Breckin? Where are you?
It took him a moment to answer. I’m fighting guards at the moment. I’m at the mansion. Did they hurt you? Are they about to kill you?
Not yet – they’re preparing me. Emmy shivered. You’ve got maybe an hour. Please hurry.
Cyrus, Jade, and Persephone are on their way. Just hang on a little bit longer. Circlet is also going to be coming soon with backup.
Breckin, I have to warn you ... I’m not going to be able to respond to you soon. Thoreoux has some kind of specialist – Montesquieu – and he’s going to break our bond.
Emmy felt the dread in him. It made her feel twice as heavy.
I’ll be there as soon as I can, he promised. I swear we’re not going to die.
Emmy felt even worse when he slipped away from her, back to concentrating on what he was doing. That might have been the last time they ever talked to each other that way, or possibly talked at all.
While talking to Breckin, they had made their way to Cyrus’s room. As she had been doing a lot lately, she felt a sudden pity for Cyrus. There wasn’t one window; he would have been enclosed by these black, cold, marble walls every night of his life.
They did not stop there; they pushed her into a bathroom connected to the bedroom to a pure silver bathtub.
“Run yourself a bath and get warm,” Cynarra commanded her. “And put on this when you are finished.”
A dress hung by the bathtub – soft, cotton, and pure white.
Emmy didn’t see much of a point in being belligerent at this point, being outnumbered, out powered, and freezing. She bent over and pulled the knob for hot water as far right as it would go. Feeling was just starting to come back to her skin, prickling painfully.
“I’ll wait outside,” Montesquieu said, stepping out from sight as she took off her heavy dress, weighed down by water.
Emmy very much disliked Cynarra staying in the room with her, but her blind eyes were focused on the wall opposite to her. She stepped into the scalding hot water, her skin no longer shivering with cold, but with pleasure. Now all she could do was stall, taking as long as possible getting ready.
Half an hour later she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fully warmed, fully dry, in her white dress. She looked about ten years old.
“Drink this,” Montesquieu said, holding out a creamy drink for her. “It’ll help you with the nerves.”
Emmy wondered how stupid they thought she was. It was a potion similar to anesthesia to knock somebody unconscious before surgery. She had seen it in Milo’s office.
“No,” she said. “Perform the reverse spell first. I want to hold onto Breckin as long as I can.” At least she didn’t have to lie about that.
Montesquieu flashed her a look of fury. “I will shove this down your throat –”
“Thoreoux promised nobody would hurt me,” she said, sounding a lot braver than she was. She had to buy Breckin more time. “I can stay awake for the reversal, can’t I? What difference does it make?”
“I know what she’s doing, Quincey,” Cynarra’s grating voice said.
“Easy,” Montesquieu said. “Should we go ask James if it’s okay?”
“No!” Cynarra whisper-screamed. “That’s exactly what she wants. Just do it.”
“I’ll be right back,” Montesquieu said, putting the drink and incantation down on the nearest surface to him. “You watch her.”
Before Cynarra could protest, Montesquieu scampered out of Cyrus’s room.
Emmy knew this was her only chance to get away. But what was she to do? She had a feeling Cynarra would know what she was doing at her first step towards the door. She probably smelled her sweat right now.
Was it possible she could create a diversion? Emmy’s eyes roamed the room, falling on her shoes. Could she throw the shoes on the other side of the room to get Cynarra to head the other direction? It would give her a few seconds, wouldn’t it?
Shoeless, Emmy’s feet padded noiselessly across the floor, but Cynarra’s attention sharpened right away.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to sit on the bed.”
“The bed is on the other side of the room.”
Her senses were impeccable, Emmy had to admit that. But she had reached her shoes. Emmy leaned down, holding them at an angle that – if she performed this successfully – would cause them to skid down the floor and somewhat imitate the sound of running.
Without further ado, she threw them a couple of inches above the ground. And then she ran.
Cynarra’s ears perked up and dashed for the bait. When her hands closed on nothing, she howled with fury. Emmy was in the doorway when Cynarra caught her. She had the drink in one hand, Emmy in the other, and she slammed her against the wall.
