Her eyes tremble with tears as she looks over her shoulder at me, imploring me, begging me to do something when she knows I have no power here to do anything.
“I know, lass, I know.” I gently shush her and run my hands over her hair.
“I am sorry about your mother, Sephania,” Rirth says, his voice cold and emotionless as he stands over us. Then he turns and heads for the door of the dwelling without another word.
“Where are you going?” Seph blubbers through tears.
He gives her a parting glance over his shoulder. “Can you not hear them?” he asks in a flat, sad tone. “There are other brothers and sisters of the Firehold still locked in battle, fending for their lives. Who knows if Antones is still alive, even. They are just as important as you or I.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the dead alchemist at our feet and the shaking shoulders of Sephania Lock in my arms.
“All of his knowledge, his work, lost,” she whispers, looking down at the gray, widened eyes of Old Endolf. “Does that mean the silverblood concoction is also gone?”
“I don’t know.” I scan the room, noticing all the tossed vials, shattered bottles, and odd tinctures strewn across the place. “We’d better round up everything we can and hope one of these potions is the silverblood.”
She nods into my chest, falling quiet. “How . . . How did she do it? How did she steal my mother into the shadows like that, Garroway? She isn’t supposed to be able to do that.”
My mind whirls, trying to think of the possibilities and coming up short. “I don’t know, lass. I just don’t know. Shadowwalking is an ability only Skartovius has. Her being here must have something to do with the ward against his portal. We don’t have the answers.”
“My mother might. And now she’s lost to our enemy, only to be used as another pawn for her games, to draw me out.” Her eyes lock on mine, stern and no longer wet, showing great resilience and the tenacity and stubbornness I love aboutthis woman. “This time, Garro, I won’t back down from the challenge. No matter the risk.”
Chapter 43
Skartovius
With the manor quiet and my thoughts coming back to me, I start to feel my power swell. The notion someone has blocked by shadowwalking ability concerns me, but I have a hunch I know what is going on.
I move to make good on my promise to Sephania—to lock down the manor, make sure Keffa and the Chained Sisters are safe, and meet up with my group near the Firehold as soon as I can.
Something about this entire enterprise seems off, however. There’s a disturbance in the air I can’t place my finger on.It’s all happened too swiftly,I think, wondering if I’m going mad from decades as a vampire, or if my anxiety is well-deserved and prudent.
I leave the conference room and head for the eastern side of the estate, stopping off to check on the acolytes. My entire coven, my court of misrepresented noblebloods and scrappy commonbloods, is away on missions of their own. I spent a painstaking amount of time electing each of them to their duties, and I am not about to recall them due to a fuckinghunch.
My thudding boots are deafening in the quiet night as I storm down the elegant halls of my home. I glance into every room, keeping the doors slightly ajar and with candles and lights illuminating dancing shadows along the furniture and walls.
Outside, the white-robed servants are docile, working in their monotone silence. In their tents, they butcher cattle fromthe fields and stock their latest forages from the woods—berries, vegetables, things Sephania enjoys.
I have no use for human food but my little temptress is a different animal. More akintoan animal, really, with her diet. It’s transformed my entire manor, and yet I wouldn’t change a thing since it means keeping Sephania near me at all times.
Part of me fears I’ve erred in sending her with Vallan and Garroway to the Grimsons. I hope my fears are unfounded and they’ll create a peaceful escort for Jinneth, and the crisis will be averted.
Somehow, I’m not hedging a lot on my hopes. Hopes are as useful as hunches.
After inspecting the eight steepled tents and stables in the back, and noticing nothing untoward or suspicious, I return into the manor. I make my way downstairs to the empty jail cells, rove around the ballroom upstairs, and march through the many labyrinthine hallways and corridors of my home.
I am just ready to depart when I feel it: The eerie disturbance I felt before, now louder and more prominent in my blood. I cansenseit before I can see it, and my brow furrows with consternation.
I don’t have long.
Suddenly, my worries about getting Sephania away from here seem justified.
I detect a presence in a nearby room, and realize I havenotbeen alone this entire time I’ve stalked my halls. No, there’s been someone else here the entire time.
I push into the room down the hall, where the presence blares louder than ever. She has the Loreblood all over her, and as an ancient vampire of experience I am well-versed in reading the signs of life, death, and identity.
This poor sap is very much straddling the three, unsure which direction she will fall.
“Palacia,” I say as I enter the bed chamber.
