Much of Madness (The Conexus Chronicles Book 1)

by Summa, S. E.

  Seraphina pulled to a stop in a circular drive. The six-columned antebellum mansion should have been beautiful. It was reminiscent of the Parthenon replica downtown. Closer, however, the limestone mansion’s beauty was marred by grotesque figures coiling around the columns and perched along the roof.

  She turned and stared, but Finn would not meet her eyes. Instead, he reached back to get the old-fashioned leather satchel he’d thrown in the back seat. He opened the bag and drew out a black hooded cloak. The car’s interior lights reflected off a curious assortment of silver implements inside. Seraphina again broke the momentary silence. “What aren’t you telling me here? I can tell you’re holding something back.”

  “It was rumored Virgil could absorb powers, could feed on the abilities of other supernaturals.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  Finn shrugged. “I don’t know for sure it is. Virgil could’ve started the rumor himself to invoke fear in the supernatural community. After Odol’s disappearance, Virgil began running an underground mafia of sorts. He leads a syndicate of criminals who traffic occult items and offer dark magic services. He’s ruthless. I fear he has more sin than ten ordinary supernaturals, and it will take a lot out of me to perform this ceremony, love. If there is any truth to his ability to feed on power, I need you here to watch my back.”

  “Then why are you taking this job?”

  “I promised Willa, Virgil’s mother, and I have to honor that obligation. I feel responsible for her meeting Odol because I didn’t know he was a Possessed when I sent her here on an errand, just a simple pick up of some herbs for one of my experiments. It was back when you were… you know… gone.”

  Seraphina nodded.

  Finn continued, “Anyway, it should’ve been a quick in and out. Willa wasn’t a supernatural, so the barriers here wouldn’t hurt her. She stopped coming around, but I thought little of it. You know how flighty humans can be. A few weeks later, I ran into her and knew something was off. I asked around and soon realized she was living here. I tried to warn her, but being human, she didn’t believe in possession, well, until it was much too late. Then one day, Willa came with baby Phyllis in her arms and begged me to do what I could for her son. I helped her and Phyllis escape Nashville and arranged for her to stay at the convent. Virgil grew up here and was a cruel, heartless bastard all his life. I couldn’t change what he was, but I promised his mother I’d do what I could to ease his sins at death.”

  Seraphina let his words sink in. Typical Finn… to shoulder the responsibility for someone else’s poor choice. Look at all he’d endured because of her. “So you’re risking everything because you feel guilty? I get that you promised her, and I can even see why, but this sounds really, really dangerous.”

  “I’m hoping the rumors of Virgil’s deeds and powers are just that, rumors. I asked you along in case he tries to attack me before I can finish. You can use your power to hold him. He’s already dying, so your magic can’t backfire and hurt him. Together, we can make sure his evil ends tonight. Everything will probably be like normal, maybe just a longer hangover, right?” He winked at her.

  Finn’s little hangovers knocked him on his butt when the sins were strong enough. The thought scared her.

  He continued, “Virgil is dying. I called and confirmed Phyllis’ story. That’s what took me so long earlier. Audra, Nashville’s favorite witch-for-hire, confirmed Phyllis has been throwing money at any healer brave enough to come out here for the past month. She was surprised Virgil was still alive, given how unnaturally frail he was when she was here a few days ago.”

  “All right, I’m here. You’re here. He sounds weak—despite his scary pedigree—so let’s just get it done and over with. This place is creeping me out.”

  Finn nodded. “Thank you, love.”

  “Come on then.” Seraphina raised the hood on her jacket and opened the car door. She had to grab it tightly with both hands when a gust of wind threatened to take the door off its hinges. She slammed it closed and ran up the stairs as fast as she could. The black robe whipped around Finn’s body as he put it on while ascending behind her.

  The monstrous figures snaking up the mansion’s posts seemed to watch Seraphina. Wait, did one just look at her?

  “Don’t make eye contact with them,” Finn warned.

  Seraphina snapped her eyes downward and didn’t dare ask why. She was scared enough. The towering cherry wood door opened as they approached, and a solemn man gestured for them to enter.

