She doesn’t need defending. She doesn’t need me, or anyone. Her palms did something I’ve only seen one other person attempt, and there’s no way in hell that she can be related to him…
Or is there?
When I saw her earlier, hand outstretched and reaching for the opal knife which glowed with a power she couldn’t see, but my demon half could, I wondered why she looked so dazed, so dreamy in her expression. Could it be that what she had found in that secret room wasn’t in fact something new, but something old? Something that had been taken from her?
I hear the door behind me open as the men leave in shocked silence with tentative tread. Cerb, the enormous dog that leapt to Sephy’s defence quicker than I could, follows them out, clearly fearful of what staying in the room might mean.
I look at the ashes, at the glass, the mirrors which are no more, and know that I’ve just witnessed a Banshee attack. There’s no doubt about it. No creature from this world could produce a scream like that, regardless of genetic tampering.
I stare out through the now glassless window, squinting out into the moonlit grounds as I step over the sill and climb out onto the dampish lawn.
Making my way out into the dark, I check for more Banshee as I’m aware they usually hunt in packs. Then it occurs to me that they might have gotten in through The Hollow, however ridiculous that sounds. I mean, we have The Hollow guarded around the clock, but somehow my father had found his way into this dimension to make me, so they’re obviously finding ways to use it somehow. I mean, there’s no other way to travel between Mortaria and the mortal world… or at least none that I know of.
Reaching the front line of trees, I think back to that night again, the night I’d saved her from the fire that killed her family. It was an accident. Sparks catching on the antique rug from the upstairs fire place, wasn’t it? I sigh, wishing I’d been there when the fire had started. I could have done more, saved them all, but as it was, I was only there as a debt collector to scare her father.
As I reach The Hollow, I catch footprints in the damp earth, Banshee tracks and more than one set by the looks of things. I walk around the perimeter of the trees, my mind casting back further to the deals Adam Sinclair had made before his daughter was born. About how he had traded the thing my master wanted most for money and material objects, which if you ask me matter little. Could it be that perhaps Persephone Sinclair’s lineage is more colourful than I’ve previously known? Than anyone has previously known?
I frown as the dark night sky above bears down on me and makes me feel small. The Banshee tracks stop as I follow them back to the front of the forest where the trees begin to thin, their claws unmistakable in the earth.
I see the light shining from the destroyed ballet studio as I stalk along the edge of the shadowy copse, but here is where only one set of tracks continue. The others had clearly turned and disappeared shortly afterwards.
But how? I wonder, my heartbeat heavy in my chest.
Everything is becoming shrouded in mystery far too quickly, and where I can’t get answers on how a pack of Banshee seem to have disappeared into thin air, I think I can get answers about the Sinclairs, about why they still haven’t appeared in Golgotha after all this time.
Peter Smith had been appointed to the Sinclair family as next of kin to watch their only remaining heir, and had promised, all those years ago, to make sure that the debt they owe to Mortaria will be repaid. It has been his responsibility to ensure that as their remaining heir, Sephy, will inherit their riches, and their penance, to avoid tilting the balance of our universe unfavourably if their unexplainable lack of appearance in the underworld continues.
Perhaps though, he hasn’t played as big of a role in Sephy’s life as I’d thought, or maybe he knows more than he’s letting on and is keeping things from The Nexus on purpose.
Either way, it’s time to find out.
Chapter Five
Give It Up
SEPHY
I sit on the quartz steps that lead up to my bathroom, staring down at my hands which are shaking, my long dark fingernails becoming blurred by my inability to calm myself.
What the hell just happened?
I take a few moments to ponder this question as Cerb appears around my door, which I’ve left wide open, not even thinking to shut it. He gives me a terrified stare, and I beckon to him, ignoring the fact that my feet are bleeding out onto the cool rose stone, and my entire body is on fire.
The Leonberger bounds across the lilac carpet, his weight making deep thuds on impact as he whines. He sits before me and licks his lips so I can place my hands around his neck, burying my face in his thick fur and letting out a deep breath. His presence brings a feeling of slight relief for the first time since before the attack.
