Page 24 of Chaos Carnival (Cirque de Sanguine #2)
Chapter 23: Woven Madness
Maverick
I eased the bedroom door shut behind me and paced back to the living room. The image of Tess's too pale face echoed in my mind like an accusation. She'd finally fallen into what seemed like natural sleep, though she still mumbled about webs and umbra, her words carrying an edge of terror that made my shadows stir.
Lilith lounged on the couch, a glass of wine held like a weapon in her perfectly manicured hand as I entered. Her casual pose reminded me of a predator waiting to strike. The demon's presence made the darkness in the corners of the room deepen, as if they were trying to flee from her.
“I speak from experience.” Oscar's tone turned sharp. “I watched Oscar Wilde destroy himself chasing dangerous pleasures, convinced he could handle the consequences. I am what remains of him—a fraction of consciousness trapped in crystal, forced to witness history repeat itself through others' mistakes.”
His words settled like lead in my gut. I'd never heard Oscar speak about himself like that.
“And here I thought you were just a decorative paperweight with a smart mouth,” I muttered.
“Disappointment abounds,” Oscar replied. “I'm actually a rather expensive paperweight.”
“What do we do?” I asked Lilith, my voice carrying an underlying growl that made the air vibrate with suppressed violence.
She took a deliberate sip before answering. “There's not much to do. The strands have woven themselves into her very being. They're a part of her now.” Her dark eyes met mine, unflinching. “There are only three ways this ends.”
My shadows coiled restlessly around my feet. “Tell me.”
“She might master them, bend them to her will. That's the best outcome.” Lilith's fingers traced the rim of her glass. “Or they'll consume her entirely, claim her for their own. And if she's not strong enough for either...” She let the words hang.
The reality of what she was saying shattered me, and my control slipped, inky darkness seeping from my skin like warmth from ice. “She could die from this? And you didn't think to explain that to either of us?”
Lilith sat up straighter, her composure cracking marginally, revealing something softer underneath. “I did warn you both. I showed her the proper way, the safeguards needed. She chose to ignore them.” A tide of darkness passed over her face. “The threads are ancient arcana, Maverick. Having that knowledge forced into a mortal mind...” She shook her head. “It's like trying to pour an ocean into a teacup.”
“You were supposed to help,” I snarled, my voice dropping to an inhuman register that made the windows vibrate. The blackness in the room slithered like spilled ink, responding to my rage.
“Yes, well, things don't always go as we want them to.” She examined her wine glass with affected nonchalance, but I could sense the tension coiled beneath her casual demeanor.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to think clearly through the fear and anger. “Is there nothing we can do to help her odds?”
“Nothing.” She paused, then added, her voice carrying centuries of dark knowledge, “You can try to ease the effects, though.”
“How?” The word came out more threat than question.
“Either make her laugh, run hard, or come.” Her lips curved into a knowing smirk that spoke of forbidden pleasures and ancient sins.
“The endorphins?” My fingers tightened anxiously into fists by my side.
“Yes, the endorphins may clear her head temporarily. No promises.” Each word dripped with poisonous amusement.
“Well thank you,” I said sarcastically, dropping into an armchair, the furniture creaking under my poorly suppressed control.
Lilith's eyes narrowed, hellfire flickering in their depths. “Don't take that tone with me, seraph. I'm not the one who let her attempt complex demon magic in the middle of a restaurant.”
I surged to my feet, fluid but carefully controlled. “Because you didn't warn us this could happen!”
“I warned you both that demon arcana was dangerous,” she shot back, standing as well. Her posture was perfect, regal, with the kind of stillness that comes from centuries of power rather than fear. “I set up proper protections, taught her the basics of grounding and shielding. It's not my fault she decided to show off without taking precautions.”
“She wasn't showing off,” I growled, a hint of beastly resonance in my voice. “She was trying to prove to me that what you were teaching her was safe.”
Lilith laughed, the sound sharp and bitter, carrying the enormity of ancient knowledge. “Safe? When has anything about your situation been safe? She's a hybrid trying to learn demon arcana while bound to a seraph through both a claiming and an ancient curse. Nothing about this is safe.”
Her words hit too close to home, and I sank back into the chair, the fight draining out of me. The murk stirred, something unseen shifting in the room, becoming still but watchful. “Just... tell me she has a chance.”
Lilith's expression softened marginally, though her eyes remained calculating. “She's strong. Stubborn. And she has you.” She paused, swirling the wine in her glass with deliberate precision. “Those are better odds than most would have.”
From the bedroom, the sound of Tess mumbling in her sleep drifted through. I was on my feet instantly, but Lilith's hand on my arm stopped me, her touch cool and firm.
“Let her sleep,” she coaxed, her voice carrying the kind of authority that brooks no argument. “The more rest she gets, the better chance she has of processing what's happening to her.”
I nodded reluctantly but remained standing, torn between the need to check on Tess and the need to get answers. My stillness held the same leashed control as Lilith's, two immortal beings maintaining a careful standoff.
“Ask,” Lilith said, reading my hesitation. Her pose was relaxed but her attention never wavered, like a sword sheathed but ready.
“Not to interrupt this delightfully tense standoff,” Oscar chimed in from his perch on the bookshelf, “but perhaps we should focus less on who's to blame and more on ensuring our dear Tess doesn't end up like me—trapped in an ornamental prison for eternity.”
I shot the skull a dark look. Trust Oscar to cut through the tension with his particular brand of morbid humor. But he had a point; arguing with Lilith wouldn't help Tess.
“What exactly happened? What are these strands that are now 'part of her'?”
Lilith sighed, settling back onto the couch with a stately economy of movement. “Sit down, seraph. This is going to take some explaining.”
