Page 12 of The Dragon and the Dove

The bones in the dirt spelled out his goodbye.

LAST CHANCE, OLD FRIEND

Ransom raked his hair back, wiping his blood on the grass.

Footsteps sounded nearby, and Versini appeared beside him.

Ransom barely batted an eyelid. Of all the things that had happened this morning, the Shadowsmith’s survival was the least surprising. Versinis, after all, were like cockroaches.

The Shadowsmith canted his head, studying the bones.

‘Lark and his fucking theatrics,’ muttered Ransom.

‘Reads more like an invitation to me,’ Theo replied.

Ransom was not in the mood for another fight. He stood up, brushing himself off.

‘I suppose that’s why you’re still alive. Despite that impressive mosaic of bruises,’ Versini went on. ‘He must think your loyalty is still in play.’

The words rankled. ‘Worry about your own loyalty, Versini.’

‘Why bother when it already keeps you up all night?’ he shot back. ‘You’re the one who just survived a one-on-one with Andreas’s Necromancer. Lark should have killed you.’

‘You sound disappointed.’

‘Just making an observation.’

‘I guess it takes a hell of a lot to kill a saint,’ Ransom bit back. ‘Why don’t we test the theory now you’ve woken up?’

Stepping in close, he looked the Shadowsmith over. His eyes were the same blue green as before, if perhaps a little more guarded. There wasn’t a speck of dust on him. ‘What happened to you then?’

‘When I woke, Val and Anouk were asleep,’ he said, evenly. ‘My head was pounding, so I went for a walk. When I got back, the whole place had caved in.’

‘Looks like we both got lucky, then.’ Sarcasm dripped from every word.

Kicking away Lark’s message, Ransom turned back for Hugo’s Passage. ‘You missed the resurrection of your ancestor. Hugo came to read me a bedtime story.’

Versini stalked after him. ‘I warned you this would happen. With a Necromancer on the loose, it was madness to stay in those damn catacombs.’

‘Then why didn’t you piss off yesterday?’ Ransom kicked the gate open, stalked right through it. ‘By all means, Versini, save yourself.’

‘It’s not me I’m worried about,’ he said, keeping pace. ‘Andreas wants her.’

Ransom bristled, the words coming through his teeth. ‘Over my dead body.’

‘And mine.’

Ransom skidded to a stop, reminded with sudden vicious clarity of the scene from last night. Sera’s hand on Versini’s chest, her hair falling like a curtain around them. ‘Well? Did it work?’

Versini hesitated. ‘Not that I can tell.’

Unease festered in Ransom. ‘It took something from Seraphine, that making,’ he said. ‘She wasn’t right after it.’

He looked for her up ahead now, some primal instinct shoving him across the cobbles. She was sitting on a bench, tending to Anouk. Bathed in the dawn light, she looked as pale and fragile as a doll.

He looked back at the Shadowsmith. ‘Something changed in you last night, Versini. You can’t tell me otherwise.’

‘I’m not trying to tell you anything.’ Theo turned, stalking off towards Tobias. ‘I’ll let you know when I figure it out.’