Link here to a general overview of the novel
Prologue, Chpt 1, Chpt 2, Chpt 3, Chpt 4, Chpt 5, Chpt 6, Chpt 7, Chpt 8, Chpt 9, Chpt 10, Chpt 11, Chpt 12, Chpt 13, Chpt 14, Chpt 15, Chpt 16, Chpt 17
Chapter Eighteen
Sebastian
If the man sitting across from us doesn’t stop frowning soon his face is going to stick that way. Maybe he hadn’t gotten the childhood memo with that universal warning. But Johan’s dedication to his irritated expression during this mid-morning visit, aka frog march, to his office is considerable.
“Explain,” Johan demands, leaning forward at his desk, palms down on the wood, like he’s trying to loom without the burden of needing to stand over us. The chairs we occupy across from his desk are at a lower height than his seat, a calculation of interior decoration meant to give him psychological advantage, I’m sure.
“Explain what?” Daav answers. He’s not going to make it easy on the Conclave head. Good for him.
“Don’t play games.” Johan shoots a nasty look my way, as if I’m to blame for everything. “First, your antics at the public speech taking off your masks. Then, no one can find you at the celebration and you blow the grid across the entire city. I’ve invited you down here this morning after spending hours dealing with the mess of a citywide blackout, but you come in with contusions across your face and hands.”
“Oh, they’re all over his body too,” I add, trying to be helpful. The asshole hadn’t let me heal him.
Daav drops his mask of unaffected neutrality for maybe a breath, long enough for me to register his annoyance as he flicks his gaze to me then back to Johan.
“Did you get hit with shards of light fixtures wherever you were hiding last night?” Johan asks. He waves a hand at us. “Never mind. Then, an explosion at the docks across from Sebastian’s building early this morning. I repeat, explain. What’s the purpose behind these stunts?”
I blink, find myself gripping the hand rests of the seat as I sit straight. “An explosion?”
“The building is fine,” Daav says to me.
“You knew about it? When did you hear?”
Pain flares his sea eyes, then disappears. “Before Johan called us.”
So he’d known when he’d slipped back into the suite all cut up and looking like he wanted to freak out, but stuffing the upset carefully down. I’d sworn a blue streak, forcing him into the washroom and getting him into a hot shower, cleaned up and bandaged, but holding back questions recognizing his state of shock. Soon after that, Johan’s messenger arrived with his demand that we join him in his office.
“The grid blew because of me,” he says, nodding to Johan. “A failed experiment in an attempt to expand my power.”
Lie, but okay, I get it.
“I won’t apologize for removing my privacy mask,” Daav says. “My identity is no longer secret, and won’t change the threat level.”
I grin. “People either love him or hate him. And those that love him went wild when he took off the mask. You want our country to get behind him, that serves your goal.”
“The explosion at the dock is unrelated,” Daav continues. “Maybe Harkness was targeting the warehouse if he discovered Sebastian’s identity and link to me.”
Lie again. What the fuck is going on with my Prince? He’s said the building is fine, so Isolde must be okay. But he’s hurt and I wish I could drag him out of this stuffy office and kiss away whatever’s dug its nasty claws into him.
Johan will not conveniently disappear, however. Instead, he starts tapping a pen on his desk in a repetitive staccato. Damn annoying, but the man is clearly anxious. Very unlike him.
“You said the experiment was a failure? Were you at the lab during the celebration? Something had to be different with your power levels if you brought down the grid since the test the day before. You’ve never reported any abnormality with controlling your tangles.”
Daav’s lips tighten minutely. “Yes, a growth in power. I was surprised by it, that was all. Failure was the wrong word.”
Johan sits back in his seat and finally smiles. “That’s good news, then. Progress.”
“Progress,” Daav repeats.
Yeah, something is definitely wrong.
“Look, I have to meet with Congress in ten minutes. They want an explanation for the power outage, but I’ll report to them that it was only a reflection of your growth. They’ll overlook the grid at this stage in the game. Just be careful and keep at it. Get back down to the lab.”
“The lab is helpful,” Daav says, not agreeing to return, but seeming to.
