Soulbound

by Bec McMaster

  "So is translocation," she pointed out.

  Verity, with her unpredictable gifts.

  "You’re confusing me. What does Quentin Farshaw have to do with you being the black queen?"

  She picked up the book, flipping through it swiftly before reading: "A notion that has constantly plagued me has been a curiosity about why I see the future and the past with such clarity, when other sorcerers can barely glimpse it. Where do these dreams come from? Why does time seem to part around me, when others cannot even see the individual threads? I think the demon is in me."

  A light fluttering began to swim through his gut. "What does that even mean? He was possessed?"

  "No." Cleo took a deep breath. "Sebastian, what’s the one creature with the ability to time-walk? The one creature who can see through time, and manipulate it?"

  A demon.

  "Every act of sorcery can be learned, even if one is never very good at it. Consider myself with telekinesis, for example. But not.... Divination is a gift that cannot be taught. One either has it, or one does not."

  "What are you saying?"

  She cradled the book to her chest. "What if the gift of Sight is not a gift, but something in one’s bloodlines? I’ve been… researching. The first time a demon was called through from the Shadow Dimensions was in 1497, according to our records. The very first recorded seer showed up some twenty years later. And what do demons do when they get here? They possess a body, but they require the energy derived from sex and blood in order to survive. What if there are children born of such couplings? Children with their parents’ bloodlines, but a hint of the demon inside them too? Maybe it leaves a mark, a stain on the soul? Maybe—"

  "You think there’s some part of a demon in you? Cleo." He crossed to her side, kneeling at her feet, and rubbing his palms up her silk-covered legs. "You’re the very opposite of a demon. There’s a light inside you even I can see. That I’ve always seen. You wouldn’t even begin to know what true darkness was."

  A tear slid down her cheek. "The night of the Ascension Ball you and Madrigal pulled me from a dream about the past. My father was fascinated with demons too. After he, Drake, and Morgana created the Relics Infernal, and they betrayed him, he turned to darker arts. I saw my father the night I was conceived. He was at his altar, and he summoned something into him, before he went to my mother."

  Sebastian froze.

  She could barely continue, the fall of her hair covering her face. "I’m human, Sebastian, but there’s something of the demon inside me too. Something from the Shadow Dimensions. And I think it’s starting to wake.

  "A stain, Sebastian," she whispered. "Something dark that whispers to me at odd moments. I can feel her, even now. I’m the white queen, but I think the black queen is inside me too. I think I am… both. And I don’t think you’d like her very much."

  He stared up at her, hating the doubt he heard in her voice.

  "Quentin Farshaw said I had to make a choice between the Light and the Dark," Cleo continued. "I don't know what he means. Do I have to choose to be the white queen? Or the black queen?"

  "Farshaw said quite a lot," he muttered. And she hadn't told him any of it. "Come here."

  Sebastian dragged her into his lap, where she finally succumbed to her tears. The bond between them was shielded, and maybe this was why. Maybe she’d begun hiding her thoughts and emotions from him the moment she realized something was amiss within her.

  The very way she clung to him told him something else though. She hadn’t wanted to tell him. Doubt, perhaps, that he would deny her. Or cast her aside. Sweet mother of darkness. A growl of fury vibrated in his throat, and he crushed her close to him.

  "What did you think I was going to do?" he whispered, capturing her tear-stained face and tilting it up to press a kiss to her lips.

  "You were leaving," she said in a ragged voice.

  "You didn’t know that. Not until you found the ticket. You've known all this time, or suspected there was something dark inside you."

  "Well, you weren't there for me. You wouldn't reply to my letters." She pressed her face into her hands and sobbed. "You didn't want to see me. You've never wanted this marriage."

  "You're right," he whispered, cupping her face and tilting it to his. "I never wanted this marriage. I didn't know what to do with you, or how to be a husband. But I want this. I want you. Let me be your husband, Cleo. Be my wife in truth. No matter what we face."

  And then he kissed her, knowing that this time she needed him to fight for her.

