Page 3 of Unbroken
Then…something happened. What, Sebastian didn’t know, only that his great-granduncles and aunts had their bodies taken apart under the blazing light of Halley’s Comet, the remains made into four unholy books: the Book of Flesh, Book of Breath, Book of Bone, and Book of Blood. Who had done this to them was an unanswered question, though his money was on Gregorio’s wife and his great-grandmother, Lydia Hollowell.
What evil the Books had wrought at the time, he hadn’t yet discovered. At some point, they ended up in the hands of two men determined to put an end to their fell power: Nathaniel R. Ladysmith, founder of the very museum Sebastian now worked in, and Alexander Dromgoole, an architect and Ladysmith’s lover.
Unfortunately, the best they’d been able to do was Bind the Books to Dromgoole in an effort to contain their power, then seal them away in four buildings designed to act as three-dimensional spirit wards. The museum was one; Sebastian’s childhood home had been another. Dromgoole died raving in a madhouse for his efforts, and the Books lay dormant…until Halley’s Comet had returned this very May.
Now three were Bound to Sebastian and contained within the museum library. The fourth, they were still seeking—as was a cabal of sorcerers who styled themselves the School of Night.
One upside was the Books had given him arcane powers, a new one with each Binding. Even Ves had admitted these new abilities were useful, yet he still felt Sebastian needed his protection.
But that was surely natural—when you loved someone, you wanted to keep them safe. He squeezed Ves’s hand in return and gave him a fond smile.
As they rounded the lake, the Endicott manor came into view, every window ablaze, the lights reflecting like earth-bound stars in the restless water. Ves tensed beside him, even as Noct peered out the window.
The Endicott family was possibly even more complicated than Sebastian’s own, and that was saying something. They were exceedingly powerful and very dangerous. Up until a scant few years ago, they had seen it as their mission to slaughter what they considered to be the monsters of this world.
Dark Young—hybrid offspring of a human and the All-Mother, Lord of the Forest, also known as the Black Goat with a Thousand Young—were on that list. A mere decade ago, Noct and Ves would have been their bitter enemies.
But that same decade ago, Noct and Ves had been part of a cult intending to enslave humanity. Noct would have ruled over the ruins of civilization, after Ves cleared the way.
Circumstances changed, sometimes swiftly. The last time they’d been here, the atmosphere had been the sort of welcome that’s only a hair away from violence. Now, Irene swore there would be no trouble after the head of the household, Rupert Endicott, indicated support for Noct’s relationship with her. The other side of the coin was that the rest of the family would have fallen on them had Rupert decided differently.
What if Noct’s speculation was right, and one of the Endicotts had turned traitor? From what he understood, it would hardly be the first time. For all their protestations of family unity, they’d spilled one another’s blood before.
Perhaps complicated was an understatement.
“We have to warn Irene,” Sebastian said. “That someone might have been in contact with your wretched mother, I mean.”
Noct put a tentacle over his eyes in a gesture of despair. “Gods of the wood, she’ll never want to marry me now. Er, I mean…if the matter should come up…”
“You’re going to propose?” Sebastian asked, delighted. He loved weddings, having been at all three of his sister’s.
“Well, certainly not tonight!” A look of panic flashed across Noct’s face. “I don’t want Rupert mad at me for upstaging his birthday.”
The brooding expression vanished from Ves’s face, and he leaned forward to embrace his brother. “I’m so happy for you.”
“She hasn’t said yes—I haven’t even asked.”
Sebastian snorted. “Oh, come now. Irene is hardly a reticent woman who keeps her mind to herself. I think we all know what her answer will be.”
The carriage rolled to a halt in front of the manor. Irene herself waited for them on the steps, wearing a V-necked sapphire gown, her black hair neatly pinned up to expose the brown column of her neck. Her dark eyes lit up, and she hurried down the stairs as a footman swung open the carriage door.
Noct descended in a swarm of tentacles, took her hand, and kissed it as though he were an old-fashioned gentleman. “May I speak with you privately for a moment, dearest?”
Her happy expression faded at his tone. “Yes. Of course.”
They withdrew a few feet, and Irene crouched down as best she could given the slim skirts currently in fashion, combined with the fact that she herself was anything but slim. Sebastian considered offering Ves his arm, then decided against it. If the Endicotts turned on them—unlikely, but not impossible—they’d both want their hands free.
Irene rose, a dark cloud over her features that promised a storm. “Follow me. Rupert needs to hear this at once.”
The opulence of the Endicott manor seemed to press in on Ves like a trap made from gold, marble, and jewels. Irene led them through a series of halls paneled in oak, and he noted the various chokepoints that would allow defenders to bring an invading force to a standstill. As the family had gutted the old manor and remade it in their own image when moving in, he could only assume the design was deliberate.
Eventually, she swung open a door that let onto what appeared to be a small study. Three of the walls held built-in bookshelves, all of them crammed full of various texts. The fourth was pierced with two tall windows to either side of a modest fireplace. A desk stood with its back to the hearth, stacked with more books and boasting a small globe.
Rupert sat behind the desk, shuffling through some paperwork. The gold rims of his glasses gleamed against dark brown skin, and strands of silver showed in his tightly curled hair. He sat back and raised a brow at them. “I assume this couldn’t wait until after dinner, Irene?”
“I’m afraid not, Seeker,” she said, invoking his official title within the family.
His demeanor shifted subtly, becoming more formal. “What is this about?”
