The admission clanged through me. The question I had had for so long. It had haunted me every day since then. Chased me from sleep far too often. I had been so wrong to blame Ciaran. So, so, so wrong. And he would never know. The last thing I said to him was that I never wanted to see him again. He would never know the regret I felt, deep in my bones—like a knife was twisting in my ribcage.
Strega Maria had said the power came from me. She had been right. I was such a fool. And as I had finally gotten the answers I so desperately searched for these past months, I would surely not live to see myself vindicated.
I stopped struggling, slumping against the wall. There was no use fighting now. It was over. The viscount had used me to end those people—my power had done it. In a sense I was responsible for their deaths. I deserved everything that was coming to me.
“But you managed to weasel your way out. I will admit that was a fly in the ointment of my plans. I still don’t know how you escaped. Though after your attempt at infiltrating the masquerade, I assume Ciaran Fahy was the one who helped you.”
Well, he was wrong on that one. Maren had saved me after the chandelier. I’d never tell him, though. And I would never lead him to Ciaran. To the innocent people beneath the city.
“But I believe that this was part of the divine plan as well. Our Lord knows more than we do, after all. And this will be evenbetter than taking down just you—one relatively weak magic wielder.”
It hit me, then. What he was doing with me. Why he was keeping me here, going on and on and on about his stupid backstory, instead of just throwing me on a pyre to burn.
“You see, Seraphina. You’re going to take me to them now. I know there is a secret community of magic wielders here somewhere. We’ve never been able to find them. I believe you must be with someone who already knows the location to get in. And now, I have you, under my control completely. And you’re going to take me to them and there’s nothing you can do about it.
“My most trusted gendarmes are coming for backup, and we’re going to purify this city at last. We will purge Lutesse of every man, woman and child who can wield magic. It will be my crowning achievement.” The viscount beamed with pride as he explained his genocidal plan. And my ears rang, as the enormity of all my mistakes washed over me. Because my pride, my volatility and my impulsiveness were going to lead everyone I cared about to their doom.
DOWN ONCE MORE
Icould do nothing as the viscount let the ropes that bound my ankles fall away. I felt his compulsion take hold within me once more—I could not move my legs on my own if I tried. My will was his. I was under his thrall so completely, I would have thrown myself off a cliff if he had told me to jump. His magic felt like an oily tendril grasping onto my mind, encircling my will with his own. It was an intrusion, and I could do nothing to stop it. Perhaps, with more training, I could have fought him off. I cursed myself for not working harder. For allowing myself to be this helpless. If I had only tried harder… if I had only heard Ciaran out and never come up here…
“Show me where you’ve been hiding these months, Seraphina. Take me to Ciaran Fahy and the magic wielders.”
I shuddered, but I could do nothing. My feet were moving. I couldn’t even scream. He’d rendered me silent. I pounded on the solid wall that had formed within my mind—blocking me from moving, from speaking, from even blinking without his say-so. I tried to move through his grip on me; I was in a waking nightmare, trying to run but never getting anywhere.A nightmare made real.
The viscount unbound my hands and let the gag fall away, now that he had taken complete control of my body and my speech. I wanted to gasp. To spit out the blood that had pooled. But I couldn’t. I walked out of the mausoleum and through the graveyard. Seff still lay in a crumpled heap on the ground. The viscount gestured toward his son. “He’ll come to in an hour. He won’t know anything that has happened here tonight. I can’t very well have my son knowing my secret, can I?” He tut-tutted, as if it were so obvious.
We walked through the cemetery. Night had fallen. I led us through the gravestones, following the same path that Elena and I had taken that night as we fled from the sorcières. I couldn’t even turn my head to see where I had fallen and broken my ankle. Another pang went through my chest as I recalled how Ciaran had healed me, with so much care and tenderness. I could not believe how I had treated him. How I was going to be the one to betray him now. I was screaming inside my mind, but my mouth wouldn’t make a sound.
I led us across the pedestrian bridge, across the Sequana. I tried to will myself to jump over the edge. To get away; to fall into the rushing river. Anything but this. Anything but leading this monster at my side. He was the wolf, I was the sheep’s clothing.
