You shall be their deaths. You shall turn their graves.
And the whole of London shall burn, if it does not come to pass.'
* * *
"I tried to stay away," he said, weakly. "I tried."
"I know," Bishop replied, and for once, his bleak eyes showed symptoms of sympathy.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Minutes before the collapse...
* * *
"Sebastian?” Cleo called, taking a careful step forward into what she suspected was the hall. Miss Martin had left her side as soon as someone screamed, leaving Cleo to shuffle her way along, tripping over pieces of rubble.
This way, said her senses. Go this way.
Voices called as others moved away from her. The entire building shook, but everything in her screamed to keep going.
Someone was coughing nearby. "Bloody hell," Sebastian spat. "What are you doing here?"
Relief flooded through her, and she hurried forward as much as she could. "You're h-hurt?" It was partly a question.
"Cleo." A hand caught her wrist, and then she was being dragged sideways as Sebastian listed toward the wall. His voice was raw, cracked. "You've got to get out of here. The roof's... coming down. The whole building's... coming... down."
"I know," she told him, because she'd seen it. She was more concerned with him and what else she'd seen. "You're bleeding. Where? Where are you bleeding?"
He hesitated, but she was shoving aside his clothes, trying to find the source of his forthcoming death. She could stop this. She had to stop this!
"You need to get out of here."
"Not without you," she told him, even as a nearby wall collapsed, taking with it part of the roof. Cleo cried out, her hand curling through his in fright as something sharp slashed her cheek as it flew past.
"Cleo." There was a world of information in that one word. Sebastian slumped back against the wall, his voice sounding strained. His legs gave way, dragging him down—and her with him. "It's done. T-the ceiling collapsed upon her."
"Who?"
"Morgana." He wheezed. "It's done. She's done. I finally... did it."
"If we don't hurry, then the ceiling might collapse on us too!" As if to punctuate her words, something fell with a heavy crash nearby. Cleo gasped.
"I don't think... that I'm going... to be able to manage." Sebastian pressed something into her hands. A ruined piece of knife. It felt plain, heavier than expected, after all this fuss. "Take this... with you. I destroyed it, but... make sure... it’s melted down."
"No!" She caught his coat by the lapels as Sebastian slid down the wall, and she landed on her knees in front of him. The knife tumbled into her skirts. "No! I won't let this happen!" Hot tears wet her blindfold. "I won't!"
Strong fingers curled around her wrists. "You've seen it... haven't you?"
The entire building was shaking. She screwed her eyes shut behind her blindfold, pressing her forehead to his chest.
"Cleo, it won't stop bleeding." He sounded like he was explaining something to a child. "She stabbed me with the Blade. It's the type of wound that cannot be healed... or so they say."
Cleo tore at her skirts, wadding them up and pressing them against the hot, weeping slash at his side. She couldn't stop crying, but she was determined, even if premonition had been willfully silent on this topic. In every vision she'd seen, every twist of the future that she'd tried to imagine, all she'd ever seen was herself crying over his body when he finally stopped breathing.
"I won't let it happen! I won't!"
"Cleo, you need to get out of h-here." He was slurring now. Hands cupped her face, his trembling fingers holding her in place. "I don't want to... die... knowing that you're still in here."