“I’ll cut your throat open if I have to get this down,” she hissed at her. Emmy tried to push her away, but like any strapper she had ever encountered, she was helpless against her. Her arms bent against Cynarra’s one arm, the sweet-smelling liquid getting closer and closer to her mouth.
“Cynarra!” Emmy heard someone shout from the entryway, a voice she recognized. “Get off her!”
Emmy and saw Cyrus, Jade, and Persephone standing there, dishevelled and still in their formal wear.
Cynarra faced Emmy’s friends, but took a few moments to say something. She was attempting to recognize the voice. Then she smiled, revealing canine-sharp teeth. “Cyrus, darling, is that you?” Her nostrils flared. “And you’re not alone. I smell someone else ... it’s very familiar ...” She let go of Emmy completely, and she fell to the floor. Emmy could already feel bruises blossoming on her hands and wrists. “Metal ... rosemary ... I would guess Grayson, but it doesn’t seem likely he would be helping you. Is that Persephone with you?”
This disturbed Emmy – how on earth did she know who Persephone was? She turned to Persephone, expecting her to deny it, but her expression was perfectly vacant.
“Yes, it’s me,” Persephone said.
“Oh, your voice is so different! A woman’s voice. Have you seen your daddy yet?”
“What are you talking about?” Emmy demanded, going for a vicious sound, but her voice cracked.
“She didn’t tell you? Haven’t you ever wondered why little Persy takes her mother’s maiden name? Her real last name is ‘Rathbone’, Keeper, and hides behind ‘Nassar’ because she’s ashamed of who she really is.”
Emmy shook her head. She didn’t understand. She had to be missing what Cynarra was really trying to say. “No. No. You’re lying, you’re just trying to ...” she trailed off, turning to her friends for support.
Cyrus had his normal veneer of calm on, Persephone looked devastated, but it was Jade who looked murderous. So quickly Emmy didn’t even see it, Jade attacked Cynarra, slamming her against the far opposite wall.
“She is not one of you!” Jade screamed hysterically.
Cynarra was unperturbed; she flung Jade off her like she weighed nothing, landing on, and breaking, the bed. Without realizing it, Cyrus had taken Emmy’s hands.
“We have to get out of here.”
“I’ll hold her off!” Jade shouted, breaking off a post from the bed and swinging it at Cynarra, breaking it on her back.
Emmy didn’t know what to do; she couldn’t leave Jade to die, not again. “Please Cyrus, just order her to stop.”
“You don’t understand – Thoreoux’s people have been trained to resist people like me.”
“Try it, please!”
Cyrus sighed and turned to face Cynarra. “I order you freeze, Cynarra.” Nothing. Cynarra and grabbed hold of Jade’s neck, and squeezed, tighter and tighter. Jade was starting to lose consciousness. “Cynarra, I order you to freeze,” he said slightly louder. Persephone’s legs and buckled and fell to her knees; her best friend was dying right in front her. Shaking, Cyrus shouted, “CYNARRA! I ORDER YOU TO RELEASE JADE AND FREEZE!”
Cynarra fell off Jade, landed on her back, and stayed there. Her body vibrate
d with effort trying to move, and when she couldn’t, she screamed. “Cyrus, you filthy little traitor!”
Jade cupped her neck, panting, but she was able to rise to her feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
Not understanding why, Emmy’s eyes went to a small table beside the connecting bathroom, where the incantation Montesquieu had written was sitting.
“Emmy, we have to go,” Cyrus said, intertwining her hand with his.
She had to get it. She had to. “Hold on,” she said, breaking her hand from Cyrus’s. She sprinted to the table, picked up the paper, and stuffed it in her dress. “Now we can go.”
Emmy’s spine tingled hearing Cynarra’s insane scream at Cyrus as they traveled down the corridor, her voice bouncing off the walls.
“Tell Breckin he can go,” Persephone said.
Breckin! We’re okay, the four of us are heading to the exit now. Go back to Methelwood.