I sat, preparing myself for whatever fresh hell I was about to learn. The air between us held the solemnity of old power and older secrets. In the bedroom, Tess had gone quiet again, and I prayed that meant she was at last getting the rest she needed.
Lilith took another sip of wine, gathering her thoughts. The gesture seemed almost human, but her stillness betrayed her true nature. “The webs aren't just alchemy. They're the raw essence of the universe. Most practitioners learn to see them gradually, touch them carefully, weave them slowly. It's like learning to swim. You start in the shallow end, not by diving into the ocean.”
“And Tess?” The question carried the enormity of my protectiveness.
“Your little halfling just dove into the Mariana Trench.” Lilith's perfect stillness belied the gravity of her words. “The strands recognized what she is, this new thing, this hybrid of seraph and human with an ancient curse thrown in. They were drawn to her. Hungry for her.”
My hands clenched into fists, shadows curling fractionally around my knuckles. “Hungry?”
“Magic seeks magic, seraph. It's why we use circles and wards during practice—to control how much we interact with at once. But Tess...” Lilith leaned forward, her eyes reflecting knowledge older than civilization. “She called to them without protection, without limits. And they answered. All of them.”
“But you said they're part of her now. What does that mean exactly?” The temperature in the room dropped slightly with my growing unease.
Lilith's expression turned serious, her ageless face a mask of cold certainty. “Imagine your consciousness as a cup of water. Most practitioners spend years learning to add drops of spiritual essence to their cup, slowly increasing their capacity. Tess just tried to pour an ocean into a teacup.”
The implications made my stomach turn. “And now?”
“Now those threads, that alchemy, is trying to integrate with her being. Her mind is trying to process information it was never meant to handle. She's seeing things as they truly are—all the layers of reality at once.” Lilith's voice dropped lower, carrying the gravity of forbidden knowledge. “Most minds break under that kind of pressure.”
“But she has a chance,” I reminded her—or perhaps myself—my voice tight.
“I always knew she was special, you know.” Oscar's voice cut through the tension, his crystal form catching the dim light. “From the moment she walked into that dusty shop and didn't run screaming at the sight of a talking skull. Most people, they see me and lose their minds. But not our Tess.”
I shifted in my chair, the leather creaking under my weight. “What's your point?”
“My point, dear boy, is that someone who can face the extraordinary with such composure might just have the strength to survive this.” His tone carried centuries of observation. “I've watched countless humans break under far less pressure. But Tess? She's got something different in her. Always has.”
“Different doesn't always mean better,” Lilith interjected, but there was a thoughtful edge to her voice.
“No,” Oscar agreed. “But in this case, it might just be what saves her. I've seen how she handles power—with respect, but not fear. That's rare. Most either cower from it or try to dominate it. She does neither.”
I remembered how Tess faced down demons, hunters, and supernatural threats without flinching. Even when terrified, she'd never backed down. The memory of her standing her ground against Ivan, despite being completely outmatched, flashed through my mind.
“She's stronger than any of you realize,” Oscar continued. “Trust me when I say there's something exceptional about that girl.”
The conviction in his voice made my shadows settle somewhat. If anyone could survive this, it would be Tess. She'd already defied every other limitation placed on her.
“She's unique, her hybrid nature might help her adapt. And the bond between you two gives her an anchor to this timeline.” Lilith gave me a pointed look, with understanding in her gaze.
A sound from the bedroom had me half-rising again, my movements unnaturally swift, but it was just Tess turning over. I forced myself to stay seated, though my stillness held the tension of a coiled spring. “How long?”
“Until we know if she'll overcome it?” Lilith shrugged, the gesture too precise to be human. “Hours. Days. Maybe weeks. Time becomes fluid when you're processing multiple layers of the universe at once.”
“And if she does? What then?”
A slow smile spread across Lilith's face, the expression holding ancient secrets. “Then, my dear seraph, your mate becomes something entirely new. Something that can not only see the strands but has them woven into her very being.” She took another sip of wine, the gesture deliberate and controlled. “Assuming she survives, of course.”
“You seem awfully calm about this,” I growled, might rippling beneath my carefully maintained composure.
“Would you prefer I panic? Would that help?” She set her glass down with a sharp click that seemed to echo in the charged air. “Besides, my brother was right. This is fascinating. A hybrid weaving into the universe? It's never been done before.” Her clinical interest carried the detachment of one who had witnessed millennia of supernatural phenomena.
“This isn't some experiment—” I started, but Lilith cut me off, her voice carrying the significance of millennia.
“Everything is an experiment. Every choice, every action. You experimented when you claimed her. She experimented when she tried to weave without protection. And now we experiment with keeping her sane while she adjusts.” She stood, smoothing her dress. “I suggest you start thinking about how to generate those endorphins. She's going to need them when she wakes up.”
As if on cue, a whimper came from the bedroom – the sound somehow wrong, as if it echoed through multiple dimensions. This time, I didn't hesitate, rising and moving toward the sound with preternatural grace.
“Maverick,” Lilith called after me, her tone carrying an ancient warning. I paused at the bedroom door, feeling the enormous power in the air. “Don't let her try to weave again. Not until she's stabilized. If she draws in more lines in this state...”
She didn't need to finish the sentence. The temperature around us dropped several degrees at the mere suggestion. I nodded once, then entered the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me.
Tess was twitching in her sleep, lying on her front, her face contorted in what looked like pain. The air seemed to shimmer around her, as if the filaments she'd absorbed were still trying to settle. I lay down beside her, pulling her close, and she gradually stilled as my presence helped secure her to this plane of existence.
Whatever was happening inside her mind, whatever battle she was fighting, I could only hope our connection would be enough to guide her back. Because the alternative was unthinkable, even for one who had witnessed centuries of sin.