Soulbound

by Bec McMaster

  Her Premonition.

  "Besides, perhaps I can lead us straight to the Blade. I've held it before in my hands. I know what it feels like, and my gift of psychometry might help me find it. You don't even know where she might be keeping it."

  True. His nostrils flared. "Cleo, she might kill you."

  He couldn't quite say the words—that Morgana knew exactly what his wife meant to him, and if she thought she could cripple him by killing Cleo... she wouldn't hesitate.

  Cleo arched a brow. "She might kill you. She did threaten revenge. Link with me. We're stronger together."

  "I work better alone," he snapped.

  She actually rolled her eyes at him. "Tick, tock, Sebastian. You're not going to win this argument. If you want to sneak inside before the demon returns—if it is staying with her—then I suggest you save your breath."

  He shut his mouth. She was— He could just about— He turned to Verity, but she was frowning, staring into the distance as if she listened to some private conversation. And chances were, she wouldn't take his side anyway.

  It would be a cold day in hell before Ver agreed that a lady's place was waiting at home for her husband.

  "Fine," he said curtly.

  "Bishop doesn't like it," Verity said, blinking back into the here and now. "He doesn't think you're ready."

  Sebastian arched a brow. "Bishop doesn't have to like it. It's time he cut the apron strings. Tell him he can either let me try, or we might have to fall back on the alternative. I need that watch. If Morgana recognizes me, she'll attack instantly."

  "He's coming."

  "What's the alternative?” Cleo asked, helping him shrug out of his jacket.

  "Drake has to die."

  Cleo froze, her fingers on his lapels.

  He met Verity's eyes, and saw the distress in them. Verity slowly nodded, and clearly passed the message along. "Fine. You have this one chance. Don't fail."

  Chapter 20

  THE WARD SHIVERED over his skin as Sebastian slipped the window on the second floor up, and slowly edged over the sill. The ward quivered a little bit, plucking at him as if it didn't quite recognize him, and so he cut his finger and pressed the bloody pad of it to the wall.

  His aura might be slightly different, thanks to Cleo, but it definitely recognized his blood. The prickling sensation vanished. First success.

  The house was quiet, and he couldn't sense any sign of alarm. Morgana could have altered the wards, but these particular ones were ingrained in her memory. Changing the template would have required a lot of time, effort, and meditation.

  Cleo took a deep breath, perched upon the branch they'd both climbed. It was becoming easier to see her, thanks to familiarity, but the cloak she wore was embroidered and spelled with runes, courtesy of Bishop. Not quite an Invisibility Cloak, but one that kept telling him to look away, look away, and he was developing a slight ache behind his right eye by forcing himself to see past it.

  She reached out, testing the wards... and her hand passed through open air. They both released a faint breath.

  Morgana's wards recognized her as an extension of him. Just as their heartbeats had aligned with the formation of the soul-bond, so had their auras.

  He reached out to help Cleo inside, heart beating a little quicker. Her skirts slithered over the sill, and she fell against his chest, his arms wrapping around her.

  They both froze.

  Silence. He pressed a finger to her lips, and then opened his link to her. Instantly it felt like a weight eased from his shoulders, heat and life spilling through him, and cocooning him in the psychic scent of her.

  This was what it felt like to be whole these days. Sometimes, in the dark of night, he wondered what if would feel like if he were to accept the bond completely. Right now, he could sense more of her than she of him, thanks to her initiation of the ritual. They were linked, but he was in control of how far it went.

  What would it feel like to share thoughts with her as freely as Bishop and Verity clearly did? Or Ianthe and Lucien?

  But she didn't know about the ticket to Manhattan, and he couldn't bear for her to dredge the depths of his nightmares or memories. Some things were never meant to be shared, especially those.

  "Can you feel anything?" he asked.

  Cleo closed her eyes and reached out to press her palm against the wall. The Divination Arts were completely foreign to him.

  Her head tilted to the side, as if she were listening to something. Then her eyes shot open. "Got it. It's faint, but it's definitely inside the house. Lower, I think."

