Octavia threw the pillow at Ra. He fluttered, dodging. “Stop! I’m not like you!”
You are. I can see the ink inside you. You pretend, but what you want is what I have to give. If I took care of you, I would ease your burden. I would make your life all you desire. Kill Lucy and take the most important step in making your life your own.
Octavia kicked covers off and slid out of the nursery, Khun padding after her. She locked the door to the lessons room. Since Lucy was not here, Ra could not follow. She hit her legs with her fists and anger burned down her cheeks as tears. They all wanted her to do it, to kill Lucy. The voices would not stop telling her to do it.
Khun climbed into her lap and licked her face. She sniffed, needing a handkerchief. After her own Trial, when she was bound to Khun, she would dispose of Ra. She would find a way to Banish him and save her sister. She would fix everything.
Khun laid Carlo on the couch as though he were on display at a funeral. He crossed Carlo’s hands over his chest. Octavia sat in the window seat, gazing over the canal’s shimmering waters. “We can no longer make use of him,” said Octavia. “He is a small portion demon, which means he asserts his human will. I am impressed he managed to gain control this soon.”
“Shall I drown him?”
“No.” She crossed her arms, shaking. The effort to control Carlo after summoning Khun had depleted her magic. She needed a rest, but there was urgent business to attend to. She needed to find Lucy. Khun could lead her like a bloodhound. “We should find where she is.”
Then the room spun and she fell. Swooning. Weakness. Too much magic. The shadows in the corners laughed at her.
Khun swept her up in strong arms and carried her into the bedroom. “Octavia,” he said.
“No,” she whispered. “My lady. You must call me my lady. I’m fine.”
“Clearly not,” he said. “And he’s not here. Let me call you by your name.”
Infernal magic always had a cost. She needed a way to replenish herself, to borrow some magic for later. There was one way she knew for certain, but she would not do it. “Leave me. I’ll be ready in a moment.”
“Let me help you.”
“You must leave.” Her voice was shaky. “I mean it.”
“You need my help.”
Octavia wanted her voice to be commanding, but it sounded thin. “No. Go. That is my express wish.”
Khun bowed and left the room. She poured some water into a bowl with shaking hands. Khun knew she was lying. She was sick and weak and Drusus had left her. Cleaning herself, surely, would revive her and cold water would sober her. Then she would find Lucy.
Would Lucy be obedient and come with her, or would she have to pull her away? Would she have to fight Lucy? She had never fought her sister. Even as weak as she was, Octavia knew her powers outmatched Lucy’s. It wasn’t fair Father had hidden Binder magic from Lucy, but there would be no place for Octavia otherwise, and Lucy would be the family’s shame, whether she had the potential to be the strongest magician or not. What was done was done. Father had told Octavia even though the traditional way of deciding an heir was to allow the Binder with the strongest demon to inherit, there were other ways.
You let him damn her. You murder her as much as your father does.
Octavia’s lip trembled. Ra wasn’t here, yet she still heard him. She slipped her dress over her shoulders, standing in her shift, seeing her neck in the mirror, her bare shoulders. The mirror distorted her face, added unnatural bumps and strange features, making her into a demon herself. She wanted to be a demon. It would make everything easier, uncomplicated.
Magic flared from the darkened corner by the window. “I know you’re there,” she said. “You can’t hide from me. Why would you even try?”
Khun grew up from the shadow in the corner, his face similar to Drusus’. She breathed relief.
“I thought invisibility would help preserve the proprieties,” Khun said.
“You’ve been watching me for the entire trip. Have you been watching Drusus and me?”
“You are beautiful, Octavia. I cannot leave you.”
Octavia washed her neck with a cloth. “I should send you back to the Abyss.”
“You can’t. Can I serve you in any other way?”
Yes. He could help her replenish her magic. “You forget. I’m married.”
“Oh? Then where is he? I heard him yell at you. Does he know how to scrub your back?”
“You do?”