  “Addams,” Finn said.

  “It is good to see you again, Sin Eater.” Addams’s distinct, Southern voice was so deep it rumbled like thunder.

  Just before crossing the threshold, Finn paused to raise the hood on his robe and hide his face.

  Phyllis waited inside. To Seraphina, the rooms of the ornate mansion were a blur as they were rushed through the foyer. Phyllis led them up an elaborate carpeted staircase accented with gold scrolls and blood red roses.

  Because she took quick glances around at the lush surroundings instead of paying close attention, Seraphina caught her foot on the runner. She would have fallen if Finn had not caught her elbow and kept her upright. He’d never lifted his hood or turned his head, and yet he caught her. When her footing was secure, he released her elbow.

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  He did not respond as they hurried down a long hallway and turned through a set of golden doors covered in carvings so detailed she imagined plucking a piece of fruit from the engravings. They stopped in a dark, wood-paneled parlor. Marble busts of men she did not recognize sat between full bookshelves. The smell of leather, old books, and cigars was oddly comforting. Above a black marble fireplace, almost as tall as she, hung the portrait of a man with so much intensity in his expression, Seraphina took in a sharp breath when studying his face. She’d never seen a painting so detailed and realistic. The effect was startling because the man had both a look of keen intellect and a complete lack of human compassion. She silently hoped was not Virgil Woodard.

  Finn whispered, “If this is too much, you can wait out here.”

  “No, no… of course not. I’ll assist you. I can warn you if I feel energy pushing between the realms. When the veil opens. I’m sure it would help you to know. I’ll even lay out the wine and bread, whatever you need.” Besides, there was no way she was staying out in the creepy, dark parlor with that maniacal painting staring at her. She had goosebumps but found it nearly impossible to turn away from the eyes in the painting.

  Finn’s comment broke her concentration. “What I need is for you to be safe. I’m second-guessing you being here at all. Do you feel the dark magic pouring off that damned painting?”

  Swallowing, almost choking, Seraphina nodded. She forced herself to turn her back on it. Her senses were messing with her, and she rolled her shoulder, trying to ignore a tingling sensation crawling up her spine. The painting was really staring at her.

  “I’ll handle the ceremony. I want you focused on protecting yourself,” Finn said. Sensing her incoming protest, he raised a hand. “Your full power should be on shielding. Only help me if I directly ask you for assistance. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, of course, Fi…”

  “Here I am the Sin Eater. Don’t speak my name where the veil is this thin and those of power may overhear. I’m in death’s presence too often to be known by my given name.” He reached over and quickly squeezed her hand. “S’alright, love. I’m not cross. I realize now, I shouldn’t have asked you to come. But it’s too late. Your job is to shield yourself.”

  She argued, “If I see he’s hurting you, I can try to shield us both.” Seraphina locked onto Finn’s gaze. Her chest tightened as she recognized true fear and a hint of desperation. She hated seeing such terror in the beautifully pale eyes of her brave, steadfast friend.

  “Only try if I ask, and even then if it goes badly, I want you to pull back from me and focus on yourself. Remember, I am a Sin Eater. I can endure much
. Strength is gained from my suffering. Promise me.”

  “I promise… Sin Eater.”

  The tall double doors next to them creaked open, and together they entered a grand master bedroom, the likes of which Seraphina had never imagined.

  Chapter Five

  Splitting pain throbbed with each beat of his pulse. Marceau rolled over and pressed his palms against his forehead. He expected daylight when he opened his eyes, but the room was dark. Looking for his phone, he turned to his side.

  What day was it?

  His bedside table wasn’t there. Marceau sat up and searched for signs of familiarity. The room was too dark to make out much, but he wasn’t in his apartment, that much was for sure.

  A door in the far corner opened, and someone entered.

  “Hello?” Marceau called. He pressed fingers against his temples. Note to self: Noises hurt.

  The silhouette approached with quiet footsteps.

  “Who are you? Where am I?”

  “You woke up too soon. I haven’t had any fun yet,” whined Vespa.

  Marceau scooted farther on the bed until his back pressed against the headboard. “Vespa, turn on the lights.”

