Much of Madness (The Conexus Chronicles Book 1)

by Summa, S. E.

Vespa giggled and licked her lips.

  The first guard’s eyes bulged at her forked tongue. He ran and grabbed Vespa’s chain. “She is Lady Vespa. The key. Give me the damned key, idiot.”

  Guard number two handed over a large round key ring filled with a mixture of new and old keys. Vespa sucked in air from his direction and his knees buckled. He caught himself on the edge of the stage and backed up while holding out his hands. She laughed and made a biting gesture with her teeth.

  The original guy freed her hands and held out his own to assist her.

  “I highly suggest you step away, slow and steady.” Marceau came forward and offered his hand to Vespa.

  She pouted, her signature look for Marceau, then crawled toward him seductively and made a noise like a low, rumbling rattle. Lifting herself slowly back to her knees, she placed her hand on his. With the added height of the stage, Vespa’s breasts were at eye level, but he maintained eye contact while she stepped off the stage. Once standing, she ran her manicured hand down the side of her thigh, sliding her short skirt back to an almost socially acceptable length. “Thanks, lover.”

  “I assure you I meant no ill will to you or your employer, Lady Vespa.” Zeke bowed. “You’ve made quite a mess of my club. I lost customers and a guard in the melee of your power. Please accept my apology for the manner in which my guards detained you. But in the future, I ask you adjourn to the VIP area. Or at least, allow me to clear a floor of the club to minimize the damage.”

  Vespa threw her black hair back over her shoulder and laughed.

  “You mentioned damages,” Marceau began.

  “Nothing for which you need worry yourself,” Zeke answered. “It’s part of owning an establishment like this. My employees will have the club cleaned by morning.”

  Marceau nodded. Perhaps Zeke hadn’t yet seen the chandelier that lay in ruins on the second floor. Better not to dawdle. He turned toward the elevator, with Vespa’s arm linked in his own, and froze.

  Finn leaned against the far wall beside the elevator. His arms crossed over his chest. How long had he been there? Did anyone ever mention Max by name? By occupation?

  Vespa squeezed his arm. “Everything all right, lover?”

  “Why do you insist on calling me that?” Marceau asked between clenched teeth.

  “A yoga guru I dined on taught me the power of positive thinking. He called it an affirmation. Oh, he also taught me this position where one leg was behind my neck and he would put his—”

  “Enough.” Marceau’s volume and tone of voice indicated he meant business.

  When they reached Finn, he spoke first. “I thought you were calling it a night, Marc.” He nodded at Vespa. “Friend of yours?”

  Marceau exhaled. The ease with which Finn had spoken earlier was gone. Now, he looked distant, angry. Finn’s eyes widened at the multitude of sin on her flesh. Marceau could only imagine.

  “Feeling hungry, Sin Eater?” Vespa cooed. “I’m delicious.”

  Marceau was mortified. If Vespa picked up on his desire to have Finn’s respect, she was likely to use it against him. It wasn’t only that she was cruel, it was also in her nature to use whatever weapons were at her disposal.

  “Finn, may I introduce Vespa. Vespa, this is Finn.”

  “As in Lady Vespa of the Serpentine?” Finn asked, incredulous.

  Marceau started toward the elevator, pulling Vespa along. If he could just get her inside before she said anything…

  “Oh, time to go back to the hotel, lover?” Vespa smiled.

  …else. She never gave up.

  Finn pushed off from the wall and blocked their path. “Funny, you didn’t mention you had such an infamous roommate while you were in town, Marc.”

  “Vespa is hardly my roommate or my lover either, for the record. We are acquainted by profession only. I’ll be by tomorrow at three as usual to resume our agreement.”

  “Sure thing, I’ll be waiting with bells on.” Finn walked around them without giving Vespa another look.

  Finn would be waiting, meaning no Seraphina. Usually, in the early afternoons, it was just Marceau and Seraphina. This night had taken quite a turn for the worse. Marceau led Vespa into the elevator and they rode back to the first floor in silence.

