Much of Madness (The Conexus Chronicles Book 1)

by Summa, S. E.

  Seraphina’s mouth fell wide open.

  Finn looked at her without any shock or surprise. He had obviously seen her natural form before.

  Khat’s smile fell and her gaze dropped down quickly. She shook her head from left to right. Her glamour shimmered down her body and fell into place once more.

  “Well, all right then,” Seraphina said, proud her voice was even. “On that note, let’s eat.”

  Khat’s head jerked up and Seraphina smiled. “Oh, I’m shocked all right, but Finn cares about you, and I like you too. The way I see it? You’re one of us now.”

  Khat was the only one who appeared shocked.

  “However, it’s so not fair that you’re even more beautiful than you let on. Thank goodness you tone it down a bit or no man would ever be able to look away.” Seraphina winked. “Now, who else is hungry?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marceau picked up Seraphina’s wine glass, then followed everyone else to the table. He didn’t have much experience with being an invited guest for dinner and usually broke into other’s homes rather than coming through the front door.

  They all sat and eagerly passed the salad and rolls around the table.

  “Two lasagnas?” Marceau asked.

  “This one is vegetarian. That one has beef,” Seraphina answered as she scooped a piece of the vegetarian pasta onto her plate. “When much of your power is focused on death, meat is… less appetizing. Let’s leave it at that.” She smiled and bit into a roll.

  The conversation stayed light because the information divulged earlier had created a vacuum which only lighter subject matters and casual banter could balance.

  Khat started the topic of music. Marceau was impressed by her knowledge of classical and that she took ballet lessons four days a week, which made Marceau cringe at the thought of another ballerina in his mind.

  Sounding much older than he appeared, Finn debated whether folk music should retain its title when electrified. His pallor hinted he’d been a Sin Eater for quite some time. Marceau was curious but confident he’d learn more about him without asking, especially, if they agreed to share information about their curse.

  “My favorite has to be blues, though. Not the dressed-up fancy kind, mind you. I like it to have sorrow and grit like the blues in the bayou.” Of course, Marceau would relate the topic back to New Orleans.

  Seraphina raised her glass in approval. “You should check out my favorite blues club on weeknights then, Bourbon Street Blues and Boogie Bar. It’s in Printer’s Alley, a couple doors down from the AAA club.”

  “I read a piece about Printer’s Alley when I was looking for the Arcade. A seedier area of downtown, is it not?”

  “The AAA is there, so supernaturals of all kinds hang out in the alley. But it’s tourist-friendly even late at night.” Seraphina sounded sad, which seemed odd. “Zeke, a spectre, runs Printer’s Alley and the club with a transparent, yet iron fist. All nefarious activities are strictly limited to the inside of his establishment.”

  “I’ve never heard of the AAA. I thought Absinthe & Alchemy was the main supernatural gathering place downtown.”

  Khat chimed in, “Yeah, it is, but locals call it “triple A” rather than Absinthe and Alchemy.” Khat added, “We Southerners are famous for our abbreviated speech patterns, you know.”

  “Okay, I get the first two A’s, but what’s the third?” Marceau asked.

  Seraphina winced but looked up quickly when Khat burst into laughter.

  Khat answered, “Why it’s for Ass, of course. The first floor, Absinthe, is the bar. Despite the cloaking spells outside to make it look like the nastiest dive in town, humans do occasionally wander inside. The second floor, Alchemy, is strictly for supernaturals. It’s where the gambling and negotiations for magical services take place. Money holds little value in Alchemy. The stakes are much higher than human paper and coins. They mainly gamble magical services and paranormal items. And then there’s Ass, the unofficial name for the third floor, where I work as a dancer.”

  Marceau kept his expression neutral as he nodded. “Interesting, well it does make more sense now.”

  Finn laughed and Marceau relaxed again. “Printer’s Alley is famous, so why haven’t the supernaturals there garnered the attention of the humans in the city?”

