by Sarah Piper
“It is not enough to seek your own sword,” she continued. “You must learn to use that sword as well.”
I gasped. Had she read my thoughts? Was she actually encouraging me to kill Sebastian? What the hell was going on?
“Are you alright, girl?” Sebastian asked.
I blinked at him slowly. Numb. My eyes drifted back to the woman.
“He can’t hear me,” she said. “Only you.”
Her mouth hadn’t moved. It hadn’t moved, I realized then, from the moment we’d stepped into this room.
Everything she’d said to me, she’d said in my mind.
I’d heard of witches who could telegraph their own thoughts into the mind of another. But how could she have known about my vision? I hadn’t told anyone about that. Not even Liam.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, quickly trying to regroup. Despite the unconventional delivery method, the swords of the Tarot must’ve had a message for me, but what? Both the Three and the Four of Swords had come up in Sophie’s book of shadows, in the reading she’d done just before she died. I’d seen the swords again in my nightmare in the Shadowrealm, and then again on the boat, when they’d pierced my heart.
But in the Tarot, swords weren’t just about conflict. They were also about thoughts. Speech. Learning to harness your personal power and standing up for yourself and for those who needed protection.
Maybe that was the message I needed to hear today. It was time to stop cowering in the face of this devil and pick up my damn sword.
“Why have I brought you here, Shadowmancer?” Sebastian asked, and this time, I was ready for him. A surge of hot anger melted away the lingering fear.
“Let me guess,” I said. “You want me to raise you an army full of corpses. Or better yet—magic up some poor lost souls and convince them to come work for you. Or maybe you want to run experiments on me, cut me open, see if you can figure out what makes a soul manipulator tick.”
Behind me, Ronan shifted, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
“Simmer down, demon,” Sebastian ordered. Then, to me, “Intriguing ideas, witch. But I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. Soul manipulation is an extremely rare power, I’ll give you that. But I’m not interested in your ability to raise the dead. Not today, anyway.”
“You want to enslave my soul,” I said. “That’s obvious.”
“Miss Desario! Wherever would you get such a preposterous idea?” He said preposterous like pree-posterous, and laughed as though I were the funniest girl in the world.
“You are the Prince of Hell, correct?” I asked. “Or is your whole dark, brooding, evil schtick just a smokescreen compensating for something else?”
Careful, the woman warned. Don’t push him too far.
I kept my eyes fixed on Sebastian, not wanting to give her away. But why was she helping me? Was she a prisoner as well? She sat at his side as though they were on equal footing, and the way he angled his body toward her suggested a much more intimate relationship than master-servant.
So whose side was she actually on?
Ignoring my dig, Sebastian cleared his throat, leaning forward so his face was once again in the light. The flickering candle made the pocks in his face deeper, his eyes more menacing. For all his southern-fried smoothness, Sebastian was downright frightening when he wanted to be.
“I don’t need your soul today, witch,” he said, his menacing tone sending shivers down my spine. “I need your blood.”
“My… blood?” The same fear from before pulsed in my chest, but I let it pass, taking comfort in the familiar hum of my magic. I couldn’t manifest it here, but I could still feel it simmering in my blood, tingling. Liam had been right about that, at least. My magic was still with me, even here.
“Why?” I asked.
“For a summoning.” He said it as though it all made perfect sense, but I was lost. A summoning? Of what?
I glanced back up at the woman, who nodded slowly. Soothingly. I didn’t know how, but we’d… connected somehow. Not just the telepathy, but some kind of link. I felt it tethering us, an invisible thread that allowed me to feel her emotions.
She was sending them to me. Infusing me with them.
Calmness. Reassurance. Support. And most oddly of all—love.
I lifted an eyebrow in question, but she remained stoic, her gaze fixated on the candle in front of her.
I was so thrown off by the whole thing that it took me a minute to realize Sebastian was talking again.