“Great.” Johan rises and escorts us to the door, exiting into the office antechamber and grabbing his suit jacket hanging from a hook, donning it in preparation for his meeting. “I’ll check back when I’m done with Congress and have more time to go over details. Remember, you’re to remain at headquarters. It’s the only way to guarantee your safety. Aside from dockside explosions, just today there was an industrial accident at a plant, flames spread like wildfire.” Johan narrows his eyes. “You didn’t cause that with your power, did you?”
Daav stiffens. “No, absolutely not.”
“Good. But it’s hard to tell the ends Harkness will go to in order to get at you or target Orreance.” He sighs. “And while I don’t appreciate the stunt with the mask yesterday, it’s not the end of the world. Just try to avoid surprises in the future.” He shifts his gaze to me when he says it. The asshole still blames me for the unmasking even though I only followed Daav’s lead.
“Great to see you, Johan,” I say, extending my hand for a shake. “I’m glad we could have this little chat.” He’s never appreciated my finer qualities, hated having to deal with me living in the outside world all these years, more out from under his thumb than he likes. But he suppresses his scowl and takes my hand.
“Sebastian,” he returns.
Daav doesn’t offer his.
Johan makes his goodbyes and leaves.
Over at the corner of the office, Kevin is at his desk, shuffling papers around and looking down at a stack as if he’s concentrating on the most important document in the world. I’m shocked he’s at work this morning. He wasn’t here when we entered earlier. I bet if he’d known Johan had us inside for a meeting, he wouldn’t have returned.
But it makes sense he’s returned. Where would he go? Assuming our guess was right, if he doesn’t deliver, Harkness won’t help. Maybe he’s praying we’re still clueless about the poison since we didn’t drink the stuff.
“Kevin,” Daav says as he approaches the assistant’s desk.
“Hello, Daav. Did you enjoy the party?” He’s almost stammering with his nervousness. The question is ridiculous since the lights went out not long after he’d left us.
“Until it went dark, sure. Did Johan have you up all hours dealing with the chaos of the blackout?”
“Yeah, I mean, yes. There was a lot to sort.”
Daav’s in front of him now, staring at him with calm, cool regard. Cold even, something I never see in my Prince’s face. He keeps everything at arms length, but he’s never cold.
“You’re surprised to see us? Panicked even?”
“Wha…what do you mean?”
“Let me be direct. The glasses of frechinia were poisoned.”
“No!” He stands suddenly, although it’s clear he has no idea where to go.
“You planned on killing us. I like you, Kevin. And I suspect this is about your wife. Did Harkness promise you treatment for her in Staltz if you succeeded? Or enough money for it even if he didn’t make arrangements? Refuge in his country alongside the treatment?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man’s almost in tears.
“You do, and I would forgive you if it was just me you threatened. But you arrived with three glasses, all poisoned. So I assume you either had an antidote for yourself or never intended to drink. That means Sebastian would have died alongside me, and for that I can never forgive you.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, and tears now run down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to, but I had no choice. She’s dying, and there are no other options. I can’t lose her, she’s everything. Please, let me go. I’ll stay away. Don’t turn me in, I’m all she’s got.” He’s pleading, crying harder now.
“Dry your tears, Kevin. I’m not one for retribution, so instead I’ll offer you a deal. An easy one at that.”
“What?” He’s shocked, but a confused hopefulness stretches his face.
“Access to Congressman Chelton. Get me a meeting with him someplace private…without Johan knowing.”
“For what reason?” He’s wiping his eyes with his sleeves, his nose, too, which started to drip during his crying jag.
“You don’t need to know.”
“But I need to give him a reason to get him to agree.”
“Don’t tell him it’s with me. Let him assume it’s with Johan. Set the time, the place, I’ll show up.”
“That’s all?” he asks.
“Research on his activities over the past three decades. His key aides, alliances, business dealings. As much as you can get your hands on. I know Johan has private files and access to other sources.” Daav pauses. “See what you can find specifically on his aide Pasqua.”
What’s the origin of this interest in Chelton and this Pasqua? Then, I remember Isolde’s picture and Daav’s recognition of the dead man.
“How quickly do you need this?” Kevin asks.
“Yesterday.”
“Daav I….” Kevin second guesses his response. “I’ll get what I can as quickly as I can.”
“You do that.”
“I’m sorry. Really, I really am. I didn’t know what else to do. She’s dying. She didn’t know anything about it.”
