by Summa, S. E.
Marceau said, “It was costly. You must use it only in an emergency, Lynette. This key will only work once. If you ever need to escape. Put the key in my workshop’s door and turn it to the left three times.”
“What will it do?”
“When you walk through the door, you will enter my apartment in the Garden District.”
Lynette gasped. She grabbed Marceau and hugged him tightly. “Thank you. You can’t believe what it means to have an out. Just knowing I have it will help me so much.”
He hugged her back and leaned away, looking into her mismatched eyes. “Only in an emergency, Lynette, and you must promise to never reveal where you got it. Max has no idea it even exists. It took me years to construct the right hex, and I had to hire the Mambo to bind the other door. She’s the only other person who knows the doors are linked. Max would punish me for that, severely.”
Lynette nodded and whispered, “I promise.” She grabbed his arms and pushed him toward the door. “Now go, Marceau. Go to Nashville and enjoy every moment you have away from this place, away from him.”
Marceau kissed her cheek and left.
If the Blackthorne Grimoire held the answers he hoped, Marceau would try his best to free Lynette.
And the ballerina too. He owed her that much.
Chapter Eight
Seraphina wrung her hands as she looked out Finn’s bedroom window. It was Friday. His fever should have broken by now. For the last two days, she’d applied cool herbal compresses, given him small sips of cold water and his favorite teas to keep him hydrated, and did countless healing spells.
Finn’s shivering had finally slowed, but he still suffered with occasional waves of uncontrollable shaking that rattled his teeth together and spasmed his whole body. His face remained flushed and his skin burned with fever. Previously, he’d never lost consciousness after taking sins.
What had eating Virgil Woodard’s sin done to him?
Seraphina’s heart ached each time she thought about their night at the Woodard estate. She’d certainly never believed what he did was a cake walk, but after witnessing the suffering Finn endured up close and personal? Seraphina realized what a miracle it was for him to still be sane and have retained who he was inside. She had decided not to share the horrors she had witnessed through the link her shielding created. Even though she had seen the sins, Finn had to experience them fully, and she would not remind him of that pain unless he started the dialogue. Any conversation would be welcomed at this point, however, even a difficult one. Why wasn’t he awake yet?
She couldn’t take Finn to a human hospital. They certainly didn’t have a healing protocol for a sin overdose. Besides, who knows what effect human medicines would have on a nearly immortal Sin Eater?
Seraphina consulted every spell book she owned. She had tried incense and burned three different colors of candles. But Finn’s only response was a coughing fit from the smoke. She had chanted, performed Reiki, and even covered his pale face and chest with a green, noxious herbal poultice in a moment of desperation. Yet nothing broke his fever.
At nearly noon, Seraphina left his side for a moment and started straightening up Finn’s bedroom. His clothes were thrown around on the floor. The guitar lay across a chair just as he had left it. She carefully picked it up, plucked a note, and placed the instrument on the guitar stand in the corner.
Seraphina had to make a decision about the upcoming auction soon. Tonight she was supposed to attend the Music for Youth Masquerade at the Schermerhorn Symphony Center, but she couldn’t leave Finn in this condition. On the other hand, she simply had to win the book. For years, she had dreamed of an opportunity to even read it, let alone having an unbelievable opportunity to own the powerful Blackthorne Grimoire.
Could it restore her magic to the way it was before? What if it held the key to breaking their curse?
If anyone else in the magical community was aware the mysterious, legendary book was about to be auctioned for charity, Seraphina feared she was in for a hell of a fight. But she had a plan. Luckily, it was a silent auction.
She had been working on a spell to help her win, but her magic for such things was unreliable at best.
Now if someone had hidden the book before they died or left it guarded by a horde of vengeful spirits, that she could work with. Death magic was a real bitch sometimes.
Seraphina straightened a stack of philosophy books that seemed ready to tumble from Finn’s nightstand.
