Soulbound

by Kristen Callihan

  He would not cry. Nor throw himself at her feet and beg for her to make it all better.

  Her voice went soft, but no less angry. “I believed you to be a true brother to us, as we were your true sisters.”

  I am. But he wasn’t. The truth was he might have ended himself and spared them all. But he’d been too much of a coward.

  Her red-gold locks slithered over her slim shoulders as she shook her head. “But you never were. You always held yourself apart.”

  “Yes.” Because all of it was true. He was never a true brother to his blood sisters. He’d failed them long ago.

  “Have you nothing to say for yourself, St. John?”

  I hate that you no longer call me Sin. I hate that you’ve seen the worst of me. I hate myself most of all. He gave a stiff shake of his head.

  Her eyes, which had always been filled with warmth and love for him, were chips of glass. So empty he wanted to sob. Worse when she spoke in that terrible, flat voice. “For your sake, I will not tell Ian or Jack what you’ve done. I’ve no wish to see you slaughtered. However, I think it best that you no longer come around the family.”

  He could only blink back tears burning in his eyes and watch as, with a swirl of her cloak, she turned and left him standing alone, and the rain began to fall.

  Armageddon, some were calling it. The end of days. Others called the rain the devil’s tears. Even practical, scientifically minded men and women looked towards the skies with trepidation, for no one could account for the blood-red rain that continued to fall from the sky.

  Fear ran rampant, people went to church or stayed locked firmly behind doors. Officials tried to assure residents that the rain, while red, was in fact water and not blood. It did little to quell the fear. Not with the steady rainfall, staining clothes pink, and running in little, crimson rivers along the cobbles.

  It was a macabre sight. Unsettling to say the least.

  Adam’s jaw stayed bunched as they kept riding at a steady clip down the high road toward London. Rain dripped from the wide brim of his riding hat and ran in red rivulets down his lean cheeks. It was as if he were bathed in blood. Eliza shuddered, knowing she likely looked just as gruesome. No one would drive a coach so they were forced to ride horses.

  And while normally Eliza would not mind riding, she loathed being out in the unnatural rain. Adam had suggested she stay behind. He had to discover what had occurred. Eliza would be safer tucked up in their little cottage.

  Perhaps, but she was not going to be left behind. And perhaps he knew that, for he’d merely given her a nod and packed up their saddlebags. Now she could only duck her head, press her lips together, and hope none of the rain would get into her mouth.

  Perhaps it was an irrational fear, but it could not be helped. The very air about her seemed malevolent. At least, they made good time, for the roads were deserted. And soon enough, London loomed before them. Black clouds limned in swirling, light-grey bundles sat like fat toads over the great city. Even here, nothing stirred. It was as if the rain held siege.

  They rode down Hammersmith Road, heading into Kensington, their horses’ hooves clopping upon the cobbles, a strange counterpoint to the patter of rain. Usually, the clatter and rattle of endless cabs, drays, and omnibuses would compete against the cries of the costers and the distant whistle of the railways. Now, silence and rain.

  Pale faces hovered behind grimy windows, wide eyes watching them ride along. Just ahead of her, Adam sat tall on his horse, his broad shoulders and straight back a familiar and comforting sight. She urged her mare alongside of him, needing to keep close. He glanced her way, and his expression was grim. “Unnerving, this.”

  “Everyone has gone to ground.”

  His eyes scanned the streets. “I don’t detect any supernaturals out and about either.”

  Eliza sat straighter on her mount, a bolt of shock catching her breath. “That is it… Adam, the spirits. They’ve gone as well.” She’d yet to see a single soul. The lack of them was what had unnerved her far more than the lack of people. For spirits were not ones to flee. Ever.

  Eliza shivered and huddled farther inside of her mackintosh cloak. She’d dressed in trousers. They were more comfortable for the ride. And no one was around to gawk at any rate. “Where are we going?” She hadn’t asked Adam for specifics. There wasn’t time.

  “To Mab’s.”

  Her horse shied as she half-spun in her saddle. “Have you gone mad?”

  His mouth tilted up at the corner. “Not that I can tell, no.”