  Seraphina chimed in. “Oh, there was an incident a few years ago, a tourist snapped a few unfortunate photos when cell phones first took off. A curseweaver was a little too specific when she cast her hex to cause cameras to malfunction in the alley, but not all devices capable of taking photos. Zeke cleaned up the scandal and punished her in a quite public fashion. It made his point, though because Printer’s Alley has been much more respectable ever since, but boy was it fun when it was seedier.” A wide grin accompanied the last word.

  “Now I get your joke yesterday about Finn’s sinful garlic rolls,” Marceau said as he took another from the basket. “They are delicious.”

  Khat laughed and tried to cover her amusement by shoveling in another huge bite of lasagna. She was already on her third piece.

  Finn said, “Well, you know what Khat and I are, supernaturally speaking. And Seraphina has obviously shown her power since you caught her casting the spell on the book. I believe it’s your turn to share, Marceau. Curses are your specialty?”

  “Yes. I have an affinity for them. When I focus, I can often read them. Find weaknesses when possible, and I can manipulate them in many ways. It’s all dependent on the power and nature of the specific hex.”

  Finn put down his fork and spun his whiskey glass on the table. “And what exactly does a hex look like?”

  “Each is unique. They wind around the person, or thing, to which they are attached. Sometimes in elegant thin ribbons or thick binding chains. They vary in size and in color too like complex webs. And they usually hold traits from both the person who wove the hex and energy from the cursed object or person in their strands. Curses are fluid. That’s why they last far longer than spells. They can react to emotions, environment, weather, any number of factors. It all depends on what the hex entails.”

  “Fascinating. I’ve never heard of anyone with the power to read a hex before.” Finn looked at Seraphina and back at Marceau. “What makes some strong and others weak?”

  “Most often, the intensity is determined by the skill and tithe paid by the curse weaver.”

  Seraphina asked, “Have you always been able to read them?”

  “Yes, since I was a young child. Though I didn’t understand what I was seeing or that everyone else couldn’t see them. I was… misunderstood.” Marceau cleared his throat. “I have no memories of my early childhood. But I was told, I wound up in a rather unfortunate facility until my ability came to the attention of my benefactor. He took me in and helped me to understand what I saw.”

  Marceau sat straighter. His relaxed demeanor evaporated when he talked about his past. Max wouldn’t like his openness about how he learned his trade, so he was careful with what he shared.

  “Is your benefactor a curseweaver too?” Khat asked.

  “No, but he found private tutors to educate me—Travelers, Hoodoo rootworkers, and later a Voodoo priestess. They taught me to channel my powers into weaving and hex creation. Those same teachers also wove hexes for me so I could practice unraveling them, a talent he paid them well to keep secret.”

  “What an unusual childhood,” Finn said. “Were curses all you studied?”

  “I had access to a world-class magical library and was privately tutored in traditional studies, of course, but my primary education was of the art and nature of curses. I’ve studied them intensively since the age of seven.”

  Finn said, “And how fortunate you just happen upon a cursed woman.”

  “Finn, relax. Open mind, remember?” Seraphina said softly.

  He stared at Marceau, but his eyes were unfocused and not on his face, an expression Marceau recognized.

  “It’s all right, Seraphina. I’m fam
iliar with the abilities of Sin Eaters. You are also reading me, for lack of a better term, right? Assessing what my sins are.” Marceau leveled his gaze on Finn. They stared across the table from each other.

  “Indeed,” Finn responded through tight lips. His whiskey glass sat still on the table now.

  Marceau knew he shouldn’t rock the boat, but he was curious. If Finn could truly see all of his sins, why did he let him still sit at his table? He risked asking, “And do I meet with your approval?”

  “I’m reserving judgment.” Finn sat back and raised his glass. “For now.” He knocked back the last of his drink.

  “Men.” Khat rolled her eyes.

  “When I noticed Seraphina’s hex, I tried to read it right away. I was surprised at how faded it was. Until it reacted badly to my powers, that is.”

