Much of Madness (The Conexus Chronicles Book 1)

by Summa, S. E.

  Finn walked around his chair.

  Khat stood and placed her hand on Seraphina’s arm. “Maybe we should all sit down and…”

  “Sit down. She is going to die again and you want me to, to just sit down?” Finn raged.

  Khat took a step back, obviously hurt. “What is wrong with you, Finn?”

  “Finn. Seraphina. We know the answer to one of the keys of the curse now,” Marceau said.

  Finn stepped closer.

  Khat came to stand between the guys, a hand extended in each person’s direction. She said, “Let’s take a moment and calm down so we can talk this out.”

  Finn took another step closer to Marceau and said, “Lies and deception, thievery, arrogance, such regret, and, of course, desire. Your sins broadcast to me like radio waves. I can taste the flavors of them in the air.” Finn inhaled deeply. “Greed. Wrath. Pride. Lust. Envy. You have five of the seven deadly sins written on you as plain as day. Why should I trust you? What is it exactly you want here? She is off limits.”

  “The book. I want to examine the grimoire. I seek a freedom of my own. I need a way to stop even worse deeds from tainting my soul.” Marceau did not drop Finn’s stare. “Can you not taste sincerity as well, Sin Eater? Or are you limited to recognizing only the evil in a person?”

  Finn took another step. His body rigid with barely contained violence.

  “Stop it. Both of you. Right now,” Khat demanded.

  “She’s right.” Marceau ran his hand through his dark hair. “I apologize. You’re reacting like Seraphina did, Finn. Your emotions were affected. It’s the hex reacting to my power. Back down, and we can discuss this like gentlemen.” Marceau raised his arms placating Finn, but he did not step away. He stood his ground.

  “He’s right, Finn, please come sit down,” Seraphina said. She sat back and patted the couch beside her. When no one moved, said, “Finn, look at me.”

  Finn looked down.

  “This is exactly how I felt yesterday—angry, sad, confused. Sit down, and for heaven’s sake, stop looking for a fight. It will pass if you give it a few minutes.”

  “I-I need space.” Finn stormed from the room.

  Marceau pushed back in his chair and leaned forward. He put his fingers on his temples and rubbed. As they sat in silence, the emotional charge of the room slowly drained.

  “He will be okay, right?” Khat asked as she stared down the hallway.

  “Yes. I already feel it fading. He’ll be all right,” Seraphina said. “He didn’t mean to snap at you, Khat. It’s an overwhelming feeling like everything hits you all at once.”

  “I know. He’s never yelled at me before. I just wonder if I should go after him.”

  Brave girl. Seraphina was once again struck by how much Khat cared for Finn.

  They sat in silence, not knowing what to say in Finn’s absence. His bedroom door finally opened and Seraphina held her breath.

  “I’m fine. Well, heading back in that direction anyway,” Finn said as he reappeared in the room. “I want to apologize.” He looked at the girls and then said to Marceau, “To all of you. I don’t know how to describe how intense that felt. An emotional sucker punch.”

  “That’s it exactly. It is like all your pent up feelings suddenly slam into your chest,” Seraphina added.

  “It’s okay, we all knew it wasn’t the real you,” Khat said.

  Finn stood beside Khat, hesitating and then bent to rest his forehead against hers. “No, it is not okay, Khatereh. I should have never snapped at you. I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She leaned away and kissed his pale forehead.

  “Well, now we’ve confirmed the hex feeds on the emotions of you both. I saw more details in the hex too. Some things I understand but a lot I don’t, not yet. I could spend a week trying to decipher what it all means, or I propose a little experiment if you’re willing.”

  “Experiment? I thought we just did that.” Finn’s jaw clenched.

  Marceau jumped in before Finn had a chance to refuel. “That was only a reading of your hex. I’ve spent the last three years working on a scientific theory. A way to revolutionize how curses are examined. It could lead to a means of treating those hexed, by the few curseweavers brave enough to try.”

  Seraphina asked, “Brave enough? Why is it most curseweavers turn me away the second I ask how to break a hex?” She’d always wondered why you could pay most curseweavers to weave you a small hex without even sharing your motives, but mention you want to break one and they skedaddled as though you suggested raising the dead.