  Eliza slowed her horse, and thus he did as well. She could only gape at him, no longer caring about the blood-rain. “Then tell me why on earth you’d be willing to return to her?” Something odd and ugly, like jealousy mixed with fear, twisted inside of her.

  As usual, he read her too well, and a slow grin broke over his face. The bastard really was breathtaking when he smiled in that manner.

  “I’ve no desire to see the fae bitch. I do believe she’s gone, love.”

  “Gone?” Eliza frowned.

  “Aye. I don’t feel her anymore.” He grimaced, crimson rain mixing in his afternoon stubble. “Always I’ve felt an echo of her, like the annoying buzz of a mosquito just out of sight. Now…” He turned his attention back to the road, his profile stark. “It’s as if all is silent.”

  He did not appear precisely pleased, but thoughtful. Which bothered her even more. “And Mellan? How will you fight him, when your sword has been destroyed?”

  It had been an unfortunate loss, Adam’s sword. The assassin’s weapon had been fae-made and thus able to cut through Adam’s sword.

  A shadow of regret fell over Adam’s face, but he spoke with calm authority. “I’m considering our options.”

  “Adam.” She reached out and plucked at his arm. “Stop and explain yourself or I won’t go any farther.”

  Adam reined in his horse. Wariness lined his face, hesitancy darkening his eyes. “All right. I’ll start with Mab. You’ll remember when I spoke with Lucien? And you asked me what I’d said to him?”

  “Yes.” She said it tentatively because she couldn’t fathom what that had to do with anything.

  As always, he read her well, and his lips curled in a half-smile. “I told Lucien to inform Augustus that St. John Evernight was blood bound to Mab’s will. I knew Augustus would seek out St. John.”

  Outrage had her nearly shouting. “Why? How could you put Sin in danger —”

  “If you’d let me finish,” Adam cut in placidly, though hurt darkened his eyes. She hadn’t trusted him. Again.

  With a pang of guilt, Eliza gave a curt nod. She’d hear him out.

  “I am trying to help him. St. John is an elemental of untold power, which is most likely why Mab acquired him in her collection.” Adam’s lips curled in distaste. “In all truth, I see myself in him, what I might have become had I been younger when Mab got her hands upon me. St. John deserves his freedom.”

  “And you believe Augustus can give it to him?”

  “If there is anyone who can work around Mab’s curses, it is he. But more important, Sin is a worthy soul. Augustus needs souls such as his.”

  “Why? What will he do with him?”

  Slowly Adam shook his head. “That I cannot tell you.”

  Eliza huffed out a breath. “Cannot or will not?”

  Adam’s eyes gleamed gold as he met Eliza’s gaze. “Some secrets are not mine to tell. Will you trust me, sweet dove, when I say that, if St. John goes to Augustus, he will not be harmed?”

  For a moment, the only noise was that of the horse hooves clomping against the pavers, as they stood impatiently waiting to move again. And then the stiffness left Eliza’s shoulders. “Yes, Adam, I will.”

  All at once, he leaned across the small divide between their horses. His lips caressed hers in a soft, melting kiss, his mouth warm and his cheeks wet with rain. “Thank you, Eliza May.” He kissed her one more time before sitting back.

  Eliza smiled a bit
but then wavered. “Tell me now how this has to do with Mab being destroyed.”

  “Ah,” said Adam, resting a hand upon his pommel. “Mab had to be fighting mad at our evasion. She wouldn’t be thinking clearly, especially if Mellan was, as I suspect, after her as well. She’d trust that St. John would be under her complete control. Which would leave her vulnerable.”

  Eliza licked her dry lips and stared down at the cobbled bricks, stained now with crimson rain. “You base all this on the hopes that Augustus will somehow enable Sin to fight Mab, and that he will win.”

  “I base this on my knowledge of the situation and how best to maneuver certain players into the most probable outcome.” He turned and the strong line of his neck peaked out from his grimy collar. “Yes, there is risk involved but, using what I had, it seemed the best play to make.” A small laugh left Eliza, and he frowned at her. “Why are you amused?”

  “You really cannot refrain from plotting and playing with the lives of others.”

  His thick brows knitted, a dark flush coming over his high-cut cheeks. “I told you, one cannot win against the fae unless you treat it like a game of chess. Mab needed to die. I could not destroy her, so I sought a way to see the job done. And, hopefully, free a man who has been ill used.”

