The Last Hours: Chain of Thorns

Alastair had plucked his little brother from the pram; with Zachary seated in the crook of one arm, he waved at Cordelia. Matthew, in conversation with Eugenia, smiled, and Lucie made a beckoning gesture in James and Cordelia’s direction, as if to say: What are you waiting for? Come here.

She had a scar on her cheek now, not from the battle at Westminster, but from a beaker that had exploded in the Fairchilds’ laboratory.

In the past months, she had settled into a place among them, a part of their group as Jesse’s sister. It was undeniable that without her completion of Christopher’s research, it was unlikely they would have achieved a victory against Belial.

Belial grinned, his teeth white and sharp. “Delightful,” he said. “I will owe you a favor, then, Silent One.”

Cordelia laughed, a sharp bright laugh like a knife’s edge. “You cannot order me to do anything,” she said.

“It is easy to confuse monstrousness and power,” said Cordelia. “Especially when one is a woman, as one is not supposed to possess either quality.

And madly, insanely, under the crackling black sky of possessed London, they grinned at each other as if neither of them had ever been more delighted in their lives.

“I know I cannot fight beside you, Layla. I only make one request. Be careful with your life. Not only for your own sake, but for mine.”

“You sound just like Christopher,” Thomas murmured, but then, why be surprised; she and Christopher had, in an odd way, been friends.

“You sound just like Christopher,” Thomas murmured, but then, why be surprised; she and Christopher had, in an odd way, been friends.