“…powerful line of witches that dates back millennia,” he was saying. “Your bloodline was thought to have vanished centuries ago, relegated to the status of an urban legend. But some of us knew better, of course. When the opportunity arose to put you under my protection, well. Only a fool would have turned that down. And thanks to a series of unfortunate events perpetuated by some of your associates, here you are.”
He spread his hands and beamed at me, waiting for me to speak. What did he expect? A thank you? A pat on the back for all his cleverness?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, which was the truth. My bloodline? My biological mother had died when I was too young to even remember her. I knew nothing about my father. As far as I was concerned, Calla was my true mother. And if she’d been part of any ancient, urban-legend-inspiring legacy, she would’ve told me.
“You are Silversbane,” the woman said reverently, her crystal-clear voice cutting through my thoughts. It was the first sentence she’d spoken out loud so far, and the sound of it reverberated through my very bones, igniting the magic within me and filling me with an odd sense of… belonging.
“But I’ve never even heard of Silversbane,” I said. Ronan shifted behind me, his energy suddenly antsy. Did he recognize the name? “I’m not—”
My thoughts cut off abruptly as a memory arced through my mind, flashing behind my eyes like a bolt of lightning.
A woman enraged, her dark hair swirling around her head, whipped into a frenzy by the wind. A storm raging, inside and out. A creek, icy cold and rushing by my face so fast…
“I am Silversbane! This magic is my legacy. Mine! Why should you have it when it was promised to me? My birthright! You have stolen it, Shadowborn filth!”
Cold hands pressing on my shoulders, sharp nails digging into my flesh, and then… ice. Freezing. Gasping. A bolt of pain in my skull, pressure, my lungs on fire…
“Stay down! Stop squirming, little bitch!”
“Unfortunately, Silversbane was your mother’s legacy, not your father’s,” the woman said, yanking me out of the memory. Or vision. What was that?
“Unfortunately?” I asked, blinking away the last of the images. I couldn’t shake the cold, though. I rubbed my arms, pulling the sleeves of Ronan’s sweatshirt down over my hands.
“Power is as much a gift as a curse,” she said. “Though I suspect you already know as much.”
At this, I arched an eyebrow. “Says the witch sharing the head of the table with the Prince of Hell? Not to be rude, but you seem a little old to be a princess.”
“I’m not a princess, child. I’m Deirdre Olivante,” she said matter-of-factly. “Your paternal grandmother.”
“My… grandmother?” My mouth dropped open in disbelief. I had a grandmother? Alive? In league with the Prince of Hell?
We will speak of this in private later, she whispered in my mind. I will tell you everything. Please just remain calm, no matter what he says.
Before I could even process what she was saying, not to mention the fact that I suddenly had a grandmother I’d never heard of, Sebastian was rambling on about the bloodline again.
“Your ancestors are extremely powerful, even in death,” he said. “I require access to that power. Unfortunately, as they have already passed on, I can not retrieve them through normal means. But you, Miss Desario, can.”
Show interest, Deirdre said, her tone growing more insistent. The sooner you let him get to the point, the sooner we can leave.<
br />
I hoped she was right. I also hoped her apparent help wasn’t a trap.
“How can I get the souls if they’ve already passed on?” I asked Sebastian.
“Through the blood summoning. You are their legacy. The souls will not be able to resist the call of their descendent—especially one as powerful as you.”
“What do you want with their souls? Don’t you have enough to choose from?”
“I do not owe you a reckoning of my affairs, Miss Desario. I’m simply informing you of your first assignment.”
“I’m not—”
Let him speak, Deirdre snapped.
“You will summon their souls as required,” he said, “then use your powers of manipulation to reintegrate them into new vessels, which will then be made available for my purposes.”
I didn’t bother telling him that Liam and I hadn’t quite gotten to the Soul Reinsertion 101 portion of our lesson plan. Even if I wanted to help him summon my ancestors, there was no way I could do what he was asking.
