Page 48 of Serpent and Shadow

I fought with the blank permanence of his appraisal.

I tried to decide if I cared.

In the end, my attention shifted from the odd image of Strangemore who wasn’t Strangemore, and returned to the other faces around the circle. Eventually, I ran out of faces, and my attention followed all of theirs to the center space, where the green smoke swirled, distorting the outline of a tall form dressed all in black.

When I saw the masked figure standing there, a colder rage rippled through me, deeper than anything I felt seeing Strangemore again. I couldn’t see his face, his hair, or any of his skin, but I still knew him, even before my mind made sense of the rest of it.

It was Malefic.

I knew who it was, even before logic got me there by other means.

It had been Malefic who had spoken. I hadn’t recognized his voice. It had been distorted and deepened by the mask, which also vibrated his words, projecting them inside the high-ceilinged space, but I knew it was him.

“Kneel,” he repeated, colder.

Again, the lone word echoed.

For the barest instant, I thought he was talking to me.

I stared at the jackal’s head he wore, fighting to control my emotional reaction to seeing him. That reaction wasn’t fear, although maybe it should have been. It was blinding rage, a feeling of helpless fury that felt outside of my control. I knew some of what he’d done already. I had a good idea what he’d continue to do, and allow to happen.

I wanted to kill him.

I wanted him dead.

I’d been conscious of having that feeling before.

When he attacked Bones in his tower at Malcroix, I’d been filled with a similar rage when I thought he’d killed Caelum. I tried to murder Malefic that day, but I’d also hesitated, for reasons I could only speculate about now. He’d been Bones’s father. I’d never killed anyone before. I hadn’t been sure what was right.

In the end, my cousin and the Praecuri broke into the room, making the decision for me, but if I were being honest, I still thought about that morning.

I ran through all the things I could have done differently, what my life would be like now if I’d tried harder, if I hadn’t hesitated, if I’d hit him with the cutting spell somewhere more fatal, or if I simply kept going once I had him cornered in Bones’s lavatory.

Some part of me felt responsible for all of this.

Maybe I was responsible for all of this.

Pay attention, Blackstone’s mind whispered in my ear.

With an effort, I focused back on the center of the ritual circle.

As I concentrated, white stone glowed from cut lines in the black marble, forming hieroglyphs and other symbols inside the pale rings. Some of those symbols I knew, but even more I didn’t recognize. Behind Malefic, and slightly to his right, a stone basin burned with tall green flames.

Under the jackal’s head, Malefic wore all black. His clothing had been designed so that it looked like a uniform, a militarized version of priest’s robes. Silver and gold detail stood out on his arms and boots, mirroring the symbols carved into the floor. Gold inlays formed intricate details in the design of the jackal mask, which appeared as an enormous Anubis-head, sitting perfectly on his broad shoulders.

Like the rest of his clothing, the mask was obsidian black. His black-gloved hands clenched in fists by his thighs, and green smoke seethed from between his fingers.

Malefic didn’t see me, any more than his pathetic worshippers did.

He moved to one side of the circle carved into the rock floor as I watched, right before another figure emerged from the mist.

“Kneel, whelp, or I’ll ensure you won’t get back up anytime soon.”

My breath stopped.

My focus shifted more deliberately to my right.

Immediately, it felt like I’d been punched in the middle of my chest.