  “Adam,” Eliza said softly, “I do not fault you for it. I simply am in awe of your working mind.”

  The flush on his cheeks deepened. He sat higher in his saddle, clearing his throat. “Yes, well, that is what I hope has occurred.”

  “As do I.” Eliza took a better hold of her reins but paused. “Adam? My powers are increasing. Might I have killed her?”

  His lips pursed before he spoke. “Perhaps. And perhaps, had I known then that you were capable of defending yourself against a fae, I’d have planned differently.” But his bold nose lifted a bit as he eyed her slantwise. “Then again, I’m not of a mind to lose you, Eliza.”

  “Oh that is rich,” she snorted, “and does it occur to you that it is not your decision to make?”

  “Of course it does,” he said lightly. “Just as it is my decision to be a boorish, over-protecting, primitive male.” He arched a brow and gave her a smug look. “Have I left out any adjectives?”

  “‘Smarmy’ and ‘arse’ come to mind,” Eliza muttered. “And if I do the same? If I try to protect you?”

  “Why, my love, I’d take it as a sign of your single-minded devotion to me.” His eyes began to glow. “It would be a highlight in my life, to be sure.”

  She could not help but laugh. “You are one twisted root.”

  He laughed too. But they grew quiet as they began to ride once more.

  “Will you answer me a question, dove?” Adam asked as they neared their destination.

  “Of course.”

  His eyes crinkled at her immediate response, but his tone remained somber. “What did the oracle tell you?” When she opened her mouth to speak, he hurried on. “If it puts you in danger to reveal anything, pray keep your council.”

  She wanted to kiss him again. “The oracle saw you in possession of the horn. However, only I would know how to use it. And that…” Shy heat flushed her cheeks. “That is to say, I’d only know how to use the horn when I let you into my heart.”

  Adam’s face was blank for a long moment. Then his set expression broke on an indrawn breath. He closed his eyes, and appearing almost pained, he asked her, “Have you let me in, Eliza?”

  Tender emotion was a lump deep within her throat. “You are in my heart, Adam.”

  Nostrils flaring, he jerked his head as if her words had struck him. When he opened his eyes, they glowed with a gold light. It bathed the area around Eliza as if the sun had come out to shine upon her. His husky promise was filled with power. “That is all that I needed to know.”

  The moment they set foot on Mab’s front walk, Adam pulled Eliza close. Were he to listen to his heart, he’d insist she went to Lucien’s barge and wait for his return. But he knew precisely how that would go. She’d fight him come hell or high water. And he’d not chain her spirit ever again.

  He had her heart. His own swelled at the thought. It made him feel immense, powerful, terrified. She owned his as well, and he was about to literally put it into her keeping. So many things could go wrong, but he had to trust in Eliza.

  Taking her hand in his free one, he felt marginally better. Especially when she twined her fingers with his and gave him a squeeze. She was his now. And he hers. He’d make that perfectly clear as soon as this was over.

  “It looks wrong,” said Eliza.

  He knew what she meant. Like the rest of London hiding away, the house appeared abandoned. Too dark behind those mullioned windows. But he knew who would be waiting. He held Eliza more securely.

  When no one answered the front door, Adam tried the handle. The door swung open, revealing Mab’s front hall, now dark and still. He spoke not a word, but gave Eliza a look. Caution. Her blink of understanding was all he needed.

  Their steps sounded small in the cavernous silence of the house.

  “If you came looking for tea,” said Mellan from behind, “I’m afraid you’ll find the staff has gone.”

  Adam spun himself and Eliza around. God, but his sword hand felt too empty, and he experienced the loss of his weapon anew.

  “Flown the coop, as it were,” Mellan continued as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Adam was not fooled. The fae prince was wound tight. The blond length of his hair had been bound at his temples by intricate braids. An exotic counterpoint to his suit that was cut to perfection and a dark, forest green, lacy jabot at his throat. Formal attire, as though he were in a celebratory mood.

  Just as Adam suspected.

  “And Mab?” Eliza asked at Adam’s side. Her fingers curled around his arm as if anchoring herself to him. He approved.

  Mellan shrugged as he strolled closer. “Alas, she has left this mortal coil.” He chuckled. “And lost her fae immortality as well.”

