Soulbound (27 page)

S
in left Mab’s house on legs that shook. He’d done it. He’d destroyed the bitch. Above him thunderclouds began to gather, the rumble in the sky deep and ominous. The clear morning sun fled in favor of darkness. And yet he’d never felt lighter. He grinned, wanting to laugh. He was free.

The faint rumble of thunder lingered as the tiny hairs on the back of his neck lifted. Slowly he turned. A shadow broke from the garden wall. Sin’s back tensed, a crackle of power dancing over his fingertips. But he hesitated in striking out. Slim and lithe of movement, the figure stalked toward him without pause.

The clouds parted, revealing his guest, and a punch of hot dread hit him hard enough to set his skin to prickling. Miranda, dressed as a boy beneath the billowing cloak she wore, stared right back at him. Her expression was not one of love, but of disgust.

At first her voice was calm, almost regretful. “I’ve been following you. You’ve seemed so… lost.”

Because he was lost. A strangled sound left him, but he could not give voice to his pain.

“I saw you.” She nodded up toward Mab’s window, the curtains open wide as always. “Undressing for… You are her lover?”

No. No. No. He willed the ground to open up before him. But his powers, like him, were frozen with fear.

“St. John.” Her honey-rich voice was curt with displeasure. “Tell me that what I saw is not true.” Closer she came, little flames dancing along the ground in her wake. “Tell me you have not betrayed us all.”

Christ, he wanted to cry. He couldn’t even make his mouth work, but merely looked at her with all the regret and shame in the world. Because it was clear she did not see him slay Mab. Even worse, he’d given a vow never to reveal what he was. It was the price of Judgment. He was a secret slayer. His deeds never to be revealed, or he would die.

She cocked her head, peering at him as though he were an insect she’d soon smash. “The GIM are dying.
Daisy
and Mary are dying.” The bush beside him burst into flames. And Miranda’s eyes flared with ire. “Yet you are in bed with the very bitch who is causing this.”

“I…”

Miranda took a hard step closer. “Holly is like a sister to you. How…” She took a sharp breath. “How could you? And for what? To… to swive that…” Her teeth ground, and another bush exploded in flames.

“Miranda —” Sin winced as his throat clamped shut. He literally could not give an excuse. And it was agony. As was her disappointment and disgust in him. “I am not worth your regard.”

It was all he could say. And it was the truth. His stupidity had put him in this predicament. It did not matter if he was free, if he’d destroyed the fae queen. He’d let them all down long ago.

She flinched. “I wanted so badly for you to feel as though you belonged.”

He would not cry. Nor throw himself at her feet and beg for her to make it all better.

Her voice went soft, but no less angry. “I believed you to be a true brother to us, as we were your true sisters.”

I am.
But he wasn’t. The truth was he might have ended himself and spared them all. But he’d been too much of a coward.

Her red-gold locks slithered over her slim shoulders as she shook her head. “But you never were. You always held yourself apart.”

“Yes.” Because all of it was true. He was never a true brother to his blood sisters. He’d failed them long ago.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself, St. John?”

I hate that you no longer call me Sin. I hate that you’ve seen the worst of me. I hate myself most of all.
He gave a stiff shake of his head.

Her eyes, which had always been filled with warmth and love for him, were chips of glass. So empty he wanted to sob. Worse when she spoke in that terrible, flat voice. “For your sake, I will not tell Ian or Jack what you’ve done. I’ve no wish to see you slaughtered. However, I think it best that you no longer come around the family.”

He could only blink back tears burning in his eyes and watch as, with a swirl of her cloak, she turned and left him standing alone, and the rain began to fall.

Armageddon, some were calling it. The end of days. Others called the rain the devil’s tears. Even practical, scientifically minded men and women looked towards the skies with trepidation, for no one could account for the blood-red rain that continued to fall from the sky.

Fear ran rampant, people went to church or stayed locked firmly behind doors. Officials tried to assure residents that the rain, while red, was in fact water and not blood. It did little to quell the fear. Not with the steady rainfall, staining clothes pink, and running in little, crimson rivers along the cobbles.