Who could she possibly trust? Anyone from the local covens would not be inclined to care for a Sin Eater. Besides, they were comprised of weaker Spellcasters, and those with less power often combined their efforts. And Spellcasters were nothing if not superstitious. Spells were weaker than curses and had to draw on outside energies to sustain their power. Nature’s energy, karma, and even the power derived from the mere belief in superstitions all fueled spell magic. Well, for normal, unhexed Spellcasters anyway. Most Spellcasters would treat Finn as an untouchable for fear of negative psychic transference and other such nonsense.
A young Miasma’s vapor magic may help. She frequented the apothecary and seemed stable enough, though quiet. But the Miasma always paid cash so Seraphina didn’t know how to reach her. Besides, Miasmas could be too unpredictable for something as important as this.
Seraphina could not be in two places at once. Leaving Finn alone was certainly out of the question. What if he woke up confused or his condition worsened?
And yet, the grimoire was her best chance at finally finding answers, breaking the cycle. What if it held a way to ending to this curse madness once and for all? An end to the heartbreak and death was almost too much for her to hope, after so many years. Almost.
Tears stung her eyes as Seraphina’s fingers traced a Hatch Show print for an old Ferlin Husky concert hanging on the wall. She released a slow breath and relaxed her shoulders. One choice remained, and Seraphina had to force herself to admit it. Then she could stop questioning herself and get on with it.
“Finn,” she whispered.
Of course, she would choose Finn. The book would just have to wait. She frowned, thinking about the mysteries, the knowledge, everything she had hoped to find within the book. Just getting an invitation to bid had cost her dearly.
As if by divine intervention, Finn’s cell phone rang.
Seraphina paced in front of the shop’s back door. Kandy (with a K) was due any moment. She’d called in sick from her shift at Absinthe & Alchemy, also known by the locals as “the triple-A.” The AAA was the hot spot and local den of iniquity for supernaturals in Nashville.
The girl always wore heavy makeup, sequins, and little else, but Seraphina’s intuition told her there was more to Kandy than met the eye. They had even shared a few playful observations about Finn to fill awkward moments, much to his chagrin.
Uneasy about leaving Finn under someone else’s care, even though his fever had lowered slightly about three o’clock, she’d made her decision. She knew he’d insist she go if he was able. At last check, he seemed to be resting more comfortably. The desperation grew with every passing thought of getting the grimoire.
It’s not as if he could die, Seraphina reminded herself for what seemed like the thousandth time. At least, she didn’t think so. Still, Finn was suffering. She worried.
Her thoughts swirled and bounced all over the emotional map. Finn was a Sin Eater. He just, well he overdid it, that’s all. She paced. He’s weak now, but he’ll be stronger than ever if he wakes up. When. When he wakes up. As long as Finn eats sin regularly, he’s a powerful immortal and boy, oh boy, he gorged himself on sin at that damned mansion.
Knock, knock.
Seraphina started unlocking the door before the soft raps even ceased. She almost didn’t recognize the woman who stood before her.
“K-Kandy?”
“Yeah, sorry if I’m a little late. Dance class ran over and then I had to walk from SoBro. The tourists are out thicker than usual today, now it has finally co
oled off.” She shifted a large bag from one shoulder to the other, nervous.
“No. You’re not late. I’m so glad you…” Seraphina trailed off, unable to complete a thought.
Kandy looked up at her and smiled. “You all right, girl?”
“You look so different, that’s all.” Seraphina realized she may have sounded rude and began to backpedal, “N-not bad, different. I like it. I mean you look really pretty. Oh, but not you don’t usually. It’s just, you…”
Seraphina gave up and waved her hands up and down.
Kandy (with a K) was almost unrecognizable. She wore a light yellow T-shirt with a smiling pink cupcake silkscreened on the front. Seraphina snorted a laugh as she read the shirt, “Hope you like my new recipe. They’re called Shut the Fucupcakes.” Her well-fitting jeans had a hole in one knee, and black Converse completed her fashion statement.
Her clothes were not the main cause of Seraphina’s shock, however. When had she changed her hair to brown? Soft highlights contrasted with her darker curls and stood at all angles accentuating her delicate facial features. Her face was shocking as well. For once, she had very little makeup on. The usual shimmery glitter was there dusting her brown skin, but otherwise only a touch of mascara and a light pink lip gloss? Or perhaps, her long eyelashes were naturally well-defined.