  Chapter 24

  The Shadow Dimensions are gray, lifeless planes where creatures of the Void exist. They constantly hunger for life, and yet it is denied them, so of course when they are summoned through into this world they crave the light and life and wonder they see. They wish to absorb it, to drink it down, to glut themselves on sex and blood and energy—and to destroy the Summoner who called them. For when summoned, they wear a leash. And it chafes….

  —Lord Gilderoy in Of Demons and Imps

  * * *

  "GOING HUNTING?" SEBASTIAN asked, as he poured himself a cup of tea the next morning.

  Bishop paused in the act of sliding his black leather gloves on. "Verity's going to use a lock of Drake's hair to try and track him again. We had no luck the other day, but he's got to be somewhere out there. I'm going with her."

  Cleo crunched into her piece of toast. "Best of luck."

  "There's no chance you could find the demon?" Bishop asked her.

  "I've tried. There is no Veil shielding it. It's simply not there." Cleo glanced down, and Sebastian knew she lied.

  He said nothing. There were reasons she might not dare confront the demon, especially considering her recent revelation.

  Verity leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, and murmured something in her ear that made Cleo blush.

  "What are your plans?" Bishop asked, trying to pretend both ladies weren't discussing something not meant for polite ears.

  Cleo set her toast down. "We—"

  "Intend to continue reading Farshaw's book," Sebastian cut in, lifting the cup to his mouth and meeting his brother's eyes. "Cleo thinks there's something inside it she needs to know, for when we face the demon."

  Bishop shrugged into his coat, and Verity helped brushed him off. "Good. I don't want any surprises when we finally track this demon down. It's going to be a hell of campaign to face it even with the Relics Infernal, let alone anyone else it can drag out of the woodwork."

  Verity grimaced. "It has to have gone to ground in either Balthazar's Labyrinth or Seven Dials. They're the only two sorcerous communities in London that don't belong to the Order, and it needs allies with power. It knows we're coming for it."

  "Happy hunting," Sebastian said.

  "Good luck," Bishop responded curtly, and then he and Verity slipped from the room.

  "Why did you lie to him?" Cleo kept her eyes on her plate.

  "Because Bishop sometimes believes the best way to make a problem go away is with a very sharp knife."

  "You don't trust him."

  "I don't trust anybody," he replied. "Present company excluded."

  She chased a spoonful of coddled eggs across her plate. "He wouldn't hurt me. He's not like that. He's... kind. Sometimes."

  "He's not going to ever have reason to consider it." Sebastian frowned. It was one thing to face his brother in a sparring match. If Bishop ever discovered Cleo's secret, then Sebastian knew he couldn't stop his brother if he decided to bring her before the Prime. Not one-on-one.

  They'd never truly gone head-to-head. Every encounter had been a lesson, Bishop restraining himself. And every encounter, his brother defeated him, regardless of his overwhelming strength.

  It made him wary enough to keep this a secret.

  "But what if it helps to counter the demon?" Cleo bit her lip. "Do you think we ought to mention—"

  Verity punched into the room. Cleo's knees hit the table in surprise, and Sebastian's cup rattled on
its saucer.

  "Bloody hell," he swore, trying to mop up the tea he'd spilled before it dripped into his lap.

  "Sorry." Verity stole an apple from the bowl in the middle of the table, looking utterly unrepentant. "I almost forgot it wasn't safe to simply translocate into a room where the two of you were sitting. Not now anyway." She grinned saucily. "Who knows what I could have walked into?"

  Now? Sebastian stared at her. "Verity!"

  "Don't be a prude." She rolled her eyes. "It's lovely to see the two of you getting along."

  Getting along wasn't quite the way he'd describe it.

  "Just... don't do anything I wouldn't do." Verity winked at them, and then vanished into thin air.

  He made a choking noise in his throat.

  "Well, I did suggest we not desecrate the desk in the library," Cleo said, as if it were entirely his fault.

  "Did you say something to her?"

