They wrapped around her wrists and yanked her from Theodora.
Dot began to balance. She pictured the rune forenflame,but the spell did not take. Within herself, she threw the twin streams back and forth, lurching into the deepest of historic hurts to fuel her spite.
It wasn’t enough.
Her anger, so hitherto untapped, had at last run empty.
Dot pushed harder for her magic, but she slipped into despair. Two new scales grew over her shoulder and she winced.
The daemon reached for her temple. His magic connected with her mind once more. Dot felt vicious now. Envying, jealous, ambitious. None of it wasfair.
‘Thatis who you are, Dorothy,’ said Salamander. ‘Not this timid woman of twenty-three years, repressed and relegated to the spells of children. Others smothered you until you bit at their hands. That Emily girl was the first to feel your teeth, and it served her right.’
Salamander’s barbs wrapped tighter around her wrists. Theodora stared up at Dot from the floor, tears cascading from her eyes. Around them, the spirits in their thousands were watching from their cages. It was too much. Too loud, too tight, too sad. Dot buckled, and his barbs supported her body.
‘Dorothy,’ hissed Salamander, coming closer. She felt his wet breath on her face. ‘You could not be loved, so you wanted to bemagic.’
Her breath turned thin. Somehow, from the recesses of her mind, came the sound of Belchamber’s voice.
About the room, Miss Dorothy. Name what you can see.
Darkness. Scales. Stone. Wood. Theo.
What you can smell.
Salt. Mould. Sweat. Seaweed. Blood.
What you can feel.
Pain. Regret. Fatigue. Guilt. Shame.
‘Dorothy,’ said Salamander. ‘It was not until I had Opal draw upon your magic that I began to understand it. You have been told your whole life that you are too sensitive. Yet, this is the very reason you are not yet an acolyte.’
‘How could you know that?’ asked Dot weakly.
‘Because I can do this.’
Salamander touched Dot’s temple again. She screamed. Dot saw flashes of Emily drowning, of Opal cutting off her finger, of Theodora taking a bread stick, of Theodora handing Dot a blue towel, of Theodora beside her in the tea shop.
‘If you were your true self, Tessa would despise you,’ said Salamander.
Dot glanced down at Theodora. The witch shook her head again. When Dot looked back at the daemon, he smiled.
‘What are you really offering me?’ asked Dot.
‘To learn,’ he said. ‘To be my third-in-charge and my partner in research. We will discover your link to the Ancient together. I will teach you, Dorothy. You will be the most learned Magician in this country. You will have articles published. You will have the worship you crave.’
‘You caged these spirits,’ said Dot. ‘You’re caging Theodora in paper and ink. How could I trust your word?’
‘I’ll not do this to you,’ said Salamander. ‘I can draw you up a fair contract, if that is what you want. You may have time to read it. It will give you silver enough to provide for your family. Your sister, Celia, wants to be a novelist. Why not send her abroad to a better school than you attended? Why not take your own apartment on Mieunetti Road? You could have all of the beautiful shoes you could want. Have your hair cut in a salon. Buy a gramophone made of gold and tesserae. Remuneration is of no consideration. I want you to be happy, Dorothy.’
Theodora was yelling. No sound came from her lips as her mouth contorted.
‘This is what you want,’ whispered the daemon.
Dot could only stare at him.
‘Would you like to hear the alternative?’ Salamander seized her and flung her across the room. Dot shrieked and collided with a wood cage, landing against the concrete. Pain exploded across her ribs. ‘I will keep you down here in the dark until you die. I will place Theodora beside you, and you will look on each other every day yet you will never speak again. I will make you a conduit of magic. Your life will be short. Perhaps a few more years if you do not succumb to the Ancient’s magic. Longer, if you do.’
