In October the water overflows Venice’s canals. It rims Saint Mark’s Square and puddles in its depressions, the ocean invading the most sacred pockets of the city. The Venetians built their city on poles, layering sand and stone upon each other until the city stopped sinking and fell down only on rare occasions. From October through early spring, the water taunted the occupying Austrians and other foreigners. What were they doing trying to stay dry on top of a lagoon? The Venetians, on the other hand, knew the secret was not staying dry. Water and land danced around each other, neither the master nor the mistress of the city.
Octavia bathed in the moonlight over the floating waters, standing on the balcony outside her suite in deshabille. No one would see her impropriety at night. Black hair corkscrewed over her shoulders in loose ringlets. She was a white ghost, luminous in moon rays and street lamp reflections, blue veins swirling underneath her translucent skin, marking her as a Binder. For sixteen years, her life was preparing for the Trial with her demon, Khun. She had survived. This very moment was about her recent marriage to a stranger.
Octavia hugged herself. Her father had orchestrated her marriage to Drusus Claudian perfectly. Drusus was much more than she expected as the third son of a prominent branch of the Claudian family. He was a magician in his own right, a powerful weather mage specializing in lightning. With him, Drusus brought prestige and wealth. If he found it socially awkward being married to a Binder, Octavia couldn’t tell. If anything, it seemed he defended his new wife too zealously. He allowed nothing to be said against her from those who were not magicians, even though Octavia reminded him they couldn’t help themselves. Even magicians picked up the Klaereon tie to the infernal and were uncomfortable.
She laughed. Drusus was a good lover. He treated her like a china vase, so respectful, so considerate. Octavia was no vase, but all the books she’d read about being a good wife convinced her she should keep her darker desires to herself. There were other ways to see to those, which need not concern Drusus.
Octavia hadn’t told him about Lucy’s Trial yet. Drusus seemed fond of Lucy, and Octavia was nervous about the upcoming conversation.
“Mrs. Claudian.” Drusus enveloped her, his velvet-covered arms draping over her shoulders, embracing her in the secure cloak of love. He smelled musky and sweaty, and she nuzzled into him completely. “You are beautiful.”
Octavia smiled. She had been complimented by men before. Beauty like spun sugar, like Venetian glass, she had heard the other day. Ethereal; best seen from a distance.
Drusus was beautiful, too. Handsome, with olive skin, a strong nose, dark hair and eyes, and a frame which bespoke a Byronic hero. They would make beautiful children. Her father would be so proud. She was perfect, Caius Klaereon reminded her. The perfectly formed daughter to inherit Solomon’s Scroll from him when the time was right.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Come back to bed.” His lips brushed her neck.
“Not yet. It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it?”
“Better than Firenze?”
“No,” she said. “But beautiful.”
“Come back to bed.” His kisses became more urgent, little heat spots on her neck. She closed her eyes, sinking into his magic.
“We could make love out here,” she whispered.
“We’ll leave the patio doors open.” He nibbled her ear and joy danced inside her. Drunk with the newness of him, she turned and held him tight. Drusus scooped her into his arms and they disappeared into their room, into the quiet shadows that watched Octavia with other eyes.
***
The sky was an indifferent blue, pale with wispy clouds. Behind Octavia in a pavilion set up to protect her skin from the sun, Calpurnia Julii, Octavia’s mother, continued painstaking embroidery on a tapestry depicting the Trial of Erasmus. Calpurnia had not talked to her eldest daughter since Lucy had been moved from the nursery to a separate room, apart from Octavia.
Octavia pulled grass from the manicured lawn, dirt coating her hands and digging under her fingernails. She didn’t care she would be in trouble for getting dirty. All she ever wore was black. Who would even see the dirt? Calpurnia would study her hands and be cross, but Octavia didn’t care.
Khun padded up with a stick. He was a smart looking Westie, white, but dingy from digging in the garden. He dropped the stick playfully in front of her, bowing and barking.
Throw the stick, he thought at her. Throw it!
Octavia picked it up and lobbed it away. Khun shot forward, crouched and nibbled the wood, barking his delight. Then he pranced back toward her, tail counting his happiness in strokes like the metronome during Octavia’s harp lessons.
Lucy, eight years old, played away from the pavilion, chattering to Ra in a childish singsong, building a faerie house from twigs, rocks, and leaves. Because of what had happened, Lucy was skittish around Octavia, and Octavia stayed away from her. Ra, perched in a tree, condescended a beady eye toward Octavia.
