Soulbound

by Bec McMaster

  "I'll send a message." It dragged Cleo back toward the door, opening it with a twist of telekinesis. "All three Relics, don't forget. If you double-cross me, she's worse than dead."

  "Alone?"

  It smiled. "No. Bring whomever you want. I'm hungry."

  Sebastian stole one last pleading glance toward her. He'd never felt so helpless in all his life. "I'll come for you."

  "Don't. Please don't." A tear slid down her cheek. "I don't want to see you hurt. Use the Relics against it."

  "I'll come for you," he repeated. He would do whatever the demon demanded. Even cut his own throat to save her life. "You are my everything, and I will not risk you."

  Pressure points. He'd once thought love was a weakness, swiftly learning his mother would only ever use such a thing against him. A puppy. A childhood friend. A servant who was kind to him. He'd stopped letting the world in, stopped allowing himself to have such weaknesses.

  Until now.

  "Don't follow me," the demon suggested, holding the razor to Cleo's throat as it stepped back through the door. "And I won't harm her."

  * * *

  The carriage rattled as it made a sharp turn, a horse neighing loudly as the driver cracked the whip.

  Cleo sat stiffly on the seat, not daring to take her eyes off the creature sitting opposite her. The sight of her husband's father only twisted the knife in her chest. He looked so much like Sebastian.

  Sebastian. Oh, mercy. Heat swam behind her eyes. He wouldn't listen to her. He wouldn't destroy this monster. She knew it. He'd hand over everything it wanted, just to save her life.

  If it hurt him....

  "We meet again, Cassandra," the demon mused, resting its chin on its hand as it leaned against the carriage door and watched her. "You look well."

  Look well? The bloody thing had held a knife to her throat. "Do you think this a game?" she rasped, gripping her skirts in fear.

  Its lips twitched. "Of course it's a game. I'm trying to teach you a lesson. Who do you think is winning?"

  Cleo stared at it. There was no sign of the menace it had exuded in Lady Beaumont's house. Indeed the expression it wore was similar to that of a long ago tutor, only... slightly more unblinking.

  It leaned forward, resting its elbows on its knees. "You disappoint me. I thought you were ready to be instructed, but in some ways, you're still wearing your blindfold." It reached out and brushed its gloved fingertips down her face before she could flinch away. "Look deeper, Cassandra. Look beyond everything beneath your nose. Think about everything that's happened in the past twenty or so years."

  There had to be a reason it picked that timeline. She swallowed hard. "Was it you?" An image of her father formed in her mind, drawing something into his body the night her mother conceived. "Or some other demon?"

  "What do you think?"

  Her mind began to race. She felt ill. The puzzle pieces fit together. "What do you want with me?" Not to play chess. No. There had to be something more.

  "Now she begins to ask the important questions. Your father wanted a child of unimaginable gifts."

  Children like Quentin Farshaw and the Travelers, and all those "miracle children" out there.

  "He began to dabble with other planes and dimensions in his youth. He was obsessed with power, with knowledge. He hungered for the world, and he used his friend, Drake de Wynter, and the woman they both lusted after, Morgana, to create three relics that could control me. Me." It laughed. "But he did not know what he called into this world when he brought me forth. All others who have come before me were Lesser Demons, seeding their ilk in this world." It spread its arms wide. "And I am a prince of the Shadow Dimensions."

  "Prince or not, that doesn't tell me why I'm so important."

  "Did you know, I was going to go to all the trouble of having you kidnapped this afternoon, only for you to wander straight into my clutches."

  "If you speak of destiny, or fate," she warned harshly, "I shall throw myself from this carriage."

  "Destiny and fate are mere words." It snorted. "There is only intention. My intention. My game. You all waltz to my tune."

  "Why did you want to kidnap me?" A shudder of unease filled her. It had always been a little too interested in her. "I doubt it was simply familial duty."

  "Did you not want a father to love you?"

  The blow struck her deep. "You're not my father."

  "There are parts of me within you. I know you've felt them stirring."

