Enspelled Page 17

  “You’re going to leave my pack, and everyone else under our protection, alone unless you want every warlock in your float to die.” The conduit’s power was sticking to him now, refusing to allow the warlock to pull so much as a piece of it away. It stuck to Sebastian’s body in clumps, warming his arms and chest, clinging to his back and hips.

  It shocked him, making him feel as if he’d been swimming in a sea of static-covered balloons. The energy was so heavy it made him stagger. The conduit quickly rearranged itself down his legs to balance him.

  The warlock laughed. “That’s about as likely as Briony making it until Christmas.”

  Rage clouded his vision, interrupted by a strange voice in his head.

  Just tell us what to do, a weary-sounding man said amid a chorus of sighs and grumbles. The beings in this conduit didn’t like him nearly as much as those in Gris-Gris.

  The warlock kept grasping for the power, as if he didn’t know where it had landed. Before Sebastian could contemplate the significance of that, a thin garrote appeared around his neck and pulled so tight it drew blood.

  Sebastian went still. If he moved, he might accidentally slit his own throat.

  Make him think I’m dead, he commanded, remembering the warlock’s illusion at the castle that had convinced him Harry was killed.

  Soon the warlock was smiling wide, and the garrote loosened enough for Sebastian to pull it away safely. Wondering what, exactly, the conduit showed the man, he waited until he stepped around him, toward the door enclosing the little girl to act.

  Don’t let her see this, was the only warning he gave the conduit.

  He didn’t want to ask for help. He would kill this warlock like a human: with his hands. Gripping the garrote tightly, he wrapped it around the warlock’s neck. The man stopped moving quickly, whispering as softly as he could to prevent his Adam’s apple from pulling up and being cut against the sharp wire.

  “I’ll leave you and your pack alone. I can convince the float to move, even. But if you kill me that won’t happen, and you’ll all die anyway.”

  For a moment, Sebastian considered the man’s offer.

  A simple twist to the device in his hands, and the man was dead. Releasing him, the warlock fell to the floor with a thud.

  “Keep him invisible until the girl’s out of here,” he commanded the conduit. “Once that’s finished, you can leave me. I won’t keep you against your will.”

  Instantly, he felt lightened, cool air rushing against his skin while six ghostly figures ranging in size rose to hover around the room. The tallest stepped in his direction.

  Thank you, a woman said. A smaller figure seemed to clutch her hand. We’ve been stuck for almost fifty years.

  Sebastian nodded, remembering exactly how it felt to be unjustly incarcerated for so long, he’d abandoned all hope for change. He’d never sentence another being to the same fate.

  But the conduit was too great a resource to waste when someone’s life was at stake. Before they were truly free, he had to know whether they could find Alex.

  “I need you to tell me who took Alexandre Villeneuve, and where he’s being kept.” If they’d been with the warlock he killed, there was a chance they were privy to details that could save his friend.

  Is he important to you? The same woman who thanked him spoke again, sounding even more exhausted than before. Her voice was thin, brittle.

  “He’s family.” It was the best way to describe what his packmates were to him, to convey the importance of finding Alexandre.

  The woman said nothing. Instead, a man’s deep voice sounded from the space nearest the emergency exit.

  We will tell you nothing of that monster.

  Monster? Over the years, Sebastian had heard Alex called numerous variations of man whore, in at least four different languages, but never monster. Alex pissed off women by leaving, not by any sort of unkindness toward them.

  “What are you talking about? I’ve known him for a hundred years, and he’s never hurt anyone who wasn’t asking for it.”

  Like a few pimps who’d fled New Orleans for greener, less dangerous pastures after meeting the wrong end of Alex’s fist.

  After seeing what they’d done to the women in question, Sebastian had helped.

  The man started talking, but the woman cut him off before he could make out what was said. What we know about happened before you knew him. Trust us, you don’t want him anywhere near anyone you love, and especially not that poor child.

