Page 66 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
‘I’m aware,’ Emrys’s response was terse, a darkness rippling beneath his skin before his hand tensed and it ceased.
‘How can you stop them being possessed?’ I frowned, setting my teacup back on the table.
‘Verr are territorial, darling. Didn’t your ancestors teach you that?’ Thean mocked. ‘They submit very quickly to a creature far more powerful than themselves. A simple summoned demon wouldn’t stand a chance against our dear Emrys’s wrath.’
Serus, even. Why the Council had cowed under Emrys’s mere presence. Why that gobrite had. They needed him, because without him to keep those demons after their souls at bay – they’d become the dark creatures they worshipped.
‘The lords came together in the end,’ Gideon added. They’d come together for the uprising, at the end of all things.
‘Father saw to that,’ Emrys challenged.
‘Then you’d better channel the bastard and make them remember why they did it in the first place,’ Gideon fired back, undeterred by the shortness of his brother’s temper, or how many shadows had crept into the room.
‘Those lords probably think I blew up the fucking Council.’ Emrys drained the cup of tea before him in one irritated swallow.
‘So? You should claim you murdered those lords in the outer territory too,’ Gideon added, something like amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘Fear might make them all more cooperative.’
The murder of Lord Septimus and Lord Huntington that had been reported inThe Crow’s Footbefore Fairfax. The memory of it seemed to prod me.
‘What use would I have for a lord’s blood?’ Emrys answered with barely contained irritation.
Gideon shrugged, stirring his tea once again. ‘Drink it? I don’t know. Be creative.’
Emrys glowered at his brother.
Blood, a hissed distant voice mocked in the back of my mind. A sharp flash came from the wishing stone. Like a phantom, prodding finger, insistent to get my attention.
Just like it had in the Council chamber. Warning me.
Blood.That’s what the creature in the pit had been after. My blood. But it had started long before that. Finneaus with that book in the Fifth Library. How desperate the book was to be opened. The cloudy, fearful confusion in his gaze. Why Finnaeus would be working with Montagor. Why he’d need that boy’s blood .
The compendiums.
I stood so suddenly my chair toppled over behind me.
‘Kat.’ William leapt to his feet, worry carving deep into his features, knocking over the stack of crumpets. Probably fearful I’d lost my mind once again. I couldn’t blame him. I felt like I had.
‘Where are those copies ofThe Crow’s Foot?’ I demanded, unable to steady my breath. Too many thoughts pressing too tightly against my temples.
‘These—’ Gideon began, pointing with a metal finger to those scattered across the table.
‘No. Before,’ were the only words I could let escape my lips, my heart hammering viciously against my ribs.
‘In the kitchen,’ William answered reluctantly. ‘Why do you—’
I was already moving, Emrys’s voice a distant call as I raced into the hall and almost threw myself down the kitchen steps that manifested to my right. Skidding to a halt only when I came to the table at the centre. Seeing the stack of William’s collection beneath a bowl of highly polished green apples.
I lunged for them, rifling wildly, hearing the commotion of everyone following. I turned, Alma and William pressed into the narrow stairwell as Gideon elbowed his way through them. Emrys already before me.
‘Lord Septimus.’ I thrust the pages at him, only his focus didn’t stray from my face as the pages remained pressed against his chest. ‘Lord Huntington.’
The murdered lords. Who’d been deprived of their blood. The ones that had set Emrys on edge.
‘He was hunting them.’ I tapped the pages as Emrys took them into his hands.
That Montagor was seeking the power he could take from them. What if that power was compendiums or relics? Items that could only be awakened with blood. Just like when Finneaus opened that book.
‘He needed their blood. To open the compendiums they left behind. That was why Finneaus was opening the book in the Fifth Library. He didn’t want to be there. Montagor must have forced his hand,’ I continued, prodding those lords’ names on the page to emphasis my point. ‘That’s how he got the relic. He found a compendium that took him to it.’
