“And why, my dear Miss Farrow, would we want to spill your blood?” Devereaux inquired. “We have already gone to the trouble of vetting these donors as excellent blood candidates. Sinclair, Riordan, and Iyer all come from good breeding stock.”
At this, Casimir’s protests abruptly ceased. He wasrelieved, I realized, and I hated him for it.
“We’re wasting time,” Evren growled. “The moon is ascendant and we need to begin?—”
“Let Arden leave before you begin,” Casimir said, ignoring Evrenand appealing directly to Devereaux. “Dev,please.” I had never heard Casimir beg before.
Devereaux merely arched his brow.
“Shut it, Darkseer,” Evren grunted. He strode over and kicked Casimir in the shin, causing his grip on my arm to slacken. I twisted free as a second blow sent Casimir crashing to the floor, where his skull struck against the hard stone.
“Don’t hurt him!” I screamed, but Evren only laughed.
Casimir didn’t move. He was out cold.
“Thank you, Evren,” intoned Devereaux. Before I knew what was happening, he reached out a pale hand and ensnared my wrist. A dull warmth spread over me, coaxing my muscles to relax. Unable to resist the temptation, I succumbed to the proffered bliss, my limbs going limp on a sigh. As though through a fog, I felt myself being led by two cloaked Daemons, ushering me toward the center of the dais where Neha, Gwen, and August already knelt.
Devereaux began to read from theBook of Erebos. Dimly, I saw that Neha was trembling, her eyes wide with terror. August’s eyes sought mine, and against the glamour dulling my senses, I realized that he was afraid for me. All his efforts to keep me away from the Order tonight had been in vain. I was sorry for any guilt or remorse he might feel now, but nothing he could have done would’ve changed the outcome. The cloaked Daemons released my hands, but the slow, benumbed feeling lingered in my limbs. Gwen kneeled on my left. Unlike the others, her eyes were fully closed. Perhaps the bloodmagic was affecting her more strongly.
“G-Gwen,” I slurred. “Wake up,” I urged her.She needs to get out of here, I thought. When she didn’t respond, I gave her shoulder a weak shove, but Gwen was immune to my attempts to rouse her. Abruptly, the warm haze thickened along my limbs, making my arms feel like jelly. Moving as sluggishly as if I were underwater, I reached out to twine my fingers with August’s and offered him a small, tremulous smile. It was all I had left to give.
His hand was cold, but his grip was surprisingly firm.
I silently thanked the gods that Casimir was unconscious. That he would not have to witness any bloodshed. My grip on August’s fingers tightened as my vision began to blur, and I guessed that Devereaux was the cause. He must be using bloodmagic to lull us into a trance to prevent any unpleasant resistance.
All around me, the Daemons echoed Devereaux’s chants in an unfamiliar language—theBlood Tongue, I guessed. But Gwen, Gwen was safe. Dragged off to one corner of the dais by a cloaked Daemon, trembling but alive. My limbs went weak with relief. It was my one consolation that Gwen, at least, would survive. I finally began to understand a sliver of what my father had done for me, though his efforts had been entirely too late and in vain. I was doomed, and I accepted it. It was a relief, really, to stop fighting. I sank lower onto the dais, allowing my head to loll to the side.Bloodmagic was so very potent compared to softmagic, I thought dimly. My eyes fluttered closed on a sigh.
“Fight it, Arden,” a singular voice cut through the chanting, clear as a bell.Casimir? Impossible, since he was unconscious. Why would he waste his last ounce of strength trying to convince me to fight off the magic?
I wavered on the edge of bliss, preparing to embrace the abyss, but again, that nagging voice pierced through my mental walls. “Fight the bloodmagic. Now!”
But I was so tired, and the warm, fuzzy feeling only got lovelier the longer I succumbed to it. It wouldn’t be long now…
The voice was shouting now. “Arden! Open your eyes!”
The spell broke, and I became aware of several things at once: a slab of cold stone against my cheek; the metallic taste of blood flooding my mouth—my blood?—the acrid scent of burning candles, or maybe incense, and the sound of someone groaning nearby. I nearly gagged as blood pooled against my lips, but I knew it wouldn’t be wise to move just yet. The others must believe I was unconscious. Cautiously, I peeled one eye open, just enough to make out the hazy scene before me.
I was lying on the stone dais. Someone—Devereaux or Evren—was scooping up the blood pooling onto the floor with a flat shell, and cursing because they’d spilt it. A Daemon I didn’t recognize was chanting words I could not understand in a low tone. I felt no pain, not yet. Not my blood then. August lay motionless beside me, but I could just make out the rise and fall of his chest. Still alive.Please let Gwen be okay. I prayed they hadn’t gotten to her yet. The figures at the center of the room muttered under their breath. I caught words here and there as they were repeated.
“Sanguinus, Sirenix, Serpens.”
August whispered the translation under his breath:
“O blood of blood; thy eternal flame,
Sirenix, mistress of secrets, we beseech your mercy
From the essence of three
You shall restore our rise
As we spill this sacred blood
For your imbibing.
O Lady Sirenix, accept our sacrifice
We Daemons bow down to your power.”