“You’re suffering from guilt, or just fear of consequences, I don’t care. Maybe it’s both. But if I find out you’re plotting against us again, I promise you it won’t end well.”
“I understand. I promise, a meeting with Chelton, and the information. I’ll send you a message by tomorrow with a time and place.”
Daav’s face softens, finally.
“Thank you. And Kevin, I want your wife to live, but not at anyone’s expense. Not mine, and not Sebastian’s. We all die, but saving her by killing someone else? After you cross that line, I’m not sure that the life you save will ever be worth the same again.”
The grief on Kevin’s face is horrible. “You can’t know that until you see the person who you love more than anything whither before your eyes.” He turns his gaze purposefully my way. “Or maybe you do know what it means, to feel so much for someone that you’ll do anything for them.” Kevin looks back at Daav, a courage having pushed away the assistant’s fear. “But I’ll deliver the best I’m able.”
Daav hesitates, but nods.
He turns and walks out of the office, his gait stiff as if his body hurts all over. Although he came back battered from the lab, it’s not the physical injury that’s causing the pain. And damn, but I’ll be cornering him soon to get answers.
I throw a glance Kevin’s way.
“No hard feelings. And you’re right, about doing anything for the person you love more than life. Which is why you need to do what he asked. Because no matter what he’s threatened, I promise you I’m not afraid to deliver on it. For him.”
I will hurt Kevin if I have to. My finger taps against my thigh as I let myself imagine my hands around his neck, squeezing. The dark image of it, the burn through my inside with the idea, is intoxicating. I ride the wave, sway under it, but let it pass. And find the familiar compassion for him breaking through the cracks of me.
I sigh.
“If we make it through the next few days you can bring your wife to my place, I’ll do what I can for her as a med mage, supplement the clinics.”
“Thank you.”
I nod at him. Holding all this shit inside a normal sized body is a strain. “Later, Kevin.”
Time to catch up with my Prince. I’m always chasing after that asshole, although I know I won’t ever stop.
The halls are still busy, the Cohorts lingering at headquarters after Tristan Crane Day to catch up with one another, a post holiday holiday for the bunch. Or maybe they’re staying close with the big deadline approaching. Why not be all in with the End of Days vibe that’s rippling through the entire country. Of course Daav’s uptight. No pressure or anything.
He hasn’t gone far, waiting for me at the central bank of lifts up to the residential areas. Curious eyes swivel to him as mages pass by.
I say nothing as he pushes the button and we wait for a car. After the third person passes staring at my Prince, he turns to them.
“I’m not here for your personal entertainment. Fuck off!”
Whoa!
The mage scurries away.
“What’s crawled up your ass?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. The lift arrives and we get on and spend some lovely moments in tense silence as the car rises. At least it’s empty of anyone else.
Until the doors open to Ravel and Pike.
“Hey Daav, Seb,” Ravel says with his gravelly voice, but Daav only grunts and pushes past them toward the suite.
“He’s feeling a bit extra today,” I add in apology.
“Clearly,” Pike says. His olive skin and dark wavy shoulder length brown hair move when he shakes his head, rolling his eyes along with the movement.
I chase Daav again, entering the suite after him.
He’s frozen inside the doorway, staring in another version of shock.
Damn, but I need to get Daav somewhere private and figure out what’s going on with him. Instead, given my Prince’s frozen position blocking the doorway, we’ve hit another hurdle.
And then I notice. Colleen has Freddie pressed against the wall, shirt gone, pants down at his ankles, eyes closed, head thrown back with her on her knees holding him at the waist, bobbing up and down on his dick. While his hands are in her hair, it’s she who’s clearly directing the pace and depth of the blowjob, her hold on his hips to control his thrusts. The sounds are wet and dirty and she’s humming with delight as he’s lost to the sensation, face twisting in that pain pleasure when your balls are full of fire and you’re almost to the point of seeing stars as you shoot.
“Stop,” he’s saying. “Someone’ll come in.”
She doesn’t stop. He pleads again, but with no more response than the last time.
Daav reaches to the side and bangs his fist on the nearest wall and Freddie’s eyes pop open.
“Fuck, Colleen. Please stop. We’re…not alone. I told you someone ...would….come home.” He’s gasping between his pleas, little moans escaping between.
