Page 57 of As Many Souls as Stars
She looked so hungry, staring at Esther in that moment; it made Esther’s blood run hot, her cheeks flush. She wanted Miriam to look at her like that for longer. She wanted to forget Thomas and the curse and the coffin, just for a moment, and lose herself in the darkness of those eyes.
‘Come and get it, then,’ Esther said—and she turned and skated further into the river.
When she glanced back over her shoulder, Miriam was giving chase, grinning savagely.
Esther gained momentum, pressed by some joyous and fearful instinct, as they skated past the weeping willows at the bank, toward the towering arches of the bridge. They picked up speed until London was a blur around them, until Esther could hear nothing but the sound of her breathing, the roaring of the air. When they reached the bridge, however, Esther failed to move in time, and she gasped as her body connected with one of the columns that pierced the water—but she was shadow still, and she simply travelled through it, emerging on the other side.
To her right, Miriam was avoiding the columns easily, winding past them on a single foot.Show-off, Esther thought, with a begrudging admiration. Miriam moved through darkness as if she were made of it.
Ahead, light and music spilled across the Thames. It was a pleasure barge making its way west. Esther could have simply passed through it again, as she had done the bridge, but her instinct to move away was too strong. She dove for the riverbank to avoid it, and in so doinglost her balance—and her concentration on the shadows. She flickered, then gained substance again, plunging into the water.
It was cold, so cold. The river was murky and dark, duckweed and algae creating a thick slurry that clung to her face and eyes. As the barge passed above them, an uncaring behemoth, water entered Esther’s nose, her throat, her lungs. She should have been panicking, but instead she felt a curious sort of peace. Perhaps this was meant to happen. Perhaps she was supposed to die here, in the Thames with the grimoire in her hands. Who knew how many other First Daughters had died the same way, thrown as babies into the river?
A hand clamped around her wrist and pulled. Esther was dragged through weeds and water, passing through the detritus dumped near the bank: pewter pilgrim-badges, broken stopwatches, disintegrated newspapers, sodden clothes. And then there was air in her lungs and mud beneath her. She stooped over, coughing up river water, scrubbing silt from her arms.
When she opened her eyes, Miriam was across from her, also wet—and her expression was furious.
‘You cannotswim?’ she demanded.
‘Of course I cannot swim. Who would teach a lady to swim?’
Miriam swore again, and tugged fretfully at her hair. ‘Are you suicidal?’
‘I do not know,’ Esther admitted. ‘I told you already, I don’t want to die. I just… Sometimes, I have a curious sense I already have.’
Miriam lunged forward and gathered Esther into her arms, pressing her face into the crook of her neck. Esther was so shocked, she went limp. ‘Don’t,’ Esther said. ‘I’m filthy, I—’
Miriam bit her neck, hard enough to bruise. Esther gave a startled sort of moan and slapped ineffectually at Miriam’s shoulder. Miriam’s tongue soothed the bite. Esther whimpered.
Miriam pulled back to look at her, winding a hand into Esther’s sodden hair. She tugged, with enough force it felt like punishment. ‘When you die in my arms, darling, it will be onmyterms, not yours.’
Esther should have found that terrifying. She didn’t. She was so shamefully aroused, she might have done anything Miriam asked of her, if she’d asked it in that moment—but Miriam didn’t ask heranything at all. Instead, she released her, and turned partially away, as if to compose herself.
Esther shuddered with the cold. ‘I need to go back and bathe. I…’
‘Back? To that house? Tohim?’
‘My brother is there. All my possessions.’
‘Thomas hurt you!’
Esther stood, legs trembling. ‘I am a witch. He is only a man.’
‘You must sleep eventually. All he needs is one moment, to catch you off guard.’
‘I won’t hurt him, Miss Richter,’ Esther said sharply. ‘Enough.’
Miriam folded her arms. For a moment, the darkness in her eyes seemed to swallow them entirely—pupil and sclera—and Esther shuddered.
‘If you will not take action,’ Miriam said, ‘then, at least, you must do me a favour—in payment for the warnings I gave you, the lessons I have taught.’
‘What favour?’
‘Remove the salt from your windowsill tonight.’
‘Why?’
‘So you can tell Thomas you have done so. If he believes his wife’s soul is gone, he will be unable to proceed with his plan.’
