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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ISOLDE

I find Isaac in the training arena, pummelling a practice dummy with such force that stuffing explodes from its seams with each blow. His movements are fluid, lethal, a dance of violence that speaks volumes about his emotional state. His offensive magic is burning at his fists, and not for the first time, I wish I had it. It’s so much more . But maybe with CJ and Cassiel’s help, I can beat the shit out of a practice dummy one day. Or beat the shit out of a Collector freak if he tries to lay his hands on me.

No fucking way.

You can stake me first.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” I say, approaching slowly.

He spins around, his eyes wild for a moment before recognition sets in. “Issy. What are you doing here? ”

“I know why they locked me up. They knew this day would come.”

My brother’s expression shifts, wariness replacing exhaustion. “What day?”

“The day the Collectors came for me.”

“Collectors?” he asks carefully. “What the hell are they?”

I give him the rundown of what we found out, and his expression turns to one of revulsion. “No,” he states. “No fucking way will I allow that to happen to you.”

“Neither will we,” CJ says, appearing behind me with Cassiel. I knew they were there. I could sense them. Smell them even. My senses have sharpened. I’m not sure if that is because it’s part of my ‘maturing’ or because I desperately need to not be made into a book, or worse, so I’m more aware of my surroundings.

Isaac’s eyes narrow, flickering between CJ and Cassiel with undisguised suspicion. “What do you mean ‘we’? Since when are you two working together?”

“Since your sister became a target for psychotic magical academics who want to turn her into a living book,” CJ replies dryly.

“This isn’t a joke,” I snap, my patience fraying. “Isaac, I need to know if Mum and Dad ever mentioned anything about this to you. Anything at all.”

Isaac runs a hand through his hair, his expression troubled. “The song…”

“What song?” I jump on it like a maniac, surging forward and gripping his arm tightly. “What song?”

Isaac’s face pales slightly. “Don’t you remember? When we were kids, Dad used to sing that creepy old nursery rhyme?”

“I don’t remember,” I say, shaking my head. “What was it?”

Isaac closes his eyes, recalling the melody. When he speaks again, his voice takes on a sing-song quality that sends chills down my spine:

"Ink-stained fingers seek the rare,

Twin-born blood beyond compare.

When crimson moon hangs in the sky,

Look to silver, mirror-eye.

Knowledge sought becomes the chain,

But knowledge shared will break the pain.

The scholar fears what twins may know,

When powers joined begin to flow.

Should scholars come with binding thread,

Turn their pages in your head.

For what they seek, they cannot take,

If mind-to-mind, your bond won't break."

The silence that follows is absolute. I feel physically ill. It sounds vaguely familiar, but when I close my eyes, I know they never sang it to me. I used to hear it drifting out of Issac's room on the night air, chilling and terrifying. I never really knew the words, just the melody, and it scared me half to death some nights.

“He sang that to you when you were little?” Cassiel asks, sounding appalled.

Isaac nods grimly when I open my eyes. He looks at me with dawning horror. “They were preparing me. Teaching me the danger without explaining it directly.”

“That’s fucked up,” CJ mutters, but his expression is thoughtful. “But effective. Even without understanding the context, you’d remember the warning.”

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop shaking. “And now we know why I was hidden away. Why they were so paranoid about anyone discovering me.”

“The song mentions scholars,” Cassiel observes. “The academic element of The Collectors aligns with that description.”

“We need to find Mum and Dad,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “They knew this was coming. The question is, why did they send me here? Was it for safety or sacrifice?”

Issac gives me a grim look. He was thinking the exact same thing.

CJ steps closer to me, not touching but close enough that I can feel his heat. “SilverGate is warded. You’re safer here than anywhere else.”

“For now,” Cassiel qualifies, his wings shifting restlessly. “But The Collectors have ways of breaching even these defences.”

“We need information. We need to understand exactly what we’re up against,” I say. “We can’t fight what we don’t understand.”

“You should go to Blackridge,” Isaac says.

I shake my head. “He won’t help. We’ve already spoken to him. I’m on my own.”

“What?” Isaac spits out.

“It’s fine, it’s a thing….”

“It’s SilverGate,” Cassiel states.

“Fucking hell,” Isaac says.

“We’ve got this,” CJ says earnestly for once in his life. “We won’t let anything happen to your sister.”

“But you need to stay away from this,” I say, steadily.

“What? No, Issy, your fight is my fight.”

“No, this is my fight. You aren’t involved. If they come for me, if they get me, I need to make sure that you live so I will be remembered.”

“Isolde, don’t talk like that.”

“I don’t want to, but I need you to promise me you will stay back from this. I can handle it.”

“You haven’t been in the real world for long enough to handle anything,” he says .

His words hurt, but they are true. I can’t deny that. “Even more reason why I have to step up and do this myself.”

“What kind of brother would I be, what kind of twin would I be, if I let you deal with this yourself?”

“One who loves his sister and will do as I ask.”

Isaac stares at me with disbelief and frustration. “That’s emotional blackmail, Isolde.”

“It’s the truth,” I counter, my voice softening despite my resolve. “If these Collectors take me, someone needs to remember who I was.”

“And you think I can just stand back and do nothing?”

CJ clears his throat. “As touching as this sibling moment is, we need a plan.”

“CJ’s right,” Cassiel says. “Time is not our ally.”

Isaac’s jaw clenches, but he nods reluctantly. “You can’t ask me to do this.”

“I can and I am. We have time. Blackridge said the wards were formidable. Help train me or whatever, but when it comes to it, you are nowhere in sight. Promise me.”

“I can’t.”

“Promise me,” I state. “Or we are done as twins.”

“Issy,” he hisses.

I lift my chin higher.

“Fine,” he states. “Have it your way.”

He glares at CJ, and something passes between them. An unspoken communication that I’m not privy to, and is probably about Issac secretly helping.

Fine. Whatever. As long as he is nowhere near this fight when it comes, he can do whatever he wants.

I nod and turn on my heel, marching out of the training arena and back to my bedroom to speak to William and try to iron out whatever bee he has in his bonnet about our kiss earlier.