You can’t do anything right, Ra said. I can only be yours if you kill her. Don’t you want my power?
Octavia patted Khun, who yapped again and wiggled his tail, ready for the stick. Ra looked away, no doubt eyeing some delicious mouse. Lucy didn’t seem to notice Ra talking to Octavia at all. Binders could only hear their own demons. Why could Ra talk to Octavia?
Lucy wasn’t growing right. Her head was a little larger than the rest of her body, her back a little crooked. If someone studied her long enough, they would see something wasn’t right in her proportion. Father called her malformed. Uncle Bartholomew, who was shorter than Octavia even though he was a grown man, treated Lucy with special care. She wasn’t so bad, compared to Uncle Bartholomew. Ra said she was shaped like Ptah or Bes.
If something happened to Lucy, Ra promised Octavia he would take Khun’s place. Although she had begun the preparatory studies for her Trial, Octavia didn’t think Ra could do so. Binders and demons couldn’t trade partners. Ra insisted he could, and by becoming more powerful, Octavia would please her father. Besides, wouldn’t it be best to exterminate Lucy, who was certain to shame the family?
Octavia had tried not to listen, but one night Ra was so insistent, she acted upon what he said.
Octavia tossed the stick toward the house and Khun darted after it. He had been a faithful demon from the day Octavia was born and he’d shown up to claim her. She didn’t mind Khun following her, but she didn’t want anyone else watching her. She felt like even the sun was watching her. What she had done wasn’t all that bad. And even if it had been bad, it hadn’t been her fault. It had been Ra’s.
Mistraldol, the Klaereon ancestral home, was built into the Hathersage peaks. The physical house was built on the rocky hill, and the metaphysical house was built into it and under. Father explained the pockets where Solomon’s Scroll was kept connected to the sacred temple of Erasmus and were guarded by her father’s demon, Neith. He said it had a physical existence and a spiritual one. Octavia, beginning to grasp the idea of multiple dimensions in magic, decided this meant the scroll was in two places at once.
Octavia rounded the house’s base, reaching the stairs that circled the peak, and climbed to the garden. When she reached the garden, she crouched, patting Khun with congratulations as he once again offered her the chewed stick. She scooped him into her arms and kissed his head. He barked, tail thumping her with glee.
Octavia planned to retreat to her room on the fourth floor, the one next to the classroom where she spent time every day pouring over Binder texts, hieroglyphs, and the histories of the magical families, under Madame Dantes’ watchful eye. Sometimes Ra would sit in the window and watch her study.
Octavia circled the house, opened the front door, and found her father waiting for her in the entrance hall. Bright red and blue stained glass colored him, making him look like a demon himself.
Caius Klaereon had a hawk-like nose and keen eyes. He seemed to sift through some thoughts as he studied his daughter, found the one he wanted, and wrapped an arm around Octavia’s shoulders. “I was looking for you.”
Octavia placed Khun on the floor and they walked to Caius’ study. The dog padded beside them. “Did you ask your mother if you could come inside?” Caius asked.
“No,” said Octavia. “Should I have?”
“No. No harm done. We need to have a private conversation.”
Octavia didn’t know exactly which harm he was referring to. Today’s harm, or what happened with Lucy.
In the study, Khun settled back on his haunches, his small face inquisitive, head cocked to one side. Octavia glanced at the full bookshelves, the large desk, the quill waiting in its inkwell.
Caius settled in a leather chair, which sighed as he became comfortable. “We need to talk about your future, Octavia. You are eleven now. Your Trial is only five years away. We also need to talk about what happened between you and Lucy.”
Octavia never sat in her father’s presence. Her cheeks grew gray-blue as she flushed, and tears were hot in the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to do it.”
“These things are never our fault.”
“It was Ra. He told me if I were to get rid of Lucy—”
Caius raised a hand. “I’m not going to scold you. You know how powerful Ra is, and how powerful Lucy could become. I think what you attempted was well considered. I have decided how to help you proceed in this.”
“I don’t understand.” Khun bumped Octavia’s leg. She reached down and scratched his ears.
“Uncle Bartholomew and Lucy are alike. You do remember Uncle Bartholomew?”
“Yes.” He had only been dead for a year, after all, and it wasn’t like she was a baby who forgot things.
“You need to know the truth about Uncle Bartholomew. Even though his demon was more powerful than Neith, he wasn’t right before his Trial or after. When a Binder isn’t right, we have to be responsible for the family’s mistakes. We dishonor Erasmus’ contract if we aren’t. I had to be responsible for Uncle Bartholomew.” Caius stared at Octavia. “You take my meaning. Accidents happen. Not usually at your age, but you do seem an exceptional child.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“I didn’t mean to do anything to Lucy. It was Ra’s idea.”
