Soulbound (21 page)

He bent his head, needing to kiss her, but just then Mrs. Wilson stepped out of her tea emporium, her back stooped and her face wizened. Though it ought not be, it was a shock, seeing her now. The woman he’d known as Mrs. Wilson had been a pretty, pink-cheeked widow with an easy smile and generous curves. Adam knew that she’d been perfectly willing to warm his bed. Had he been capable back then, he might have asked. Many a dark cold night, he’d longed for a soft body to help warm him, for a pair of willing arms to ground him to this world. He’d settled for paying her a generous stipend to clean his clock shop when he’d left town.

Through the delicate wrinkles that webbed Mrs. Wilson’s face, a pair of bright blue eyes locked onto him. Her thin mouth fell open and remained before she had the presence to close it. “Mr. Gimsire?” Then she shook her head. “Lord above, but you couldn’t be, you’re a young man.”

Adam stepped forward, fondness and melancholy tempering his smile. “I suspect you are thinking of my grandfather, the elder Mr. Gimsire. You are Mrs. Wilson, are you not? Grandfather spoke highly of you.”

The old woman blushed. “Sir, you are too kind.” She glanced at Eliza.

“Pardon me,” Adam said, putting his hand on the small of Eliza’s slim back. As though he had every right. Illusions. “My wife, Mrs. Gimsire.” He’d lied to humans for centuries. Still the words were hard to utter. And, if the sudden tension along Eliza’s back meant anything, they were hard for her to hear.

“A pleasure,” Mrs. Wilson said as Eliza murmured her hellos. “And how does your grandfather fare?”

“I’m afraid my grandfather has passed. Just last year.” Adam put on a frown, suddenly hating the lies he had to tell over and over. Hating that he never bonded with a community, a set life, but watched the world drift past him while he remained frozen in place.

“Oh,” Mrs. Wilson exclaimed with a small, weak breath. “Oh, dear, I’m so very sorry to hear it.”

“I ought to have written to you. I know you’ve been keeping his shop well.”

Mrs. Wilson grimaced. “Not as well as I would like, I fear. I’m getting on and there is just myself to…” Her voice drifted off as she searched her reticule for a kerchief. “He shall be sorely missed, young man. In that you can trust.”

Adam gave her a gentle nod of acknowledgment. “You were a good friend to him.”

“God be with you, Mr. Gimsire.” Mrs. Wilson sniffled into her lace handkerchief, then dabbed her eyes as she ambled back to her shop.

He watched her go and the odd feeling of time slipping through his fingers hit him square in the chest. And he was always on the outside of it.

A
n hour caught in Mab’s snare and then Sin was free to go. He stumbled out into the mews, the stench of manure and household garbage thick in the damp air. He made it to the coach house before he retched. The force of it doubled him over and lifted him to his toes. The smell of sick burned his nostrils, as his fingers dug into the loose mortar between the bricks. Surrounded by filth, and yet he was the most disgusting thing out here.

His skin crawled with the taint of Mab and the knowledge that he’d let her do those things to him. That his body had enjoyed it in some profane way. With the female responsible for destroying his family. A sob, deep and filled with rage, tore from his chest. The thick ivy that clung to the top of the mews began to crackle and grow, spreading toward his hand. Sin did not bother to rein in his power but leaned against the wall and tried to breathe through his anger.

Above him, the sky was the pasty white of spoilt milk, the light of the sun hidden behind endless layers of clouds. It hurt to look at that pale, unending sky. And he closed his eyes, trying to breathe past the heaviness invading his chest. Ivy leaves tickled his cheeks and climbed over his shoulders. Perhaps they’d entomb him. Perhaps he could dig a hole in the loamy earth and lose himself in its cool embrace.

“Death is not the only solution, you realize.”

Sin froze. That someone would come upon him in this moment and see enough to understand what he was contemplating. Self-loathing and impotent rage made his skin fire hot. He forced himself to open his eyes.

A man stood not far off, his expression placid but his dark eyes keen. Though he wore the fine wool suit of a proper English gentleman, with his bowler hat resting just so on top of his coal-black hair, everything about the man screamed foreigner. And then recognition set in.

“You were with Layla at the theatre.” The words were out of Sin’s mouth before he could think to keep them in, and he flushed in annoyance. “Miss Starling, I mean.” Not much better, that. He’d made it painfully clear that he’d been watching Layla.

But the man smiled kindly, a knowing look lighting his eyes. Smug bastard. “Yes. With Miss Starling. I was hoping you’d join us, but you did not.” One shoulder lifted. “Perhaps next time.”

Sin pushed away from the wall and glared at the man. “Who are you?”

“My name, for all intents and purposes here, is Augustus. Your sister, Poppy, knows me as Father.”