“You’d be surprised at the breadth of my skills.”
No, she wouldn’t. There had been the one moment in her life where everything had been uncomplicated and clear to her. The temptation was always there, always burning her, an itch she could not scratch. She needed the magic for what lay ahead.
She wanted him.
Khun stepped forward. “You are exhausted. You do whatever your father asks. No one else understands what you suffer. I do understand. I know you.”
Worse. Compassion was much worse than seduction. She stopped washing, water running down her white slip. Her hands covered her face and she found herself looking away from Khun, her shoulders heaving as she tried to hide her crying, which shook her frame. “He doesn’t want me,” she said. “My marriage is a failure.”
“Shh.” He held her and stroked her back. His musky smell and her craving for his magic made her body call for him. “You will always have me. I promise you I will make things better. How can I serve you?”
“Go away,” she sobbed. “Go away.” She didn’t want this. She had told herself it was over. She wanted this. Compared to Khun, Drusus was a pale imitation.
“What do you want? Do you want me to leave?”
She looked up, her eyes shining. “What do I want?”
“When you were born, I chose you. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I love you.”
“I forbid you to say that.”
“Do you still love me?”
She wouldn’t look at him. “What we did was wrong. I am a Binder and you are a demon.”
Khun took her hand. Passion. She wanted to press into him until she was part of him. “You control me.” His lips brushed her hand, and she breathed in. “I am your supplicant. I love you. I suspect you still love me.”
Octavia pushed the words out with effort. “I don’t.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Send me away then.”
“I am faithful to my husband.”
“He is not faithful to you. He’s leaving you. You deserve better.”
“My family—”
“Take this for yourself. I can give you the strength to see this through for your family.”
She pushed against him, trembling. Just once more then, to borrow the magic. Just this last time and then she would put this desire away forever and fall back into step, back to her duty.
Khun’s lips covered hers, hungry. Her first kiss with Drusus had been awkward, but nowhere felt more natural than Khun’s embrace, no room between his body and hers. Octavia laughed, a wild, throaty sound, which escaped like a freed bird, her soul escaping from a cage. Khun’s cry was deep, an animal as she pressed against him.
“My beauty. My own,” he murmured into her hair.
She whispered to him. “I want you. My soul is empty. Every time the shadows whisper to me, they promise me things I shouldn’t want. But I do want them. I don’t want to be Octavia. Do you understand? I want you to make me someone else. Let’s pretend you Bound me. Let’s pretend you had plans for me.”
“I do have plans for you.”
“Please, Khun,” she said. “You know what I want. I need you to give me what I want.”
Anticipation made her ache. Octavia gasped as his fingers grew sharp talons. He cut her slip, slashing it away from her. Bloody welts grazed her skin. She wanted to devour him. A dark loop clamped her wrists above her head, a gag clamped over her mouth.
In one smooth motion, Khun p
icked her up and pulled her over him, a feral groan escaping. Behind the darkness, she screamed, too. This was what she wanted. Him inside of her, filling the empty space, touching her deep, both pain and pleasure at the same time, filling her with the dark magic which would power her. Lust, hot drops of sweat dripping onto her bare skin, rough hair rubbing her breasts raw. He made love to her until she shivered, and in her pleasure she keened, the gag muffling her voice.
He dropped her on the bed and looked her over. She rolled into a fetal position, trembling. “Well now,” he said, “what do I do next?”
There would be more and she was exhilarated and terrified. Fear gnawed her stomach while desire flooded her body. She was no longer in control of anything. Helpless. The sacrifice required to dark magic.
The shadows in the corner reached out, ropes which wrapped around her arms and legs, spreading her into an x before changing into manacles and chains. She was dragged toward the darkness, Khun following her, his face more goatish, more true. Desire washed over her like the tide, ebbing, and then coming back stronger. Over and over, the shadows said, You will never escape us. We will use you for an eternity. What if Khun didn’t let her go? What if lust cost her everything?
