Page 2 of Unbroken
His heart pounded, but he kept his expression neutral from long practice. There was no point in asking how she’d gained admittance; he only hoped she hadn’t killed anyone in the process.
“I’ve hardly had time to miss you, given how recently we encountered one another,” he replied.
She pouted, but the expression had an edge of cruelty to it, as all of hers did. “You’re a terrible child. Where’s your little friend, Mortimer? I did like him.”
A threat, delivered with all the sweetness of a mother talking to a five-year-old. Not that she’d ever been sweet to him or his brother, every treat laced with poison.
He ignored her question; best to divert her attention from anyone but him. He didn’t think she’d kill him, and if she tried…well, he was a great deal more hardy than anyone purely human. Even she might find it difficult to end his life.
“Did you want something?” he asked, striving to keep his tone level.
“Besides seeing my oldest child?” She emerged from the alcove and reached out with hands tipped with long nails. He tried not to flinch when she cupped his face in them, the sharp points lightly pricking the skin below his eyes. “My very, very ungrateful son, who hasn’t even thanked me yet for winnowing the ranks of the School of Night.”
The words lay like stones in his mouth. “Thank you, Mother.”
“There, was that so hard?” She dropped her hands back to her sides. “Speaking of that ridiculous cult, they’re very angry right now. All of their leaders are dead, except for the Chancellor.”
The woman they suspected of killing Sebastian’s mother in an aborted attempt to get her hands on the Book of Flesh. “I’m sure she’ll be next.”
Mother’s smile took on a feral edge. “That’s my boy. I suggest you act quickly, find the last Book before she can. The Book of Blood, isn’t it?”
Her interest put his hackles up. The Books were powerful artifacts, necromantically created from the remains of four siblings. If she got her hands on one, things would go very badly indeed.
Despite his efforts, he must have let something slip, because she tapped his lower lip with one daggerlike nail. “Now, now, don’t worry. This is your and your brother’s project. I’m simply here to help, as any good mother would be.”
A good mother, who’d left scars on his back after whipping him with a silver-tipped flogger. A part of him wanted to laugh, another to cry.
“What do you know?” he asked instead.
“Dear Fagerlie was an idiot, but he talked a great deal before he died. With suitable persuasion, of course.” She smiled as if at a fond memory. “The Professor, as he styled himself, had studied up and acquired some theories as to what gifts the Books might offer those who stumble upon them. Do you know what blood is used for in magic?”
He was no sorcerer, and she knew it. “Enlighten me.”
“There are many potential uses, of course—don’t mistake me on that. But the most common is in spells meant to control.”
Sebastian had received…gifts was probably not the right word. Powers, then, from being Bound to the three Books they’d already discovered. The Book of Breath in particular allowed him to compel others to tell him the truth. But it sounded as though Mother was talking about a much deeper level of coercion.
“I see.”
“I only tell you this as a warning.” She cocked her head. “Though I don’t know whether it would work on you. Most sorcery doesn’t, after all. So perhaps it’s only your human companions you need to worry about.”
Was it truly a warning, or a threat? Both, most likely. “Thank you for the information.”
“Of course.” She drew back. “I should let you return to your work. And have a lovely time at the party tonight.”
“She knew we were going to the Endicott manor tonight?” Nocturn Rune asked in alarm. “How? Has she been talking to someone? Following us? No, not just following, she wouldn’t have known about the party. Has she subverted one of the Endicotts?”
Sebastian Rath sat in the back of a horse-drawn coach, beside Ves and across from Noct. All of them were dressed in evening wear, although in Noct’s case that amounted only to an embroidered smock and cloak, since most other clothing couldn’t be tailored to his myriad tentacles. The coach rolled smoothly along the side of the lake in front of what had been the Somerby Estate in his childhood and was now occupied by the Endicotts. The waning moon hadn’t yet risen, but the stars glittered overhead in their thousands.
“I don’t know,” Ves said, and the defeat in his voice tugged at Sebastian’s heart. “She says she wants to help us, but…”
“All of her actions are, shall we say, threatening,” Sebastian finished when Ves trailed off into silence. “Blast. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you at the time, angel.”
Ves took Sebastian’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “She wanted to get me alone. And honestly, I’d just as soon keep you as far away from her as possible.”
Sebastian frowned, a bit miffed at Ves’s words. Ves wanted to protect him, which Sebastian understood, considering he wanted to protect his love in turn. But thanks to the Books, he wasn’t as helpless as Ves seemed to think.
The Books of the Bound. A part of him wished he’d never heard of the damned things, though of course they were what had brought Ves into his life. The Books were made from Sebastian’s own kin—four necromancers, who came to Widdershins from Ipswich seeking a way to resurrect their dead brother, Gregorio Hollowell. A rumored vampire, and Sebastian’s own great-grandfather.
