Текст книги "Bespelled"

Автор книги: Laura Thalassa

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

CHAPTER 8PRESENT DAY, SOMEWHERE NORTH OF SAN FRANCISCO

SELENE

The last memory of my previous life fades away. I blink several times as Memnon comes back into view. His cheeks are soaked as though he’s been crying while reliving most of the past, and his hands tremble against my cheek.

“No.” The ragged word tears from his throat. His eyes search mine, his expression desolate. “No,” he says again, this time more broken.

Memnon’s legs give out, and his hands drop from my face as his knees hit the ground.

For several long seconds, all I hear is the sound of his heavy breathing as he bows his head, his hand pressed to his heart. I can feel the sharp blade of his grief through our bond, and I catch a few of his fragmented thoughts.

…watched her die…alone…protecting me…powerless… What have I done?

He makes a sound that is somewhere between a sob and a moan.

“Roxi,” he says quietly, his voice thick with anguish. He looks at me then, horror written all over his face. “What have I done?” he says, echoing his earlier thoughts.

I stare down at him dispassionately. “A lot, Memnon. You’ve done a lot.”

He draws in a shuddering breath. “You died.”

“I did.”

“You were alone in the palace when they came—” His voice breaks off, and he rubs his eyes. “My mother, my sister—” He presses his lips together, and his expression nearly crumbles again. “You and Ferox had to fight your way out alone.”

Memnon bows his head again and covers his eyes with his hand, and the man who has done so much and felt so little now weeps, overcome with emotion.

“Eislyn…you had warned me about her. I didn’t listen. She almost…she destroyed everything. If you hadn’t…” He draws in a shuddering breath. “If you hadn’t placed the curse—if you hadn’t given your life…” His voice breaks on that word. “I would’ve surely been damned to some awful fate. Instead, you did something miraculous. You bought us another life together.”

I gaze down at him as the shadows around Slain Maiden’s Meadow grow longer and darker.

“I see everything now,” he says. “I understand. I punished the one person who tried to save my wretched life. My best friend and soul mate, the love of my life. I have treated you like an enemy and made you hate me, and I relished it all in the name of vengeance. But this whole time you were my savior.” He turns his face up, his glittering eyes rising to mine. “I’m sorry, est amage. It is not enough, but I am sorry.”

I study him for several moments, and then I do something I didn’t think I was capable of doing, given all that Memnon has so recently done to me: I reach out and wipe away his tears. The action makes him close his eyes tightly, and a few more unbidden tears slip out.

I’ve only seen this man cry a precious few times, and the sight of him broken and vulnerable twists my gut.

Memnon catches one of my hands and cups it between his. “I have committed too many evils against you to repair with a few simple words or actions. They will never be enough to repay the debt I owe you. There is only one thing I can offer you.”

Still kneeling, Memnon unsheathes his gold-hilted dagger from his side. I tense at the sight of it, my palm still stinging from the memory of that blade cutting through my flesh last night when I made my unbreakable oath.

Memnon offers up his own healed palm, and faster than I can follow, he slices it open once more.

“What are you doing?” I ask, alarmed.

His smoky eyes are steady on mine as he says, “With blood I bind, with bone I break. Only in death shall I at last forsake.”

Birds take flight from the trees around us as he finishes, “Your bidding be done, under moon and sun. My will is yours until your heart is won.”

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 9

I stare in horror at the proffered hand.

He’s giving me far more than a simple apology. This is a bond he’s offering up.

I don’t know much about bonds besides the fact that some are fated and some are chosen, and Memnon and I share the former connection.

But if I heard him correctly, he’s now offering me one that will grant me control over his…free will.

My heart beats fast. I was hoping for his help, but this is so much more than that. If the sorcerer were bound to me, he would very literally have to follow my orders.

Memnon stares at me with those steady, calculating eyes, waiting on me as his blood drips to the grass. I know he knows all this. The powerful, vengeful Memnon, who’s wiped out entire armies with his magic, is handing all that control over to me.