  She looked away.

  "I wanted to take you off the game board momentarily," it said, as if bothered by her lack of reciprocation. "You had the Blade, you had the Wand and the Chalice... and you're the only one who can use them, apart from this body." It gestured to itself. "Drake is powerful enough, and skilled enough in astral projection to cross planes. But you walk them."

  "That's why you went after Drake," she whispered, her nerves starting to light up. "It wasn't revenge for having raised you twenty-eight years ago. He's the only one who could defeat you." The implications staggered her. Drake had told her she was the only one who could use the Blade against him, but what did that mean? She'd thought he'd meant for her to kill him... but what if there was something more to all of this?

  She needed to find out what it was.

  And to do that she needed to know the truth, despite her disgust. "You were never going to kill me in there, were you? You wanted Sebastian to think you were going to do it...." It had everything in the palms of its hands, manipulating events until they lined up for it. Cleo tried to focus. She'd always wondered.... "Was it your idea to send Morgana in to try and destroy the Ascension Ball?"

  "Yes."

  "You had to know Morgana and whatever sorcerers you dragged out of the bowels of London's depths had no chance against a gathering of nearly four hundred sorcerers."

  "Yes," it whispered, looking amused. "Keep going, White Queen. You're almost there."

  None of its actions in the last month made any sense. Her brow furrowed. "Morgana was a decoy. The Blade and Wand were decoys."

  "I have spent many days walking these parks you humans have created. And I have discovered something. What happens if you poke an anthill?"

  They all stir and rush about, tilting at windmills.

  "Morgana enjoyed the assault. She thinks only of revenge, for hers is a small mind."

  All along they'd misconstrued its intentions. "Drake, Morgana, and my father raised you twenty-some years ago, and bound you to the Relics Infernal and their will. But you don't truly care about that."

  "I never said I wanted revenge, though a part of me would enjoy it." Its lips twisted. "I can't lie, after all, for words are power."

  A breath shivered through her. "Then what do you intend?"

  "You're the one who's seen it."

  London's doom. A sky filled with black clouds. Sebastian. Destruction. Screams.... And a thin slit of light peeling apart in the sky. Drake had said it himself. "You're going to bring more demons through. You're going to open a gate between dimensions."

  "I'm going to tear a hole between dimensions," it told her. "This world has so much to offer, and my vassals hunger."

  No. No. This was worse than anything she'd ever predicted. And she suddenly realized it wouldn't be telling her any of this if it thought she'd ever have a chance to thwart it.

  She reached for the bond, to try and alert Sebastian, but the demon's cage kept her locked within herself. Panic sucked sharply at her. "I won't let you do that."

  "How are you going to stop me?"

  She reached for the door handle and threw herself at the door, but he flicked a finger and she slammed back into the seat, pressure forcing her to desist.

  "Don't hurt yourself," it said. "I just put my queen into play."

  The black queen. "I'll never help you."

  "Won't you?"

  Cleo's heart felt like it stopped in her chest. Was this.... She could barely breathe. Something rippled within her as if it heard its name
.

  A taint.

  Something the demon had seeded within her body at the moment of conception.

  "Yes," it whispered, as if reading her mind. "You are my queen too. White queen and black queen. I wonder which will win? It's a risk, I know, but the idea intrigues me."

  Something sinuous glided beneath the skin on her arm. Cleo gave a sharp sob. What was it? "Get it out. Get it out of me!" She dug at her arms, but the ripple was gone, though she could feel it deep within.

  "As you wish." Moving swiftly, the demon flicked its razor out, and Cleo scrambled madly on the seat as he trapped her beneath him, one hand locking beneath her jaw, squeezing her throat. "Stop fighting. This will all be over very soon."

  It pinned her beneath its hard body, but it wasn't painful. "I would never hurt you," it whispered, stroking her hair. "You are my finest creation, Cleo. He never appreciated you."

  What was it talking about? Who?