It was the biggest wolf I’ve ever seen, wrong in colour and expression, unnatural almost… and that scream, if you can even call it that… well, it was enough to wake the dead.
The mere memory of the noise is torment.
I nuzzle Cerb, letting the silence cover me like a blanket, folding over me in soft layers and comforting me as reality suddenly seems so brittle, so fragile; like a mere whisper can shatter it all.
After a few minutes of cuddling Cerb, who is shaking slightly, but letting me do what I will to him, I realise that I’m probably overreacting. The wolf was strange looking, sure, but with the amount of experimentation with off the record genetic experimentation in this country, I’m not surprised that something like this has happened. It was a freak accident, nothing more, nothing less.
Maybe I had imagined the fire; maybe I had been too terrified and too caught in the moment to know what I was seeing or doing. Like one of those women who finds herself able to lift the weight of a car when her child’s life depends on it… yeah, that’s probably it.
I pull my hair down from my high ponytail and look down at my bloody feet. I probably need to get them bandaged, but in examining them closer and pulling out several shards of glass and mirror, I see the shallow cuts have already clotted and are feeling much better thanks to the cool of the steps alone. I stand as a wince overtakes my face and shake out my hair, letting it tumble in fiery waves over my shoulders. I definitely need a drink. A big one.
I call out, “Jules!” several times, before realising that turning him down when he offered me one of those little silver service bells was probably a dumb idea.
Sighing, I make my way out of the room, frustrated that my personal stash of whisky has mysteriously disappeared. Well, I say mysteriously, but I honestly can’t recall if I finished the last of it late one night and was too drunk to remember, or if my overprotective butler has confiscated it while I’ve been out dancing.
I step along the corridor, my feet still painful but not as bad as I’d expected, before I reach the landing, only to find not Jules, but Peter and Xion screaming at each other.
I stand a few paces short of the corner, listening in to what they’re saying while still eclipsed from view.
“Peter, do you realise what this means? How could she keep this secret? How could you?!” How could she not think there would be repercussions? This is madness! Did you think he wouldn’t find out?” Xion’s deep voice is bouncing from the walls like he’s just made a homerun with a beehive.
“We hoped he would never find out. Do you realise what kind of life that girl stands to lead with that blood tie? With that kind of power? She’ll be hunted down like a dog and killed!” Peter is feral looking as his hawk-like eyes burn into Xion. Even from this angle, I can tell he’s beyond angry, but Xion doesn’t take this lying down, effortlessly earning my respect.
In a few seconds, he’s ascended the stairs, closing the distance between himself and my Uncle before grabbing him by the collar. He lifts him off the ground, his fists balling tightly in the tweed of Peter’s jacket as his feet dangle inches above the runner.
“Do you realise what kind of havoc you could have caused, leaving a demi unchecked? Do you realise wha
t you could have done? The damage you might have inflicted on the balance of this universe? DO YOU!?” he bellows, and suddenly I can’t take it anymore. I wonder if he might kill Peter right in front of me, and though I know the guy is a pain in my ass, he doesn’t deserve to die for it.
“Stop! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I yell, striding forward with fury and reaching out to touch Xion’s shoulder to pull him back.
As I near him, he backs away, placing Peter back down on the floor, flinching almost. “You’re a security guard! You work for me! Got it?” I exclaim, putting my hands on my hips and giving Peter a sideways glance. “Are you alright?” I ask him, but before he can reply, Xion is laughing.
“Oh, come on, give it up. You can’t honestly believe I’m just a security guard? After what you’ve just seen? Don’t you think any normal security guard would have messed himself at the mere sight of that thing? I also don’t know why you’re defending him. He’s the reason you were almost just killed.” He looks at me with wide pupils and simmering irises, and I snort.
“Almost just killed? Were you and I watching the same fight?” I demand, cocking an eyebrow as he rolls his eyes.