Not knowing, not being in control. The fear was as wonderful as the lust.
The shadows took her in and Khun disappeared after her.
CHAPTER TEN
Carlo opened his eyes. Light bled through the red curtains, reflecting on the velvet couch. He glanced down at his boots on the floor, toes pointing outward. While the apartment held its breath, his mind tracked backward. What had happened to him? Had he really transformed into a monster? Was he really human? How did his grandfather play into this?
A quick, sock-footed search showed Carlo was alone. The apartment smelled of rotten eggs―no, sulfur. Brimstone. Where were Octavia and Khun? Why would they leave him alone?
They had what they needed from him and were searching for Lucy. Octavia kept her word. He was safe. He imagined Khun would have other thoughts, but wasn’t free to decide his own actions. Carlo knew how that felt.
He shivered again. Hot, melting flesh and bending bone. Those memories were never going to leave him. He felt he shouldn’t exist in the world.
He laced his boots and left the Danieli, moving onto the streets of tourist Venice, disoriented even though he had lived all his life in the city. He couldn’t dodge people, some eyeing him with indignity, others calling him names in English, Austrian, and French, not thinking he could understand. There was often dignity in a retort, but not today. He wove through the streets, dazed.
What was he really? What happened to his father? There was one person who might tell him the truth. What did his mother know? Paolo promised Sofia Borgia he would never tell Carlo about the day his father disappeared, and the magic in their life. What if Carlo didn’t have a father at all? What if he himself was a demon Paolo Borgia had conjured, some lie shared by his “mother” and his “grandfather?” Carlo shook his head and turned his steps to darker, narrower alleys, to familiar buildings and dirty fountains, through the neighborhoods, playing children and laundry washing wives, to the front door of the apothecary shop, his home.
He rested his hand on the doorknob. What was he?
Carlo opened the door and the bell jingled. Peppo jumped up to greet him, and Carlo knelt to pet the dog, as always. Peppo didn’t care what he might be.
“Mama?” Carlo called.
Sofia wheeled into the front room from the back hallway. “You’re home,” she said. “Where have you been all night?” Small lines tensed around her lips, but she stopped, and her expression softened. “You don’t look well. Has something happened?” She tucked wisps of hair behind her ears and maneuvered the chair closer.
What must he look like? His mother would never spare him a scolding he deserved. He rubbed his hands over his face. Was there something wrong about him? Was his demon nature still showing?
“Did that Binder do something to you?”
Peppo wandered away. Carlo moved closer to Sofia. “Not her, Mama.” No, not that Binder.
Sofia had knitting in her lap, blue yarn and small needles plunged into the yarn, ready to start a new project. She balanced her sharp shears on a chair arm.
Carlo breathed. “I have to ask you about something.”
Sofia smoothed wayward hair back toward its bun. It flopped forward again, the gesture futile, but she patted it into place, or tried, once more. “Yes?”
“I have to ask you about Father.”
“Your father is dead. There is nothing more to say.” Carlo noted a small, uncertain note, fear in her voice.
“There are things I have to know. It’s important. I dreamed of him. He told me not to trust Nonno.”
Sofia laughed. “I’ve been telling you that for years. Did your father say why?”
“He said Nonno only cares about himself.” Carlo grabbed his mother’s calloused hands, a woman who worked too hard. “Tell me what I am.”
“What do you mean, Carlo?”
“I’m not human. What am I?”
Sofia touched his cheek. “You’re my son.”
“Something happened tonight. Something horrible.”
Sofia focused over Carlo’s shoulder, gazing into the past like a fortuneteller. “Your father, oh, he was beautiful.” Sofia worked the needles, the soft click-click soothing. “I met him at church. Such a gentleman. Never tried to press his advantage like other boys, never tried anything unsuitable, just an occasional stolen kiss until we married. Then, not long after, there was you. We were happy, and would have stayed so, the three of us.”
“What happened to him?”