I made my way through the garden and toward that wrought-iron gate that led to the Medusa Steps. There were six gendarmes following us, sliding into procession. Were they under the viscount’s control? Or perhaps they were so well trained that he didn’t even have to say a word for them to follow.
I pushed against the bounds within my mind, beads of sweat breaking out on my forehead. It was useless. The viscount had me.Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it,I screamed as we approached the gate. But my body would not obey. My hands reached for the gate. It opened for me. My silent prayers that itwould not open went unanswered. The gate knew me as friendly—only a magic wielder could open the entrance to the City Beneath Lutesse. Only one who already knew its secrets. I let the fox into the henhouse.
We descendedthe Medusa Steps in silence, the viscount behind me. He had to turn sideways in places, his broad chest and shoulders too wide to fit through. The gendarmes followed behind us, their presence menacing and cruel at my back. Still, I fought against the hold he had on me, his grip only tightening as I did.
Anticipation and excitement vibrated off the viscount at my back. He was positively giddy—he had found the den of his enemies. They would be eradicated soon. His plan was coming together all too well. Because Erik de Barras was not launching an attack on a prepared, well-defended citadel. The City Beneath Lutesse was a community of artists—of families—of vulnerable people. These were not warriors. They would not be prepared to defend themselves. Ciaran and his council would not be enough to stop the destruction the viscount would rain down. He would be too late to stop them.
I couldn’t stop moving forward, toward where I suspected Ciaran would be. The viscount had commanded that I take him to Ciaran Fahy, and my feet obeyed. My mind howled at me: stop this. But nothing was getting through.
It would look like this:
I felt that Ciaran had betrayed me by injuring my friend and planting those runes in my dressing room. I believed that he had caused the chandelier disaster, framing me for murder and witchcraft. In exchange for my own freedom, and to spitethe lover who had wronged me so, I had given away the entire population of magic wielders Beneath Lutesse. I would be seen as the villain of the story. The one who betrayed them all. No one would be able to tell that I was compelled to do this. No one knew that the viscount himself wielded magic more powerfully than anyone I had met Beneath Lutesse. No one knew that he was all too willing to use the dark mind magic that was considered taboo amongst their people.
I could not break free from his hold. Every time I tried to wade through the mud in my mind, he tightened his grip, choking off my connection to any part of my body. I belonged to him wholly. All I could do was watch as he destroyed everything I had come to love. Everyone.
The viscount didn’t balk or say a word as we walked through the catacombs. If he was impressed or disgusted by our underground sanctuary, he did not say. The sconces, glowing with féerie lights, lit our way as I led the viscount and gendarmes into the heart of the city. It was a death march. As we walked further west, toward the Crossroads of the Dead, we encountered more and more people. Some of them smiled at me as they recognized my face, but then, upon seeing the viscount and gendarmes behind me, they shrunk back—afraid. They should be.
The gendarmes started to destroy things. Several of them had torches—they began to light everything and anything they passed on fire. The others had their batons out—smashing windows, anything they came across, destroying homes and businesses, art installations and sculptures. A full-scale panic began in the long tunnels. All around us people ran away, screaming, shouting, scrambling to get to their homes—to hide. I wanted to run with them. Wanted to help them. But I was helpless. And I knew they saw me as the one who had betrayed them all.
And still I walked, my head held high, unable to even signal to those I recognized to run. To get out while they could. Flames licked at the walls behind us, burning everything except the limestone tunnels themselves. Further we walked. Toward the training room where I knew Ciaran would be stationed with Fionn and Rory and Elena—debriefing, maybe discussing what had happened with me. Would the viscount be more than a match for all of them? Destruction was my gift. I laid waste to everything I touched.
And all the while, I couldn’t stop thinking about what the viscount had revealed. That he’d been the one to find Ciaran’s mother. That he had ripped her from the safety of her own bed, in the middle of the night. That he had burned her at the stake. That he’d laughed as Ciaran had fought and fought to save the most important person in his life. And I brought that manhere. Ciaran’s greatest enemy, into his sanctuary. All this was my fault. My doing. I hated myself so completely. He would never forgive me.
I didn’t have to wait until we got to the training room to find out what he would do, though. As we rounded the corner, I collided with a hard body.
SILVER
