24
the girl she once was
Lightning crackled the sky above. In the white flash of light, Sera noted scars along the beast’s body. She’d recognize those marks anywhere, put there by her own hand. The Barghest froze as though cognizant of the same.
It stepped closer, and a growl reverberated deep in its chest.
“I had mercy on you,” she whispered. “I let you live. I don’t have to this time.”
A low rumble rolled in its throat, but it didn’t move. Neither did she. There was only exploding magic and the wild winds that thrashed and howled around them.
“Help me,” she pleaded, “and I’ll let you go.”
The Barghest whined. It glanced back as though making sure no one was present, then stared at Sera, its eyes full of fear.
“Of course, they will kill you,” she realized. “Then help me, and I’ll find a way to free you. Please.” Tears pooled in her eyes at the thought of Barrington burning to death at the hands of Sister Egerton. “I can’t let him die.”
The Barghest lunged.
Sera lifted a hand to attack, but the Barghest’s claws clamped at her shoulder as he pushed her out of the way and dove past her. She flipped over and scurried back, but froze at the sight of the Barghest devouring a Brother who had come around the bend. The scaly beast turned red eyes to Sera, blood dripping from its sodden snout. It lowered its front paws and head.
“Thank you.” She groped the wall and stood. “I need to get to the man in the grave. Protect me from the rest.”
The Barghest sniffed, then whirled into a cloud of black and dashed around the corner. A roar echoed, followed by human screams. Sera peeked around the corner. The Barghest fed on another man, a feast of blood and magic. Pulse pounding in her ears, she shot blasts of magic for cover and ran for the grave.
A hooded man did the same but never made it, instantly engulfed by the Barghest’s black cloud. Fueled by the man’s subsequent screams, Sera lunged into the grave. Her shoulder jammed against the coffin, and she cried out, but the sound was swallowed by a cry from Barrington, who was slumped over the corpse. The binds of magic he had created were now hundreds of spider-thin wisps tying his body to the corpse. The links had cut through his vest and shirt and into his skin.
“Tell me the Keeper’s name,” he groaned. “I command you!”
Sera reached for his arm to break the bond—
“No! I’m close,” he panted, teeth clenched against the pain. He coughed, and sprinkles of blood dribbled at his mouth. “I need this. Don’t break the bond yet.” He fell forward. One hand held him up, the other grasped tight about Sister Egerton. “Tell me the Keeper’s name!”
The corpse writhed, its skeletal mouth clamping open and shut, open and shut. “No, no, no, no,” echoed its voice in the harsh wind.
Sera pressed against the dirt behind her, her wand clutched to her chest. Sister Egerton trembled, and Barrington grunted, another roar in his throat. “You will not rest…until you tell me… Who is the Keeper?”
The body averted its face, as though physically straining to keep the secret from him.
Barrington groaned, clasped the gaunt head in his hands, and forced it to look at him. “Tell me!”
The corpse fisted Barrington’s shirt with its free hand and yanked him closer, whispering something Sera was unable to hear. She then brought him face-to-face with her. “You break my oath, I break your life.”
Sera gasped. “No!”
Their binds became fiery shackles that whipped around his body.
She screamed and reached for him, but a violent gust thrust her back against the dirt and kept her fixed, invisible fingers forcing her to watch him scream, burn, die.
“Release him!” Sera screamed, but the wind pushed into her mouth and throat and stole away her words.
A shadow swept above them. The Barghest materialized from the smoke at the foot of the grave. It whipped its tail down into the hole and around Barrington’s waist. One firm yank, and it tore him from the skeleton’s hold and out of the grave.
The winds died in an instant. Sera crashed to the ground, her knees weak. “Professor!” she screamed, clawing to climb out of the hole.
“Broken oath, broken life,” clacked the corpse.
Anger waved through Sera’s veins. She snatched her wand from the ground and pressed it against Sister Egerton’s skeletal head. The body stopped trembling and turned its empty eyes up to her.
It tilted its head slowly. “The gates will soon be open. Black magic will cloak the world in blood!”
Sera thrust a blast of magic. The skeleton’s head exploded into a cloud of ash. “You’re released.”
A face came into view above. Sera staggered back, her wand aimed.
“It’s me, miss!”
“Lucas!” She stumbled over the coffin and reached up to his extended hand. He helped her scramble from the grave. A gash over his eye bled profusely, but she swept past him to Barrington’s unconscious body sprawled out on the stone-riddled ground. Beside him, the Barghest ran its snakelike tongue along Barrington’s burned arms.
“Leave him,” she started, but Lucas took hold of her arm.
“He’s devouring the magic to make him stop burning, but we need to get him back to the manor.”