  “Because there can be a backlash of power. Dangerous consequences are involved for those who get tangled within someone else’s hex.”

  Finn poured another drink and sat, pulling Khat closer. “And this theory? What is it exactly?”

  “A way to reduce the potential for mistakes while unraveling a hex. Merely hearing about who hexed someone and why is often not enough. There are clues hidden within a curse’s origin story, even if those telling the tale don’t recognize them.”

  “Makes sense, but could you get around that?” Seraphina asked.

  “Curse Regression. I’ve been practicing for years. If a curse is strong enough, and I believe yours is, I enter a meditative state while combining my power with the hex through touch.”

  Finn sat up and shook his head at Seraphina.

  Marceau continued, “Seraphina made her absolutely no touching rule quite clear the day we had lunch. I have no intention of touching her. Khat, as a part djinn, I believe you have some ability to amplify the magic of others, is that correct?”

  Khat nodded but chewed on her fingernails.

  “Then I propose we join hands. I will hold Finn and Khat’s hands only, of course. And we can see if a Curse Regression is possible. I’ve been successful in roughly half of my attempts.”

  “And what exactly do you see if it works?” Seraphina asked. She had been a different person before her death… with problems, sure, but in hindsight, they’d been mostly trivial. Thinking about it made her miss the carefree, impetuous girl she was then.

  Marceau continued, “It depends on how well I’m able to travel along the curse’s timeline. I’ve been able to witness a curseweaver in action and have seen the moment a hex took hold of its victims. Both provided invaluable clues. It does have limits, however. I’ll need someone to help me decipher the clues—who I see, events, and places. I cannot hear during the regressions, only see shadowy images so I would need to ask questions as images came to me. If you’re both willing, it wouldn’t have to be tonight. You should think it over, of course.”

  Seraphina raised her shoulder and focused on Finn. She was more than willing, but Finn was a very private person and this sounded more intrusive than he would allow.

  “I think he needs to know,” Finn said. “All of it. I say we go ahead and try it. Tonight.”

  It felt off that Finn was willing to try a regression so soon. He hardly knew Marceau. In truth, neither did she. Seraphina suspected Finn’s unusual candor was because he wanted Marceau to understand the danger he posed.

  “Fine, but Finn will probably need to answer most of your questions. He knows more about what happened… after. I’ll fill in as needed.” Seraphina’s expression was more serious than Marceau had seen before.

  Marceau rubbed his hands together. “Excellent.” He gestured toward the table. “Shall we?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Marceau took a drink of his whiskey and waited at the table. Seraphina sat across from him. Khat had asked for a moment alone with Finn before they started and the two had disappeared down the hall.

  “This has certainly been a more eventful dinner than I intended.” Seraphina smiled.

  “The evening exceeded my expectations, as well.” A huge understatement. Marceau tried to maintain a calm demeanor, but inside he was brimming with nervous excitement. He’d overstated his success rate by a significant margin. He was actually only successful in maybe a
quarter of his attempts at regression. But he needed them to try, their curse was powerful. It was very difficult to find willing participants. And the ones who agreed to let him usually had insignificant hexes lacking the power required to fuel a satisfying attempt. Finding two willing participants with a curse as strong as Seraphina’s and Finn’s? Well, there was a first time for everything, right?

  Seraphina fidgeted in her chair. Would she be disappointed in him? What if he was unable to see anything? Marceau didn’t want to let her down. In fact, he hoped to impress her.

  Khat came back into the room and joined them at the table. Her smile was sheepish, and she picked at her fingernails as a very serious Finn joined them. She spoke up, “So we need to talk about my abilities before we proceed. I hadn’t been completely upfront with Finn before. Now, having just fixed that, I need to explain part of my magic… before we try this.” Turning to Seraphina, she continued, “I know this whole djinn halfling thing came out of left field for you tonight. I’ve never even met my mother. All I know of djinn magic has been learned on my own, by rumors, or from even less trustworthy sources, like my father. But this isn’t tied to being part djinn. I hope you’ll still feel comfortable around me once you know about the ability I inherited from my father.”