“Peter. Tell her. Tell her the truth, right now. She needs to know. She’s in danger.” Xion corners Peter, who takes his glasses off his face and moves them down to his shirt to clean them, his mouth contorting in a grimace.
“I swore to her mother I’d protect her. I swore it. I don’t owe you anything,” he retorts, and suddenly my anger flares in the opposite direction as I turn to face him head on.
“What the fuck is going on? Seriously, get your head out of your ass, Peter. I’m not a child. Whatever you know, I need to. Or you can get out of this house. You’re not the treasurer of the estate anymore; you’re not even my legal guardian. If you’re keeping secrets, then you don’t belong here. You wanted me to sign the papers, to take responsibility, well I am. So, fess up, or get out.” He looks shocked as I talk to him in the most authoritative way I can think of.
It’s true; he might be my Uncle, but I don’t owe him shit. He hasn’t protected me at all. He just shipped me off to boarding school as soon as the funeral was over and left me to fend for myself.
He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. I tap my foot on the corner of the stair. “I’m waiting.” I give him a stare that could shrivel fresh fruit and he sighs.
“Fine, let’s go and sit in my office,” he concedes, and I look to Xion as he makes his way up the stairs.
“Come on then. You’re clearly not who you say you are either,” I say it without feeling or care, but then it occurs to me that I’m hurt. I can look after myself. I’m an adult, so why is everyone around me suddenly being exposed as lying assholes?
“Sephy I…” he begins to say something, and I wonder if it’s an apology, but before he can finish, I whirl on the ball of my foot, eyes blazing with a rage I so often tame. I don’t want to hear anything he has to say. I don’t trust him. Even if I had before the lies, that’s shot to hell now.
“No. You don’t get to say shit to me,” I growl at him through clenched teeth, and the sheen of his metallic eyes diminishes as a mask of cool reserve slides across his far too attractive features.
He doesn’t reply, the only sound around us the padding of his heavy soles against the runner as we move across the landing and then turn toward the upper east wing. I’m wishing now that I’d managed to find Jules and some whisky, as I’m feeling like whatever it is that Peter has been keeping from me can’t be good.
Walking past the bookcase, which leads into the room where I’d found the opal blade, I try to ignore the pain in the bottoms of my feet, mind racing with a feeling of grim foreboding I can’t shake.
I enter Peter’s office, a room I very rarely frequent, which really is a shame. He has some of the most beautiful works of art, books and artefacts in this room, which is wallpapered in an antique burgundy design consumed with fleur de lis. The lighting is warm, a golden gilded chandelier hanging with crystals which refract the light and throw rainbows onto the walls and shelves, giving an intimate feel to the space.
Taking a seat casually in a quilted, chocolate leather armchair which cups my spine, I prop a bare, bloody foot atop my knee and frown at Peter as he sits in the high-backed chair behind his mahogany desk. He frowns at me and folds his fingers in front of him, straightening his name plate, which if you ask me is redundant, as Xion enters the room behind us and continues to stand, an odd masculine pillar of muscle and brood amongst the fine décor and serious atmosphere.
“Sephy, before I tell you this… I just want you to know that…” Peter begins but I cut him off.
“Cut the crap. Just tell me, for Christ’s sake!” I exclaim, bored and not in the mood for stalling or pleasantries. I’ve had one hell of an evening.
“Alright. Your mother and father… they made a deal with Haedes… it was how your father amassed the business empire he did.” Peter looks at me with a stony expression, and the side of my mouth quirks against my will.
Well shit. Where are the cameras? I’m being punked, right?
“Haedes? Like… God of The Underworld?” I smirk, unable to keep the amusement out of my tone. I look to Xion, trying to find a hint of humour in his gaze, anything to tell me that they’re playing me.
“That is correct.” Xion nods, collaborating with Peter.
And I thought he was at least semi-sensible…
“Don’t you ever wonder where the diamonds come from Sephy? Don’t you ever wonder where your father got his big break?” Peter asks me, and I shrug.