  "I didn't have to." Cleo shook her head. "Verity's been, ah, giving me tips on how to seduce you for weeks. She knew."

  Tips? He stared at her. It wasn't as though it should surprise him, as Verity was quite free with her affections whenever she thought she and Bishop were alone. "I don't think I want to know."

  Cleo cleared her throat. "I might be able to change your mind on that later."

  He definitely didn't want to know. Not now. Not with an entire day ahead of them, and the need to focus.

  He glanced at the door, draining the last mouthful of tea from his cup. "Ready?" Then he added, "That's why we need to keep these conversations private. Don't breathe a word of what you told me last night. Not to anyone. Especially not Verity."

  He thought she looked a little sad. "What's wrong?"

  Cleo shook her head and pushed away from the table. "Nothing. I just.... I hate lying to my friends."

  So did he, but when it came to keeping Cleo safe, he'd do anything.

  * * *

  "Where are we really going?" Cleo asked breathlessly as she hurried down the back stairs of Bishop's small townhouse onto the street. They'd waited almost fifteen minutes to make sure Bishop and Verity weren't likely to return, before slipping out the back door when cook's back was turned.

  "I've been thinking about what Morgana said the other day when we stole the Blade of Altarrh back from her."

  "I think it best to ignore almost everything that leaves that woman's mouth," Cleo muttered. "She's the most horrible woman I've ever met."

  "You're the one who didn't want me to kill her."

  "For your sake, not hers," she pointed out.

  Sebastian strode ahead of her, lifting a hand to hail a hansom cab. A pair of glossy black geldings trotted toward them, and he helped her up into the carriage, leaning out to give an address to the driver. As he closed the door, he settled on the seat next to her. "She said Lady Beaumont was working for her."

  Cleo's chin jerked up in surprise. "Julia Camden?"

  His gaze slid to the window as the hack started moving, the clip-clop of horses’ hooves ringing on the cobbles. "Yes. Considering Morgana doesn't seem to have much to say to Bishop, I thought Lady Beaumont might be more inclined to speak."

  "And you didn't tell Bishop?"

  "I can handle Julia. And if she is working for the demon, then she might know the true identity of the black queen. I just want to make sure she knows nothing before I turn her over to Bishop," he said, his gaze meeting hers.

  Cleo wished he didn't sound quite so cold. "Are you certain you're up to that?"

  "I have you by my side."

  "Little help I may be when it comes to confronting dangerous enemies."

  "No, you're here as my conscience." Sebastian's hand settled on her knee, and he let go of a small breath. "And you're more of a help than you might think. You did singlehandedly bring my mother to her knees."

  "And Madrigal Brown warned me I wasn't to future-walk anytime soon."

  "When have you ever listened to reason?" he teased.

  "I listen to reason all the time," she scoffed, but she folded her hands in her lap. She could feel his gaze upon her face, and knew he'd picked up on her small deception. Cleo sighed. "All these new abilities I'm discovering.... What if.... What if they were from the demon that sired me?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Perhaps I shouldn't use them."

  "The demon that used your father's body as a vessel when he sired you."

  "Semantics," she said, arching a brow at him. "Tremayne's seed, the demon's stain."

  Sebastian turned a cool brow upon her. "You said you thought all your Divination gifts were inherited from the demon and you've been using them all of your life without any dubious side effects. I doubt there's anything to worry about with your new gifts."

  Gifts? "You're not the one dreaming about playing chess with a demon," she muttered, trying to ignore the chill in her chest at the thought. She'd always thought her Foresight a gift, but what if it was something far more sinister?

  His hand squeezed her knee. "We'll get the answers. I promise. There's no point worrying about it in the meantime."

  Cleo slid her fingers into his hand. It was easy for him to say. He wasn't tainted by a demon's blood.

  "I've spent most of my life being told I was a monster," Sebastian said, squeezing her hand. "If there's anyone who knows how you feel right now, it's probably me."

  Her heart broke a little. He'd spent years with no one at his side to assuage his fears. She could do this for a week or two.