  “So then St. John destroyed her,” Adam said.

  Mellan stopped short, eyes narrowing, and it was Adam’s turn to laugh. “Did you think it was a happy coincidence?” It was petty to rub it in the fae’s face, but necessary. Mellan had to attack first.

  “Honestly,” Mellan finally said, “he did me a service.” He turned his attention to Eliza. “I needed to control the fae. Without my sister’s interference.”

  “And now you are what?” Eliza asked. “King?”

  Black fangs glimmered behind Mellan’s pale lips. “Just so.”

  “Congratulations,” Adam said without feeling. “And yet I do wonder why it is that you’ve been so keen to track down Eliza.” Oh, but Adam knew. Understanding sang through his blood. It all fit, and he was about to call checkmate.

  Not a flicker of emotion went through Mellan. “I had thought that Eliza and I had an understanding.”

  “That I would kill Adam?” Eliza scowled. “Why not do the deed yourself, and leave me be?”

  “Because,” Adam said, “he wanted my sword first. Fae-made weapons are rare, true, but my sword —”

  “It was my sword,” snarled Mellan, his color high. “My battle sword, stollen by a foul and God-fearing human. I was not going to send you to hell before I had it back in my hands.”

  “I’m afraid to report,” Adam said, “that your assassin destroyed the sword.”

  Ice crackled over the floors and up the walls as Mellan inhaled with an audible breath. “For that,” he ground out, “I shall make your death an agony.”

  Now, Adam thought. Fight me now. He was not afraid of death. Not anymore. But Mellan blinked and his anger seemed to fade as he looked at Eliza. Which meant he wanted her more. Adam’s determination increased. He knew with utter certainty that what he’d planned was in the right.

  “I did want you,” Mellan said to Eliza, as though his anger had never happened. “Were I to marry Mab’s granddaughter, I’d have a stronger claim to take over the throne.”

  Adam
did not believe it for one second. “And the Horn an Bás?”

  Mellan’s expression turned peevish. “A myth I used to distract Mab.”

  “As I thought,” Adam lied. Oh, he had thought that before, but now he knew better. At Adam’s side, Eliza stood, warm and trusting. He wanted nothing more than to draw her nearer and hold her tight. God keep her, make her strong when he couldn’t hold her.

  Mellan watched them with a hawkish fervor, his gaze darting between them. “It appears that Mab’s curse upon you has ended as well, Aodh.”

  Adam found he hated that name; it felt as though it belonged to the fae, to that time when he’d been young and foolish. “I am Adam, King of the GIM,” he said. “And yes, I have my power. Pray, do not test me, Mellan.” Test, me, he thought. Challenge me, you wily bastard.

  “I would not dream of it,” Mellan drawled, yet there was satisfaction in his eyes.

  “Then I’ll have your word that you’ll leave Eliza alone from now on.”

  Eliza tensed, and Mellan froze. It seemed the fae would snarl and lash out, but he held still. Adam did as well, ready to fight this man with the one thing he had left: his life. For Eliza.

  Mellan broke the tense silence. “Mab is out of my way. Thus I no longer need you, Eliza.” Mellan looked her over, his gaze roving. “Though I am not averse to keeping you as my concubine.”

  Eliza’s face twisted in disgust. “You do realize how very disturbed that is. You are my granduncle.”

  Mellan gave a negligent shrug. “My sister birthed some brat decades ago, and you are the final result. What does it matter to me? I am not human, nor bound to their customs. In truth, were I to get you with child, our combined blood would only serve to strengthen the child.”

  Fucking bloody fucking bastard. Adam’s only wish was to see the fae king die. But understanding lit through him; while Adam was trying to bait Mellan into a fight, Mellan was trying to bait Eliza.

  Eliza’s expression iced over as she spoke to Mellan. “Let me say that, at this moment, I’m not averse to gelding you.”

  Adam could not help it, he laughed, glancing down at his beloved. That mouth of hers, always quick to say the most cutting thing, and he loved it. He loved her, Eliza May of the tart tongue and sweet lips. He almost said it there and then. Except he heard Mellan snarl, saw him move out of the corner of his eye. Too soon, and attacking the wrong person.