salt does not contain souls. Your cousin’s wife is long gone.’
‘Well, then. That’s that, I suppose.’ Esther gave a small, bitter laugh, and turned another circle on the water.
Miriam watched her with an arched brow. ‘You’ve been practising.’
‘Yes.’
‘You should be careful. If your concentration breaks, and you release the darkness from your service, you’ll sink.’
‘Hm.’ Esther bit her lip, regarding Miriam cautiously. She felt the same, instinctive hostility towards her she had since they’d met—and the same attraction, too—but she couldn’t help but feel a little grateful, also; Miriam’s warnings had been correct, after all. She reallyhadbeen trying to save her.
Miriam saw the book beneath her arm. ‘You have the grimoire.’
‘This is what you’ve been looking for, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