“Where are the vials? He said they would help heal him.” She spun around, frantic, but the ground was windswept and the vials nowhere to be found.
“They’re gone, Miss, but the horses are not too far—”
“The horses can’t ride fast enough to save him! We need to use a transfer spell.”
Lucas hesitated, shaggy hairs waving this way and that in the storm. Before he spoke, she snatched her arm from his hold and drew the transfer spell in the ground around Barrington, a bit wider to accommodate them all.
“I’ll catch up,” Lucas said. “I must clear the scene of the professor’s things.”
Sera nodded and gingerly eased the professor into her arms. Heat radiated from his body, the smoke a humid sheet that dampened her skin. Her heart throbbed. Blood seeped from his burns and stained her hands as she held him. His weak breath touched her cheek, and she sobbed. He was alive, but would the next breath be his last?
She adjusted him to have proper use of her wand. “You stay with me,” she whispered.
A low growl came from behind them. The Barghest nudged at Barrington’s burned hand with a paw.
“I’ll keep my promise, but I must get him to safety first,” she said. “Come back with Lucas, and I’ll find a way to free you.”
The Barghest bowed its head and shifted back to Lucas’s side.
Sera aimed her wand. “Ignite!”
The ciphers of the spell pooled over in red, a match to the intensity of her desperation. The red hue washed the world from around them, the ground from beneath them. And as they fell, she held him tightly to her chest and begged for him to stay.
…
Inexperienced. Inept. Invisible.
Slumped on a chair in the hall outside of Barrington’s room, Sera focused on the in and out of her breath as the feelings repeated themselves in a horrible tide-like cycle.
Once they’d arrived at the manor and Rosie heard Sera’s screams, she’d quickly run in. After her share of tears and gasps, she helped Sera get Barrington to his room. Instantly she began the healing spells, some of which Sera knew, others she didn’t. Inexperience became a weight heavy on her chest, caused her hands to tremble and move slowly as it laced with ineptitude. She walked out of the room, wishing to be invisible, and allowed Rosie space and silence, though prepared to help where she could.
About an hour passed when the door creaked open and Rosie walked out, weary and worn. Her puffed white hair was matted under her cap, sweat a sheen on her skin. She closed the door behind her and hefted a long sigh. Sera stared at the woman in hopes to decipher something in her stance before she opened her mouth. The odds of him surviving were low, and she turned away, struggling for another breath. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to him.
“He’s resting. I managed to stabilize him, but…the burns…he needs medicine I don’t have. Lucas should’ve known this. What’s taking him so long?” she asked, but Sera knew it was not a question she wanted answered.
Instead she rubbed at her bruised wrist, sore like her neck and arms and legs, and said, “Thank you. I…” Her voice broke. “I wish I could’ve helped more.”
“Oh, my dear.” Rosie gripped a wrinkled hand over Sera’s shoulder. “You were a tremendous help. Forgive me if I was cross.”
She shook her head. “I was in the way. Healing isn’t my talent. A small cut, perhaps, but…” Emotion stole her voice away. “Will he be all right?”
Rosie’s mouth flattened to a thin line, and her hand fell from Sera’s shoulder. She paced past her and sat in the other chair. “We can only wait now, and pray, of course.”
“Of course,” Sera whispered.
The doorbell rang a high-low melody. She put her hand above Rosie’s. “I’ll get it.”
Rosie deflated, grateful.
Gathering her hat from the table, Sera put it on, lowered the veil, and walked downstairs. The door slammed open before she reached it. Lucas burst inside with Gummy behind him, and behind them the Barghest appeared out of a black cloud.
“Where is he?” Gummy dumped her coat into Sera’s arms—or chest, rather—and scanned the open space wide eyed and hair windswept.
Sera threw the coat onto the foyer table. “What are you doing here?”
Gummy ignored this and took the stairs two by two. “Rosie! Where is he?”
“You flesh-mongering, venomous hobby horse.” Sera tore off her hat, gathered her skirts, and darted after her. “He’s resting!”
“She can help him, miss. The Master would’ve wanted me to call her,” Lucas explained from behind her.
“Rosie!” Gummy’s shrills resounded from somewhere on the second floor.
Sera found the two of them on the third floor. Lucas attempted to explain what had happened while Gummy stood before Rosie, hands on her hips as she tried to get to Barrington’s bedroom door. “Let me through. You know I can help. I’m probably the only one who can save him.”
“She’s right,” Lucas rallied. “We have to give her a chance.”
Gummy stared Rosie straight in the eyes. A secret conversation flashed there, to which Rosie stepped aside resignedly.
“No one’s to disturb us,” Gummy ordered and opened the door. Sera toured her eyes between the two women, but with a contemptuous smirk, Gummy closed the door between them.