It was a macabre sight. Unsettling to say the least.

Adam’s jaw stayed bunched as they kept riding at a steady clip down the high road toward London. Rain dripped from the wide brim of his riding hat and ran in red rivulets down his lean cheeks. It was as if he were bathed in blood. Eliza shuddered, knowing she likely looked just as gruesome. No one would drive a coach so they were forced to ride horses.

And while normally Eliza would not mind riding, she loathed being out in the unnatural rain. Adam had suggested she stay behind. He had to discover what had occurred. Eliza would be safer tucked up in their little cottage.

Perhaps, but she was not going to be left behind. And perhaps he knew that, for he’d merely given her a nod and packed up their saddlebags. Now she could only duck her head, press her lips together, and hope none of the rain would get into her mouth.

Perhaps it was an irrational fear, but it could not be helped. The very air about her seemed malevolent. At least, they made good time, for the roads were deserted. And soon enough, London loomed before them. Black clouds limned in swirling, light-grey bundles sat like fat toads over the great city. Even here, nothing stirred. It was as if the rain held siege.

They rode down Hammersmith Road, heading into Kensington, their horses’ hooves clopping upon the cobbles, a strange counterpoint to the patter of rain. Usually, the clatter and rattle of endless cabs, drays, and omnibuses would compete against the cries of the costers and the distant whistle of the railways. Now, silence and rain.

Pale faces hovered behind grimy windows, wide eyes watching them ride along. Just ahead of her, Adam sat tall on his horse, his broad shoulders and straight back a familiar and comforting sight. She urged her mare alongside of him, needing to keep close. He glanced her way, and his expression was grim. “Unnerving, this.”

“Everyone has gone to ground.”

His eyes scanned the streets. “I don’t detect any supernaturals out and about either.”

Eliza sat straighter on her mount, a bolt of shock catching her breath. “That is it… Adam, the spirits. They’ve gone as well.” She’d yet to see a single soul. The lack of them was what had unnerved her far more than the lack of people. For spirits were not ones to flee. Ever.

Eliza shivered and huddled farther inside of her mackintosh cloak. She’d dressed in trousers. They were more comfortable for the ride. And no one was around to gawk at any rate. “Where are we going?” She hadn’t asked Adam for specifics. There wasn’t time.

“To Mab’s.”

Her horse shied as she half-spun in her saddle. “Have you gone mad?”

His mouth tilted up at the corner. “Not that I can tell, no.”

Eliza slowed her horse, and thus he did as well. She could only gape at him, no longer caring about the blood-rain. “Then tell me why on earth you’d be willing to return to her?” Something odd and ugly, like jealousy mixed with fear, twisted inside of her.

As usual, he read her too well, and a slow grin broke over his face. The bastard really was breathtaking when he smiled in that manner.

“I’ve no desire to see the fae bitch. I do believe she’s gone, love.”

“Gone?” Eliza frowned.

“Aye. I don’t feel her anymore.” He grimaced, crimson rain mixing in his afternoon stubble. “Always I’ve felt an echo of her, like the annoying buzz of a mosquito just out of sight. Now…” He turned his attention back to the road, his profile stark. “It’s as if all is silent.”

He did not appear precisely pleased, but thoughtful. Which bothered her even more. “And Mellan? How will you fight him, when your sword has been destroyed?”

It had been an unfortunate loss, Adam’s sword. The assassin’s weapon had been fae-made and thus able to cut through Adam’s sword.

A shadow of regret fell over Adam’s face, but he spoke with calm authority. “I’m considering our options.”

“Adam.” She reached out and plucked at his arm. “Stop and explain yourself or I won’t go any farther.”

Adam reined in his horse. Wariness lined his face, hesitancy darkening his eyes. “All right. I’ll start with Mab. You’ll remember when I spoke with Lucien? And you asked me what I’d said to him?”

“Yes.” She said it tentatively because she couldn’t fathom what that had to do with anything.