“No, Octavia, it wasn’t. It was your idea. Ra is more powerful than Khun, so Lucy is most likely meant to have the Solomon Scroll after me, but she is malformed and cannot represent our family. You are perfect. I want you to be a more important Binder than your sister. I want you to be my heir.”
Octavia put her hands over her ears. Caius grabbed Octavia’s wrists and lowered her hands. “Your mother does not think like we do. She will make sure Lucy is safe, so what you tried before you cannot try again. Try not to think too harshly of your mother. She is not a Klaereon, so she doesn’t understand how important our unblemished honor is. Lucy will not receive the same training as you will. Lucy will lose her Trial to Ra and you will do what is necessary regarding Lucy. Ra is powerful, but he is at his most vulnerable when he first possesses Lucy. You and Khun will be there to kill her.”
The words stumbled from Octavia. “You want me to kill Lucy?”
“There’s no other way. She will lose to Ra, and you will destroy her and send Ra back to the Abyss. All to keep Ra from wreaking his havoc. Lucy will not be the first Binder possessed by her demon. Then, of course, you will have Solomon’s Scroll after my death.
“Now, as to your own Trial, I want it to be a spectacular victory. I want you to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt the Solomon Scroll belongs to you, that you are more powerful than your sister and can defeat Khun.”
Octavia felt as though she had been slapped. “I don’t want to kill Lucy,” she said, her voice soft. “I could never kill her.”
“Dear heart, of course you can. You already almost did.”
Khun whined and buried his nose in his paws.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” Octavia said. “I want to make Ra go away.” She wanted what Father was saying to go away, too.
Caius stood and patted Octavia’s head. “Ra is no threat to you once Lucy is gone. You’ll see I’m right.”
Octavia climbed the stairs to her room in a daze. She flung herself on her bed. Khun wrapped himself into a comforting ball and slept on the pillow beside her head while she swallowed tears and stared at the wall.
***
Octavia reached across to Drusus, but his side of the bed was empty. Her eyes fluttered open and she wiped them dry with her hands. Lucy had been on her mind. Today was the day Octavia had to tell Drusus. She had delayed the story as long as she could because he would not understand. He would hate her. Well, he couldn’t hate her any more than she hated herself, but there was no other way. Octavia had played it over and over. Lucy was weak, Ra was strong, and the only result was Ra would wreak havoc. That could not be allowed.
She shifted, the bed creaking as she turned toward the window. The morning rays crossed her white gown and rumpled sheets. She closed her eyes. Octavia had meant to tell Drusus after their first night together as they were planning the Grand Tour. As each city passed behind them, as they moved through Paris, Rome, Firenze, and Venice, she wanted to tell him.
Lucy would never tell Drusus. She was a little mouse, tongue-tied around the Hathersage villagers, struck dumb by such a perfect figure as Drusus Claudian presented. Lucy answered what questions he put to her no more than was necessary. Drusus was a kind man who tried to draw her out, but Lucy smiled shyly and looked at her feet. Sometimes Octavia wondered if Father was right, if Lucy was a little simple.
For a short time, Octavia harbored a fantasy their Grand Tour might be typical, a new husband and wife learning about each other as best they could, given demonic curses, alliances between magical families, and the crushing discomfort of sharing a bed with a stranger. Many a marriage had started with disadvantages as serious as these and the couples had become united, happy partners. They were off to a good start. Drusus was genial, she was compliant, and they were passionate together. Today, Octavia would throw their relationship away.
Father ordered Octavia to wait for a month after the wedding for the Grand Tour. Start in September, detour to Alexandria so Lucy could visit the angel at Erasmus’ temple. Return by October’s end and come home for Lucy’s Trial. Accompanying family was not uncommon on the Grand Tour, and Lucy did have to journey to Alexandria to prepare.
Octavia had to tell Drusus about their detour. She had to tell him what a Binder Trial was and then prepare him for Lucy’s loss. She had to explain her duty, how each Binder generation solved its own problems.
Octavia lifted the nightgown over her shoulders, went to the washstand, and scrubbed off sleep, romance, and Venice. Eyes from the shadows watched her as she scrubbed over her arms and across her neck. Turning away from the shadows and the window, she shielded herself. These feelings wouldn’t do. She was married now. She threw soap at the corner, and there was a rustling in return. “I am the mistress.” She repeated the mantra. “I am the mistress. I am in control. You will stop talking to me. You will go away.”
