Page 30 of Dark Angel

“How could this have happened to our little girl?” Tobias hears Ida sobbing beside their daughter. He wants nothing more than to reach out and tell them everything will be all right, but he knows he’ll be lying to them if he says that.

Tobias places a hand gently on Ida’s shoulder. The two of them have been friends since there were three years old. They have been through so much together already, but this is defiantly the most heart wrenching moment they’ve experienced together.

Ida’s husband, Henry, strokes her back gently, tears flowing freely from his eyes as he stares at Clara’s departed body.

“I am so sorry, Ida. Henry. I wished you’d never have to feel this sort of pain.” Is all Tobias can bring himself to say, pushing his own tears away to remain strong for them.

“Are you here to look at-” Henry can’t even bring himself to finish that sentence. The pain is too much for him to bear.

Tobias and Percy nod silently.

“Come, Ida. We should get some air while they...” he drifts off again, the words stuck in his throat.

Ida bursts out into a flurry of fresh tears as her husband half carries her from the infirmary.

The moment they step out, the room falls silent.

Percy walks over to Clara, pulling down the white sheet that’s covering her unclothed body down to her waist, and begins assessing the deathly carvings.

Bone deep and bloody.

Percy pushes back the sudden rush of sickness, reminding himself that he’s trained for incidents just like this one. Peering down at the marks closely, his knowledge of medicine and injuries is far greater than anyone else’s in the Ascendancy, and even he’s unfamiliar with these kinds of wounds.

“I would say these carvings seem to be made from some sort of blade or knife. The incision is far too thin and precise to be from a claw or talon.”

“A blade,” Robert repeats, “so it couldn’t be the claw of a canine Shifter?”

“I would say not,” Percy shrugs at him, “I have never seen anything like this though, nor read about this,” he breathes out, “theWhite Women will have more knowledge about these sorts of incisions. They are immortal, after all. They’ve possibly seen this before in our kind.”

Tobias sneaks a peak at Clara’s figure. He’s never been one to stomach dead bodies-especially those of children he’s known their whole lives.

“They will be here shortly. They’re portalling in from their stronghold.” Robert prepares them.

As if on cue, swirls of white and silver spark and spiral on the wall beside them. As the portal grows larger, they all step backwards to make room for their arrival. Only Spellcasters have the ability to create and control portals with their energy.

When the portal is six feet tall, three women step through, one after the other. They’re all dressed identically in long white gowns with a silver tasselled belts hanging around their lean waists. Shiny metallic hair braided down their backs intertwined with white lilies-the flower of death.

The portal diminishes behind them, returning the wall back to blank light green paint, as if the portal wasn’t just there.

“You called for us, Mr Bladesmith.” One woman greets them in a therapeutic voice, satisfying like the gentle rippling of water. Her skin is dark and eyes silver like two coins. Her irises have completely swallowed her blackened pupils.

Robert clears his throat and steps towards them. “I did, and thank you for your prompt response.” He walks them over to Clara’s stiff body. The lady’s bony hand pulls the sheet entirely off, causing Tobias to gag behind Percy’s back. The glare he receives tells him to leave the room.

Tobias does without being told twice.

The three women stand around the body, all of them examining the carvings at once. Their faces don’t seem to show any emotion as they lean in close, carefully studying the depth and precision of each crescent etching. If they are scared, repulsed, or bored-nobody can tell.

The dark-skinned woman lifts the arm of Clara, fishing out a small piece of reflective glass from the pocket of her gown. She holds this up to peer through, magnifying the mark for a clearer assessment. Clara’s flesh has been cut right down to the bone. Each crescent carving is identical in depth and size.

One of the other women, a slightly younger looking lady with paler freckled skin and matching argent eyes, reaches for a needle sitting in a metal dish. Digging it through Clara’s flesh, she draws out a vial of her blood. Dull wine-coloured liquid mixed with flecks of black and silver is slowly drawn out.

“Poisoned.” She murmurs in her smooth voice.

Percy looks taken aback for a moment. “You mean someone poisoned her?”

The woman looks up at him with wide eyes. “Seems like it. By my guess, it looks to be Infernal essence, demonic venom or nightshade. Perhaps even a mixture of the three substances.”

“That is onemightyconcoction.” Will says in disbelief. “Who in the world would have thought of using that?”

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