He wants to tie you as close to him as possible. This is just one more way. Even defeat he uses to his advantage. And then there’s the terms of the bond.

My will is yours, until your heart is won.

The bond would break if I ever fell in love with him.

I gaze at his hand a little longer, debating, debating…

It’s a mistake to think Memnon’s a tamable thing, but I’m discovering that I’m not what I appear to be either.

I need help, and I need power. Memnon has both.

Resolve straightens my back. Kneeling in front of him, I take his blade from his other hand. My own magic is already unspooling out of me, the smoky tendrils of it straining for Memnon’s dripping blood.

I take a deep breath, then before I can reconsider my actions, I draw the dagger down my palm, grimacing as I cut my skin for the second time in two days.

I reach for Memnon’s hand, pausing just short of it. My gaze flicks to the sorcerer.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I warn him.

“I’m repaying a debt. No forgiveness is needed,” he says smoothly.

Scowling, I finally clasp his hand in mine.

The moment our blood touches, our powers hiss to life, streaming out from between our clasped hands and swirling together around us.

I drop Memnon’s blade as his magic enters me through my wound and makes its way up my arm. It reaches my chest, and I suck in a breath as his power takes root beneath my ribs.

As soon as the magic settles, Memnon releases another wave of power, and I feel the cut on my palm seal itself up.

I release his hand, running my fingers over my newly repaired skin, smearing a little of the residual blood.

Memnon sits back on his haunches, resting his forearms on his knees. He watches me quietly for several seconds.

I can’t look at him. I now control a man—my own soul mate. Shame blooms in me. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.

“Test it out, Empress,” he says softly. “Compel me to do your bidding.”

My dread rises. This sort of bond is what I fought against only two weeks ago. It was the fate I saved the shifter girl from.

Yet this is also what Memnon freely offered. And it is what I wanted.

Finally, I look at Memnon, ignoring the sad, wondrous way he appraises me.

“Stab me.” I say the words softly, casually. No magic accompanies them, and a part of me is sure the command won’t work.

Memnon blanches. “Selene,” he protests. But already his hand reaches for his discarded dagger.

Dimly, I’m aware of my magic forcing him through the movements, but I cannot see the plumes of it at work. It’s all happening within him.

I lift my chin. “Right through the heart.”

“No.” But even as he speaks, his hand curls around the hilt of the blade, and his body is angling toward me. Panic clouds his eyes, and I can feel an echo of it through our connection.

One of his hands braces me by the back of the neck while his other arm draws back.

For an instant, that arm trembles. “Please,” he begs.

Then he lunges at me, his arm driving forward, the dagger aimed right for my heart.

“Stop.”

Memnon’s blade freezes inches from my chest. He’s breathing hard, and his arms are shaking.

I don’t realize until then that I’m shaking as well. I don’t think I fully believed that the binding spell worked until that moment.

“Put the blade away,” I say softly. “You won’t be stabbing me tonight—or any other night.”

Oh Goddess, I’ve traded my memory loss for a new complication: needing to be precise with my words.

Memnon banishes the blood from his blade, then sheathes it, his breath a little ragged.

“I don’t want to marry you,” I say. My whole body still aches from the unfulfilled vow.

The sorcerer hesitates. When he finally looks up, his eyes are conflicted. “It’s an unbreakable oath, est amage.”

“You don’t need to keep calling me that.”

His jaw clenches. “Then command me to stop.”

The two of us stare each other down.

I blow out a breath. “Fine, if I cannot undo the oath, then we’re going to work with that other part of the vow.”

How had he worded it?

As soon as circumstances allow, Memnon says to me through our bond.

I give him a look. “I want the ‘circumstances’ in question to be that we have to fall in love.” I can live with that.

His eyes flash. This is what Memnon thought he had in the bag yesterday.