  "You focus on the Blade. I'll keep an eye out for guards."

  Cleo nodded, and he glided ahead of her, careful of his footsteps.

  "There's no one on this floor," she whispered, in his mind. "But there are at least three people in the house. Downstairs, of course, which happens to be where the Blade is."

  Sebastian untied the small bag at his hip, and plucked out one of the glass orbs Bishop had given him, planting it behind a statue as they slipped along the hallway. As much as he hated to admit it, the man was pure genius when it came to spell craft. Bishop was better suited to being a scientist, or an engineer, but he somehow managed to put those instincts to use to make himself a better assassin.

  She grabbed for his arm, just as alarm screamed through her. "Someone's coming."

  Sebastian shoved her behind a curtain, into a small window alcove and followed her in, hand resting on her ribs. This was the hardest bit. The second he embraced his power, any sorcerer nearby would feel the prickling sensation of it.

  Cleo sucked in a slow breath, her breasts crushed against his chest, and despite the urgency of the situation, he couldn't stop his gaze from shifting lower. From this height–this position—he had a prime view directly down her bodice. Black lace teased him, tantalizing more than hiding her assets from view, and those creamy swells thrust up as if to tempt him.

  He felt her gaze on his face and glanced up, beneath his lashes, realizing he'd been caught looking.

  "Later." Even her mental whisper sounded husky.

  Later. Jesus. His cock swelled at the thought, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Now was definitely not the time. Or the place.

  But there was no telling his cock that.

  Footsteps stalked past, a man muttering under his breath. "...ain't here to be at your ladyship's beck-and-fuckin'-call."

  Those stern boots hammered up the stairs, and Sebastian breathed out. "Anyone else setting off your Premonition?"

  Cleo shook her head slowly.

  Easing aside the curtains, he backed out into the parlor, setting another of the glass orbs beneath a stuffed parrot's tail where it wouldn't be seen. Five left in the bag. He planted them in the rooms they passed through as they followed Cleo's hesitant tugs toward the Blade.

  "Down." Cleo sent the thought to him as they covered the entire bottom floor. "I feel like it should be right here, but it’s not. The Blade must be below us."

  He sighed. "Of course it is. She'll have set up her altar in the cellar. No doubt it's warded too."

  They hurried through the servants’ hallway, and Sebastian pushed into the next room—

  —right into another man.

  The fellow's eyes widened, his moustache quivering as he opened his mouth, and Sebastian slammed him back into the wall, clapping a hand over the bastard's mouth. A knee drove into his thigh, narrowly missing his groin, and he staggered back, taking the stranger with him.

  A blistering fist hammered into his head. He caught a flash of Cleo's startled eyes, as she hovered helplessly. No sorcery! No sorcery! He didn't know whether it got through to her, for his back hit the kitchen bench, and pain sliced through him.

  A month's worth of hard training suddenly opened up in his mind. He blocked the next blow, getting his feet under him, just as power bloomed within his attacker.

  He was dangerously open to any metaphysical attacks. And so was Cleo.

  Grabbing a fistful of the ma
n's hair, Sebastian wrenched with both hands, snapping the man's neck.

  The hard weight landed on him, driving him back against the bench again as they both slumped. His heart was pounding. He held them both there, listening, gradually hearing the sharp rasp of Cleo's startled breath over his ravaged heartbeat. She'd clapped both hands over her mouth, and slowly lowered them, swallowing hard.

  "Are you all right?"

  He nodded, and there was a second where his gaze dipped to the body in his arms, and he realized he'd just killed a man—

  Not his first time. Probably not his last, but she looked shocked.

  "Cleo." He let the man's body down, hauling him toward the pantry by his boots. "There's no time for panic. Can you feel the Blade?"

  Color seemed to be flooding back into her cheeks. "Definitely below us."

  "Richard?" a man called from above. "Was that you?"

  Silence lingered in the house. Cleo shot him a look.