  “And why exactly did it react badly? What did you do to her?” Finn’s gaze returned intense. He leaned toward Seraphina as if searching for any signs she’d been hurt.

  Marceau wanted to explain, but it had become clear that Finn did not care what anyone had to say at the moment, except Seraphina. She said, “Like I said before, Finn, I was disoriented. Well, a little more than that. My emotions were all over the place—sad, scared, and confused.”

  “Elaborate,” Finn said.

  “Marceau said the hex flared brighter, so I think it was kind of like a magical hot flash. I had trouble breathing as if the air was really thick with humidity. And my mind felt cluttered. I was overwhelmed, vulnerable, and angry, all at the same time. It’s hard to describe.”

  “And yet you invited him here?” Finn asked.

  “It caught me off guard before. It’s not often that people figure out I’m cursed over lunch, Finn. Plus, Marceau said the hex is tied to my emotions. So, it would make sense I’d have that kind of a reaction if my curse acted up, right? I want… Well, I’m hoping you might let him try to see what he can read from you.”

  “How does looking at the hex differ from how you are looking at me now?” Finn asked Marceau.

  “Much in the way you looked at me moments ago as you searched for my sins, I suspect. I focus on you differently and look at the space around you until I find a trace or strand. Then I follow it until I can concentrate on the weave of the hex. It doesn’t always affect the person I’m reading. Just depends on how powerful the curse is and the nature of it. However, if your emotions are in play as strongly as Seraphina’s, I can make no promises.”

  “I will take it into consideration,” Finn said.

  Seraphina lightened the tone. “I could use some more wine. Anyone else want anything?”

  “I need to check on dessert,” Khat said. “I hope y’all saved some room.”

  Khat’s lemon cake with raspberries was delicious and closed out the meal perfectly. When their plates were clean, Finn stood and started gathering the dirty dishes. Marceau joined him.

  “After we get the dishes soaking and our dinner settles a bit, Marceau can have a go at reading the hex on me. I admit I’m interested in what he will find.”

  Khat reached over and squeezed Seraphina’s hand, as if surprised Finn had relented.

  Marceau smiled at the girls and cleared the table faster. He wanted more information about their curse. Hoping he could trade his skills for the grimoire was definitely a factor, but he also wanted to free Seraphina.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Seraphina seemed to dance her way around the room, turning on every single light. She even flipped on the stove hood light, just to be safe.

  Marceau had pointed out the bright sunlight streaming on her from the glass roof at the Arcade helped him notice a trace of her hex. Finn’s hex was tied hers, so he reasoned it would be faint as well.

  Finn sat in a wooden dining room chair opposite Marceau in the center of the room. Khat and Seraphina perched a few feet away on the gray loveseat while Seraphina picked at the strings hung from the bottom hem of her jeans.

  What would Marceau see? The weight of a thousand unspoken wishes pressed upon her chest. Would he find a way to break the curse? Would Finn get upset the same way she had? So much rested on this moment. After all these years of desperately clinging to hope, could this be when she finally found her freedom?

  Finn sat relaxed. His fingers splayed on his lap and his face neutral. He watched Marceau, but his expression gave no hint as to his emotions, and he breathed in long, slow breaths.

  Marceau mirrored Finn. A casual observer would find it curious seeing two young men sitting a few feet from each other… staring without conversation.

  After what seemed like the longest minutes of Seraphina’s life, Marceau’s head cocked slightly to the side. “Ah, there we are,” he said softly as if afraid he’d scare away whatever he’d seen. He leaned in closer.

  Khat bit her nails, caught a glimpse of Seraphina, and forced a smile. Seraphina reached over and squeezed the hand Khat wasn’t chewing.

  Marceau’s head slowly turned toward Seraphina, his gaze appearing out of focus. She felt heated as if hot air swirled around her, yet there was no breeze. He was reading her hex again.

  Stay calm. Seraphina repeated like a mantra. She needed to keep her emotions locked down so Finn would not order the session stopped. Seraphina put up a mental barrier in hopes it would help protect her from the emotional backlash she’d felt at the Arcade.

