The children placed their hands on my shoulders and began chanting. “Lumen Solis Invicti. Lumen Solis Invicti. Lumen Solis…”
I looked over my shoulder. As they chanted, a light grew in front of them. No, not in front of them. The light emitted from their bodies. The Cruor started to retreat. Charles, Adrian, and I remained wrapped in shadows as the front of the children’s bodies grew brighter with each spoken word.
I knew those words. Not in my mind, not from this life—but in my spirit, I knew them.
“Lumen Solis Invicti,” they continued.
Light of the unconquered sun.
Their efforts were not enough. They needed me, needed whatever power I stored within me to put their magic into full effect. I knew this in the same way I knew to breathe. It was just a part of me.
I closed my eyes, focusing all my energy into their small bodies, and joined their chant. The light became blinding. I turned away, shielding my face with the crook of my arm, but Charles, Adrian, and I were wrapped in the children’s shadow, untouched by their implacable light. A few moments later, the air went cold. Darkness reclaimed the cemetery.
Only the tombstones had survived. The newly silent air—now empty of the cries of battle—filled with shuddering breaths and the winces and moans of Charles and Adrian.
The children turned to me, their skin bright red. I shrieked at their unexpected appearance and swayed back against Charles.
“It’s okay, Sophia,” they said, reaching toward me.
Their skin lightened more by the moment, returning to their previous pallor. I reached out to touch them, but my hand twitched. What were they?
As their hands touched mine, palm-to-palm, they effused a relaxing stream of electricity that entered through my fingertips. They knelt in front of Charles and Adrian.
“What was that?” Charles asked.
“We’ll explain later,” the girl said, her voice oddly mature. “We must relocate immediately.”
The girl touched Adrian’s and Charles’ wounds, her fingertips glowing red. The touch cauterized the skin, stopping the flow of blood. The boy placed his palm to each man’s forehead, and a soft hum carried on the night’s chill wind. Both Charles and Adrian’s countenances improved.
“Now, Sophia,” the boy said.
I couldn’t read his thoughts, but there was a knowing. The men still needed my blood. This time they had the strength to feed. They drank just enough to gain the strength to get away, then we scaled the cemetery walls to our escape.
As I heaved myself over, I saw Ophelia standing at a nearby grave, watching. A small smile touched her lips, then she disappeared into the shadows.
Chapter 29
THE CAR OPHELIA HAD WAITING for us was old, the gray seats upholstered with perforated leather, each tiny hole an inch apart. The heating vents blew around a mothball odor that reminded me of Mother’s coat and vacuum closet back in Keota. My clothes, wet with blood and dusted in ash, squished against the seat, and my stomach sent acrid bile into the back of my mouth.
At first, I half-expected Cruor to chase us down the road, but the further we distanced ourselves from the cemetery, and the faster the night sky lightened, the safer I felt. But we still needed to get Adrian indoors before sunrise.
I wished for the nausea and shaking to subside. A headache settled in. I was neither able to block nor focus on the elemental noise. All that remained was the pulsing hum of whispered thoughts.
A fog lifted from my mind as we pulled away. Not a fog caused by magic or Cruor influence, but the fog of what had happened. Reality crashed into my chest, arresting my lungs and heart with the realization of what I’d done.
As Adrian drove, the children, sitting on either side of me, tended to my wounds with their magic, but because I was mortal, the scars would remain—the thin pink rivers on my arms as well as the burn scars on my shoulders, chest, stomach, and shins that Ophelia had healed. Charles and Adrian had already fully regenerated. No visible evidence of the war marked their bodies.
With my immediate wounds cared for, the children turned and stared out the windows. I leaned between the front seats to check on Charles, who was sleeping in the passenger seat. His chest rose and fell in slow breaths. I touched his cheek with the back of my hand. His skin was feverish and damp.
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked Adrian.
“Quite.” He reached to turn on the car radio, hand trembling. “A big shift, is all.”
I rubbed my temples to alleviate the pressure. In the rear-view mirror, I saw the creases in Adrian’s forehead deepen. Where did we go from here—where would we be safe?
“They could’ve killed me,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.
Adrian heaved a sigh. “I cannot thank you enough.”
“Thank me?”
“We’d all be dead if it weren’t for you.”