  “What did he—”

  We will watch over the girl, but we will speak of that man no more.

  Sebastian cursed, but he recognized when a mind was made up. He filed away what the conduit told him for future consideration, but dismissed the notion of Alexandre being anything other than the easygoing, brave friend he knew him to be. Maybe the pieces of information he’d just gained could shed some insight on why Alexandre had been taken.

  “All right, I’m going to get you out now.” He went to the door that locked the little girl in, and found it unlatched.

  Thanks.

  One of the shadow-like figures may have nodded before they drifted away, where he could no longer see or sense them.

  The girl was shaking, but her fear didn’t prevent her from bolting in the direction of the nearest door—one that would lead only deeper into the locker room. Sebastian caught her small hand and gently pulled her to a stop.

  “Your parents are this way.” He tugged her hand.

  She sniffled, wiped her eyes and acquiesced, letting him guide her into the hall outside the main ballroom, where her eyes lit up.

  “I see Mama and Daddy!” she cried, and this time Sebastian let her run, straight through the doors and into the arms of a couple who looked even worse than their child. The mother scolded her child as tears leaked black tracks from her eyes. Her husband only held them both close, an utterly content expression crossing his face.

  The scene made Sebastian’s chest ache. Did he want that life for himself? Did he want the built-in, never-ending worry of being responsible for a being that was a part of himself?

  Yes.

  An image of a curly-haired child bounding into his arms clouded his mind. Briony was close behind, laughing in a way that was free from worry about death or warlocks.

  If, before that moment, Sebastian hadn’t been sure Briony was his mate, he was positive of it now.

  She was meant to be his and he hers. They could have a family together, something Sebastian had been unwilling to hope for after his century in the clan prohibitum.

  Now, when he could finally pursue it, Radburn and his float were close to taking it all away. Even once Sebastian healed Briony from the hex placed upon her, they had to find out how to stop the warlocks from fulfilling Briony’s vision.

  So there’s no point in thinking too far ahead now.

  If they made it through the month…maybe then he could revisit his musings about the future.

  “Sebastian!”

  He started at Sophia’s exclamation, jolting back into the present.

  The sirens were gone from the stage. The party seemed to be dwindling, most human men and some women stumbling for water, shaking their heads as their dates tried to comprehend what had gotten into them.

  “Did you find the rest?” He pulled the wax from his ears, surprised to find how much louder the room was now. Resisting the urge to put the plugs back, he turned to face his sister. Her expression answered his question.

  “No.” She pulled out her phone and showed him the picture of the man. He was young and blond, and looked vaguely familiar. He’d probably interviewed for a job at the brewery, meeting Sebastian only briefly. “We didn’t find him, allowing tonight to be a success for those dickheads.” Steam rose in angry spikes from her hands, which she redirected to fog the windows covering the far side of the room.

  “We’ll find him.” Just like Alexandre, they wouldn’t give up on t
he young human, either.

  She pursed her lips, obviously unsatisfied. Gripping his shoulder for balance, Sophia reached down with her other hand to take off her heels. It seemed like such a familiar act, her movements fluid, yet he wouldn’t have known she preferred her heels off before the end of the night.

  It was a stark reminder of the years they’d been forced to spend separated from one another, time they would only make up if something changed in their fates. He pulled her in for a hug, ignoring her indignant grunt.

  “I promise you, we’re going to find him and Alexandre and make damn sure the warlocks keep to themselves from now on.”

  She squeezed him back before pulling away to pluck a napkin from a table. “They’re going to keep to themselves because when I’m done with them, this is all they’ll have left.” The napkin went up in flames and burned so quickly, no human noticed the small fire. One eyebrow raised, she dropped the ashes to the floor.

  “Impressive,” Sebastian murmured. Even he couldn’t start a fire and put it out so quickly. Then again, she didn’t have the affinity for energy that he did. Were there sections of fire elementals, divided by strength or the types of energy they harnessed?

  Sophia blew him a kiss made of fire. It took the shape of a heart before it disappeared.