I’m already in the mansion looking for you, Breckin’s voice replied. I want to make sure you all get out alright. I’ll be there in just a minute, I can feel you.
Breckin, no –
In a few seconds, he was standing at their side. He pulled her into a hug so tight her feet lifted off the ground.
“Come,” Cyrus said, averting his eyes from the sight. “We’re close now.”
The five of them continued on their way, Cyrus in the lead. Several corridors later, Cyrus led them to an archway, which Emmy realized as all too familiar. She came to a halt.
“No!” she whispered. “Not the ballroom – that’s where they all were when I got here.”
But it was too late. A few of them were still lingering in the ballroom, in sight through the archway, and heard Emmy and her friends coming. Within no time, strappers were on all of them.
“Bring them in here,” a strong voice commanded from the ballroom that Emmy recognized as Thoreoux’s.
All of them put up a good fight, but many torturous minutes later they were inside the ballroom, restrained. Emmy, Cyrus, and Persephone were easier to hold down, with only one strapper each, while Jade had two, and Breckin had three. Emmy was separated from her friends, probably to keep her away from Breckin.
“I can’t say I’m surprised you came,” Thoreoux said. Emmy stretched her neck out as far as it would go to see what was going on beyond the strapper holding her. Her friends were lined up in a row, Thoreoux’s attention at the moment on Jade. “I am extremely sorry you were caught up in this,” he said. “I have no choice but to kill you, but I regret that very much.”
He moved on to Cyrus. Thoreoux slapped Cyrus across the cheek, the sound echoing in the ballroom. “You I have no problem killing. There is no worse thing to be than a traitor.”
“I’m not,” Cyrus said, looking at Thoreoux like he was the one restrained, and Cyrus was the one giving orders. “I was never loyal to you.”
Thoreoux slapped him again and moved on to Persephone. “Persephone dear, I don’t want to kill you, and luckily I don’t need to. We’ll have you live with us again, and you’ll be taught properly of our ways. You were taken away too early, you never had a chance.”
Emmy couldn’t see it, but she heard it – Persephone spat at him. She bent her head to look at the men standing against the walls. Her eyes were focused on someone specific, and Emmy followed her gaze towards none other than Rathbone. “Dad, please,” she begged. Her father was unresponsive, with a face even blanker than Cyrus’s normally was. “Please, I’ll stay here with you, just don’t kill them. I’ll do anything –”
But Thoreoux had already moved on to Breckin, who was still struggling with his captors. Emmy could feel the hate emanating from him, images of Becca dying flashing through his head.
“You,” Thoreoux said. There was no hate in his voice, no resentment. “My whole life has been wrapped up in you and I’ve never actually gotten to meet you. You don’t look anything like your sister.”
Emmy was sucked into Breckin for a moment, his rage so all-encompassing she had no choice. He thrashed in the grip of the strappers, wanting to hit Thoreoux, to break his neck.
“Why don’t you let him go?” Emmy shouted from the other side of the room. “The two of you can battle it out and let the best man win.”
Thoreoux whirled on her. “He isn’t killable. That’s a bit of an unfair advantage, isn’t it?”
“And three against one is?” She didn’t see much a point in holding back now; they were going to die soon regardless. Thoreoux stomped over to her, his expression contorted into anger.
He bent down to her level, pressing his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Do you know why his soul chose you?” He was so quiet nobody else in the room would be able to hear him but her. “There are many definitions in many different books. What is the one you read?”
“Compatibility,” she said. “The soul chose me because our personalities were compatible.”
“That’s not a bad one,” he murmured, “but it’s not the original. Obviously I have a special interest in the Keeper’s Curse; I’ve read countless versions as to why a soul chooses a host and from what I can gather, there is only one true answer.” He pressed his mouth even closer; Emmy was holding her breath. “You see, a soul could choose the bravest person in the world, or the smartest, or the strongest, but it doesn’t. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? But the soul would rather choose the person who would resent the parasite the least, who would want to protect him. It’s a way to ensure the least amount of conflict, the least amount of complication, to keep the pair together. It’s manipulation at its best: the soul chooses the person who would love the parasite the most in the world.”