She dressed herself as much as she could, as far as her undershift, and as she was about to ring the bell for help, the door to their outer room opened. She scrambled into her robe and peered into the sitting area.
Drusus set a tray on the table for her, laden with fruit, bread, and cheese. These Venetians had no idea of breakfast.
She shook her head. “There are servants here.”
Drusus removed his jacket. “I am your servant. Let me help you dress. Unless…?”
He crossed the room in his shirtsleeves and vest. He pulled her in and kissed her, smooth but firm, tasting like oranges.
“No,” Octavia said. “I’ve just washed. What will people think if we spend all day in our room?”
“Do you care?”
“No.” She managed a smile. “But Lucy. What will she think?”
He tilted his head, an intimate bow. “I concede it would be a miserable day for your sister to spend by herself. We would be most ungracious if we didn’t join her. Let me help you dress.”
“You don’t know the slightest thing about my clothes,” said Octavia. There was a girl who helped at the Danieli Hotel with the ladies, and even though the girl was afraid, Octavia still needed her hair done. She sat down and plucked a grape. “Drusus, we must talk.”
Drusus’ brow wrinkled. “So formal.”
“This is important.” Octavia took a deep breath. It had to be done. “I have to tell you about Lucy.”
“What about Lucy?”
Octavia played with a roll, grinding it between her fingers. “You know about our magic? When we are born, if a demon shows up during the first day, we are Binders and we enter into a contract to battle the demon.”
Drusus sat across from her. “I understand you manipulate demons and infernal magic, like I command weather magic. Your power source is questionable, but yours is not the only magical family with a dark history.”
“We are not normal demonologists, Drusus. Our ancestor Erasmus Klaereon, for reasons which are not clear to me, entered into a contract with demons imprisoned in the Abyss by King Solomon.”
“Fallen angels? Like Lucifer and his followers?”
“No. These demons were banished by Solomon. Ours is a lifelong partnership with those demons. When we are children, an aspect of those demons is present with us, like pets or familiars. They protect us until we battle them at age sixteen and they reveal their true natures to us. Lucy is almost sixteen.”
“At the end of the month.”
Octavia nodded. “On October 31. We have the same birthday as our father and his brother. All Klaereons who are Binders are born on that day.” Octavia threw the roll onto the tray. “Drusus, you have noticed Lucy is… not like the rest of us. She’s simple and uncomplicated.”
“She’s modest, Octavia. She’s brave, though, and if she’s got half your character, she’ll be fine.”
Half Octavia’s character? Drusus overestimated Octavia. She rubbed her eyes. “You mean well, I know, but you have to understand. Lucy is not a talented Binder. She has never been able to master the ritual magic needed to Bind Ra. She has no friends who will stand up with her, no Anchor who will root her to herself when Ra tries to take her over.”
“Stop.” Drusus raised his hands. “I’m confused. Ra will try to take her over?”
“When a Binder fights their demon, there are a few possible outcomes. Ideally, the Binder wins, and the demon is Bound and returned to the Abyss, only to come when we summon it for magic. The second option is if the Binder defeats the demon, but the demon is brutal or cruel, we can Banish it, severing our tie and never allowing it to return. Third and worst of all, the demon can conquer us, and we are Bound. Then we are the demon’s puppet. This is Lucy’s fate. She is ill-prepared for the Trial.”
Drusus shook his head. He placed his hand on Octavia’s arm. “This is serious. I wish you’d told me sooner. There’s very little time to help Lucy. What do we need to do?”
Octavia blinked. How to make him understand? “Drusus, there’s nothing we can do. Lucy has to do everything, and she’s going to fail. Even if there is an Anchor present at her Trial, the confrontation is between her and Ra. She is so weak a Binder, Ra will win. Then she is… a problem.”
“Octavia, we will make sure Lucy doesn’t lose.”
“You don’t understand how it works. We can’t do anything except clean up her mistakes.”
Drusus’ jaw set. “What do you mean?”
“Each Binder generation is responsible for any mistakes. When Ra possesses Lucy, I have to… that is, I must… Drusus, it won’t even be Lucy anymore. It will be Ra.”
“Are you saying you have to kill your sister?”
“My sister will already be dead.” Octavia stood, hands resting on the table, staring at Drusus. “Do you understand?”
Drusus ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Tousled hair made him look impossibly handsome. “You’re going to kill your sister. You’ve already decided she will lose and you’re going to kill her.”
