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Dark to dark, Dusk to Dusk

Fire and earth, Bone and Dust

I destroy, I devour

Night’s mistress, Sinister flower

Spite and hate and hunger and lust

My Dark will burn your bones to dust

The words burst from me, a deep growl, like they’re the poetry of a different girl—one who dwells in those woods with the fiendlings. I have so much buried deep inside me. Letting it out feels like playing with fire.

The magic bursts from me. Lonan’s Darkness is snakelike—slithering, seductive, quietly vindictive. Mine is an eruption.

Dark fire races from every pore of my body, beads of hot blood bursting from my skin with the magic. This isn’t pretty—it isn’t controlled or elegant. This is base and nasty. This is like a creature crawling from the dark depths of the ocean, taking its first primordial breath. If the Light is a song, the Dark is a scream. The helter-skelter nature of truth.

My fire is so dark I can’t see it, but it burns the hair on my arms, singes the ends of my tresses, crawls up the skirt of my dress. I let it burn, fighting shadow with shadow, letting my heart bathe in every ounce of grief, abandonment, and misery that I keep locked away.

The creature of shadow drops me with an eardrum-piercing scream.

But then I feel it—my Dark brimming over the edge. It’s too much. I fight it, but it’s too late. My control is gone.

And then I’m lost.

Chapter Nineteen

Ifeel it in every part of me. Every vein. Every cell. A grief that feels like drowning, and I can’t find the surface, can’t find the will to swim. A hand grabs me in the Dark. The touch is like rain on a hot pan, painful relief as I’m yanked back to myself.

And suddenly, the gas lamps are back on. I’m lying on the floor of the hall absent of all fog and Darkness.

Lonan stares sternly at me as he holds me. His normally perfect hair falls over his forehead. His fist pulls on the hair at the nape of my neck, grounding me. “Breathe.”

There is something deep in Lonan’s voice, sharp and commanding. My body listens, calming instantly, almost against my will. My response seems to calm him, and he visibly relaxes, shoulders sagging, head falling forward almost as if he would rest it against mine, almost as if we trusted each other.

“Calm,” he reminds me. “Stay in the Light.”

I feel the flicker of Light. The return of reason. And then the guilt comes. Tears rim the edges of my eyes, but Lonan shakes his head. “You did fine,” he says. “You did what you had to.”

I reach up to grab his wrists. Connection feels right after the terror I just endured, natural even. I shouldn’t want this. Guilt and longing tug at my heart, and the reminder of what Lonan is, what he craves and lives for, slams into me. I let go like I’ve been burned.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

I curse in response.

He shakes his head. “You’re all right.” He stands and extends a hand to me. I ignore it, not to be petulant but because I can’t stomach his touch, his closeness. I’m torn between the monster I know and the one I don’t. Lonan is in love with the Dark, and Galvin has sworn to purge the school of it. This is a sibling feud at its heart, one that could destroy Gossemort.

He tightens his lips at my slight but lets his hand drop. “That was some impressive magic.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“I respect your mind, Fontaine. Just not your mouth. Now come on. You look half dead.”

“I could be rotting in the ground and still be prettier than you.” A bald-faced lie, but it feels good to needle him.

Although when he turns his back, something about those words has my stomach sinking. Then I remember—the bite on my lip. I run my tongue over it, the swollen place where Galvin’s teeth sank. How long do I have before I become a siphon? How much am I endangering my friends?

“This isn’t how I thought the Solstice would go.”