“I don’t know, some mine somewhere?” I roll my eyes, completely done with this conversation.
“Not exactly.” Xion smirks now, as though I’m too stupid to know what’s really going on, aggravating me more than I make apparent.
“Your father made many deals with Haedes, but the most significant was the capture of a young merman. The mer cry diamonds. We’d been bartering with them for years, but eventually we ran out of things to give. So, your father… he traded your mother, temporarily, in order to gain limitless resources. To obtain one of the mer for himself.” Peter says this with a still serious face, and I start to giggle. I mean, I’m sorry but how am I supposed to keep a straight face when he’s talking about freaking mermen?
“This isn’t funny, Persephone,” Peter scolds me, leaning back into his chair and frowning.
“Oh, my god! Are you kidding me? Not funny? You’re telling me my dad made a deal with the god of the Underworld and traded my mom for a merman who cries diamonds?” I’m leaning forward now, ranting in disbelief as hysterical laughs wrack my body, and my eyes begin to water. “God, I know I drink, but my brain’s not that badly impaired. I went to Oxford, remember?” I sputter.
“You don’t understand, Sephy. Your father owed a debt to Haedes. A debt he has somehow managed to avoid. That debt now falls to you…” Xion explains, and I blink a few times.
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Oh, no. I’m so worried about the debt collectors of the underworld… Ooooh they’re going to come and repossess my soul!” I drape myself over the arm of the chair and throw my arms outward in a dramatic plea, and Xion rolls his eyes at me.
“This is serious,” he grumbles, and I feel the giggles starting to build again.
“Oh, I’m sure it is. Totally serious. So serious, in fact, that I’m out for a drink to dull the obvious seriousness of it all.” I get to my feet and feel oddly energised, I guess a good laugh was all I needed to get me over my bizarre afternoon.
“Sephy, how can you overlook what just happened? You just killed a demon with fire which came from your hands…” Xion stutters, trying to stop me but failing as I practically bound towards the door.
“I don’t know. Ask Peter. He’ll tell you if there’s one thing I’m great at, it’s denial,” I reply, convincing myself all too easily that it’s all just some big misunderstanding. Besides, it’s not like any of this could act
ually be real. I’m probably in some kind of hallucination from a spiked drink from the night before. I mean, who knows… maybe I really am losing it.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. I don’t have time for this crap.
“I’m going out,” I call over my shoulder, walking off down the hallway to get changed for another night on the town and leaving Xion and Peter staring down the corridor after me.
XION
“She’s unbelievable,” I comment, exasperated, watching after her as she leaves down the corridor. Her ass swings, and the scent of cinnamon fades to nothing in her wake, making me realise I’ve been inhaling deeper than I thought.
“If I was her, I wouldn’t believe what I just told her either,” Peter sighs, taking off his glasses for the millionth time since I’ve met him and cleaning them on his shirt, I doubt they’re even dirty.
“Well, that would be because she’s been lied to her entire life. You must have known Adam Sinclair wasn’t her father. You don’t just birth a child who can master The Eternal Flame from nowhere. You and her mother both knew that she is most likely Haedes’ daughter…” I want to yell some more, possibly bang his head into that fine mahogany desk in an attempt to knock some sense into him, but Peter scowls.
“Demi was going to leave Adam. She was going to return to The Underworld to be with Haedes, but then she found out she was pregnant. You know the rules of the Mortarian sun; you know that raising a child anywhere near a place like that is just plain wrong. What was she supposed to do? We were trying to protect Persephone,” Peter snaps, placing his glasses back onto the bridge of his too pointed nose.
“Protect her?! A Banshee just came through the downstairs window!” I yell, banging my fists down on the desk and making him startle.
“Look, I did a ritual, one which nearly killed me as a mortal, stripping her of any powers she might have after what happened with my sister and her husband. She shouldn’t be a target. She shouldn’t be anything more than mortal,” he explains, and I sigh.
The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1) Page 8