  “Oh, I’m sure— Seraphina started before Finn cut her off with a slight shake of his head.

  Marceau’s interest was definitely piqued after that little exchange.

  Khat exhaled. “I feel vibrations, the frequency of other supernaturals’ powers. I’m able to mimic their fluctuations and can adapt my power to align with others.”

  Marceau sucked in a breath. It was unheard of. It was powerful. His mind reeled with the possibilities.

  Seraphina tilted her head. “The rumors Finn told me about were kind of true then, about Virgil?”

  “What rumors?” Khat asked Finn.

  Finn gave Seraphina a hard look before answering, “Rumors that Virgil fed on the powers of others. He absorbed their powers and left them weakened. I had some idea Khat might have inherited Virgil’s ability some time back. But I didn’t understand how it worked until now.”

  Khat stared. “Before we even started dating, you’d heard my father weakened and fed on people? And you suspected I might do it too? Then why on earth did you ever ask me out?” Khat chewed on her thumbnail. “Why did you trust me?”

  “Sin Eater, remember?” Finn pointed to himself. “I see people’s sins. And you, Sparrow, would never feed on me or anyone else for that matter. Now, on to how your ability may affect the experiment.”

  Khat swallowed, watching Marceau’s expression. “If you use your power while holding my hand, I’ll feel the frequency of your power. Sometimes it’s hard not to mimic. It’s a natural reaction, I don’t understand why.”

  Marceau grinned. “It could be an unknown adaptation for survival, Khat. Think about it. If you can mimic those around you, that is rather like a camouflage. What better way to blend in with other supernaturals? It’s quite fascinating, really. I’d prefer you not hold back at all. Allow your powers to sync with mine. If you do share my frequency, the djinn’s amplification power may well come into play too.” He rubbed his hands together. An unheard of supernatural power, one of the most complex hexes he’d ever seen fluctuating with power on not one, but two supernaturals, and the possibility of a djinn power boost as well? He couldn’t have constructed a greater Curse Regression Theory experiment if he’d tried.

  Finn frowned and stared at him. Marceau schooled his expression back into one of calm, confidence and only slight interest. Then he laid his hands on the table, palms up.

  Moment of truth. Would they go through with it? After exchanging a long look, Finn and Khat grasped his hands and then Seraphina’s.

  “What do we do now?” Seraphina asked.

  “Just relax. I must slip into a deeper level of consciousness. Bear with me. Try to stay as still and quiet as possible. If I’m able to make a connection, I will see flashes of images. I’ll describe what I see and ask questions.”

  Marceau tried to clear his mind, but it was difficult. He was losing hope when he felt a tug. The muscles in his hands jumped as his mind traveled back along a stream of power. The hex seemed familiar after examining its patterns on both Seraphina and Finn. Marceau tightened his hands. With an answering squeeze from Khat, a pulse of energy flowed into his hand and he gasped. It usually took time to follow the path of a curse, but now he was being dragged backward at mind-numbing speed. Vertigo set in and Marceau fought through the dizziness as pure, warm power flowed through his body. It was an amazing sensation as if he’d been wrapped in a cloak of thick, unfamiliar magic.

  “Too much?” Khat whispered.

  Yes. “No. It feels wonderful, actually,” Marceau answered and this time, Finn’s hand tightened a little. “Please, give me a moment to acclimate.”

  Marceau took several deep breaths and tried to focus on his body. He methodically traced his consciousness from his feet to the top of his head. After the familiar mental exercise, Marceau felt a measure of control again.

  “Please continue, Khat,” Marceau said.

  More magic pulsed from Khat’s hand and flooded his senses. His nostrils flared as he breathed in and smelled something new—smoke and lemon, mixed with a chemical odor. Grain alcohol? Marceau opened his eyes but saw no sign of Seraphina’s loft. He stood inside a dimly lit room with a long counter to his right. When he shook his head a static, white noise dissipated. Music. A piano played an old tune he recognized from The Great Gatsby. One voice sang out, “Every morning, every evening, ain’t we got fun?” Marceau turned and saw a young man playing an upright piano. “Not much money, oh, but Honey, ain’t we got fun?” The guy wore a coarse cotton, buttoned shirt with his sleeves rolled up. A girl with short, finger-waved hair danced beside the piano, the fringe of her flapper dress flared outward as she spun.