“Or,” I add, “if you’d prefer, we could simply get married—” I feel an instant spark of hope from the sorcerer. “Then immediately have it annulled.”

Spark gone.

I smile. Oh, I think I could easily relish this.

Reluctantly, he nods. “We might have to make another vow for it to work, but let me see if the magic will simply adjust to the new meaning behind that clause.”

He closes his eyes, focusing on the vow, and after a moment, I shut my eyes and do the same.

The circumstances needed for us to get married are that we must first fall in love. I repeat it over and over until I believe it. That malaise that has clung to me all day gradually lifts.

When I open my eyes, Memnon is studying me curiously, his head tilted, a small smile of his own curving up one side of his mouth.

“Do you feel better?” he asks.

I nod, sitting back on my haunches in the tall grass. “I think it worked. Did the vow…affect you too?”

Memnon gives a sharp nod. “I was under its compulsion as much as you were. I don’t feel its effects any longer, but if they come back, we will need to make another unbreakable vow.”

Or marry. But he’s smart enough not to propose that.

The sorcerer is still studying me with that peculiar look on his face that’s part amusement, part curiosity. It’s tempered by the somber air he has about him, but it’s making me oddly self-conscious.

I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “What are you thinking about?” I ask.

Memnon’s gaze is steady. “That I should’ve given you control long ago.” He stops speaking, and I think that’s it. However, after a protracted moment, he frowns as more words are pried from his lips. “I’m also replaying your last day as Roxilana over and over again in the back of my mind,” he adds unwillingly, “but I’m trying not to let you see how I’m slowly suffocating on my own pain.” After he finishes speaking, he grimaces. For all that we are connected, Memnon still has his secrets.

Or he did until now.

I didn’t really want to hear that either, if I’m being honest. Memnon is more palatable when he’s heartless and cruelly devious. Now that we have this arrangement, that’s where I want to keep him.

“I’m fine,” I say, trying to brush over the events. “I’m alive.” But Memnon also violently lost his mother and sister, and unlike me, they’re not coming back. He has to come to terms with that as well.

I clear my throat, eager to turn the conversation away from the past.

“I don’t want you to hurt my friends ever again,” I say.

Memnon’s eyes sharpen. “You’re going to need to nuance that command.”

My knee-jerk reaction is to argue with him, but I can begrudgingly admit he has a point. I literally just showed him a memory of two supposed friends betraying him. I fought them both, and if I hadn’t been able to hurt them, I would be long dead.

“You are not to hurt my friends unless there’s a reasonable cause for it,” I amend.

Shit, there’s definitely room for Memnon to abuse that rule. Whatever. I can fine-tune the command later.

I draw in a breath. “Now that you know what happened between us long ago, I want to talk about the other reason I called you here.” The real reason.

He waits, arms casually slung over his knees, watching me again with that look in his eye as dusk bleeds into darkness.

“You told me not so long ago that I have enemies,” I say.

Memnon watches me carefully. “I did.”

I think back to the threatening note left in my journal. “Those witches, the ones who were after me the night I saved the shifter girl—when you lent me your power—they are still out there.”

My mate’s expression darkens. “Not all of them.”

Right. Because between me, Nero, and Memnon, a few of them definitely kicked the bucket that night.

Okay, so at least he knows what I’m referring to.

“There’s also the murdered witches,” I say. “The ones whose deaths you framed me for.” I don’t mean for the bitterness to enter my voice, but there it is. And it’s going to be there for a long time, regardless of Memnon’s efforts to repay his debt. “I’m linked to these two separate issues. And I know you know more about the murders than I do.”

He’s gone quiet, but his eyes are cutting like daggers.

“I want you to help me learn everything I can about both the murders and those spell circles, and I want you to help me stop them both.”

There’s a certain poetic justice to the idea of Memnon, who drove me into all this misfortune, now helping me resolve it.