  As they left, the security guards bagged up the bodies in the back room. Vespa certainly left her mark on this place. Well, Seraphina did say she missed its seedier days, didn’t she?

  “Seraphina’s picking up a shipment at the airport, so you’re stuck with me again.” Finn walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He held it up offering one to Marceau.

  “Sure, thanks. Seraphina has been busy ever since that night at the AAA. It’s obvious she’s avoiding me. Was it her decision or yours? Did you tell her about my association with Vespa?” Marceau took the beer from Finn and sat stiffly on the couch.

  “Can tell you’ve spent a lot of time with Seraphina. Her direct manner has rubbed off on you.” Finn took a long drink. He set his beer on the counter and fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt cuff.

  “Bluntness seems to get the most direct answers from you.”

  “I suppose that’s because I’m so used to it. And no, I haven’t shared your friend with her. She has enough to worry about without adding a psychotic girlfriend.”

  “First, not a girlfriend. Not even a friend. A work associate forced on me, whom I’d much rather not know at all.” Marceau maintained eye contact as Finn examined him for signs of a lie.

  After a long moment, Finn nodded and came to sit across from Marceau.

  Marceau continued, “In the spirit of direct conversations, I need to be honest with you about what happened the last day I did work with Seraphina. The real reason I pulled away after pointing to her laptop.”

  Sharing what happened with Finn was a risk. He’d not planned to tell him at all, but after a full week of not seeing Seraphina, Marceau figured it was worth the risk. Worry over what Finn may have shared about Vespa preoccupied Marceau the first few days. But now he simply missed working with Seraphina so much he was ready to push the issue.

  Finn said, “I assumed you saw her hex react in some way to your closeness. With the way you jumped, it seemed like an unexpected event.”

  “I should’ve realized you’d put it together. And that’s why she hasn’t been around. You asked her to stay away, then?”

  Finn tilted his beer in a toast as an acknowledgment. “Well, in all honesty, your familiarity and association with the infamous Vespa confirmed the need for that request too.”

  Marceau took a long drink and exhaled. “Once again, a forced work situation I’ve had to endure for many years. I’m sure you’re known to some of the less than savory supernaturals in this area, as well, Finn. Yet I judge you only on who you are, not your associates.”

  Finn stared at him for a long moment and nodded. “Touché.” He took a drink of his beer. “So elaborate on the unexpected event that made you jump halfway to the ceiling.”

  “When my arm was over her shoulder, the strands of her hex reached out. They—I don’t quite know how to explain it—when they touched me, a jolt of raw power flashed up my arm.”

  “Damn it.” Finn rubbed his hand down his face. “Her hex touched you? How is that even possible? Was that the first change you’ve seen in its behavior?”

  Truth time.

  “No. It has been getting brighter. The details have grown crisper and more defined. I’ve noticed the closer I am, the more it glows. I was working on a theory that the curse was feeding on my powers and was the reason for the change, but—”

  “But?”

  “But, I’ve been examining your hex all this time too. Your emotions change, but your hex shows no reaction at all to my power. It should behave the same as hers, yet it doesn’t. So that weakens my theory about the curse feeding.”

  Finn’s hex was not getting brighter or reacting in the same way. That could only mean one thing. One wonderful, terrifying, awful thing. Seraphina l
oved him, or she was beginning to at least. What other explanation could there be? “I have come to care for Seraphina. It wasn’t planned. I think I pose a danger to her now.” Marceau rubbed his hand through his hair and an unruly lock fell against his forehead.

  Finn stood and started pacing.

  “Seraphina doesn’t want me to discuss this with you.” He stopped twice and looked at Marceau and then resumed. “I pushed her to talk about you. I’ve seen signs. She’s usually more distant with strangers, with men in particular. You cannot really blame her for that, now can you? If I knew simply touching the wrong woman could kill me, I’d live in a damned monastery.”

  “You’ve never struck me as the celibate monk type, Finn.” Marceau smiled.