Sera fisted her hands. “What does she think, snogging him to death will heal him?” she asked, but Rosie walked away without an answer.
…
Midnight found Sera sitting by the arched windows down the hall from Barrington’s room. Night blanketed the moors and silenced the house. The Barghest was curled up on the floor beside her, and though its putrid scent of sulfur at first burned her nose, Sera welcomed its company. Anything to not be so alone. To not feel so guilty.
A flash of lightning shattered the sky into fragments of light and shadow. The Barghest lifted its head at the sound. The motion revealed the underfolds of its skin where something glimmered.
“What’s this?” Sera eased from her window seat, knelt beside the creature, and lifted a number of its scales. Beneath the folds of skin was a collar, red rubies studded along it. Smaller ones encircled the Brotherhood emblem.
“Is this what keeps you tethered to your master? Will it free you if I remove it?”
The Barghest tilted its head to the side and revealed a buckle in confirmation. Sera unclasped the fastener and made to remove it, but the Barghest howled, its claws dragging and tearing at the carpet.
“Hold still,” she started, but droplets of blood trickled from beneath the collar and stained the rug and her fingers. She cringed, noticing the spikes that pierced the Barghest’s skin and held the collar fixed to its neck.
“Those bastards.” She drew in a breath. “But it has to come off if I’m to keep my word. I’ll count to three and pull it free at once. It will hurt, but you won’t ever need to wear it again.”
The animal whined, lowered its head onto her lap, and closed its red eyes.
“One…”
The Barghest bristled.
“Two—”
Sera pulled out the collar. The Barghest released a wild wail that echoed down the halls and surely through the entire house.
“There, there,” she coaxed as it writhed on the floor, the carpet now in shreds. She threw the collar aside and neared the creature.
“What was that sound?” Rosie called as she hurried down the hall, vials in her hand. She stopped short at seeing the large beast. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Are those for the professor?” Sera asked. “Do any of them help with pain?”
“They are, yes. I thought it was him who yelled.” Wide eyes scanned the Barghest that squirmed with doglike cries. She looked to the disposed collar whose spikes still dripped blood and handed Sera a vial. “But here, pour it along the cuts. It will stop the bleeding and help with the pain.”
Sera did as told and poured the elixir on the wounds. Whatever it was, smoke curled out from the cuts, and in its midst, the gashes slowly healed.
The Barghest settled.
“There,” Sera whispered, stroking a patch of hair on top of its head. Within minutes, the Barghest had fallen asleep, though its body shivered with intermittent whimpers of pain. “You’re free now.”
Rosie picked up the collar and wound it in a rag she pulled from her apron. Blood seeped through, staining the white fabric. “Where did you find a Barghest of all things?”
“I had mercy on him some weeks before, and this time he had mercy on me and the professor. If not for him, the professor would be dead. The Barghest would have been killed by his master for saving him.”
Rosie nodded at the beast. “I remember hearing stories about them as a child. Always thought they were so abused, torn from their homes to serve warlocks. A terrible existence.”
The bells tolled, and Sera’s heart dropped. It was only Thursday. How would she ever survive lessons? “I don’t mean to impose, but I’ve nowhere to take him, and I need to get back to the Academy.”
“I’ll have Lucas take him out into the stables once he wakes up. He helped save the Master”—her nose reddened, as did her cheeks—“it’s the least we can do.”
Sera eased the beast’s large head from her lap and rose. “Thank you for your kindness, and for before. Had it not been for you, I don’t think the professor would have…” Her words faded.
“Nonsense. Lucas told me everything. You fought courageously. We’re all doing our part to save him, and you’ve done yours. As for healing him, it’s always hard to see someone you care about suffer. Sadly, I’m used to it. I have healed him more times than I’d like.”
Sera nodded, unsure she could ever get used to it.
“Is he any better?” She gazed down the hall to the closed door—closed as it had been for the past two hours. “What is she doing in there?”
Rosie’s shoulders lowered with a sigh. “Whatever it is, it’s for the Master’s best. But you should rest now, dear.”
Sera reached out and clasped Rosie’s hands in hers. “Rosie, please. I can’t rest until I know he’ll be okay.”
The woman turned watery eyes down, her cheeks and nose flushed. “He will be, once Miss Mills is done doing whatever she’s doing.”
“Then why are you so worried? Why were you so resigned to her helping him?”
She pressed her lips together and, releasing Sera’s hands, sat at the window seat Sera previously vacated. She gazed at the blackness outside, her stare distant as though lost somewhere in the tangles of darkness on the other side of the glass. “When the Master’s brother and father passed, the Master was in a bad, bad way.”
