Page 46 of The Dragon and the Dove

Ransom dived, tackling him by the waist. They careened into the fireplace. No time for magic. Brute force would have to do. He pinned him to the floor, one hand wrapped around his throat, the other reaching for the poker. He jammed it into the scholar’s jugular, bringing his face up close.

‘Big mistake, Jules.’

The scholar cried out, ‘I h-h-h-ave t-t-to.’

Ransom jammed the poker deeper, drawing a bead of blood.

Sera moved behind him, peering at the quivering man. The scholar’s eyes were glazed and there was a stiffness to him that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

She knew that look – he was not a man but a puppet. His strings were being pulled.

Andreas…

She laid a steadying hand on Ransom’s shoulder. ‘He’s been compelled.’

Ransom didn’t move.

Outside, his shadows swarmed, ravens seeping like smoke through the windows.

Madame Mercure edged towards the scholar. ‘What exactly have you been compelled to do, boy?’

When he didn’t respond, Theo said, ‘Kill the Saint-maker. Clearly.’

Without turning his head, Ransom half growled, ‘It wasn’t so clear when you walked him up the stairwell five minutes ago.’

‘I searched him like you told me to.’ Theo rubbed the bruise blooming on his jaw. ‘How was I supposed to know he’d make a weapon of his damn fountain pen?’

‘I would have known,’ snapped Ransom. ‘Seraphine once stabbed me with a letter opener. It fucking hurt.’

The scholar was shaking violently.

Sera almost felt sorry for him.

‘Speak,’ she pressed.

He gasped out, ‘I have a message for the Order of Flames.’

‘Which is?’

But with Ransom’s shadows crawling along the walls, the scholar was rapidly descending into a panic attack.

Ransom shook him. ‘The message. If you value your life, say it.’

Again, that glazed look came over him, and when he spoke again, his voice was clear and calm, as though it was not the young scholar but Andreas himself.

‘To the surviving members of the Order of Flames, listen well. Soon, Fantome will fall under my command and the kingdom as you know it will be mine. Kneel and swear fealty to me as your ruler, or meet a swift and bloody end. The choice is yours. It will be given only once.’

‘I’m guessing that little bit of theatre was for after I bled out,’ said Sera, dryly.

The fountain pen trembled in the scholar’s fist, its sharpened tip still stained with ink.

Slowly retracting the poker, Ransom said, ‘Give me one of those vials, Versini.’

Theo rummaged in his satchel, producing a vial of gold liquid and tossing it to Ransom. ‘This should counteract the prince’s compulsion.’

Brandishing the poker like a longsword, Ransom climbed off the squirming scholar. He set the vial down on the coffee table and said, ‘Drink.’

The scholar scrabbled to his feet. He picked up the vial. It shook so badly, he nearly dropped it.