  “Show off.” Heath appeared next to her, a wry smile on his face. “Everyone except for one has been accounted for, including the sirens. Thanks to Cael, they’ll never step foot in this city again unless it’s on Bourbon.” He paused. “People there are too drunk for spells to work, anyway.”

  “Did you take Cael and Aiyanna home? What about Lachlain?” Sebastian didn’t think it had been a great idea to invite the other were here, but he didn’t want any friction between their packs either.

  Heath shifted his feet, the move so subtle Sebastian almost didn’t catch it. “Cael insisted on taking Aiyanna home. I dunno what happened there, but I wasn’t about to get in the middle of that.”

  Despite how you already did, helping Aiyanna bring a date tonight. Sebastian kept his mouth shut only because he could sense Heath’s unease. The man was downright cowardly when it came to anything resembling emotional distress. He made a mental note to send Briony Heath’s way simply to “talk about her feelings.” It would make for a fantastic YouTube video.

  “I took Lachlain back to Scotland,” Heath continued, “but he didn’t want to stay there.”

  “What?” Sophia asked sharply. “There’s no way he felt like he hit it off with Aiyanna.”

  Sebastian had to agree—surely the were wasn’t that stupid.

  “He thinks some of his pack need to come stay here for added protection after the full moon, and I don’t think we should turn down their help. We’re weaker than ever without Raphael or Alex, and those warlocks are unpredictable.” Heath spat the word unpredictable like a curse.

  In this case, with their capabilities, it was.

  “If your mother signs off on it, I’m in.” Sophia appeared both angry and relieved.

  Sebastian understood. Like him and probably Heath too, she didn’t want to be dependent on another pack for protection. But it was worth the hit to their egos if it kept a single creature or human from getting hurt.

  “There’s something I should have told you before tonight, but I’ve been…preoccupied,” Sebastian started. Instantly, Sophia narrowed her eyes. Heath raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching.

  After taking a fortifying breath, Sebastian told them about Briony’s vision and the meeting with Noam. The color drained from Heath’s face, while Sophia’s expression didn’t change.

  “Warlocks can’t kill us,” she scoffed, “and they sure as hell can’t kill all the creatures in the area. That would require either an army or an enormous amount of magic, and from what I know they don’t have either.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Sebastian thought about the talisman on the warlock he’d fought earlier. “I thought I’d taken their only conduit sources, but I know they have more. The question is, how much more.”

  “It depends on how long they’ve been planning this,” Heath murmured. He pulled up his right sleeve to reveal the tattoos climbing up his arm, each a Celtic symbol Sebastian vaguely recognized but couldn’t place a name to. They throbbed irritably, while the eye on the back of his hand stared at Sebastian narrowly.

  “When my powers were taken away, I got these to protect myself from creatures who’d consider me easy prey. The creatures I had in mind were warlocks.” Heath let his sleeve fall, but his eye remained fixed on his target.

  Sebastian couldn’t remember the mark ever watching him before. Weird.

  “Druids were the horrors hiding under our beds back when I was a child. It was only because of my mother’s power and influence that they left my family alone. Then, they weren’t as powerful, and they focused on those they were certain they could kill.”

  “And now?” Sebastian prompted.

  “Now they’ve had more than a few centuries to build their numbers and courage. I wouldn’t disregard Briony’s vision.”

  Beside Heath, Sophia shivered. He put his arm around his mate, an uncharacteristically tender expression crossing his face.

  That was the only reason Sebastian hadn’t killed him for mating his sister.

  “So it’s decided.” Sophia stayed put, placing her hand on Heath’s. “We accept help from the Inverness pack and find a way to stop the warlocks’ plan.”

  Heath and Sebastian nodded, and the next thing Sebastian knew they were all back at the firehouse, standing next to the pole in the foyer.

  The smell of smoke was thick in the air.