  “When were you cursed?” Marceau whispered afraid that speaking would ruin the crystal clear vision.

  Finn responded, “It was 1925.”

  “And where were you when the hex took hold?”

  “In a speakeasy called The Phantom,” Finn answered.

  Marceau looked around for any sort of name or identifying features. During the few successful regressions he’d managed, flat, shadowy images flashed through his mind. Now it seemed as if he was actually in the scene around him. Marceau lifted his foot. He was there in a body. He took a step and approached the bar. Never before had he retained any physical features during a vision, and certainly never had the ability to move where he wanted.

  A translucent man behind the bar turned. His form wavered, but when Marceau focused, he could make out the bartender’s facial features. The man seemed to look right through Marceau as he wiped the inside of a small glass with a white towel. Then, the bartender smiled and said, “Wondered when you’d show up, Miss Sera. You’re all dolled up today.”

  Marceau turned and froze.

  Seraphina was certainly not ghostly. She was more solid than the others in the room and walked straight toward him, only something was off. He tried to figure out what made her look so different. She wore a lace-covered dress, but Marceau couldn’t make out the color. He realized as he looked up at her usual fiery, red hair that everything else appeared in shades of black and white. Her hair was cut in a short bob.

  She waved and said, “Hi Rex. Everything’s jake now. But Daddy had me parading around entertaining the mayor’s wallflower of a daughter all day while he negotiated their monthly bribe. She was a real wet blanket, I tell ya. Positutely drab.”

  Marceau kept waiting for her to react to his presence, but she didn’t even slow before stepping right through him. Marceau gasped and shuddered.

  “Are you okay, Marceau?” Khat whispered. Her voice pulled at his mind, a sudden reminder he was not really there. He sat at the table in Seraphina’s loft.

  Marceau said, “Yes, I just had an interesting encounter. Please tell
me more about this speakeasy, The Phantom. Describe it to me.”

  It was Finn who answered, “Long wood bar with high windows along the ceiling because it was in a basement. Had round tables and an upright piano.”

  Marceau looked around him. Everything matched Finn’s description. Dust motes swirled in the sunlight drifting in from rectangular windows set high in the walls. Squat wooden tables sat mostly empty though he did see a shadowy group of men playing cards at a table in a far corner. “What kind of floor did it have?”

  “Don’t remember,” answered Finn.

  Seraphina jumped in and said, “Concrete, rough and grooved. I had to be careful not to catch the heels of my shoes and trip.”

  Marceau scooted his foot across the floor. The sole of his shoe scraped across ruts in the floor. Fascinating.

  “Tell me more. What did you do for a living? Why did you come to The Phantom?” Marceau asked.

  Finn cleared his throat. “Prohibition was in full swing and I made my living as a bootlegger. I ran moonshine from a few choice stills in Appalachia down to Georgia. Filled up my trunk with rum in Savannah, for the return trip.”

  Seraphina said, “He’s being modest. He was the go-to bootlegger on route.”

  Finn laughed. “Yeah, those were fun times. I was never caught, never lost a load. No one else moved much hooch without losing cargo. Back then, they’d rather drive the car into a lake and watch it sink than to let the law drink it. I spent most days at The Phantom when I wasn’t driving.”

  He paused and Marceau watched the regression form of Seraphina as she joked with the piano player and did a few dance moves. A Charleston? She clapped and bowed to him before climbing up and sitting right on top of the bar.

  “And what was Seraphina’s tie to this bar?” Marceau asked.

  The vision’s Seraphina swayed as she sipped from a small glass and listened to another song.

  “It was one of the few places I could be myself, free from my father’s prying eyes and the societal demands of being the judge’s precious daughter. At The Phantom, I was amongst friends.”