The morbid tranquility of the Obsidian Conservatory was not destined to last.
When the blunt, avaricious pounding echoed through the grand foyer of the manor, I was seated upon Alaric's lap, allowing his porcelain-cold fingertips to trace the faint, violet veins upon my inner arm.
"It seems someone has come to collect his 'balance'," Alaric sneered, his eyes instantly darkening into twin pools of malice. He did not release me; instead, he swept me up into his arms, carrying me toward the grand entrance that had remained sealed for a decade.
The moment the heavy oak doors groaned open, a gust of the outside world rushed in—stale, smelling of cheap tobacco and common desperation. Standing there was the man who should have been a memory: my father, Augustus. His face, usually a mask of sniveling humility, was now alight with greed. His eyes widened, glistening with hunger at the sight of the priceless plum velvet robe draping my frame.
"Oh, my Evangeline! I knew the Thornes would treat you well!" He rubbed his hands together, utterly ignoring the deathly pale man holding me. "Mr. Thorne, regarding our previous arrangement... you see, with the recent inflation, the 'dowry' didn't quite cover my debts. I thought perhaps a small adjustment was in order?"
A wave of nausea washed over me. This was the man who had sold me to a ghost, returning now to haggle over the price of my soul.
"How much do you want?" Alaric's tone was terrifyingly level. He set me down gently, but his hand remained possessively clamped onto the nape of my neck, his thumb stroking my mark in a lethal, rhythmic motion.
"Another fifty thousand gold! Just a bit more, and I'll disappear forever!" Augustus stepped over the threshold, attempting to reach for me. "Evangeline, tell your husband to help your poor father. Look at you, you live like a queen..."
"Stop." The word left Alaric's lips, and the temperature in the hall plummeted to sub-zero.
Augustus froze, finally sensing the wrongness in the air. He looked at Alaric's face—really looked—and saw the glowing violet fissures beneath the skin, the eyes that possessed no pupils, only an infinite void.
"What... what are you?" Augustus stammered, backing away.
"I am the monster you sacrificed your daughter to for the sake of gold," Alaric stepped forward, leaving charred footprints upon the marble with every stride. "When you sold her to me, you should have understood that anything belonging to Blackwood... never leaves."
"No! I don't want the money! I'll go! I'm leaving!"
"Leave?" Alaric let out a bone-chilling, melodic laugh. He jerked his hand upward, fingers curving into a claw. Augustus was hoisted into the air as if seized by a titan's invisible grip, his throat constricted, his legs kicking uselessly.
"The bloodline you carry revolts me, for it flows within my Evangeline." Alaric turned to me, his gaze flickering with a frantic, interrogative tenderness. "My love, how shall he end? Shall he become fertilizer for my conservatory, or shall he wither into ash in his despair?"
I watched the man who had been the source of all my childhood nightmares, watched him struggle against the inevitable. I found no pity within my heart, only a cold, liberating sense of relief. This, I supposed, was the taste of total corruption.
"Don't let him stain our home, Alaric," I answered calmly.
Alaric smiled, a look that was both divine and diabolical. He slammed his fist shut. A torrent of obsidian fire erupted from beneath Augustus's feet. There was no scream, for the flame consumed the soul before it touched the skin. In less than three seconds, the man was gone, leaving nothing but a pile of scorched, grey soot on the floor.
Alaric turned back to me, opening his arms. His eyes shone with the radiance of a victor, his voice dropping into a low, incantatory hum.
"Now, there is no one left in the world who can claim ownership over you. Your only name, Evangeline... is Blackwood."