Once I’ve said my piece, I wait. If Memnon were anyone else, I know he’d scoff at me. I’m no detective, and even if I were, these are no ordinary mysteries.

To Memnon, however, I’m more than just Selene, Henbane student with prior memory issues. I’m also Roxilana, queen of a nation of warriors, co-ruler of an empire. Inserting myself into deadly business comes naturally to me. Almost as naturally as it does to Memnon.

A bloodthirsty, pleased look spreads across his face. “I can do that, my queen.”

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 10

He’s going to help me. I don’t have to marry him, and he’s now going to help me.

I exhale a long, relieved breath.

I can tell he badly wants to touch me, hold me. There’s a hollowness in his eyes, and regret is starting to creep into the rest of his features.

Finally, I think he gets it.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

Memnon rises. He reaches out a hand for me. “I have a lot to tell you, and I think you’ll find your room a more comfortable place to hear it all.”

I take his hand and let him help me up, noting that he holds my hand for a second longer than necessary once I’m on my feet.

“Is it safe to talk about this stuff there?” I’ve been played too many times in the last few weeks not to be paranoid.

“No,” Memnon says. But fortunately for us, he continues down our bond, we can speak of it like this.

Fair point.

I stare at him a little longer, then reluctantly begin walking back toward my residence hall. Memnon sidles up next to me as we hit the tree line.

“I just want you to know that I actually want nothing to do with you ever again,” I say, “and I’m only doing this now⁠—”

“Because you want my help,” he finishes.

“Because I know you won’t leave me alone,” I correct, “and putting you to work seems better than letting you run wild.” It’s not entirely a lie.

Memnon stays quiet.

“You have nothing to say to that?” I ask as we weave between trees, our shoes crunching over pine needles.

“Oh, I have plenty,” he says.

“Then say it.”

The sorcerer shakes his head, but my words carry their own compulsion. Memnon forces out the admission. “I loathe hearing you say you want nothing to do with me, but after being in your head, I understand it all entirely, so I must eat my feelings on this.

“But yes, I have no interest in letting you go. None at all. So I will help you with these mysteries, though the extra scrutiny may very well place you in more danger, and that means I will likely have to kill more people, and I don’t want to admit that to you because I have a reputation to redeem. And I need to redeem it because I want you to crave me the way I crave you. You are the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins, and all the power and glory in the world are useless without you—” His voice breaks off.

Great Goddess’s tits, that’s…a lot to take in.

After a moment, he mutters, “Fuck.”

I think the situation is sinking in for him as well.

“No, no, keep going and tell me how you really feel,” I say sarcastically, though my words ring a little hollow.

Memnon makes a pained noise. “I hurt for all that I lost and how I lost it, and I’m despairing that I will ever get it again. I’m drowning in self-loathing at the moment.”

I glance over at Memnon, my eyes wide, before I realize that though I made a joke, he was forced to take the command literally.

After a moment, the sorcerer groans. “Gods, what have I done?”

Despite the heavy admissions, I smile, just a little. I might actually like Memnon this way. He’s disarming, which is a step up from hateful.

You’re not supposed to like him.

“You are supposed to like me,” Memnon replies. “That is the entire point of being soul mates.”

“Get out of my mind.”

“Est amage, it is you who are in my mind,” he says.

I glance down at my new boots. “You were right last night,” I admit softly. “There is so much about you I don’t know.”

It’s silent for several seconds. Then– “Please don’t make me give another confession. I can hardly stand the thoughts when I say them out loud.”

I swallow a laugh.

“How did you come to live in that house?” I ask as we walk.

“It’s a rental,” Memnon replies.

“How did you get the money to pay for it?” I ask.

“I know you remember my power,” he says. “With a touch and my will, I can get into anyone’s head. I can learn their secrets, such as account and routing numbers. And I can use them to my benefit.”

So he’s been stealing money. It’s not the worst crime he’s committed, so I guess I should curb my horror.