Seraphina had never, ever seen her without long blonde, teased hair and what was likely ten pounds of makeup. She usually blushed from Kandy’s outfits too, all skin and stilettos.
Their eyes met and they both laughed. “It’s all right, Seraphina. Honestly, I know you’re used to seeing me all slutted up for work. I can understand your reaction. I’m not exactly proud of how I make my living, but I’ve supported myself since I was eighteen and won’t apologize for it either.”
“K-Kandy, I never meant…”
“Since we are making nice and all, my real name is Khatereh. Khatereh Woodard.”
Seraphina stuttered, “Khatereh W-Woodard? Wait, you aren’t related to…”
“Um, yeah, but just call me Khat. Imagine my surprise to see the old biddy here the other night. Aunt Phyllis can be rather dramatic, probably from growing up in the convent. I was just glad she was too worked up from thinking I was a harlot to stop and recognize me. I don’t exactly go home for the holidays, ever, and it’s not as if she’s issuing invitations to her illegitimate, biracial niece anyway. Look, are we good? I wasn’t expecting the chill today and forgot my jacket. Can I come in?”
“Oh jeez. Kandy—Khat. I’m so sorry. Come in, come in.” Seraphina had been blocking the doorway this whole time.
“Look, I know where you and Finn went the other night, but I admit I was surprised when you asked me to come take care of him. What happened? He’ll be okay, right?”
Seraphina turned from locking the door. “How do you know where we went?”
“It wasn’t exactly rocket science. My judgmental bitch of an aunt was here, hysterical, and my father was dead by the next morning.”
“Your F-Father? Virgil Woodard is, was your Father?” Seraphina should have made the leap in logic after the Aunt Phyllis comment, but this conversation was moving too quickly for her to follow in her tired, frazzled state.
“Yeah, I don’t exactly go around bragging about that one either. If you met him, then I’m sure you understand. I hadn’t seen him in years and am not mourning the abusive jerk, so spare me from any ‘sorry for your loss’ type junk, okay?”
They had reached the top of the stairs and entered the loft. Khat tossed her bag on the gray loveseat. “So, was Finn beaten up? It was one dear old Dad’s trigger happy guards, wasn’t it?”
Seraphina’s worry must’ve been written all over her face because Khat laid a hand on her chest. “Wait. Finn didn’t get shot or stabbed, did he?”
Seraphina snapped out of it and said, “No, no nothing like that. We didn’t even see any guards. Just your aunt and Addams. It was the sin. Things went kind of crazy that night. I almost thought Virgil came back from… Well, it was really confusing, but I do know Finn ate your father’s sin, and then he collapsed. He has not woken up since.”
“I don’t understand. My old man was a terrible person, believe me, I know better than anyone. But why would that make Finn sick?” Khat leaned and looked behind Seraphina, down the hall to Finn’s door. “I knew something was wrong when Finn never came to see me the next day. He never breaks his promises.”
Seraphina wasn’t sure how much to explain. She didn’t want to sound overly dramatic, but if Khat was going to take care of Finn, she needed to understand how serious this was. “Sins that powerful can be difficult for him. But I’ve never seen him so bad after a job. I have done all I can for him the past two days, but he has not awakened.”
“Did you use your magic?” Khat asked.
“Yes.” Seraphina tilted her head. “I wasn’t sure if you knew about that.”
“Oh, I see it on you. Pretty potent stuff, right? Shadowy though. You feel a lot like the veil.”
Seraphina stared down at her arms. She sees what? How the heck does that work? Her father was a powerful, supernatural, so it means she is… a something.
Khat asked, “So, is Finn in his room?” She was halfway down the hall before Seraphina realized she’d been asked a question.
“Um, yeah. In his room,” she answered no one.
Seraphina was so exhausted from this past week; her mind was processing slower than normal. She was already walking to Finn’s room when she heard a sharp cry.
