The Chalice of Nightmares (Lorcan fanfiction)

Chapter 10

"How did you find me?" Seraphin breathed, the reek of the ilken nearly enough to make her vomit.

Vernon rose to his feet in a fluid, unhurried movement, straightening his green tunic. "Asking questions to buy yourself time? Clever, but expected." He jerked his chin to the creature. It loosed a low, guttural clicking sound.

The door opened behind it, revealing two other ilken now crowding the hall with their wings and hideous faces. Oh gods. Oh, gods.

Think think think think think.

"Your companion, last we heard, was putting supplies on his boat and unmooring it. You probably should have paid him more."

"He's my husband," she hissed. "He wouldn't leave me. You're lying."

Vernon let out a low laugh. "Lorcan Salvaterre, Maeve's second-in-command, is your husband? The same Maeve who tried to assassinate you. Really, Seraphin." He waved a lazy hand to the ilken. "We depart now."

Fight now—now, before they had the chance to move her, to get her away. But where to run? The innkeeper had sold her out, someone had betrayed their location on this river—

The ilken tugged at her. She planted her heels onto the wooden slats, little good it would do. It let out a low laugh and brought its mouth to her ear. "Your blood smells clean."

She recoiled in horror, but it was too late. The creature's grip tightened around her, its greyish tongue teasing the side of her neck. Seraphin thrashed desperately, but her efforts were in vain as it dragged her forcefully into the hall, the two waiting ilken looming menacingly ahead. Her arm ached as it tightened its grip. The back door stood tantalizingly close, already open to the night beyond, but fighting was futile. Seraphin knew she couldn't take on all of them at once.

"Maybe once Erawan pays you a visit you'll tell me where you've hidden Elide." Vernon crooned, falling into step behind them. She slammed her feet into the wooden floor, over and over, straining for the wall, for anything to have leverage to push and fight against it—

No.

No.

No.

Lorcan had left—he'd gotten everything he needed from her and left. She'd slowed him down, and had brought enemy after enemy after him.

"And whatever will you do back at Morath," Vernon mused, "now that Manon Blackbeak is dead?" Seraphin's chest cracked open at the words. Manon—

"Gutted by her own grandmother and thrown off the side of the Keep for her disobedience. As for Erawan...he will be interested to learn what you've been up to. What you ... took from Kaltain."

The stone in her jacket's breast pocket. It thrummed and whispered, awakening as she bucked. No one in the now-silent inn at the opposite end of the hall bothered to come around the corner and investigate her wordless shouting. Another ilken stepped into view just beyond the open back door.

Four of them. And Lorcan had left—

The stone at her breast began to seethe. But a voice that was young and old, wise and sweet, whispered, Do not touch it. Do not use it. Do not acknowledge it.

Seraphin wanted to ignore that voice, to unleash the power of the Wyrdkey upon Vernon and his pack of vermin. She yearned to embrace the destruction, to allow herself to perish alongside them. Yet, a promise made to Kaltain Rompier, the weight of prophecy, and the knowledge of her people waiting for her back home stayed her hand. She had walked through hell and emerged breathing on the other side. She would survive this too. With steely determination, she vowed to live long enough to tear Erawan's heart from his chest, to purge the very essence of his being from this world.