  “Indeed. I’m very glad I’m not subject to that part of the curse, selfish as it may sound.” Finn sat back down and picked at the label on his beer. “I noticed little things at first. Seraphina acted nervous when you were coming. She’d spend more time on her appearance. She’d fidget until you got here.” Finn looked at Marceau as if sizing him up, then continued, “I confronted her. She’s admitted there is some danger. Any feelings must be controlled and not allowed to grow. We agreed I would work with you, alone. You are the best chance we’ve ever had at finding a solution, but it’s not worth her dying over. Not again.”

  She’d come back from death, but neither of them would discuss how. Seraphina said her death was hard on Finn. And she didn’t like to talk about her time in the veil or how she returned.

  Marceau needed to know everything. Any details held back could prevent him from finding the answer to their curse. He would have to push one of them to share. The real question was which one should he ask? Of course, if he never saw Seraphina again, the decision would be made for him.

  Marceau nodded. “I understand. She must be protected. I’d thought the feelings were… one sided. My affection has been growing for a while.”

  When had she developed feelings for him? He thought back, searching for some sign. When had he first seen changes in her hex? She had been touched by the dahlias to some extent, and after that, her hex did start to glow brighter and—

  “Wait. Why didn’t I think of this before?” Marceau leapt from the couch. It was becoming clear to him. He visualized a dahlia. Yes, it made sense. It all made sense now.

  He paced in Finn’s former trail. Finn might not go for it. It was all or nothing stakes. What if Finn said it was too dangerous? What if Finn lost his temper and kicked him out? Marceau had to convince Finn of the potential here. The danger would be worthwhile if an answer could be found. If no solution could be found, Marceau would walk away and he’d vow never to see Seraphina again. No matter how much it hurt. He would not endanger her if the curse truly was unbreakable.

  “You planning to fill me in or are you going to wear a groove in my floor?” Finn asked after several minutes.

  Marceau spun to face him. “Her hex changes. I’ve been looking at yours and hers repeatedly. Yours has always stayed the same, with one exception. When she had an emotional reaction to the flowers, your hex recoiled. Otherwise, yours lies dormant…”

  Finn sat stock still. Was he putting the pieces together too? “You said now Seraphina’s hex is glowing brighter and brighter. You said it gains definition. It reached out and touched you.”

  “Yes. Her curse was dormant in a sense too. Whether because of age or because it had been so long since her feelings activated it. Her curse has awakened as her feelings have. Now, her hex is more visible and showing intricacies that were hidden before. Don’t you see? It’s like a blossoming flower, you cannot see the true shape and colors of the petals until the flower has bloomed. Think of a dahlia.”

  “So, if she is in love…”

  Marceau ran his hand through his hair. “I might finally be able to find the key to the curse. To see the full detail.”

  Finn set down his beer. “So basically, you’re saying she has to be in love, in full mortal danger, before you can see how to save her.”

  “Yes.”

  “I barely brought her back the last time she died. I almost lost her,” Finn whispered, then his voice gained strength, “But I already know what she’ll say. She has to be given the chance.”

  They agreed. Seraphina would work with Marceau again under strict conditions:

  Rule number one was obvious, no touching, ever. In fact, Finn insisted Seraphina and Marceau both wear long sleeves and gloves to insure there would be no accidents.

  Rule number two, Khat or Finn should be present to make sure they never slipped and forgot rule number one.

  Rule number three, no more secrets. Not related to the curse, how the hex changed since Marceau’s arrival, or Seraphina’s death.

  Finn and Marceau debated before agreeing on the last one. Marceau had questions about her death, but he’d let them wait. He was going to see Seraphina again and that was enough for now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Seraphina’s original plan for helping her little ghost friend involved taking Rolf to a hospital or hospice and waiting until the veil opened on its own. Where better to find someone dying?

  She’d never been able to call the veil into her presence though she could often sense it was just out of her reach when she meditated. But now she had a plan B, after spending the last week practicing a conjuring spell translated from the Blackthorne Grimoire.

  Seraphina’s powers had mutated during all the years she was suspended across the veil. She used to have an affinity for elemental magic. In fact, she had abilities with air, fire, water, and earth, though some were minor.

