Page 38 of Vervain

As I creep closer to the masters, I breathe, “Ardulgyu prus urot.”

The leather caresses my palms, and the steel blade shimmers forth. In one fluid motion, I adjust my stance so the blade is flat on its side, and I slash it towards them.

There is a blur of movement to the left as my blade glides through one nightwalker’s neck, decapitating him. Blood spurts for only a moment before his body becomes cinders.

The man holding the serving tray steps back with a choked gasp before he drops it and flees the carriage.

Hunger is a turbulent sea inside my mind, and a thousand emotions collide. Wisps of light emerge as I exhale, and the air around me glistens.

My blade shatters. “Fuck,” I mutter. “I need to control my magik better.”

“Saya?” My back stiffens, and my shoulders jerk. I turn away from the flaking ash to see Olivia at the door. Cigarette smoke clings to her clothes, sharp and pungent. “What the⁠—”

Rough hands grab my shoulders, spinning me around to face them. Wide, fury-filled eyes lock onto mine. A long cut now marks him from eyebrow to ear, splitting the tip. Ash flakes from the wound along with thick and clotting blood.

Rage fills Olivia’s master’s bloodshot eyes.

“Who do you think you are?” Fingers tighten, digging into my shoulder blades. “What are you doing, mut⁠—”

His hold slackens, and as I fall back, I see blood spray from his now severed arm, shimmering like cinders from an open fire.

The shadows near him retract.

The nightwalker splutters in disbelief at the solid black form now leaning against the leather sofa. Dilated red eyes are on the man, long claws twitching, hungering for flesh.

Serun moves deliberately slow, and with every step he takes, a ringing pulse drums in my ear. “You dare touch my consort, scum?” he drawls, precise, controlled, like the eerie calm of a storm before lightning strikes.

Olivia squats beside me and pulls at my arm. I mechanically rise to my feet, the man’s detached arm rolling off my lap and splattering near where he now kneels before the Lord of the Undercity. Olivia pulls me over to the door, and when I look at her for a fleeting moment, there is panic flickering across her bloodshot eyes.

“N-no! Never, Lord Serun,” the man squeaks, and I draw my attention back to them. “I did not know that she⁠—”

Serun crouches until he is at eye level, his shadows broad, suffocating the room and crawling up the walls. His long, clawed hand curls around the severed arm, and there’s a cruel glint of bloodlust in his eyes. He pushes the limp, flaking-ash fingers underneath the nightwalker’s chin, forcing him to lift his head and meet Serun’s eyes.

“My consort has white hair. A heartbeat. Icy blue skin and starlight freckles that glow in the dark.” Serun slaps the man’s hand across his face. “Your liar’s tongue won’t work on me. It’s pathetic.”

The man whimpers, his ears bending back and his eyes glistening, on the verge of tears. “Forgive me, Lord Serun.”

A dark chuckle comes from within the shadows, and the gruesome severed hand pats the top of the master’s own head. “It is not my forgiveness you should be seeking.”

The master suddenly crawls towards me at a sprint, blood splashing and whimpering sobs with every movement.

Serun rises, darkness penetrating every inch of the walls and clawed hands breaking from the ceiling, reminding me of the time in the delivery room. Hunger comes from within, his eyes starved. He looks sadistically at the man grovelling near my feet.

“Forgive me, Lady Consort!” he cries. “I swear never to touch you again. I swear it on my House!”

Olivia shuffles away from me. She inches out the door while I rest on my knees, my dress soaking in the pooling blood.

“Your newborn isn’t a plaything. They are to learn the ways of a nightwalker, and that is all. There will be changes moving forward for all masters.”

“Yes, of course! Of course. I will no longer touch the newborn.” The man bows his head, resting his forehead in his own muck.

“Pir avacen,” whispers in my ear.

“And you will lead by example,” I say. “With your death.”

The nightwalker’s body stops trembling, and he lifts his head. What’s left of his arms tenses, wrapping around his body as he struggles to rise.

Serun stands behind him, shadows wrapping around the man’s body, coiling tight like a snake around its prey.