Page 31

T he corridors cast eerie shadows in the midnight hour. I swallowed the growing lump and opened the doors to the girls’ bathrooms on the lower level of Seraphim Tower. I was sure I looked as terrible as I felt.

This was madness, all of it. Hugo had only ever cared for me because Verrine had influenced him. The thought was a twisting knife in my chest as I gripped both sides of the sink to steady myself. I had lost the only thing that made Evermore feel like home.

The one thing I’d clung to, the one connection I’d made, had been manufactured. I was grieving someone who never really knew me. I gripped the sink tighter. The room bowed inward, the walls warping to my sense of unreality.

The lights flickered, and a shiver crept down my spine. I could still feel Elsewhere clinging to me, all its darkness and rot. I hated the way it whispered against my skin. I had thought I had left it behind, that we had all escaped.

I was wrong. A low, guttural growl echoed down the corridor. I stopped dead in my tracks. A shadow peeled away from the darkness, moving with unnatural speed. The scent hit me before I saw it. Sulfur and something metallic, all too familiar, like Elsewhere trailed close behind.

Something had followed me back here.

The hair on my arms stood on end. My heart slammed against my ribs as a massive black wolf prowled forward from the shadows, its glowing red eyes locked onto me. A Daemon, a lesser one, the sort of creature spawned by dark magic or unimpressive ether scores.

I’d read about them those hours I’d spent pouring over textbooks hoping they’d raise my score. They were mindless, but bound by laws. Evermore had protective magic around its perimeter. They weren’t supposed to be able to follow us.

I wanted to scream but my voice was trapped in my throat. I didn’t understand how it had followed me here, or why it hadn’t attacked yet. It was watching me like it knew me, or was waiting for permission. Movement flickered to my right, and I barely had time to react before the beast lunged.

I threw myself sideways, barely avoiding the swipe of its massive claws. Wood splintered as it raked across the door to the stall where I had been standing. Panic roared through me, the Thread twisting in my mind like a coiled serpent.

I sprinted across the marble, boots skidding, my breath coming fast and shallow. My fingers curled against my palm. Where was Dorian? Where was Verrine?

The Daemon was too fast. I hit the doors to the adjacent powder room, slamming them open, whirling just as the beast crashed through after me.

Think, Arabella.

The Daemon lowered its massive head, the stench of sulfer emanating from its gaping maw. It should have killed me by now. My mind screamed to run, but my legs refused. I cringed at the terrifying sound of its claws flexing against the marble, eyes burning into me, waiting.

I swore I heard something, whispers, curling through the air, sliding beneath my skin.

They spoke my name over and over. Arabella, Arabella, Arabella.

It was studying me. No, not studying, recognizing.

But that made no sense. Lesser Daemons were supposed to be thoughtless, no more than vicious husks of the people they had once been.

It should not be thinking, and it sure as hell should not be here.

The creature lunged. I reached to the corners of my mind, calling desperately to the one thing that never left me. “Help!” I begged the Thread. “Help me, I’m dying!”

I flinched, my hands shooting up instinctively, but nothing happened. There were no claws tearing through my chest, no fangs sinking into my throat, because the Daemon had stopped. It stood at the threshold, pacing, its head lowered.

It wasn’t attacking. It was waiting. For what? I took a shaking step back. Then, the words echoed in my mind. It was a booming, devilish voice, nothing like the Thread.

Arabella Davenant. The King of the Elsewhere seeks your presence.

My fingers curled into fists. “Me?” I called out, words scratching my throat.

The Daemon tilted its head almost curiously. I could see the tension in its muscles, the barely contained energy rippling beneath its dark fur. It would lunge again. I didn’t have salt, something I’d heard could repel them. I didn’t have a weapon.

I heard the Thread, its presence brushing the back of my neck like it was just behind me. “Be brave , Nocturne.”

I had only myself. The Daemon crept forward, so close I could feel the heat of it, the snapping of its jaws. Saliva dripped from its rotted, blackened fangs.

Be brave. How? I tried to steady my shaking, then forced my head upward. I didn’t shuffle back. I stood my ground, locking eyes with the beast, my eyes narrowed.

“You don’t belong here ,” I thought. “Leave.”

My heart pounded, but I kept my posture still, imagining my spine straightening even though I wanted nothing more than to shrink. The Daemon considered me for a moment, and then its jaw snapped tight. It backed away, whimpering, head lowered.

I couldn’t believe it. I whirled around, terrified of what I’d find behind me, what thing had scared this creature away. There was nothing. It had listened to me.

A hiss circled the room and the Daemon burned, its body scattering like shadow in light, ash and smoke. The scent of scorched fur and sulfur filled the room, strong enough to make my eyes water. Only the blackened scorch marks on the tile remained.

I flexed my fingers, my entire body shaking. Had I… had I done that? Had I erased something that was meant to be immortal? I didn’t know if it was power, or coincidence, or something deep inside I had no way of understanding.

What kind of creature recognized me by name?

What kind of Daemon listened when I told it no?

I stared down at the scorch marks and felt like I’d crossed over a threshold I couldn’t return from.

I wasn’t just surviving Evermore, anymore.

It was clear something inside me was changing, and that terrified me more than the beast ever could.

The door behind me burst open. Dorian raced over to me, his arms wrapping tight.

I was grateful for the warmth, and that he had followed me.

A sob cleaved through me, hitching in my throat.

When he pulled back, his eyes were searching, his tone barely above a whisper.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done, Davenant? ”

I shook my head, tears spilling from my eyes. “I… I don’t know.”

“Saints,” Dorian shook his head. “The lights flickered when Verrine forced the two resurrections. Our defences must have lowered. Something slipped through.” His gaze moved to the blackened scorch marks. The way the Daemon had been there, and then it wasn’t. “Never tell anyone about this. Ever.”

“Why?” My mouth was nearly too dry to speak. “If Daemons can breach Elsewhere, can reach the school, then?—”

“I mean it,” he cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. The warmth of his touch was startling. Too gentle for the boy who had threatened to kill me last week. “An unmarked Lower Sixth should not have the power to vanquish a Daemon. That’s not—that’s not normal.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Something crossed his face. I didn’t know if it was fear or awe. My heart kicked. I hadn’t felt it beat this strong in days. He was too close. And yet, I didn’t move. I didn’t want to. “You’re scaring me,” I whispered, throat raw.

He didn’t let go. His fingers flexed slightly like he meant to. But he didn’t. “Good,” he said, voice low. “You should be scared. You should be fucking terrified.”