Her mien dimmed, a deep brooding Sera had never expected from someone as kind as Rosie. “Somehow—maybe due to his desperation for answers or revenge over what had happened with his father and brother—Miss Mills and her blood magic found a way into his life. He began exchanging magic-laced blood in return for information…until one day, he began using it himself.”
Sera slowly sat down beside Rosie, finally aware of the orders he spoke about with Rowe and Gummy. Cases of blood in exchange for extensive help in his investigations.
“Blood magic is exceedingly addictive, and the more one dabbles in it, the more humanity you lose until you become like one of those creatures in Miss Mills’s establishment, exchanging favors and dignity to satisfy the blood thirst.”
Sera blinked, readily remembering the strange women strewn along Mayson’s smoky room, their skin pale. And not to mention the pungent stench of death that lingered there.
“It opens up a well of information and power, sure, but it’s considered black magic for a reason. It darkens the soul. The toll to use it is incredibly high and a road I never want the Master to travel again.” She brushed tears from her cheeks. “At times, I think he took it just to feel more powerful than his pain, so that sadness wouldn’t dominate and devour him. But since he started working on this case—since he began working with you—he stopped using it. The withdrawals were agonizing for him, but he managed to overcome them. I was sure he was done with it once and for all, but it seems that the one thing that was close to destroying him is now the only thing that can heal him.” She shook her head, defeated. “We can only hope that this time, his journey back isn’t as hard.”
Sera’s heart stuttered, the truth of it all squeezing the air from her lungs. She remembered the day in his office, the thin sheet of sweat over his brow and the way his hands trembled as he graded his papers. His mood swings. He must have been experiencing withdrawals while they worked. And as she learned and grew in magic, he suffered in silence, willing to teach her so she could pass her assessments and protect herself against Noah.
Her soul hurt. He was getting better, moving away from blood magic. But now, because she hadn’t severed the bond in time, he was tangled back in its web, fighting for his life in the arms of his addiction.
In spite of the blame that filled her, Sera set her jaw. “This time he has the both of us, and he won’t fight it alone.” She squeezed Rosie’s hand. “I will do everything in my power to help him.”
A sad smile tipped Rosie’s lips, and she cupped Sera’s cheek. “If you only knew how much you’ve helped him already.”
Warmth bloomed in Sera’s chest, and a twinge of pain answered back. If only she could believe Rosie’s words. If only she could believe she had helped him and not brought him within a breath of death. If only, if only, if only…
Hurting more than she could bear, Sera moved her face away from Rosie’s touch and stood. “It’s probably best I get back to the Academy.” Heaven knew no good came of wondering what was going on behind those doors, whether Professor Barrington was better or not, how none of this would have happened had she broken the bond sooner, regardless of what he’d asked of her.
She moved away from the Barghest so as not to waken it when she transferred back to the school. “Please keep me informed of any changes, or if you need me for anything. Anything at all.”
“Of course.” Rosie unsheathed her wand and aimed it at Sera’s feet. “Good night, dear.”
“Good night, Rosie.”
The world fell black, and a moment later, Sera stumbled and gripped her bedpost for support. Right where she stood, she kicked off her boots and peeled down the stained, damp dress. Bits of mud, dirt, and rubble gathered around her. Muscles sore and aching, she would have relished her bed but she moved to her washstand instead.
Light reflected off the water in the basin. She squeezed the cloth and ran water along her arms and face, biting her teeth into her lower lip at the frigidness that magnified her pain. She rubbed harder at the cuts and bruises, washing away her blood. The Barghest’s blood. Barrington’s blood.
Unable to feel clean, she slipped her nightdress over raw and reddened skin and paced to the window. She paused in the middle of the room and spun around to her surroundings. After their night, the room seemed foreign, everything about the Academy unimportant. The bed, the mirror, the wardrobe, her books were things of little value, and she could not breathe being around them—around the possessions of the girl she once was.
The old Sera—highly emotional, insubordinate, and confrontational—would have gone against Barrington’s direction and done things her way. She would have broken his bond with Sister Egerton even if he’d asked her not to. Would have told him he was an idiot for engaging in necromancy. Would have set the workroom on fire around him to keep him from going. Had it been the old her, she wouldn’t have been swayed by his kindness and company, his apologies and desires—by him. She would be suffering his wrath, not the possibility of his death.
But it was too late. Dazed, she walked to the window and curled up on the seat. She stared into the distance as though able to see the moors there, and in the flashes of lightning, Barrington’s home. When had she become this girl? With this thought in her mind, she stayed awake all night and raked her memories to find the girl she once was.
Come morning, the only thing she’d found was all the regret and pain in the world, and not an ounce of sleep.