Page 117 of Vervain

I lean over Olivia, palm face up, and I seethe in the face that tore my friends and say, “Fink hon.”

Instead of light protruding from my entire body, it gathers in the palm of my hand. Olivia cries out as the light bursts. The echo releases its grip on Olivia’s shirt, and I grab her arm, pulling her towards me. Burns and open wounds sweat down half her face, but she’s here, pushing through the gap the echoes can’t follow. They try, but their bodies are too large.

I reach out ahead of me, finding the opening. Digging my dirty fingernails into the stone, I pull myself forward until I am out the other side. My heart pounds, and when Olivia falls onto her hands and knees beside me, I realise Serun’s still out there.

“Se—” My voice fades when I look at the nightwalker in front of me. Tired red eyes, bloodshot and hollow, with her skin wrapped around bones. She stares at my neck and licks her lips. But before that thought can turn into reality, she looks away and drags her fingers through her matted, short black hair.

“Avianna, is that you?” I ask.

She looks back at me as if surprised I remember who she is. “Lady Consort… follow. It is quieter down here.”

“But Serun.”

“Lord Serun will return when he is done. Your…servant…seems to be in a worse condition.”

Olivia has one eye closed, two long claw marks down her forehead and brow, across her right eye, and grazing her lips. Blood pours out, covering her face and drenching her neck. I wince, reaching out to the burns, but she flinches away, recoiling from me.

“Sorry,” I say.

She nudges her head forward and says, “Lead on, Lord Reyes’ Consort.”

I lower my hand, keeping it at my side. I just burned her with my magik. It was meant to help, but it could have been much worse. I would have disintegrated her.

Avianna moves ahead, torch in hand, along a narrow path. She doesn’t seem afraid or on edge, so I don’t think the echoes can enter—still, I don’t want to take my chances. I draw my blade, as if having it gives me a layer of protection.

The spider lilies on the hilt bloom in my presence, pulsating with magik. Olivia winces, shying further away from me, as if the sight of them repels her. I lower my blade. The light dulls, radiating a soft, near-translucent glow.

We follow Avianna, wondering what the hell happened and how Serun lost contact with his brother.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

ACQUISITION

Saya Claymore

Avianna ducks beneath the low-hanging ceiling. Glaciers of rock flow down like thin streams from the faucet. Repositioning the sword, I crouch behind her, the sound of my shoes leaving echoing thumps.

Olivia keeps her distance. Though seeping blood cakes her wound, it slows and congeals thickly. I bite my lower lip and turn ahead. Avianna rises, and after a few more steps, I do the same. We hide in a small, circular cavern with no way out except the way we came.

With no threat, I slide the blade back into the sheath and step aside to make room for Olivia to enter. Her right eye is completely closed, crusted with dry blood.

Avianna crouches the furthest away from me, her dilated red eyes fixed on my neck, while mine are on hers before I glance away. Turning to the bag Olivia still carries on her back, I reach out to her. She flinches, looking at me like I am an alien.

Like I assumed every nightwalker would.

“The blood,” I say, pointing to what she carries. Olivia shrugs the bag off her back and hands it to me. I open the pack and take out the blood bottles Serun prepared after he slaughtered the slayers. I toss one to Avianna, then the other to Olivia. “Drink. Both of you. It might help.”

Olivia curls her lip but takes a swig. Avianna, however, makes no move to grab it. “I’d rather starve than taste slayer’s blood.”

Looking at Olivia again, my fingers twitch. I want to heal her, but the way she looks at me makes my fingers curl into fists. We all lapse into silence, as if we are waiting for Serun to appear.

Without knowing what to do, I pick at the skin around my fingernail, tasting the bite of pain. Avianna watches, her demeanour unchanged from when we were last together.

“Fuck…” Olivia mutters as she flicks bits of flesh from her face.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

Her eyes narrow to slits. She looks back at her bloodstained, dirt-covered hands. “No. It doesn’t hurt, but I feel what’s happening.”