  “Briony!” For a moment he forgot Heath’s abilities and moved to sprint in the direction of the smell, but Heath grabbed him by the shoulder and took all three of them to Leila’s bedroom.

  Clothed in a pair of pink pajamas, the banshee was fast asleep on the bed, her breath rising and falling in an unnaturally smooth rhythm. She was completely still, leaving no wrinkles marring the perfectly folded blankets underneath her.

  Something was wrong.

  “Where is—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, Heath took them to Sebastian’s room, where Briony sat on top of a ridiculous amount of colored pillows he’d never seen before. She clutched Gris-Gris to her chest and coughed up blood, which disappeared the moment it fell from her lips.

  No.

  He paid Sophia and Heath no attention as he climbed onto the bed, pushing aside the pillows, and pulled Briony into his arms.

  “What happened? Did something accelerate the spell?” It wasn’t meant to progress this fast, yet her hands were withered, the skin paper-thin, revealing veins as they curled around the cat, who kept preternaturally still.

  She was dying now.

  It was the banshee. The voice from the conduit was shaken, as if she wasn’t used to being surprised. She’s…not normal. We knocked her out and repaired the house as soon as we could, but the damage to Briony had already been done. Because of the strength of the spell on her, we can only make her comfortable now.

  One of the men spoke up. We can’t help, but you can. Get off your ass and bite her already. Once her fingertips turn to ash, she’s as good as dead.

  The cat’s eyes glowed to punctuate his words.

  The conduit, Briony’s familiar, was attached to her—he had a feeling it would riot if the fate Radburn intended for her came to pass. That by itself sealed Sebastian’s loyalty to the strange creature.

  Terrified he would see black, he inspected her hands to make sure they hadn’t begun the final steps of the spell. They hadn’t, but judging from their condition she didn’t have much longer.

  Sebastian didn’t understand what Leila could have done, but it had brought Briony to the brink of death. Once his future mate was safe, he’d have to uncover that banshee’s secrets. They were pack; keeping levels of power that great under wraps was dangerous.
<
br />   “Are you talking to the cat?” To her credit, Sophia didn’t smile as she spoke. Her expression was earnest, concern for both Briony and Leila etching itself around her eyes and mouth.

  Quickly, Sebastian relayed what the conduit told him. They deserved to know why he was about to change Briony.

  “Do you think Raphael or Mary knows about Leila?” Sophia asked.

  Frowning severely, Heath shook his head. “He’s told either you or me everything pertinent to this pack’s safety. If he knew, we’d know.”

  “And if Mary knew, she wouldn’t have kept it from Raphael,” Sophia finished, scratching her head. “Damn, but that blonde sure can keep a secret.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Sebastian interjected. They were running out of time. “I’m going to bite her, and she’ll be an official member of this pack.” Despite their current rank and Heath’s level of authority over him, he wasn’t asking permission. There was no other acceptable option.

  He thought he saw Heath nod, and Sophia squeezed his shoulder before they disappeared, likely to speak to Leila once she woke. Sebastian shifted Briony in his lap, careful not to pull her ringlets. She didn’t seem aware of him or even Gris-Gris. Her eyes, half-lidded, squeezed shut as she coughed, each sharp exhalation making her shoulders droop more.

  It was strange, to see her in the presence of others without her trying to reach out. Her spirit was almost extinguished.

  Not for long.

  Sebastian brought her right wrist to his lips. “Your life’s about to change, Bree. I only hope you choose to keep me in it once it does.”

  He bit down hard enough to draw blood, allowing his canines to sharpen down into the thin muscle to prick bone.

  That made her take notice. She cried out softly, blindly trying to pull her arm away from him.

  He let her wrench out of his grasp, taking her other wrist instead. Gris-Gris stared at the limb pointedly, lowering his head slightly when Sebastian repeated his bite on her left wrist. Usually, one bite from a werewolf was more than enough to change a human, but this was an unusual situation. Since her hands were the indications of the spell, Radburn may have used two spells on Briony, one for each.