  Her father had bragged of her elemental affinities since her childhood. She’d wondered if that was a safe choice. All Spellcasters could produce magic, but not all had elemental powers. Aedan Callaghan had certainly been aware and made it clear he found that part of her powers attractive. He may have been more drawn to her power, than to her.

  In her last few attempts, she’d summoned the telltale shimmer of the veil while funneling energy into the incantation. But each time the faintest undulation appeared, her energy failed and she nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

  Finn’s answer was to make her a noxious herbal tea that made her jaw tighten with each foul sip. She had to admit his herbal concoctions strengthened her, however, and she was ready to try yet again.

  Seraphina sat cross-legged on a bright, cheerful rug on the floor of her bedroom. She faced the tallest window in the turret. The curtains were open to cast as much light as possible. Otherwise, the veil was too difficult to see. She closed her eyes and focused on the sunlight’s warmth on her face. A light breeze blew her curtains and made long strands of hair tickle her neck. Seraphina’s hands were centered over a wooden bowl of rough grained salt. She started the incantation, repeating the ancient words over and over. Instinctively, her body began to sway forward and back in rhythm with the words. Her mind slipped into a meditative state and the spell flowed freely from her lips.

  A shadow gradually fell over her. No longer did sunlight illuminate her eyelids to a reddish hue. Instead, a stale, distinctively aged smell replaced the fresh air that had flowed through her open windows. Deep in her meditative state, Seraphina did not stop reciting the spell’s melodious words. Her body’s swaying changed on its own. No longer did she rock back and forth, instead, she was turning in a counter clockwise circle. Her head moved in a widdershin direction as well, but much slower than her torso.

  A door creaked open behind her.

  “Miss Sera?” Rolf’s translucent form peeked around her closet door. He repeated louder, “Miss Sera?”

  Rolf walked through the door he’d hid behind and cried out, “Miss Seraphina.”

  A faint red glow lit under her skin as Seraphina whispered the enchantment. She was unaware of Rolf’s presence, unaware of the blood dripping from her nose, down her chin and pooling on the cheery rug, and unaware of the imposing black-clad woman who stood just inside the veil that opened
wide in front of her.

  The woman wore a tightly corseted dress of a heavy, dark material, made of a strange hide with a geometric pattern as if scaled. But this leather had very little in common with mundane cow skin.

  When the mysterious woman looked up at Rolf, a terrifying smile split her blood red lips. “I have waited long. The girl will finally free me.”

  The horrified ghost ran through Seraphina’s bedroom wall and only his echoing growl remained in the now darkened bedroom.

  “Mongrel,” she spat.

  Her long skirt twisted around her legs. The faint red light cast from Seraphina’s skin reflected off iridescent scales when the woman whipped her long, flowing skirt behind her to reveal bare, bloody feet. She tried to step forward. Her victorious smile fell into a cruel snarl when her progress was impeded by an invisible barrier. “This cannot be,” she howled. “You are not pushing hard enough, girl. I command you to release me.” The woman raised her pale arms and started an enchantment of her own.

  Seraphina’s voice cracked as she transitioned from a whisper to a shout in an instant. Her recitation sped up and the blood flowing from her nose splashed against her breath from the ferocity of her words.

  The bedroom door slammed open. Khat paused only a second to take in the scene before her. She rushed to help and dropped to her knees behind Seraphina as a crack splintered across the air between them and the woman.

  A stale, foul wind came through the crack in the veil and blew papers all over the room from Seraphina’s neat desk.

  Rolf ran to their side and squatted, putting his furry face right in front of Seraphina’s. “Miss Sera. You gotta hush. That lady gonna come through if you don’t stop. She ain’t no ghost. She ain’t supposed to cross.”

  Khat grabbed Seraphina, hugging her tight. She squeezed her eyes shut in concentration and a golden, metallic light illuminated and flowed down her skin in a shimmering trail. Khat’s misty, metallic magic blanketed against her friend and she cried out, “Rolf, if you’re in here, I need your help. I’m going to try to save Seraphina, but you have to keep her from getting through.” The moment Khat’s magic covered Seraphina completely, the fissures splintering out from the crack in the veil ceased growing.