  With a click, a light came on, blinding him. Marceau squinted. Patches of darkness clouded his vision, but he recognized the room. He was still at Max’s mansion.

  Vespa stood at the foot of the bed wearing Marceau’s Tulane University T-shirt and little else. She was beautiful. All of Max’s chosen were breathtaking creatures. He had an eye for feminine beauty and unashamedly collected dangerous women like fine art. Vespa’s unusual serpentine qualities made her one Max’s favorite little pets. Her body and voice were weapons. Every move she made was sensuous and hypnotic to entrance her victims, reminding Marceau of a deadly cobra charming her prey. But Vespa’s beauty was only skin-deep, Marceau knew, beneath the sexy façade, she was a cruel, heartless bitch.

  Marceau shifted the covers, relieved to feel his boxers.

  “You must be thirsty.” Vespa rounded the bed and handed him a glass of water.

  Marceau accepted the offering, and asked, “How long have I been here?”

  “You slept all day. It’s a little after nine. You missed dinner.”

  Marceau did a feelings check. He seemed normal. A bit weak, but otherwise okay. He took a drink. “You left me alone?”

  Vespa rolled her eyes and sat on the side of the bed. “I was a good girl. Just put you to bed as Maximilian ordered. He made me promise to let you recuperate without interference.”

  Marceau nodded and noticed a patch of reptilian skin showing on her upper thigh. She hadn’t fed for a while. Hunger was letting her true nature peek through. He took another drink. “Thanks for that. I fly out tomorrow afternoon.”

  Vespa smiled. “I hoped we could have a little fun before your trip to Nashville.”

  She knew where he was going. Marceau hadn’t told her, must have been Max. Vespa’s face stretched. Her head lengthened like a balloon.

  “Wha…”

  Light and shadow swirled. Marceau dropped the glass and slapped his hands against the bed as his head rocked back. He was spinning. The room tilted.

  “Sorry, lover. I kept my promise and now you’ve recuperated. But I want more snuggle time before you leave.”

  “N-no.”

  Chapter Six

  Everything in the room was either black or a deep red. Red damask with black trim covered the walls. Ornate black furnishings, large vases of red roses, and a library of books filled the shelves—each bound in aged red or black leather. Flames cracked and popped in an equally impressive black marble fireplace casting dancing light around the otherwise dimly lit room.

  Seraphina’s eyes were drawn to lit curio cabinets in each corner. Most supernaturals had a similar, though smaller, curio to hold their magical devices. Here, four huge ones were the main focal point in this one bedroom. She’d bet money that dangerous spells existed to protect the daggers, scrolls, cloudy bottles, and strange bones visible behind the glass. Wincing at a jar with fleshy contents she did not want to identify, she was afraid to ask. Eyes? No, stop thinking about it. Do not look back at that cabinet too closely.

  Unbridled magic caused blood to thrum in her veins. Each corner of the room pulled at her. Seraphina’s insides felt as though they were being stretched. She tried to breathe against the weight squeezing her chest. Her long, red hair rose from her back, undulating in the waves of power.

  Whispers.

  She tilted her head and listened. Promises of pleasure, pain, or of both if she would only caress the magical instruments. Ecstasy, if she would only unleash them.

  Seraphina took a step toward the nearest cabinet. Quick as a flash, Finn’s hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder in a crushing hold until the pain was sharp enough to temporarily clear her head.

  A figure lying on the huge carved bed in front of them jerked violently. Phyllis sobbed at the bedside and pressed her fist to her lips.

  “Now.” Finn jerked Seraphina’s shoulder. “Shield right now. His collection has grown to nightmare proportions. If he is sensing your ability…”

  Seraphina locked down her thoughts and focused only on her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut and visualized a glowing layer of power coating her skin. Starting in her hands, the shield danced across her fingertips as soft as a feather and gained strength as it spread to her elbow and over her shoulders. It climbed, covering her face, caressing her eyelashes, up higher, circling her head. Seraphina’s hair fell back onto her shoulders as the shield cut off the wild magic swirling through the bedroom. The magic whooshed downward swirling firmly around her torso, and finally down each leg to her toes. With her shield closed, Seraphina’s power settled against her flesh while she mentally pushed outward and fed it more strength until it heated her skin. She opened her eyes and looked at the bed in front of her.