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You want me to yank my ancestors out of their eternal rest by tricking them into thinking I’m summoning them, then imprison them in mortal bodies, and turn them over to you for some creepy purpose you refuse to divulge?”
“Well, you make it sound rather crass, but yes. That is your first duty to me, in a nutshell.”
“Oooh-kay,” I said.
I’d meant it as a pause, a breath before I told him exactly where he could stick his bloodlines and evil plans. But Sebastian clearly took the word as my acquiescence. His eyes lit up, the overeager smile making his lips twitch. He was doing his damnedest to hide it, but he’d just shown me his full hand.
This wasn’t just some random errand he was sending me on. Something any one of his lackeys could do. Sebastian needed me. And only me.
And despite his bluster, a blood summoning wasn’t something he could force me to do, either. It was magic. It required intention. Cooperation. You couldn’t fake out a spell. If my heart wasn’t in it, the magic would know, and it would backfire.
I pressed my lips together, hiding my own smile.
So I did have a bargaining chip here. Maybe not the upper hand, but something close to an equal one, which was a hell of a lot more than I had when I’d walked into this dungeon.
“I’m so glad we’ve come to this agreement,” Sebastian said. “Now, if you’ll just—”
“Wait.” I held up my hand, cutting him off cold. Now that I had his attention, and new what he wanted, I decided to test the boundaries a bit. “If I do as you ask, I need something from you, too.”
“Gray.” Ronan grabbed the sides of my chair, his knuckles turning white. “Stop.”
Sebastian let out a smarmy, patronizing chuckle. “Oh, let the girl speak her pretty little mind, son! There’s no harm in hearing her request.” Then, to me, “What would you like, Miss Desario? A shopping spree? A makeover? Some chocolates?”
“Actually, I’d like you to stop interfering in my relationship with Ronan. It has nothing to do with you, and I’d appreciate it if you’d undo whatever mojo you put on him to make us catch fire at every touch.”
“This again?” He rolled his eyes. The Prince of freaking Hell rolled his eyes. “Sorry. No can do.”
“That was never part of my deal,” I said. “My relationship with Ronan didn’t exist when my contract was executed.”
“You’re right,” he said plainly. “It wasn’t part of your deal. But it was part of his.” He nodded toward Ronan, his smile stretching all the way to Texas.
“His?” Heart hammering a terrible new rhythm in my chest, I turned around and tipped my head up, trying to catch Ronan’s eyes. It was a long time before he finally looked at me.
“I had to,” he whispered. Regret filled his eyes. “It was the only way he’d agree to let us use the hell portal.”
His earlier words came back to haunt me, their meaning clear only now.
It’s not a trick, Gray. It’s a price.
“What, exactly, did you pay?” I asked.
“You know,” he said softly. His voice was breaking. So was my heart.
“Say it,” I whispered.
“Oh, for the love of all that is unholy.” Sebastian slammed his hand on the table, making the candle flame flicker. “You two are pathetic. It’s your own damn fault for giving into this temptation anyway. I’m doing you both a favor by putting an end to it.”
I closed my eyes, willing myself to remain calm. Grief and misery were banging on the door of my heart, but I couldn’t afford to let them in. Not with so much at stake.
I couldn’t afford to lose it. I needed to hold on to that damn sword and figure a way out of this.
Opening my eyes, I looked across the table at my grandmother. “Could I speak to the Prince alone please.”
“No,” Ronan said, at the time Deirdre said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Ignoring the protests, Sebastian nodded, gesturing for Deirdre and Ronan to show themselves to the door.
Deirdre went first, and Sebastian’s eyes never left her. For a brief instant, I saw the flicker of something almost human on his face. It was gone in a blink, but not before he’d given me another clue into his motives.
I had no idea what it meant. Only that what I’d seen was unmistakable.
Sebastian was in love with my grandmother.
