“No,” he said aloud, the word scraping his throat.
But to his surprise, the monster’s smile widened. “I was hoping you would say that.”
Kell didn’t understand the creature’s joy, not until it stepped back and held up its hands. “I like this skin. And now that you have refused me, I get to keep it.”
Something shifted in the creature’s eyes, a pulse of light, a sliver of green, flaring, fighting, only to be swallowed again by the darkness. The monster shook its head almost ruefully. “Holland, Holland …” it purred.
“Bring him back,” demanded Kell. “We are not done.” But the creature kept shaking its head as it reached for Kell’s throat. He tried to pull away, but there was no escape.
“You were right, Antari,” it said, running its fingertips along the metal collar. “Magic is either a servant or a master.”
Kell fought against the metal frame, the cuffs cutting into his wrists. “Holland!” he shouted, the word echoing through the stone room. “Holland, you bastard, fight back!”
The demon only stood and watched, its black eyes amused, unblinking.
“Show me you’re not weak!” screamed Kell. “Prove you’re not still a slave to someone else’s will! Did you really come all the way back to lose like this? Holland!”
Kell sagged back against the metal frame, wrists bloody and voice hoarse as the monster turned and walked away.
“Wait, demon,” choked Kell, straining against the pressing darkness, the cold, the fading echo of Rhy’s pulse.
The creature glanced back. “My name,” it said, “is Osaron.”
Kell fought against the metal frame as his vision blurred, refocused, and then began to tunnel. “Where are you going?”
The demon held something up for him to see, and Kell’s heart lurched. It was a single crimson coin, marked by a gold star in its center. A Red London lin.
“No,” he pleaded, twisting against the cuffs until they shredded his skin and blood streamed down his wrists. “Osaron, you can’t.”
The demon only smiled. “But who will stop me now?”
IX
Lila paced the orchard.
She had to do something.
The courtyard was brimming with guards, the palace in a frenzy. Tieren was trying to coax answers from Hastra, and several rows away, Alucard was still curled over Rhy, murmuring something too soft for her to hear. It sounded like a soothing whisper. Or a prayer. She had heard men praying at sea, not to God, but to the world, to magic, to anything that might be listening. A higher power, a different name. Lila hadn’t believed in God for a very long time—she’d given up praying when it was clear that no one would answer—and while she was willing to admit that magic existed, it didn’t seem to listen, or at least, it didn’t seem to care. Lila took a strange pleasure in that, because it meant the power was her own.
God wasn’t going to help Rhy.
But Lila could.
She marched back through the orchard.
“Where are you going?” demanded Alucard, looking up from the prince.
“To fix this,” she said. And with that she took off, sprinting through the courtyard doors. She didn’t stop, not for the attendants or the guards who tried to bar her way. She ducked and spun, surging past them and through the palace doors and down the steps.
Lila knew what she had to do, though she had no idea if it would work. It was madness to try, but she didn’t have a choice. That wasn’t true. The old Lila would have pointed out that she always had a choice, and that she’d live a hell of a lot longer if she chose herself.
But when it came to Kell, there was a debt. A bond. Different from the one that bound him and Rhy, but just as solid.
Hold on, she thought.
Lila pressed through the crowded streets and away from the festivities. In her mind she tried to draw a map of White London, what little she’d seen of it, but she couldn’t remember much besides the castle, and Kell’s warning to never cross over exactly where you wanted to be.
When she finally found herself alone, she pulled the shard of Astrid Dane from her back pocket. Then she rolled up her sleeve and withdrew her knife.
This is madness, she thought. Sheer and utter madness.
She knew the difference between elemental and Antari. Yes, she had survived before, but she had been with Kell, under the protection of his magic. And now she was alone.
What am I? she’d asked Tieren.
What am I? she’d wondered every night at sea, every day since she’d first found herself here in this city, in this world.
Now Lila swallowed and drew the knife’s blade across her forearm. It bit into flesh, and a thin ribbon of red rose and spilled over. She smeared the wall with her blood and clutched the shard of stone.
Whatever I am, she thought, pressing her hand to the wall, let it be enough.