Emmy lowered her eyes; she could not look at Breckin. With every movement she felt the parchment with the spell on it move in her dress.
“Do you, little Emmy? Do you love him? Because you’re going to watch him die now.” His lips left her ear, and he ordered, “Bring him over here.”
Hot tears poured down her cheeks as they dragged Breckin over to her. Thoreoux pulled out a silver knife in his belt.
This was it; she had only a few more seconds. She looked at Cyrus, Jade, and Persephone, knowing it would be for the last time.
“I don’t care,” she said, her eyes fixed on Persephone. “Your last name means nothing to me.”
Persephone nodded, powerless to do anything else.
And that was all the time she got. Breckin was in front of her now, the guards holding his arms behind his back. There was a sheen of sweat on his face, his posture straight, his eyes helpless. It hurt looking at him.
“If there is anything you want to say to him,” Thoreoux said, pointing the cold tip of the knife on her chest. “You should say it now.”
She was suffocating looking at Breckin. Her throat had closed up. She couldn’t say it, she couldn’t. She wasn’t even sure if she did.
Breckin licked his lips and opened his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
More tears spilled over, blurring her vision of him, which made it easier. She was going to watch him die, and if the knife didn’t kill her, that would.
“Don’t apologize,” she said.
Thoreoux had run out of patience. He snapped his fingers and the strapper holding Emmy turned her to face Thoreoux. She shut her eyes, letting images of her parents, her brother, Jesse, and Breckin fill her head. It was all she wanted to see.
She felt the strapper squeeze her tight, and she sucked in breath, knowing any second now –
BAM
Her eyes opened just as the entire wall behind Thoreoux exploded, causing everyone to tumble to the floor. Pieces of marble fell all around them like hail, and when the dust settled, Circlet and an assembly of men behind her came into view, all in black and wearing the Ministrialian crest over the hearts.
Thoreoux got to his feet, looking more annoyed than surprised. “Circlet?”
Her vulture eyes were on him, resembling a mother bear after her cubs had been threatened. “You must be T
horeoux.”
“I’m warning you,” he responded, glancing at the expansive group behind her. “My men are fully equipped to fight you all if you plan on attacking me.”
“I’ll have to take that chance,” Circlet said. “You shouldn’t have threatened my orb.” She raised her hand in a forward gesture. “Go.”
Like a battalion they charged, and all of Thoreoux’s men promptly responded. Within seconds the air was black with palewraiths being whipped around. Emmy felt herself being pulled upward by a pair of skinny arms.
“Get on me,” Breckin said. She didn’t question; she wrapped her arms around his neck and jumped on his back. Emmy searched around wildly for Jade, Persephone, and Cyrus, but they were lost in the fray. Breckin read her mind. “They can handle themselves. We have to go.”
For some reason, Emmy believed him. At the current moment it was their lives that were in the most jeopardy and she knew it would be wisest to leave.
“You’re not taking her!” It was Thoreoux, his voice thunderous.
Breckin turned on his heel, hunching lower. “You want her? Come get her.” He bared his teeth.
Thoreoux took up the offer. He charged at Breckin, who saw this coming and dashed passed him, throwing a palewraith into his back. Thoreoux waved his hands at the torches, enlarging their light tenfold, and began to throw the fire at them like knifes. While Breckin parried the attacks, his head darted around for an exit. The tumbled wall was on the far side of them where Thoreoux was, and he didn’t want to get anywhere near him in case he could grab Emmy. And then he looked upward at the skylight, stars shining down on them through the glass.
Cover your face, Breckin ordered, just before he raised his arms into a protective shield above them, and kicked off the ground. Emmy wrapped herself as tightly as she could around him, feeling her skin pull backward from their speed. She screamed when they broke through the ceiling, glass shards falling from the air and into her hair.
Thoreoux was right on their tail as Breckin flew through the air, trying to buy time. They didn’t know where the Methelwood portal was, or any portal for that matter. All they could hope for was Ministrial to overpower Thoreoux and his allies while they stalled.
The Keeper's Curse Page 27