Fear ran through Sin’s tired body. Father was the enigmatic head of the SOS. As far as Sin knew, only Poppy had any real contact with the man. “What the devil are you doing with Miss Starling?” Sin would not believe for a moment that the man was actually courting her. Not from what he knew of Father – an ageless man who was gone more than he was around.

“Protecting her.”

The length of Sin’s body tightened with swift pain. “You’ll pardon me if I find that answer less than comforting.”

Augustus’s black brows rose as one. “Have you reason to believe that the founding father of the SOS would fail at this task?”

“No,” Sin said with reluctance. “It’s the fact that she needs protecting that worries me.” If Layla needed watching, he ought to be the one to do it. The memory of her bright smile hit him hard enough to hurt his heart. They’d been fast friends. Being near her had been his daily joy, his air, until she moved away.

Augustus watched as a hawk might. “You cannot protect her as you are now.”

Sin’s fists clenched. “How —”

Communication of thoughts are not limited to mere words, lad.
 

“Get the bloody hell out of my head,” Sin snapped, a fine sweat coating his skin.

Augustus bowed his head. “My apologies, Master Evernight.” He did not look at all contrite. “However I do believe it important that you fully understand with whom you are dealing when you speak to me.”

“Oh, and why is that?” Sin would take great pleasure in making sure this prat knew how capable Sin was in dealing with others.

A thin smile curled the man’s lips. “Because I am going to make you an offer you’ll want to refuse.” Before Sin’s eyes, Augustus’s olive skin leached of color, more and more until the man before Sin appeared to be made entirely of translucent flesh.

The living crystal Augustus grinned at Sin’s stupefied expression. “I’d show you my wings as well, but I fear you aren’t yet ready for that display.”

“I… uh… you…” Sin’s brilliant contribution to the conversation.

“Young St. John, you’ll hear my offer.” Silver eyes bore into him. “And if you have an ounce of sense left in your head, you shall take it. For I am about to give you everything you deserve.”

A twist of fear went through his heart, because he was not so certain what he “deserved” was anything good.

S
in did not quite know what to expect of Augustus’s home, but it was not this. He glanced around at the sedate yet finely appointed study in which he sat alone, a glass of brandy in one hand, the crackling warmth of a fire heating his trouser leg. It felt almost normal, as if he’d been plucked out of a nightmare and set down into another dream. It left him unsettled. His hand shook only a little as he took a deep, burning drink of his brandy.

Augustus strolled into the room in graceful ease. “Apologies for making you wait, Mr. Evernight. Cook was in a state over tonight’s dinner and Layla is off somewhere, unable to provide her assistance.”

Sin shoved up from his slouch, his mouth suddenly dry. “She lives here?” God. He did not want to see her. He couldn’t bear it.

As if Augustus knew Sin’s discomfort perfectly well – which the bastard likely did – the corners of his eyes crinkled, as he took the seat opposite Sin. “Yes. She is my ward at the moment.” He looked down at his hands, the backs of them hatch-marked with fine scars that shone white in the firelight. “However, I shall soon be leaving, and she shall need a new protector.”

The arm of the chair creaked beneath Sin’s grip. “If you dare suggest that I —”

“Come now, young St. John. You know perfectly well that I am suggesting it.” Augustus’s gaze was hard and direct. “Do not deceive yourself in thinking that you do not want the position.”

A flush heated Sin’s cheeks. “Doesn’t matter what I want, only what is right. Even if I were in the position to watch over…” He swallowed past his dry throat. “I’m bound.” To the bitch. The fine taste of brandy turned acid on his tongue.

A log upon the grate snapped, sending sparks up the flue. And Augustus sat back in his leather chair. “Yes. You are.” Black eyes bore into Sin as Augustus’s mellow voice flowed into him. “And what would you do to be free? Anything?”

Sin snorted without humor. “Enter another form of bondage, you mean?” He shook his head. “You can go to bloody hell if you think I’ll do so again.”

“Hell is a state of mind. And you’re already there, are you not?”

Sin lurched out of his seat, his heart pounding. The fire in the hearth flared high. “Fuck you, Mr. Augustus.”

The man bloody laughed. A soft, rolling laugh. A fucking mockery. And then his expression fell to deadly serious. “Sit. Down.”

When Sin did not move, Augustus waved his hand in a lazy fashion. Sin became a puppet on strings, his limbs no longer his own. Down he flopped into the chair, and there he stayed, not able to use his powers or move from his seat.

“Now,” said Augustus. “Give your rage a rest for a moment.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his bent knees. “The fact is that Mab has never been weaker than at this moment.”

Sin didn’t know what to make of that knowledge. He was blood bound to serve her. It wasn’t as though he could destroy her. No matter how much he yearned to.