She laughs around his cock, but pulls off, her lips wet, red and grinning.
Colleen turns her head over her shoulder to catch us watching. “Oh, an audience. Welcome, boys.”
In one fluid motion she rises and stalks toward Daav, unconcerned that she’s only in a barely there bra and the tiniest thong. Her movement’s smooth, but it reminds me less of some graceful jungle cat, and more of a snake’s slithering, poisonous undulation. Behind her, Freddie’s pulling up his pants. He’s commando, so he carefully tucks himself away and zips. There’s a deep blush on his cheeks. Despite Colleen’s sex focused mentoring, he’s always seemed shy and less secure in his body in between strange bouts of blatant sexual forwardness.
She’s in front of Daav now, pressing her palm flat against his chest and leaning in.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I felt cheated last night when you ran off so soon. And you’re just in time for some fun, since I’m all about doing my patriotic duty. With Victor not around I feel obligated to step in and make sure you have everything you need to prepare for your quarter century. Frederick dear, you wouldn’t mind fucking Daav raw, would you? That way both of your magics can benefit.” She winks at Daav. “I promise you he’s big enough to make it hurt with no prep or lube. You can never have enough pain to grow your magic.”
She glances my way. “And I’m sure you’ll benefit from all the anguish watching him get fucked by another man. It’ll practically be a feast for your power, too.”
Being around Colleen always makes me feel like I need a shower to rinse off the slime of her presence. Today I need two. Maybe ten.
Frederick’s behind her now, his hands at her shoulders, rubbing up and down her arms with a caress. “Come on, Colleen, leave them alone. Let’s go back to my room, or your suite. We can try the new toy you ordered, and you know I get jealous without all your attention.”
His tone is sultry now, rumbling, suggestive, although his eyes flash moments of deadened hopelessness that make a lie of his words. I see the tiny fractures along the sweetness of his soul. Colleen’s a piece of work, always has been, even eight years ago before I left, and she’s my least favorite of the Mentors aside from Victor. Later I’ll talk to Freddie, see if he’s any more willing to leave behind her abuse.
Daav’s jaw ticks, and for the first time I realize he’s got a lot less control of himself than I’ve seen before. A new level of danger’s entered the room.
“Get your hands off of me, Colleen, or I’ll twist them off by your wrists.”
Fuck, he’s so angry.
“Ooooh, that growly voice of yours is sexy. I can work with this type of foreplay little Staltzian mage.”
He grabs her wrists then, wrenching them off his chest and circling them with his grip, holding her too tight, the simmering rage riding him.
“Frederick,” he says to our friend while keeping his gaze fixed on her. “You need to leave this sadistic sexual predator. You’re twenty-five and have free rein to go your own way. She’s been a soul sucking vampire the entire time I’ve known her. It’s a shame you weren’t in the car with Victor when it crashed, Colleen. You deserved to be burned alive along with your Cohort mate.”
Something’s cracking inside him, and I’d panic more if she wasn’t the one in his line of fire. But Freddie, he’s at risk of being mowed down alongside his Mentor.
“Such an ungrateful prick, Daav,” she coos even under his hold. “You and your lover,” her eyes flick to me, “bemoaning Victor endlessly. You didn’t deserve his protection. Even now you assume the car crash was an accident. He protected you to the end and you don’t even realize.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. Because I know Daav won’t and Colleen may be trying to manipulate as she often does, but every bit of information is important at this late stage.
The thing about Colleen is that it’s hard to throw her. Even now, with her wrists tightly held in a position that must be painful she disregards it, as if she’s simply having a nice chat over tea.
“All the years he spent making sure your father didn’t go after you the way he wished. The attacks Harkness did make were low key compared to what he could have leveled your way. And finally, Victor got wind of his plans to ramp up the danger to you with your approaching birthday. You think the crash was an accident? No, it was your father’s doing, even as Victor was on the way to meet with contacts to put out a hit on Harkness.”
I hate Colleen. She twists abuse into some justifiable valiant cause. Victor’s motivations are for shit. He never cared for Daav or me, only for his machinations on behalf of Orreance and the mages to keep his power base. But it sounds like she knows more about Victor’s business than we’d thought. If we want her help with information, this showdown needs to end.