  "Be brave," he said, bringing her hand to his lips to press a soft kiss there.

  "I'll be your conscience," Cleo whispered, "if you'll be my courage."

  "Deal."

  * * *

  Lady Beaumont lived in Knightsbridge, not far from Bishop's home. Cleo rested her head against Sebastian's shoulder as they travelled in silence, trying not to think grim thoughts. She could stay there forever, she thought, with his arm around her and the soft thud of his heartbeat echoing near her ear, but all too soon they were pulling up, and the hack driver called out, "Whoa there, lads."

  And how long was forever, anyway?

  They disembarked from the carriage, and Cleo stared up at the mansion while Sebastian paid the driver. Breath steamed hot from the horses’ nostrils as they nickered, and Cleo wrapped her arms around herself until she grew used to the morning's chill. Choking clouds of soot stained the murky morning, and someone had left the gaslights burning faintly in this section of town, an extravagance she didn't expect to see elsewhere, except perhaps Mayfair.

  Lady Beaumont certainly held a posh appointment. Sharp little spears of wrought iron circled the property, and one could barely see past the lush foliage and the hedge of sharply pruned conifers. The house loomed out of the greenery, its shutters peering back like beady little eyes.

  Behind her, reins slapped on the horses’ rumps, and then the hack was moving off with the heavy jingle of tack and the rush of its wheels on the cobbles. Sebastian appeared in the corner of her eye, staring coldly up at the mansion as if he saw more than just a house.

  "I'm never certain what inspires people to mount those horrid structures on their roofs," she murmured.

  He followed her line of sight. "Gargoyles?"

  "They're considerably eerie."

  The coldness in his mind dissolved, and the faintest of smiles etched his lush mouth. "Every sorcerer has to have at least one. Isn't it written in the Order's handbook?"

  "There's a handbook?" She bantered with him as they strolled along the street arm in arm, pretending there was naught amiss.

  "How do you intend to go about this?" she murmured, pausing by the end of the fence. "A frontal assault? Or are we going to break in and tie Lady Beaumont to a chair?"

  "Breaking in and scaring the devil out of her is tempting, but she'll have wards in place." Taking the look away cloak out of the small bag he carried, he shook it out and swung it over her shoulders. "Julia hinted she'd like to continue our acquaintance at the ball."

  "Acquaintanc
e? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

  His mouth twisted a little, and she felt the sharp stab of unease slide through him. It was so different now with the bond unshielded. All those minute quirks of his expression suddenly made sense.

  "Fine, she wants to fuck me," he said, a little coldly.

  It wasn't a coldness meant to warn her off, she realized, but a means to protect himself. Whenever his emotions were severely compromised, he shut down, until only ice remained.

  "When hell freezes over. You're mine," she said. "And if she lays one finger on you, then I will give her hell, regardless of whether Madrigal thinks I ought to future-walk or not."

  His expression remained cool, but something unknotted within him. "She's not going to touch me. I just need her to open the door."

  "I'll stay here then," she said.

  * * *

  Cleo waited just inside the gate in Lady Beaumont's gardens as her husband knocked on the door. Minutes ticked past. What was taking so long? Peering around a ruthlessly pruned satyr, she caught Sebastian's eye.

  "A servant should have answered by now," he sent. "I can't feel any wards in place. Are you coming?"

  Cleo slipped onto the porch, holding her breath. "What now?"

  He turned the doorknob, and the door opened. Both of them looked at each other as the dark hallway beyond beckoned.

  "There should be static wards on the doors," Cleo told him. No sorcerer kept a house without wards. There were too many closely guarded secrets of sorcery, and precious grimoires and relics lying about.... "I don't like this."

  "Maybe she didn't ward the house?"

  "A woman allied to your mother leaves her back door open, so to speak?" Cleo arched a brow.

  His eyes turned dangerous. "Be careful. And watch my back."

  There could be numerous reasons to have no wards, but one sat forefront of her mind. "It could be a trap."

  Power flooded through him, making his aura emanate around him. "I'm in a mood to spring it."