  Jesus. They must have heard the scuffle, as quick as it was. She held her hands out to him as if to say, what are we going to do?

  He cleared his throat and called gruffly, "Aye. Just tripped on somewhat."

  "We're going to have to move quickly," he sent. "Find the cellar."

  Cleo swirled her look away cloak off her shoulders and handed it to him. "Cover him."

  Then she scurried toward the pantry, as he lowered the fellow to the floor and swung the cloak over him. Instantly he was encouraged to see past the lump on the floor. It would have to do.

  "This way!"

  He followed her past the pantry, to a rickety staircase.

  There was a faint tingle as he reached for the door at the bottom. This ward was stronger and more aggressive than the one protecting the house.

  He hadn't come all this way only to be deterred now. Footsteps creaked somewhere above them, but they were far lighter than the other two. A little flurry of nerves stirred in his gut. He hadn't seen his mother in the house yet, but the signs of her were everywhere. Perhaps they were in luck. Perhaps she wasn't at home.

  His fist clenched. A part of him hoped she was.

  Cleo rested a hand in the middle of his spine, as if she sensed his tension. "My Premonition is itching again."

  They either needed to break the ward on the cellar and search for the Blade, or try and escape.

  This wasn't the time for a confrontation. He had Cleo at his side, and the fate of Drake rested upon his ability to steal the Blade out from under Morgana's nose. Escape wasn't an option.

  "The second I break this ward, she'll know," he told her. "Time for Bishop's distraction. Are you ready?"

  "To thwart one of your mother's schemes?" Cleo's thumb stirred against his spine, though her breath still came shortly. "I'm all in."

  Sebastian swelled with power, and triggered the globes he'd left all through the house.

  * * *

  The second they were inside the cellar, he called a mage globe of pure white to life so they could see.

  The tingle of the broken ward skittered over his skin, and he could hear cries of surprise from above. A woman's voice came to him, just distant enough that he couldn't make out the words, but the sound sheared through him like a knife. Morgana.

  Focus on the Blade.

  "Find it," he snapped. Bishop's distraction wouldn't last long. The smoke pouring through the house, and the small detonations would cause confusion, and make it difficult to see, but Morgana was no fool.

  There was a low altar in the corner of the room, and a hexagram engraved in the floor in silver. Cleo moved perilously close to it, and he hauled her up short. "Don't step on that."

  Red velvet gleamed in the corner, covering a globe of some description. A scrying device, probably. Sage hung in dried clumps from the walls, and he caught a glint of silver on the bench along the side wall, but it was only his mother's athame, a ritual blade used to draw blood to power her spell work.

  Power brewed in the house. It felt like a gathering storm.

  "Cleo!"

  "Here!" she cried desperately, placing her hand flat on one of the flagstones on the floor. "It's drawing me to this stone."

  "Stand back." No time for finesse or stealth. Not anymore.

  Sebastian triggered a small spell, and the flagstone exploded in a little hail of stone that he contained within a ward. Kneeling down, he fumbled in the hole, hauling out a larger slab of stone that was all that remained. There was something beneath it. More velvet. Something long and sharp. "Got it."

  No denying it was the Blade. He'd touched it once before, and felt the malevolent, oily stain of its aura, for lack of a better word. The Blade was stained with blood, involved in numerous sacrifices over the years, and those deaths haunted it.

  "Let's go." He grabbed her by the arm, and hauled her toward the staircase.

  They slammed into an invisible ward at the top, and he swore under his breath. Of course. "I thought it was too easy." Getting inside the cellar was the easy part. Getting out, another matter entirely.

  Cleo pressed against that invisible wall. "Damn it. Sebastian, my skin's on fire, my Premonition setting off all sorts of alarm bells." Her pale face flashed toward him. "She's coming."

  Morgana.

  The world dropped away from him, that familiar icy chill sliding through his veins. He had years and years of pent-up violence stored within him. Revenge, whispered the darkest part of him, hungering for it. No longer weak. No longer powerless. Bishop had granted him the chance to finally, finally match up against his mother and see which one of them emerged the victor.