“Gray,” Ronan called, and when I looked at him, I saw the trepidation in his eyes. The worry. He didn’t want to leave me alone with Sebastian, but I couldn’t think straight with him in the room. Not after what I’d learned—what his deal meant for us. I needed to stay focused on Sebastian, on what I could use as leverage to buy myself some more time.
For so long, Ronan had been my rock. My protector. My best friend.
But at the moment, he was no more than a distraction. One I couldn’t afford.
He lingered at the threshold with the two hellhounds, awaiting my response, refusing to join Deirdre in the hallway. But in the end, Sebastian showed him a single raised eyebrow, and Ronan caved.
I knew he would. That’s how it was in this place. All of us were bound to Sebastian, forced to follow his orders or risk the life-altering consequences.
For now.
Twelve
Gray
Finally alone with the man who’d bought my soul, I squared my shoulders, sat up straight, and got right to the point.
“I’m sure you’re aware that witches and the supernatural community at large are facing a massive new threat,” I said. “Those who haven’t been murdered outright have been taken prisoner, experimented on, tortured, and worse—used to create hybrid breeds and unstoppable supernatural weapons.”
Sebastian stroked his goatee. “And you’ve come by this knowledge, how, exactly?”
I gave him the rundown on Jonathan and the prison—the horrors we saw there. “I don’t know how or when, but the hunters are planning to unleash pure chaos. The entire supernatural community is in grave danger, as are humans.”
Sebastian’s oily laugh filled the room. “And this should concern me because…”
“You may not care about the fate of humanity, Sebastian. But if humans die off, you’ll have fewer resources to exploit. Your demons will have fewer vessels to inhabit. Without the human capital that keeps this show running…” I spread my hands, indicating the tiny dungeon of the room, as well as the demon himself. “The whole seedy underbelly of your operation will come to a screeching halt.”
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, not saying a word. His brows were stern and serious, but I saw the flicker of concern in his eyes. He’d heard me. Knew that the picture I was painting wasn’t such a farfetched possibility.
“Get to the point, Silversbane.”
“My name is Desario.”
“I don’t care what you call yourself. Just get to the point. You’re obstinance is starting to grate.”
I rose f
rom the chair and crossed to the end of the table, standing before him. His lip twitched—the only indication that my presence affected him at all.
“My whole life, you’ve been making deals for my future—for my soul—with other people.” Again, the magic inside me flared, giving me strength. Purpose. Power. “Now you’re going to deal with me.”
“You are a rebellious one, aren’t you?” He laughed again, but it’d lost some of its earlier bravado. “You’ve spent too much time with demons.”
“We could solve that right now.” I jerked my head toward the door. “Let me walk, free and clear. Your absence from my life would mean one less demon to mess with my head.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Explain it again, then. I’m new here.” I took a step closer, forcing him to look up to see me—to reveal the truth in his eyes. I unnerved him. He couldn’t figure me out. He didn’t like that one bit.
“If you refuse your assignments,” he sad, tapping the table for emphasis. “I return your soul to hell. There will be no brokering for its release after that. No deals, no trades, no begging, no rescue missions mounted by the bumbling, craven men who can’t seem to think clearly where you are concerned. That, my dear, will be your eternity.”
I watched him carefully. For a guy who owned a casino, his poker face left much to be desired.
He was totally bluffing.
“Do you think that scares me?” I asked, pressing my advantage. “That black, empty place Liam pulled me out of? That’s not hell, Sebastian. Hell is turning your back on the people you care about and living the rest of your days knowing you could’ve helped them, but failed. Hell is watching someone you love burn before your eyes, powerless to save them. Hell is losing the people who matter to you most, no matter how hard you try to hold on. So let me tell you something, Prince.” I leaned forward, making him flinch. “I’d rather spend a lifetime in your hell than one more minute in mine.”
He lifted his hand, and a wave of power hit me, shoving me backward. I managed to stay on my feet, but barely.
I righted myself, and Sebastian smiled, thinking once again he’d gotten the upper hand.