“She will lose,” said Octavia. “This is inevitable. This is my responsibility. Do you think I enjoy the prospect of killing Lucy? What do you take me for?”
“What if Lucy wins and she banishes Ra?”
“That’s a dream. A fool’s dream.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know anything about it!”
“Let me understand you clearly.” Drusus’ speech was precise. His eyes flashed with electricity. She had not seen him upset before, but had heard this could happen with weather wizards. “You can stand there and tell me even though you know your sister will lose this Trial, rather than find a way around this problem and help her, what you have decided is to wait until the moment of crisis has passed and then kill her. Do I understand you?”
Octavia staggered away from the table. His words had slapped her across the face. “I—there’s nothing I can do. Nothing!”
“Why don’t I give you some few moments to reconsider your statement, Mrs. Claudian? When I return after I have spoken to your sister, we will make an attempt to reshape your opinions on the matter.” He spun away. She watched him open the door. As it slammed, the frame vibrated.
She had never considered she might be able to help Lucy avoid her fate. Her father had made it clear to Octavia that Lucy’s victory was impossible, but to hear Drusus speak with such conviction made her doubt. She paused. No, her father was right. There was no choice. Ra was much more powerful than Lucy. Drusus did not understand no one was able to interfere with the ritual. This was something a Binder had to see to themselves, once in the circle of power, all alone.
Octavia stepped out onto the balcony, clutching her robe. Although it was a clear morning, a frigid wind whistled down the canal between their pension and its neighboring building. Her robe flickered between the gaps of the balcony’s railing as she listened to the hollow slosh of the water threading through the narrow gap between the Danieli and the Gothic home next door. If the Venetian on the landing downstairs looked up, he would see a woman improperly dressed. If the Venetian were closer, he would see albino-white skin laced with blue veins, coal black hair, and unnaturally pale blue eyes. If the Venetian peered even closer, he would cross himself and run away.
Octavia understood these facts. Drusus understood nothing.
“Octavia!” Drusus’ voice shafted through the window.
She blinked and hoped he wouldn’t notice her tear tracks. In the main room, her husband fought his way into his jacket and pulled on his gloves. “What is it?”
“Lucy did not return yesterday.”
Octavia shook her head. “She’ll be fine, Drusus. Ra won’t let anything happen to her. We are very safe with our demons. They are like our guardians.”
Drusus stared at her. “Mrs. Claudian, do you suppose she might run away, knowing what you and your family think about her chances to survive this Trial? Does she know what you think?”
Octavia’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought Lucy would take matters into her own hands. “I’ll finish dressing and see if there are any clues in her room.”
Drusus’ nod was curt. “I will talk to the Austrian garrison.”
A few moments after Drusus left, a maid from the Danieli arrived to help Octavia prepare for the day. As the maid tried to avoid touching Octavia while dressing her, Octavia asked her if she knew where Lucy might be.
The maid shrugged. She finished lacing the dress and hurried out. The help from the Danieli did not know English. Octavia hid her less than perfect hair under a bonnet and lowered a veil across her face.
She went into the hallway, toward Lucy’s room. It was possible Drusus hadn’t seen Lucy, and Lucy had been in the dining room the whole time. She could be sitting on the window seat in her bedroom, watching Ra as he hunted. Lucy’s notebook was full of sketches of Ra, his talons filled with limp mice or sliced birds. The notebook was horrible, but Octavia had to admit Lucy had talent.
In the room, there was no sign of Lucy. Octavia chewed on her lower lip and approached two men conversing in Venetian, one lounging near the concierge’s desk, the other in a formal black suit, his hands clasped on the counter. The language washed over Octavia like a formal dance. “Excuse me. I am looking for my sister, Signorina Klaereon. She is a small girl.”
“Signorina Lucia, yes?” The concierge’s bright eyes studied Octavia over his thin mustache. His clasped hands tightened. “She left her key. She went out for the day yesterday.”
Panic fluttered in Octavia’s chest. “She didn’t come back?”
“She did not.”
“Thank you.” Octavia went back into Lucy’s room, closed the door, and leaned against it, her pale hands touching the handle’s ornate ridges. Lucy, out by herself, overnight. Octavia let her chest rise and fall, calming herself. Honestly, what hardship could befall her sister? Ra followed her and he wouldn’t allow her to come to any misfortune. Maybe Lucy needed one night alone. The Trial did strange things to you, Octavia knew. No harm done if Lucy came home. Octavia could give Lucy one day, no questions asked. One mystery to take with her before the end of her short, sad life.