“And how did you learn about bank accounts, routing numbers, passwords⁠—”

“—and mortgages and the stock market?” Memnon finishes. “I am still figuring out most of these, but once you touch enough minds, the information fills itself out. Assuming, of course, that the minds correctly understand the concepts. I’m pretty sure most people have no idea how the stock market actually works—myself included.”

Ahead of us, the trees thin out, and I can just make out the conservatory and, farther on, my residence hall.

“So you’ve been using your powers to take what you need?” That explains how Memnon learned English so fast.

“I can hear your disapproval, Empress.”

“I don’t disapprove actually,” I say, surprising even myself. But it’s the truth. “You woke two millennia later than when you went to sleep. I’m glad you took care of yourself.”

In the darkness of the woods, I sense Memnon’s eyes on me. He doesn’t say anything, but down our bond, there’s this honeyed softness coming from him. It makes me think of all the parts of us I really don’t want to focus on.

I press my lips together and say nothing else for the rest of the walk back.

As soon as Memnon and I enter the residence hall, the air in the house shifts.

But as we pass my house’s library to our right, a few witches gaze curiously at the sorcerer. He gets more looks from the witches heading to the dining hall and a couple more from coven sisters coming down the staircase.

I glance over at Memnon, struck all over again by his appearance. His bronze skin, his black hair, and that beautiful, unforgiving face are arresting to look at, and that’s saying nothing about his massive stature. He’s built like the warrior he once was, and it shows.

He quirks an eyebrow at me, the corner of his mouth curving up. His lips part, and he sucks in a breath to speak.

“Whatever you’re about to say,” I warn, “don’t.”

The sorcerer closes his mouth, bound by my order. That doesn’t stop him from continuing to appear highly amused.

When we get to my room, Memnon’s assessing gaze sweeps over the place.

“Where is Nero?” he asks when he sees the empty cat bed.

“Out hunting.” I close the door behind me. “I didn’t name Nero after the emperor,” I confess. It was one of the things Memnon and I argued about weeks ago. “I named him after the era I first found him.”

Romans included the reigning emperor’s name in their dates. I lived and died during Nero’s reign, and though I hadn’t consciously realized that when I gave my familiar his name, I was still unknowingly paying tribute to it.

“I…see.” I sense the frayed edges of Memnon’s guilt all over again. That’s his only tell.

The sorcerer moves to my computer chair and sits down, his legs splaying out. His eyes still look a little haunted, and he’s definitely acting more reserved than usual, but there’s this menacing energy about Memnon that he can never fully shake. I feel as though I caught myself a monster. One who looks at home in this cramped room.

He swivels a little in the seat, peering over the knickknacks on my desk. The action makes me twitchy, and I have to remind myself that I can actually control the man now.

His eyes snag on my keyboard. Abruptly, he stops moving.

“Who wrote this?” His voice is entirely different, low with rage.

He picks up the sticky note with the threatening message, strands of his power snapping and coiling out of him like lunging serpents. When his eyes meet mine, he looks ready to murder somebody. He probably is ready to murder somebody.

“The people who survived the spell circle—I think.”

His eyes begin to glow, just a little. He slides the note into his pocket.

“What are you doing?” I say, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

“Saving this note so that I can nail it to their body when I find them.”

Hell’s bells. Involving Memnon is already turning out to be a bad idea. I’m trying to tame a creature far more intense than even my panther.

“Is this note why you wanted my help?” he asks, way too insightful.

There’s no point denying it. I give a sharp nod.

My soul mate leans forward, the tense set of his features making his scar appear extra visible. “I will tell you everything I know about the murders and the spell circle, but, est amage, the knowledge comes at a cost. If I involve you, we run the risk of our enemies discovering our connection—not just that we’re soul mates but also that you now control me. That is…dangerous knowledge to have. It can be used against us. Do you still want my help?”

“I’m already involved. I want to know.”