  Another tender touch against her cheek. "Your father deserved everything he got. I wanted to kill him myself for planting such doubt in your heart, and for thinking to lock away your gifts. The trespass against me could be forgiven. He thought he could summon me to this plane and bind me to his will." It sneered. "I am not some immortal plaything for these puny humans. But you." Its hand softened against her jaw. "What he did to you was a crime."

  "I don't want this!"

  "Let me help you," the demon said. "Let me show you what you are."

  Using the razor to slice the fleshy pad of its index finger, it let the blood well. Power shimmered over its skin, those dark eyes shining with pure energy.

  "Bloom, my sweet daughter. Become what you are meant to be." It set its bloody fingertip to her forehead, even as she tried to squirm away, and painted a fiery rune there. Leaning closer, it kissed her cheek in a proud fashion as heat scored her veins. "Come forth, my queen."

  Cleo screamed. There was something shifting beneath her skin. She felt like it was crawling up her throat, trying to force its way out. She couldn't breathe. Her eyes went wide, nostrils sucking in air, or trying to....

  "Yes," said a dark voice within her. "I've been patient enough."

  Blackness overwhelmed her, and there was no way to fight. No way to claw her way through it. An image came to mind, of herself in the Ouroborous mirror, dressed in black. Of her pale face staring malevolently at herself through the mirrors pane.

  This thing inside her hated her, wanted to crush her up so very small....

  "Rise," whispered the demon. "Take what you are owed, my daughter."

  Cleo found herself in a small dark box, with a single light gleaming high above. She slammed her hands against invisible walls, trying to fight her way out. It wasn't enough. She was cold and alone, and her precious link to Sebastian was gone. "No!" she screamed silently, hammering on those walls.

  They didn't break. They simply flexed beneath her palms.

  "White queen in check," the demon whispered.

  Chapter 26

  "I NEED YOUR help," Sebastian said, bursting into Lady E's study.

  The older woman looked up, and her female secretary moved away from her side abruptly, as if they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't have been.

  "Have you ever heard of knocking?" Lady E asked, in the sort of tone he might have cringed at as a child.

  "No time," he snapped. "It took Cleo."

  And Bishop wasn't home, and Rathbourne Manor was miles away, and this was the closest place he could think of.... Panic rose like a choking tide. He had to find her.

  "What took Cleo?" Lady E rose, leaning on her cane. The color drained from her face as her dark eyes flickered over him. "Where have you been? What happened? Where's Adrian?"

  "The demon!" he burst out. "The demon took her!" And then the rest of the story was falling from his lips, and he could see it again... the look on her face when the demon hauled her out the door with the razor at her throat. "Please. I can't feel her. I know she's still alive—the soul-bond's still in place—but I can't find her, and I can't.... Everything's muted. She's not there."

  It had been the bane of his existence from the first moment he woke after Cleo forced the soul-bond upon him in order to save his life. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely upon it. How much it terrified him to come so close to losing it, and her.

  "Marie," Lady E said to her secretary, "fetch my scrying tray. You"—she stabbed a finger toward him—"lie down upon my sofa."

  "Did you not hear me? The demon has my wife!"

  "I heard you," she said firmly, dragging her small card table out of the way, and sweeping cushions off her sofa. "Did you not hear me? Do as you're told."

  His hands shook as he made his way toward the sofa. It had been all he could do not to erupt as he summoned a hack and made his way here. She needs me. But he trusted Lady E, and wasn't that a revelation.

  "Lie down." Lady E pressed her hand to his forehead as he did, her papery-thin skin soft upon his. "There are several ways one can mute a soul-bond. Husbands and wives in the past have realized they made a momentous mistake only too late, and there are ways to manage it. But the link doesn't vanish, not unless one—or both of them as often happens—dies. It's still there, and we can use the link to find her. Calm your racing heart."

  Easy to say.... He dug his nails into his palms and tried to clear his mind the way Bishop had taught him.

  "Place it right there," Lady E murmured, and he saw Marie set the tray beside her. Lady E's hand pressed him into the sofa. "Are you even trying?"

  "It's not working."