As always, he read her well, and his lips curled in a half-smile. “I told Lucien to inform Augustus that St. John Evernight was blood bound to Mab’s will. I knew Augustus would seek out St. John.”

Outrage had her nearly shouting. “Why? How could you put Sin in danger —”

“If you’d let me finish,” Adam cut in placidly, though hurt darkened his eyes. She hadn’t trusted him. Again.

With a pang of guilt, Eliza gave a curt nod. She’d hear him out.

“I am trying to help him. St. John is an elemental of untold power, which is most likely why Mab acquired him in her collection.” Adam’s lips curled in distaste. “In all truth, I see myself in him, what I might have become had I been younger when Mab got her hands upon me. St. John deserves his freedom.”

“And you believe Augustus can give it to him?”

“If there is anyone who can work around Mab’s curses, it is he. But more important, Sin is a worthy soul. Augustus needs souls such as his.”

“Why? What will he do with him?”

Slowly Adam shook his head. “That I cannot tell you.”

Eliza huffed out a breath. “Cannot or will not?”

Adam’s eyes gleamed gold as he met Eliza’s gaze. “Some secrets are not mine to tell. Will you trust me, sweet dove, when I say that, if St. John goes to Augustus, he will not be harmed?”

For a moment, the only noise was that of the horse hooves clomping against the pavers, as they stood impatiently waiting to move again. And then the stiffness left Eliza’s shoulders. “Yes, Adam, I will.”

All at once, he leaned across the small divide between their horses. His lips caressed hers in a soft, melting kiss, his mouth warm and his cheeks wet with rain. “Thank you, Eliza May.” He kissed her one more time before sitting back.

Eliza smiled a bit but then wavered. “Tell me now how this has to do with Mab being destroyed.”

“Ah,” said Adam, resting a hand upon his pommel. “Mab had to be fighting mad at our evasion. She wouldn’t be thinking clearly, especially if Mellan was, as I suspect, after her as well. She’d trust that St. John would be under her complete control. Which would leave her vulnerable.”

Eliza licked her dry lips and stared down at the cobbled bricks, stained now with crimson rain. “You base all this on the hopes that Augustus will somehow enable Sin to fight Mab, and that he will win.”

“I base this on my knowledge of the situation and how best to maneuver certain players into the most probable outcome.” He turned and the strong line of his neck peaked out from his grimy collar. “Yes, there is risk involved but, using what I had, it seemed the best play to make.” A small laugh left Eliza, and he frowned at her. “Why are you amused?”

“You really cannot refrain from plotting and playing with the lives of others.”

His thick brows knitted, a dark flush coming over his high-cut cheeks. “I told you, one cannot win against the fae unless you treat it like a game of chess. Mab needed to die. I could not destroy her, so I sought a way to see the job done. And, hopefully, free a man who has been ill used.”

“Adam,” Eliza said softly, “I do not fault you for it. I simply am in awe of your working mind.”

The flush on his cheeks deepened. He sat higher in his saddle, clearing his throat. “Yes, well, that is what I hope has occurred.”

“As do I.” Eliza took a better hold of her reins but paused. “Adam? My powers are increasing. Might I have killed her?”

His lips pursed before he spoke. “Perhaps. And perhaps, had I known then that you were capable of defending yourself against a fae, I’d have planned differently.” But his bold nose lifted a bit as he eyed her slantwise. “Then again, I’m not of a mind to lose you, Eliza.”

“Oh that is rich,” she snorted, “and does it occur to you that it is not your decision to make?”

“Of course it does,” he said lightly. “Just as it is my decision to be a boorish, over-protecting, primitive male.” He arched a brow and gave her a smug look. “Have I left out any adjectives?”

“‘Smarmy’ and ‘arse’ come to mind,” Eliza muttered. “And if I do the same? If I try to protect you?”

“Why, my love, I’d take it as a sign of your single-minded devotion to me.” His eyes began to glow. “It would be a highlight in my life, to be sure.”