Jean leafed through the morning correspondence at his writing desk. Sunlight flooded the second-floor study with warm gold. The heat was already building, but a morning breeze off the sea kept the air cool. The smell of fresh coffee mingled with croissants and butter. Jean sipped his coffee and dunked a croissant without looking up from the letter.
Sophie had curled into the deep armchair by the terrace doors, a cup of tea cooling between her palms. She watched the rooftops tumble downhill to the harbour, where the day's bustle was already under way, the fingers of her left hand drumming a near-inaudible rhythm on the armrest.
Kali had commandeered the wicker chair on the terrace, the back of her neck tilted into the sun. The heat soaked into her skin and trickled down her spine in stretching warmth. The dense black of her hair swallowed the light whole, a window of night sky punched into a clear day. From inside that shadow she watched her spouses and savoured the show.
Jean sorted bills and business enquiries out of habit until he stopped on an envelope of cream laid paper. The Rosen crest glinted gold on the wax seal. Jean froze, the envelope trapped between his fingers. His mother's handwriting on the address had been familiar since childhood.
He let out a long breath and, without breaking the seal, set the letter at the edge of the desk, where the papers marked for "later review" lived.
"Something important?" Sophie asked.
Jean looked up, crumpling the corner of the next envelope.
"No. Just... another letter."
He went back to sorting.
Sophie did not press. She crossed to the desk and rested her hand over his. Jean stopped. Keeping his eyes on the desk, he turned his hand to hold hers.
Kali straightened in her chair. She lingered on their interlaced fingers, then on the untouched letter at the edge of the desk.
The Rosen crest stared at the ceiling from its envelope, a golden eye that would never be opened.
Without warning the air in the study trembled. Silver runes of the protective wards engraved around the door frame flared alarm-red, then settled into a calm golden shimmer. The wards knew her. Jean looked up sharply from the letter.
A shimmering haze formed in the doorway, and out of it stepped Naama. The demoness's red skin blazed against green silk. A short top hugged her chest, a wide belt sat on her hips, and a slit skirt bared one leg to the thigh. Curved horns caught the morning light. Gold earrings swung as she turned her head, sizing up the room. Her tail slid lazily across the parquet as she swept into the study.
Jacopo threw the door open a second later. His grey hair stood on end, his cuffs hung unbuttoned, and he had run out of breath somewhere on the stairs. His face had gone red enough to show the veins at his temples. Benedetto loomed behind him, ready to carry the intruder bodily out to the street.
"This is outrageous!" Jacopo sputtered, still labouring up the last of the steps. "A familiar without her mistress! Entering a private house! Without invitation!"
Jean raised a hand, calming the old servant.
"She counts as family, Jacopo. The wards let her through."
Naama inclined her head, smiling faintly.
"My mistress invites you and Lady Sophie to dinner." She slid her tongue across a fang. "She wishes to satisfy herself that her daughter is well."
Jean put down the letter, shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Sophie had stepped back from the desk, head drawn into her shoulders, as though trying to take up less space in the room.
Kali came alert and turned for a better look at the visitor. Someone I know?
"Tell your mistress we will certainly attend," Jean replied with courtesy.
Naama bowed her head and dissolved into the shimmering haze as abruptly as she had arrived, leaving behind only a faint scent of bergamot and orchids.
Jacopo still stood in the doorway, shaking his head.
"In my day, this would have been unthinkable..."
"Many things were different in your day." Jean clapped the old man's shoulder. "Go, please. See to the preparations."
When the butler's footsteps faded on the staircase, a heavy silence settled over the study. Sophie dropped into the armchair by the window and covered her face with her hands.
"Uncle, tell me honestly. Are all parents like this? Am I like them? Like Mother? Like Father?"
Jean set all the letters aside and studied his niece.
"Of course not. You're nothing like them."
Sophie lifted her head. Hope and despair fought for the same space in her eyes.
"How do you know?" She caught herself, cutting a glance at the unopened letter on the desk. "Maybe I'm just better at hiding it."
Jean frowned. Hide what? What kind of life have you been keeping to yourself, kitten? After last night's discovery that she had planned the expedition and run the research, he did not know how to broach the subject. One careless word and she would shut him out for good.
Before he could reply, Jacopo's tread sounded in the corridor again.
"Forgive me, sir, but regarding the dinner, shall I have the formal carriage readied? And which gifts would you have me..."
The moment slipped. Sophie rose and walked out onto the terrace.
By the time the logistics were settled and Jacopo finally left them in peace, Sophie was still leaning against the balustrade. The sun beat into her eyes, but she did not look away. She touched her left shoulder, the place where the wounds had been last night. The skin had healed. The memory had not.
Last night she had been useless. She had simply thrown her body in the way.
Idiot. What was I thinking.
Sophie turned.
"Kali." Her voice came out firmer than she expected. "Show me. Any defence. Any attack. Anything."
The demoness turned from the window and gave Sophie a long, measuring look.
"Very well."
She rose like a coil of smoke. Walked to the small side table where Jacopo had left a dish of fruit beside the breakfast tray, picked up an apple and set it on the balustrade, and stepped back.
"This is simple. Burn it."
Kali folded her arms.
"Visualise the flame. See it in detail. The skin blackening, cracking, the flesh charring inside. You can extend your hand if it helps. Feel the bond between us. Take my power and push it into the apple."
Sophie looked at the apple. She put out a hand and stopped a finger's breadth short of the skin.
She closed her eyes and tried to see fire licking the skin, the red turning black, splitting, the flesh hissing and bubbling inside...
Silence.
She clenched her fingers until they hurt. Strained with her whole body. Searched for the invisible thread that was supposed to tie her to Kali.
Nothing. Only nothing.
She opened her eyes. The apple sat where it had always been, mocking her.
"I... don't feel anything."
Jean joined her at the balustrade.
"Let me try."
He extended his own hand toward the apple and, brows knotted, strained until his knuckles went white.
Nothing.
The apple sat there, turning a contemptuous shoulder to them both.
Jean lowered his hand and stared at his palm, the traitor.
"I know how this is supposed to work. The formulae. The principles. The laws of bonding. But I don't know how to feel it."
Kali glanced at the apple. It lifted into the air.
A flash.
The apple erupted from within. In a fraction of a second the skin blackened, the flesh burned to ash. The smell of cinder and burnt sugar hit them. An instant later only a wisp of smoke remained, carried off by the wind.
"You don't need to strain the body. And you need to quiet the mind, let it go soft. Just will and action."
Sophie and Jean exchanged a silent look.
"I am a destroyer of worlds, my darlings, not a teacher." Kali considered the place where the apple had been. "For me this is the same as breathing. You need someone who still remembers how it is learnt."