  He severed the link between he and Cleo, not wanting her to be a part of this.

  "Stay behind me," he said, handing her the Blade. "I'll cover you. You need to get the Blade to Bishop, no matter what happens next."

  Chapter 21

  HE WENT COLD. That was the only way to explain it.

  "How are we going to get out?" Cleo whispered, resting a hand on his arm, and holding the Blade in her other.

  "Stand back," he said, flexing his hands.

  Static wards like this could be broken with an enormous influx of power; a hammer-blow of immense proportions. Cleo glanced at the roof above them. "Bastian, be careful."

  "I know what I'm doing." For once he sounded confident. "Bishop's had me cracking wards for the past month. This is something I can do."

  Power swelled through him as he sucked it up through his feet. She could almost feel him vibrating with energy, and the surge of it she felt through the link buoyed her.

  "Shusharah," he cried, bringing all his power to bear upon the invisible ward.

  The backlash was immense. Sebastian flung up a ward to protect them, driving her into the wall and covering her with his body. Dirt shivered from a crack in the ceiling as the entire house shook.

  The second it died down, he took her hand. "Move!"

  They bolted out of the cellar, through the kitchen, and straight into chaos. Black smoke clung thickly in the air, and Cleo bumped into Sebastian as he stopped abruptly. Neither of them could see a damned thing.

  "Didn't think of that," Sebastian muttered, groping for her hand in the dark.

  She coughed as the thick smoke filled her lungs, and his hand came to rest between her shoulder blades, pushing her low where the air was clearer.

  "We just need to find a window or a door."

  "Not a door," he called. "It's her first rule. If we were ever under attack, then she locked down the house wards. The second we open a door she'll know where we are."

  Cleo couldn't stop coughing. "I'm fairly sure... she's going to know anyway."

  Wind stirred through the air, sending the black smoke roiling. Sebastian stumbled through a doorway, and they found themselves in the main entrance, where the air was considerably clearer.

  A swish of red skirts appeared on the main staircase, the last remnants of Bishop's smoke globes thinning to mere threads in the air as Morgana stirred wind through the house.

&nb
sp; It was a shock to suddenly see her, face-to-face, and Cleo squeezed Sebastian's hand.

  Morgana froze on the stairs, the rings on her fingers glittering where she rested her hand on the bannister as she and Sebastian finally faced each other again.

  "Hello, Mother," he said, in a voice practically dripping with ice.

  A hammer strike of Vision suddenly slammed through Cleo's head. Blood. Everywhere. An explosion of red light; a mage globe. Then she was blinking past it, trying to suck in the air to breathe. Bang. Bang. Bang. Little Vision vignettes struck her, one after the other. Morgana screaming. Sebastian's hands closed over her throat, his eyes black with pure rage. The walls trembling. Parts of the ceiling ripping away as he lost himself to his power.

  Expression. Always dangerous. Always uncontrollable. This was why it was considered illegal, and all practitioners either forced to learn to harness their will and control their powers, or be executed.

  She came back to the world huddled against the nearest wall. There was an icepick in her brain. She could barely breathe. Premonition screamed through her, leaving her virtually crippled.

  It was the first time the full force of her Visions had stirred since her father took her blindfold. Instead of relief, she wanted to vomit.

  "Fancy seeing you in here, Sebastian," Morgana drawled, advancing down the staircase, her skirts trailing sinuously over each step. Green eyes flickered toward Cleo. "And your precious little wife. I have a bone to pick with her."

  Morgana's smile could only be considered menacing.

  He stepped between them, blocking Cleo's view. Frost crackled up the walls, but he was still in control of himself. For now.

  "Sebastian," Cleo rasped. "No."

  They needed to get out of there, before her Vision came true.

  "We have the Blade," he said. "And you're not going to manipulate me today."

  "Aren't I?"

  The carpets crunched with little particles of ice as Sebastian took another step toward his mother. "No."