“Daav, let’s go. Time to cool off. We have things to do, remember?”
Colleen smirks and purses her lips, makes a small kissing motion towards him. Stupid woman.
I’m watching him closely, his face, any tell to let me know how close he is to losing it, and there it is, a flash of gold. Shit!
Colleen’s eyes widen.
The points of gold prickle alive, dance inside the striations of his green and blue and gray. Flare, and then…
The color dies away. Gone, thank fuck.
He drops her wrists and whatever self-preservation the woman does have kicks in and she steps back.
I move closer and grab his wrist this time, dragging him with me. “Come on.”
Thank Verse, he lets me. Although it’s a lot like pulling dead weight.
I march us both down the hallway towards the living quarters, past our rooms and into the dance studio where I let him go, close and lock the door behind us, and head to the sound system.
Searching through the catalog, I find what I want and start the music.
The tune is hard and angry, and I crank it louder then stomp back to my Prince where he’s scowling in the middle of the room where I left him. His sea eyes are dark, roiling ink and storm. The volume is almost painful loud.
I poke my finger into his chest. Hard.
“You need to start breaking shit!” I yell over the music to be heard. The base reverberates in my ears, my chest, my gut.
“What Verse twisted idiocy is this, Sebastian?” he yells in return.
His feet are spread apart, fists clenched by his side, mouth an unhappy twist of rancor.
Chest to chest, I’m almost in his face, and push him backwards with the flat of my palms. Then wave at the nearby shelves. “Smash some of these ridiculous knick knacks, get it out. You need it and fuck if I’m going to let you wind yourself so tight you shatter.”
I push him again, and he stumbles, almost falls.
“Stop it!” he yells.
“No! Destroy something. My face if you really have to. Just do it, asshole.”
Something happened between the time he left our bed this morning and when he came back from the lab, rousing the anger that lives inside of him, that he so carefully controls. He deserves to let it free, has deserved it all our lives. It needs out before it kicks his ass.
“You’re overreacting, Sebastian.” But even the bitter bite to his voice tells me I’m spot on.
I shove him again and he staggers back, just missing the ceiling-high shelves with the ugly ass statues Bethany collects from around the world, his face darkening, his fists pumping open and closed.
“Just. Fucking. Do. It.” And as if I could force him through my actions, I grab a hideous Asique ceramic figure and slam it to the floor.
The music, turned almost as high as it goes, pounds around us.
“Fuck you, Sebastian!”
“And fuck you back, asshole!!!”
Then, he loses it.
Daav roars, slams his fists into the shelves as the whole unit shakes. Items rain down and crash onto the floor and he grabs a big ass snow globe with the planet Earth inside, with what’s meant to be tiny stars the floating flakes of its interior. And throws the thing, smashing it into the opposite bookcase.
Shards of glass, water, and broken pieces of the planet and stars cover the floor.
He throws back his head and screams again. Until his voice cracks with it. He slams his elbow into the shelving, more items tumble. And he’s a living, breathing ball of rage and destruction.
Glass and wood, metal and plastics scatter the floor.
Empty of almost everything, he pulls down the unit where it crashes, wood splintering.
His arms are thrown up, his mouth is open in an ugly attack of his pain. He rampages through the room, tearing it apart.
Until there’s nothing left to throw. Until he collapses to the floor.
I’m on him then, arms wrapping around his shaking body, the music continuing to pound in the background to drown out his sobs.
I hold on tight, let him know I’m here.
I’m rocking him, shushing him to the sway of our bodies although I know he can’t hear it beneath the music.
Finally, when his body quiets, I untangle from him to briefly slip away and shut off the sound system.
The silence is deafening. I make my way carefully through the debris, ready to face the result of Daav’s fall into chaos and figure out what I can from the shards.
I rejoin him on the floor where he sits hunched over, arms around his knees. And I hold him, my precious, glowing, injured man. My chin resting on his head as he’s bowed into my chest.
He sighs into the hold.
Finally, my Prince lifts his face, turns it my way and I brush the leftover wet from his cheeks.
“Tell me,” I whisper.
He hesitates a beat. Then…
“I killed three men today,” he croaks with his broken voice. “And I think I’ll kill more.”