  Virgil spasmed again. The red sheet that had covered him fell back as his skeletal torso arched upward and his heels dug into the mattress. The emaciated body took a wheezing breath.

  “What the hell did you do, Phyllis?” Finn asked. “His body’s been eaten away while you tried to stop his death… It’s unnatural. It’s an abomination.”

  Seraphina’s shield flared as if reacting to a desperate power grab. Looking down at the dying man should have upset her, but instead, she felt disconnected from the scene playing out around her. She normally sensed emotions and intentions from others. Sometimes she could even predict their movements, but now she seemed adrift in her own body. Fear had driven her to infuse her shield with more power than ever before and the effect was dizzying. Confusion clouded her mind and dulled her senses.

  Virgil collapsed back onto the four poster bed. With a long, rasping exhale, his body went slack.

  “Hurry and get the offerings ready, he’s dying.” Finn’s tone and physical expression matched. The situation was dire.

  Phyllis did not move.

  “Phyllis,” he shouted.

  She jumped and snapped her head up.

  “It has to be right now,” ordered Finn.

  Seraphina watched dispassionately as Finn ran to the right side of the massive bed. The satin sheets glimmered in the firelight. He threw his bag on a marble bedside table and almost knocked over a lit candelabra. Tearing open the flat bottomed satchel, he grabbed a wide-mouthed silver chalice. The runes etched along the vessel’s base flared bright white at his touch.

  Seraphina swayed slightly. A dark shimmer formed in the air above the bed. Cold, stale air blew across her face, and she recoiled at its damp stench.

  “Veil,” she said.

  Finn’s shoulders tensed under his flowing cloak. He whispered something to Phyllis, and she looked up at Seraphina, who cocked her head. She could not hear them over the thundering pulse in her ears.

  Phyllis poured red wine into the chalice and spilled it all over her own shaking arm in her haste. She shook her head and tossed the bottle over her shoulder behind her, carin
g nothing for the opulent rug on which the half full bottle landed.

  A dark wave of energy flowed across Seraphina’s shield. It breached her defense and stroked her cheek. Her throat constricted when a feathery voice whispered, “Drink.”

  “I’m so thirsty,” Seraphina said and stepped nearer the bed.

  Finn used a matching runed silver knife to hack a jagged slice from a loaf of bread.

  “Eat,” whispered the seductive voice. The word echoed in her ears as if from a deep canyon.

  She lifted her face and inhaled. Seraphina was overwhelmed with the earthy scent of freshly baked bread. The smell of the yeast dough was so intoxicating, she could almost taste it on the back of her tongue. Her mouth watered as she imagined biting into the crusty outer edge. She swallowed, thinking of how the soft bread would melt against her palate and groaning as the warm, slightly sweet taste flooded her senses. Unknowingly, she’d taken a few steps forward.

  Finn threw back his cloak’s hood and yelled at her, “Shield. Step back and shield yourself, Seraphina.”

  She didn’t hesitate, but stepped forward rather than back.

  “Get her out of here. Something’s wrong. She shouldn’t be drawn to eat the sin,” ordered Finn.

  Seraphina sensed, rather than saw, commotion around her. A flash of black fabric distracted her as an arm tried to grab her.

  No.

  Why would anyone try to stop her from tasting the bread? Why shouldn’t she quench her overwhelming thirst with the rich, velvety wine?

  Addams tried again to wrap himself around Seraphina and pull her back to safety.

  Don’t touch me.

  Angrily, her mind pushed him away even harder. A heavy weight landed behind her after she heard a masculine grunt and glass crashing to the floor.

  Addams lay unconscious, as crumpled as a broken doll against the wall. Seraphina hadn’t even blinked when she cast him back with such violence.

  She had almost reached the black wooden bed post.

  The voice promised, “Nothing you’ve ever drunk could possibly compare to the rich wine in the silver chalice. No bread could ever equal the thick slices cut with that beautiful, silver knife.”