  "Fine." Lady E poured a liberal dash of whiskey into her teacup, and then reached for one of the small pots on the tray Marie had brought in. She scooped out a small teaspoon of powder and dumped it in the whiskey, giving it a stir before tapping the spoon on the rim of the cup. "Drink this."

  He looked down. Then up. "What is it?"

  "A relaxant." Lady E shoved the cup into his hand. "I want your sweet wife back as much as you do."

  What other choice did he have? Sebastian downed the contents, gagging at the taste. Then Lady E pushed him back down.

  A gentle lassitude swept through his muscles. He blinked. The world divided into two images of itself, until several Lady E's looked down into his face.

  "Excellent. Close your eyes." She started muttering her personal power words under her breath, and he could feel heat sinking through her palms as she rested them upon his forehead. "Think of your wife. Picture her hair, her favorite dress, the scent of her perfume...."

  Apricot-scented soap.

  "Imagine her smile and what it does to you when you see it," Lady E's voice seemed to soften, or perhaps grow distant. "Think of the way her skin feels beneath your touch. Can you sense her?"

  The bond seemed to glow in the darkness behind his closed eyes. An image of Cleo formed in his mind, turning to smile at him as she looked up from Quentin Farshaw's book. "Yes," he breathed.

  "What color dress is she wearing?"

  "Pink." The silk nightgown he so admired. He smiled, tempted to reach out and touch her.

  "Sebastian, I want you to focus now." The words felt like they were coming through a thick pane of glass. "Reach out and try and grasp that bond."

  Worry filled him. "I don't want to crush the light."

  "You won't, my dear boy," she said, stroking his forehead lightly. "But I need you to reach for it. Can you do that?"

  He felt like he closed his hand over the little glowing spark in his mind that represented his wife. Instantly the bond strengthened, and he gasped as he saw through her eyes. There was laughter. Flames. The taste of wine in her mouth.

  Blood.

  But Cleo herself felt so distant.... "Help me. Please!" she cried, as if sensing the light of their bond.

  He could feel her banging on a wall as if trapped somewhere, and someone had put her in the fucking dark, but... but he was also seeing through her eyes, and there was a garden, and lights and he saw her black
eyes turning his way—

  "Oh, no you don't," said a darker version of Cleo's voice.

  The bond evaporated, as if she'd sliced a razor through it. Still there, pulsing in the back of his mind, but quietly now. Quietly.

  Sebastian's eyes jerked open, heart leaping wildly as he came back to the room. "She shut me out."

  "What?"

  Sebastian swung his legs over the sofa, the world spinning as he righted himself. "She... she cut through the bond somehow. Locked me out."

  "Cleo did?" Lady E asked, as if to clarify.

  Or did she?

  Fear washed through him and he pushed to his feet, needing to feel the heat of the fire on his skin. No. No it couldn't be.

  "I don't know what it wants from me."

  "But now I think the black queen is also me."

  What if the demon had taken her for a more specific reason than merely a hostage?

  What if it had succeeded in that reason?

  "What is going through your mind right now?" Lady E whispered, following him in a swish of skirts. "You look like you're going to go toes-up at my feet."

  He clutched the mantel, his voice hoarse. "She told me not to tell anyone."

  "I am not simply anyone," Lady E said, in the loftiest tones he'd ever heard.

  And he couldn't do this alone.

  No matter what he’d promised her.

  "Cleo had a dream," he said, meeting Lady E's eyes and silently begging her to understand. "Lord Tremayne summoned a demon into him the night Cleo was conceived. The demon inside Drake had something to do with her conception."

  Lady E went pale.

  Chapter 27

  SEBASTIAN SLAMMED HIS fists into the sparring dummy, again and again. There was blood on his hands, and ice on the dummy. His mind felt numb, his heart working to pump blood through his veins, but nothing else. He was fighting through the rage, trying to overcome it, trying not to fall to his knees and cling desperately to the hollow ache where the bond had been. He felt like something was missing, amputated, leaving a ghostly echo behind.