Memnon bows his head and nods. Which should we focus on first? he says, speaking directly down our connection.

Right. This discussion is a bit too sensitive to be voicing out loud.

I jut my chin toward his pocket, where the threatening note rests. The witches involved in the spell circle. They are the more immediate concern.

Memnon’s eyes begin to glow again. Those glowing eyes, along with rustling hair, are signs a sorcerer is giving in to their power. When that happens, they run the risk of losing hold of their humanity and their control over the power they wield. This is when a sorcerer’s magic truly eats at their conscience.

But just as quickly as my mate’s eyes illuminate, they return to their normal hue.

They entered your room, even with the wards? Memnon asks. His gaze moves to my door.

I nod.

More of Memnon’s magic slithers out of him with my admission. It moves across the room and spreads over the surface of the door, and I’m sure that the sorcerer is setting yet another ward.

About the spell circle, I say down our bond, my gaze wandering to the panther tattoo that’s peeking out from his neck. This is what I know: the circles happen every new moon beneath this house—or at least they used to. I don’t know if they will move them after the shit show that happened last time. The only woman I know by name who was involved in it was Kasey. She was the witch who recruited me to attend the spell circle. Now she’s missing.

Memnon rubs his lower lip, watching me. The night they chased you through the woods, how many were injured?

I shake my head. I don’t know—at least a dozen.

Did anyone die?

I hesitate. At least one. Nero…Nero ripped out one woman’s throat. There might’ve been others as well. I wasn’t paying attention.

Memnon nods. When I went back to exact revenge, all the women—both alive and dead—were gone. Whoever got the dead and injured out of those woods made sure to scrub the area of their blood and any other evidence I might use to hunt them down. They were ready for a counterattack. Whatever is going on, this isn’t just some monthly gathering. They are organized, they have resources, and they know how to make bodies and evidence disappear—and they have access to the persecution tunnels beneath the house.

The thought is nauseating, now that I know these people have gotten through my wards and into my room. The persecution tunnel that leads out from beneath this very building connects to a vast network of subterranean tunnels. No one in this house is entirely safe if the tunnels are being exploited for nefarious purposes.

Memnon threads his fingers loosely together, his forearms resting on his thighs. Why would a well-organized group of supernaturals do their business in the tunnels beneath your coven? he asks down our bond.

I sense he knows the answer to this. I turn inward, thinking about it. The only thing that comes to mind is the most obvious answer, the one I already know.

Most of the members must live here.

Memnon nods. Or they’re trying to recruit witches from your house.

That is what happened to me. I just didn’t go along with it.

Memnon’s eyes flick over me, and though the conversation is a bit dark, a small smile curves his lips.

What? I say through our connection, trying not to notice the lock of hair that’s fallen in front of one of his eyes. I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out and tucking it behind his ear.

I like this, he admits.

You like what?

Us, studying our enemies, plotting out our next moves.

I frown, even though my heart speeds up.

The sorcerer stands, rescuing me from the moment. He moves to my door and tilts his head, studying the protective spells.

They shouldn’t have been able to get in here with all these wards in place. Memnon turns back to me. If I told you it wasn’t safe to stay here⁠—

There is no way I am staying with you in that burnt husk of a house, I say.

If it weren’t burnt?

That would also be a no.

The sorcerer stares at me, eyes narrowed, for a long beat. Then he smiles, like he relishes my anger. Turning back to the door, he murmurs in Sarmatian, “Guard this door against all those who wish Selene harm.”

His indigo power flows out of him, spreading across the door as he adds yet another ward to the growing knot of them. The plumes of his magic condense into lines of what looks like writing. The markings glow as they sink into the frame of the door, then dim until all that remains is the barely perceptible sheen of the spell.

If you want to find out more about the people behind that note, then there’s one place we should definitely explore, Memnon says down our bond. The persecution tunnels.

OceanofPDF.com