“Your father had the misfortune to be your grandfather’s son.” The needles clacked quicker. Yarn wrapped around Sofia’s fingers, onto the needle. “One night, one of your grandfather’s adventures went astray. Your father saved us, Carlo, by sacrificing himself. He was not human, you see, when we made you, although he didn’t know it when we married. He invoked his nature for the first time that night and it consumed him, burned him up.” She studied the knitting needles. “That was the end of your father.”
Carlo wiped his face with his hands. “I’m a demon’s son.”
“You are not a demon. You are more human than demon. God will protect you. I’ve said more than enough prayers.”
Carlo shook his head. “God has failed me. He let me become what I am. I need to find Nonno.”
“What happened to you?”
“Her sister can control me, can make me—” Carlos blinked back hot tears. How could he tell his mother of the helplessness, the shame he felt, the violation of what he was?
“You changed?” Sofia dropped her knitting in her lap and she pulled him to her. He rested his head by the yarn. “It’s not possible, is it?”
Carlo recoiled. “I’m not safe. I shouldn’t be here.”
Sofia pulled him back and smoothed his hair. “Shh. Where else should you be? Let Mama help you.”
Carlo laid his head back on her lap. She smelled of lavender. Without warning, he cried, like he was a small boy again, hurt on the street, skinning his knee. His shoulders shook with sobbing.
She shushed him. “Oh, my poor, poor boy. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.”
He looked up at her. “I’m sorry.”
“God knows. It was a shock for you, a shock for me. But all will be well. Carlo?”
“Yes?” He sniffed, his eyes hurting, his head pounding. He looked into her eyes, and she picked up her shears.
“I’m sorry.” She pushed the shears up and under his rib cage, ripping through skin and muscle. “I wish it could be some other way.” Blood covered Sofia’s lace gloves.
Carlo leaned away. His fingers fumbled over blood, trying to staunch the flow. It rippled around his palms, dribbled through his fingers. “Why?”
“I didn’t want to lose you, but I was selfish. I am so sorry. I have been a sinner to let you live.”
&
nbsp; Blood oozed under his shirt. Shock gave way to pain. He pulled out the shears, the metal brushing the edges of his wound. A thousand ants bit his skin and he cried out. The last scarf Sofia had knitted for him, the one he wore, became a morass of blood and wool. Carlo tried to stand and stumbled, falling back to his knees.
The bell jingled on the shop door. Paolo strode in, the jester’s veneer disintegrating. Carlo had never seen his grandfather’s face stormy. His voice was dead calm, no ripples in the water. “Woman, what have you done?”
Carlo’s hands were striped with his own blood, warm like hot tea. Sofia folded her hands in her lap, the bloody shears protruding from one. Was she going to stab him again?
Paolo towered over her, the morning light casting his shadow long. It almost touched her and she wheeled away from it, blood from the front wheels streaking the floor.
“I’ll ask you again,” said Paolo. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Carlo knows what he is. You promised me there wouldn’t be any effects.”
“I promised you nothing. I said it was not likely there would be any effects. Did you think he would never find out? You would have to chain him to a wall and keep him away from the world to keep him from finding out his nature, and I have let you.”
“Nonno,” said Carlo. “Help me.”
Paolo knelt to Carlo. “You will be fine,” he soothed. “You’ll see. I should have told you, but she wanted to take you away.”
“I’m dying.”
Paolo laughed. “It will take more than blades to kill you. You might not think this way, but you have a gift. You will see in time I’m right.”
“How dare you!” Sofia said. “How dare you tell him! After all you’ve done to my family! He knows what he is!”
“You have always known what he is. Why would you do this?”
Sofia’s shoulders slumped. “I prayed and prayed for him. I thought God would make the difference. I see now it is pointless.” There were tears in Sofia’s eyes. “He’s damned.”
Paolo’s eyes pierced Sofia. “The only person who’s damned here is you. Look what you’ve done to your son.”
The Vessel of Ra Page 10