“Finn,” she gasped as she ran through the open doorway.
He lay in his bed, still unconscious. His body was shaking softly again, but otherwise looking unchanged from her last check.
“Oh, I thought the worst when I heard you cry out.” Seraphina pressed her hand over her frantically beating heart as she glanced over at Kan… Khat. The name change was going to take some getting used to.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Khat demanded from his bedside. “Is it because of the whole Possessed lineage? Or is this a spell of some kind?”
“Oh, no Finn is completely immune to all supernatural maladies. He can’t be spelled by magic. I’ve tried a small spell here or there just to test it out.” Seraphina laughed, a bad habit when she was nervous. “As a Sin Eater, he’s immune to almost all supernatural abilities. He cannot even be charmed by a djinn.”
Khat had jumped at the mention of the djinn. Seraphina understood the reaction. Djinn were the most unpredictable of the non-human world since so few of the usual rules applied to them.
“I think the sin hasn’t left his body yet or it has taken a lot out of him,” Seraphina said in a whisper. “I’ve cared for him before when he was sickened by sin, but he’s never been unconscious after a session. The aftereffects have never lasted this long.”
“Sickened by sin? He’s a Sin Eater. Eating junk is what he does. Besides, he said it keeps him strong. He looks awful, but I’ve never seen sin make him sick at all.” Khat reached down and felt his head. “He’s burning up.”
Seraphina was taken aback by Khat’s reaction. She knew Khat liked Finn, but she hadn’t guessed how much… apparently.
Finn moaned a faint whisper.
“His power siphons off the sin of supernaturals, but the sin doesn’t magically disappear. The evil must be faced, relived. The full consequences of the sin must be felt.” Seraphina squinted while thinking about the last sentence.
Khat’s eyes were wide as she raised her hand to her mouth. “Consequences? He feels the sins?”
“Yes, I didn’t understand it fully myself until the other night, but Finn feels every sin he takes. From the perspective of the sinner. And for the atonement to work, he must also relive the pain felt by whomever the sin was against.”
Khat frowned down at Finn and then back at Seraphina. “No. That can’t be right. He should—Finn would have told me.” Slumping into the chair by Finn’s bed, she sat staring at him for several minutes.
&
nbsp; Seraphina didn’t know what to say, so she busied herself walking around the room straightening up again. Cleaning settled her nerves.
Khat sniffled, and when Seraphina turned, she was wiping wet eyes.
“Khat, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Seraphina grabbed a few tissues from the dresser and handed them to her. She was a walking, talking tissue dispenser these days.
After wiping her face, Khat took a deep breath and met Seraphina’s worried eyes. “He’s known all along. I tried so hard to hide things, despite that, he’s known everything about me all along.”
Seraphina began to understand. “You said you’d never seen sin make him sick before. He’s eaten yours, hasn’t he?” she gently prompted.
She’d always wondered but knew better than to ask Finn. He was defensive about his relationship with Khat.
“Yes, I sought him out back in January and asked him to help me. I thought it would make me feel different, happier, I guess. It worked, and my life has really changed for the better this year, but not because he ate my stupid sins. He’s become such an important part of my life.” She grasped his hand. “Finn can see sin on victims too, can’t he?”
Seraphina closed her eyes and blew out a slow breath in acknowledgment.
Damn, damn, damn.
Seraphina nodded. “Yes, I think so. I’ve seen him react strongly to people who have experienced crimes. If a sin is strong enough, I’m pretty sure he sees some trace of it on the victim.”
Finn’s illness, Khat’s transformation and lineage, and her own little issue as she often referred to the curse… it was all just too much.
Khat turned away.
Seraphina didn’t know what to say. The two girls had never formed a real friendship, but Seraphina sensed a new closeness. Khat practically oozed sexiness in every movement, but it had almost seemed like an act. Seraphina always believed something deeper existed below Khat’s war painted exterior. Now she knew.
Finn groaned and writhed on the bed. His sallow, pale forehead scattered with drops of sweat from the fever again. He began to shake and kicked the covers lower, even as his teeth chattered.