  Finally, Marceau spoke, “Fascinating, yours is similar in design but silver and gray.” His eyes moved back and forth at her and then slowly to Finn. “Would you mind moving over to the couch, Seraphina? Walk slowly, please.”

  “Sure.” Seraphina rose and rounded the coffee table and sat at the opposite corner of the couch, nearer to Finn.

  Marceau studied an area between Finn and Seraphina as she sat.

  “The strands connect you. When you were farther away, they were thinner. The closer you moved, they thickened and twined around each other.” He sat back for a moment absorbing the change. “Okay, now would you leave the room, Seraphina? Go downstairs, perhaps.”

  “Okay.” She turned and headed that way.

  “Slower, please.”

  She obliged, looking back at Marceau when she started down the first few steps. He nodded for her to continue.

  “I’ll call for you in a moment.” He was again following something only he could see between Finn and Seraphina.

  She went downstairs and stopped to admire the dahlias by the cash register. Seraphina stroked the delicate purple petals of one. It was really sweet gesture by Marceau. Finn brought her flowers sometimes, but this was different. She pictured him standing in the door holding the bouquet, with a new type of smile. A shy one. Her stomach tightened as she pictured him.

  Stop it, she chided herself before going to stand in front of the door.

  After a couple of minutes, Marceau called for her. At his request, she returned to the loveseat with Khat again.

  Marceau was concentrating on her with his brow furrowed. “The strands separated when you were far enough away from Finn. However, there was a tail, of sorts, left. A long bunch of strands undulated as if they were seeking to reconnect with you as you got to the bottom of the stairs, but then something changed.” Marceau looked from Finn to her. “What did you do when you went downstairs?”

  “I walked to the door and waited.”

  “You went straight to the door?”

  “No. I stopped by the cash register for a moment.” Her focus dropped to the floor and she began to pull at the strings on her jeans again.

  “What did you do when you stopped, Seraphina?”

  “I touched one of the…” Seraphina started. After taking a deep breath, she finished, “One of the dahlias you brought.”

  Crap.

  “What dahlias?” Finn asked, no longer sitting back in his chair.

  “Marceau brought some flowers.” Seraphina met his pale gaze. “As a hostess gift,” she added as if that would wipe the frown from Finn’s face.

  Finn’s agitation
was growing. “What happened when she touched the flowers? How did you know she did something down there?”

  “The hex appears slightly translucent, sort of like a web in the sunlight. When I tried to examine Seraphina’s hex in the Arcade, it flared to a brighter color, more of a pinkish tone and it became more distinct.”

  “And tonight? What did you see when she was downstairs?” Finn pushed.

  “The strands glow brighter when the two of you are close to each other. When she sat across the room, it was a pale pink, and then when she moved closer on the couch, it deepened to a richer rose.” Marceau rubbed his hand through his hair. “As she went down the stairs, it gradually lightened again. And when she was about halfway down, it whitened as the connection severed.”

  “You have not answered my question. When she touched the flowers?” Finn was sitting straight, hands clenched in his lap.

  “The strands on your hex were reaching for the stairs, toward her, curled in on themselves. Then they snapped back in your direction like a whip. They changed to a shade of purple.”

  “Damn it, Seraphina.” Finn leapt from his chair. He paced between the table and the clear area with the two chairs. His fists clenched and unclenched.

  “Finn, it… it’s okay. We don’t know what it means.” Seraphina started.

  “Don’t we?” Finn yelled. He put his hands on the back of his chair and leaned in, glaring at Marceau.

  “Finn, please,” Seraphina said.

  “Do you realize what you are doing? Do you know the danger you are putting her in? Flowers? Stupid flowers.” Finn rounded on Seraphina. “You know better, love. You know what the curse will do if you engage even in silly, puppy love foolishness.”

  “Silly, puppy love foolishness? You have some damned nerve, Finn.” Seraphina jumped up from the loveseat returning his glare. “You are embarrassing me. And you are wrong.”