Dark Angel (The Gilded Blade #1)

Women of Departed Souls

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“Carvings?”

“Carvings.” Confirms Robert in a gruff tone.

They all look around at each other in confusion while sitting in Robert’s study at the Ascendancy.

Tobias sits back in his chair, trying to wrap his head around what Robert just told them.

“Who would kill a Seraphim and then carve symbols into their skin? That’s just unheard of.” Percy Chiswick breathes out, almost not believing the words escaping his mouth.

Robert gives him a small nod of the head, bringing the glass of burnt liquid up to his mouth. He was just as stunned as the rest of them when he found out the news earlier this morning from the Night Guard who stumbled upon the body. “Nobody was around to see it happen. There were no witnesses. The Night Guard believe it happened just before dawn. Everyone around Portman Square would have been asleep by then.”

“But why would anyone want to hurt Clara? She was such a lovely girl. She’s never done anything wrong,” Thomas Edevane reminisces, grief striking his darker features, “I can still remember her in the garden, her hair in double braids, playing with Daisy and Lily. I can’t believe this.”

Robert places his empty glass on the mantel of the fireplace and sighs loudly. “It is quite shocking.” He admits quietly to the other men in the room. He sucks in a breath before adding, “The carvings etched into her skin are in the shape of crescents.”

“Crescents?” Percy echoes, his head lifting with sudden intrigue, “as in crescent moons, perhaps?”

Robert lifts one shoulder in some sort of shrug.

“So, this might be the works of Shifters, then?” Will asks, “wolf Shifters could have done this for some bizarre moon ritual or festival?” Suggesting after they’re all silent for a minute.

“We’ve never seen anything like this before though,” Robert reminds Will, “if it were a ritual of Shifters, then it would have occurred at least one time before, or at least something similar.”

Percy nods, agreeing with Robert. “So, we are ruling out Shifters then? It could also be a brutal Infernal attack or some psychotic, malicious Elemental stirring up trouble.”

Robert corrects them again. “We are not ruling out any Marked kinds or Infernals. For all we know, it could have been the works of a deranged Mortal.”

“I doubt a Mortal would want to kill Clara just to carve etchings into her skin,” Thomas says with a disgusted tone.

“We don’t know, though. Until we do, no creature can be ruled out,” Robert pauses momentarily, “and that also includes the Seraphim.”

They all look at Robert, stunned. “You think a Seraph could have done this to Clara?” Tobias’ voice is incredulous.

Robert shakes his head, turning to face all four of them sitting around his office. “I have no idea who could have done this. I doubt it would be one of our kind, but then again, we can’t discredit anyone . It has happened throughout history, a Seraphim rebelling and killing off others of its own kind, so that’s why we can’t rule anyone out.” He reminds them. “I have called the White Women to come and examine Clara’s body. They have the most experience when it comes to the dead, so perhaps they have something they can share with us. ”

The White Women are immortal Spellcasters and Healers that all Marked kind’s fear. They come and collect supernatural bodies overtaken with severe illness or death. They’re seen as the keepers of the dead, the women of departed souls, and the most powerful Healers seen on Earth. Nobody’s aware of where their stronghold is. Only the White Women can access it through portals created their magic. It’s their way of protecting the ill and dead from everyone else.

Just the mere mention of these women makes Tobias shudder in his seat.

“I am happy to look as well, Robert,” Percy offers. “As the Ascendancy’s head physician, I can help inspect Clara’s body. There might be something else or a substance injected into her system.”

Robert nods to him. “Come then, before the White Women arrive and examine her. We have Clara’s body in the infirmary downstairs. Ida and Henry Lockewood have been in there all morning grieving.”

They all enter the infirmary, which is ridden with anguish and demise. A plain white cloth covers Clara’s body. Only her face and neck are exposed.

Her parents stand beside her. Ida Lockewood is holding onto the stiff hand of her daughter as she cries into the chest of her husband, Henry.

Tobias’ heart plummets down into his stomach like a heavy rock, making him feel nauseous.

Percy looks at Clara’s lifeless body lying on the cold metal surface. She was only nineteen. Her golden blonde hair neatly flowing around her face, shining in the overhead lighting. Her once wide stormy eyes, warm and inviting, are now shut. Pale lashes curl against the skin of her cheeks.

“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, “the White 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 one mighty concoction.” Will says in disbelief. “Who in the world would have thought of using that?”

“It’s a deadly mix for any Seraphim, but we have seen them used on your kind many times. We shall ask you all to leave now so we may inspect her body more extensively.” Her melodic voice informs the men.

Before any of them can protest, the woman summons her magical energy, using a forceful gust to push them through the doorway, locking the door behind them.