“It was about the same time,” Vander said, sounding guarded.
Constantine nodded excitedly. “Excellent!” He stood from the chair and balanced the open book with both hands. “Just as I presumed from the beginning, Mr. Burke. Your ability to see dust is not terribly uncommon. A number of the devout develop the same sort of sight when they receive their calling from the Lord. A true calling, mind you. One that cannot easily be explained or reasoned out. I suspect your family was rather surprised when you announced your intentions for the clergy?”
Ingrid watched Vander closely. His expression softened with wonder, and Ingrid was certain Constantine’s guess had been dead-on.
“We share the ability to see dust because we have both been called, Mr. Burke. I have followed my calling by studying Christianity’s darkest mysteries, while your calling has led you along a very different path.”
“What’s your point?” Vander asked.
Constantine set down the book he’d been holding, spun it toward Vander, and gave it a short push.
“You have the blood of a mersian demon,” he said.
Vander touched the edge of the open book with his fingers. “I haven’t heard of a mersian demon before.”
“Neither have I,” Luc said as he approached the table. “And I’ve been around a little bit longer than you have, Seer.”
Ingrid stayed quiet. The only demons she knew of were the ones she’d come into direct contact with. Unfortunately, she knew there were many, many more.
“That is because they don’t hunt humans,” Constantine answered. Ingrid, Vander, and Luc gave him their full attention. “They hunt other Underneath demons and feed on their dust. By feeding on a demon’s dust, a mersian will leach its prey of power and will in turn soak it up, making the power its own.”
Constantine again pushed the book in Vander’s direction. “When a mersian comes close enough to another demon, it absorbs that demon’s field of dust. Like any demon, the mersian will eventually exhaust whatever it has consumed, and will therefore need to feed again. However, until it exhausts the dust it has fed on, the mersian will take on the abilities of its prey.”
They all took a silent moment to make sense of what Constantine had just said. So when Vander had pinned Léon’s arms, he’d come into contact with arachnae dust. He’d absorbed the dust, and then that dust had … what? Given him Léon’s powers?
Vander removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t have mersian blood. I’ve fought demons before, and I’ve never taken on their abilities after.”
“Yet haven’t you always had your sword or some other weapon to keep your body at a distance from those demons?” Constantine countered, his expression confident. He already knew what Vander’s answer would be.
“You held Léon’s arms at his side for at least a minute, perhaps longer. Enough time to absorb his dust,” Ingrid’s teacher went on, taking up his cane from where it rested against the table.
“But wouldn’t Vander have noticed something like this before now?” Ingrid asked. He was nearly nineteen, and she and Grayson, at seventeen, had started noticing their abilities months ago.
“That depends on how many opportunities he’s had to touch another Duster—or a demon, or gargoyle, I suppose, since all those things have dust fields,” Constantine answered.
The temperature in the orangery intensified, and the flora seemed to creep in closer. Ingrid didn’t know how many Dusters Vander had touched, but she did know that he had touched her. Held her. Kissed her. Each time, she’d noticed a thorny stirring in her arms. The last time, in the Alliance library, it had surged and then drained away. And the next day she hadn’t been able to conjure up her electricity, even when the Jonathan mimic had been bearing down on her in the middle of a street.
Vander was watching her as she remembered these things. Unfortunately, so was Luc.
“I’ve touched Ingrid,” Vander said.
She had wondered before if the connection Luc had with her was deep enough to have pierced her, giving her the same connection to him that he had to her. At that moment, she was sure it had. Rage blistered underneath her skin, and Ingrid knew it wasn’t her own.
“You have?” Constantine blinked owlishly behind his spectacles, looking from Vander to Ingrid, and then back again. “Oh. Well, ah … did you, ah, notice anything?”
“Yes, Seer. Did you notice anything?” Luc asked with unmasked menace.
“I did,” Ingrid said, drawing Luc’s ire. “I think Monsieur Constantine is right. I couldn’t produce a single spark the following day.”
It hadn’t even come to her unwanted, as it usually did.
Vander reached for the book Constantine had pushed toward him. He slammed it closed, making her jump.
“So that was your lectrux power I felt?” he asked.