Smiling a bit, Augustus continued. “She used up much of her power to hold Aodh’s in check. Yes, I know all about Aodh,” he added. “And for the first time in centuries, several kin of her direct bloodline live.”

“Eliza.”

“Not merely Eliza, but you, Holly, the Ellis sisters.”

“We are of Mab’s blood?” Sweet gods, Sin would be ill.

“The Evernight’s and the Ellis sisters are elementals, born ages ago of Mab’s blood. Now, Eliza is the most direct of Mab’s heirs, which is why Mab is desperate to control her. Because Mab is weakest against those of her blood.” Augustus paused and stared at Sin. “You, however, have the distinction of being of her blood and able to control all the elements. What is more? You were born of Isley, a powerful demigod akin to the angels.” He smiled, this time with a strange sort of anticipation. “An Egyptian-based god at that.”

“Why,” Sin ground out, “does that matter?”

“Tell me,” Augustus asked, “did Archer ever mention how he’d been cursed?”

Sin swallowed, his gaze darting over Augustus’s face. Archer had drunk an elixir, and it had cursed him to a strange living death, locked into immortality while slowing turning into a being of… “Ice,” Sin croaked out. “He described himself as looking as though his flesh had been carved from ice.”

Augustus’s smile was slow and broad. Again, before Sin’s eyes, he shifted, his flesh becoming crystalline and pure. It was beautiful and unearthly. “Not ice, but altered. He was not cursed but becoming Judgment.”

“Judgment?”

“Yes. A select group of warriors who possess the ability to judge a soul and send it to the afterlife. Archer did not know what he was. Thus he feared it and never learned the ability to control it.” Augustus’s lashes swept down, and he frowned. “The fault was mine. My acolyte Victoria was damaged, mentally, and she’d stolen my secrets, giving her the knowledge to create others without proper care. I did not know until it was too late. Nor did I know about Archer’s change until he was already free of it.”

“Have you told Archer?”

Augustus’s shake of the head was almost undetectable. “No.”

“Why the devil not?”

With a sigh, Augustus sat back. “He is no longer Judgment. Therefore, he cannot know unless he was to take up that task once more.” A look of melancholy filled his eyes. “Why would he want to when he has Miranda now? When his life is settled.” He gave a bracing sigh. “But enough of that. It is you of whom we speak tonight.”

“You want me to become Judgment.” Sin laughed. “I’m hardly fitting for the task. Nor do I have the ability to alter my flesh to…” He waved a hand in Augustus’s direction. “Do that.”

“But you could. Become Judgment, St. John.”

This time, when Sin wanted to surge to his feet, he was free to do so. He paced away from the fireplace and then turned back toward Augustus. “And Mab? She owns me. As surely as if I were a piece of furniture.” He slammed his fist against a sideboard for emphasis, and the knickknacks upon it rattled.

Augustus did not blink. “You are blood bonded. Take the elixir and your blood will be irrevocably changed. The debt will dissolve.”

“Convenient that.”

“It is.” Augustus smiled. “I know things that that bitch cannot begin to fathom.”

“Then kill her yourself.”

“Alas, I cannot. We all have our crosses to bear. Mine is that I can no longer act as Judgment but merely guide those who choose to serve.”

“To do your dirty work.” Sin ran a hand through his hair and picked up pacing again. “Even if I were to do this, there is no guarantee that I could destroy Mab. Holly managed to destroy her human body but Mab merely popped up again a few months later.” Sin could only be thankful that Mab had decided to stay far away from Holly. He supposed she was still smarting over Holly slicing her to ribbons with iron bars.

“Dear boy, there are few more powerful things on this Earth than Judgment. And one with the power of all the elements?” Augustus gave a small shake of his head. “She hasn’t a chance. Even better? She’ll never see you coming because she believes she is in utter control over you.”

The very idea was a whisper of seduction along Sin’s skin. To be free.

“Think, St. John,” Augustus said quietly. “A chance to live a life of pride, to do good, to be with Layla.”

Sin’s gaze snapped to the man sitting in the chair. “Yes, what of Layla? Why do you guard her?”

“You do not get to know that until you are Judgment.”

Sin ground his teeth. The bastard was blackmailing him. And Sin would fall for it, because if there was one true thing he held on to, it was the thought that Layla Starling, his childhood friend, lived safe and happy in this world.

With a sigh, Augustus stood. Slowly he walked to him. “Let me give you this.” Before Sin could speak, Augustus whipped his own palm across his mouth, tearing the flesh open with the tip of a fang that had suddenly descended in his mouth. Sin didn’t have time to flinch as Augustus cupped his cheek, smearing hot crimson blood over Sin’s skin. “By my blood,” he said, looking into Sin’s eyes, “I swear what I say is truth.”

Sin felt himself sag, his will crumpling. Perhaps he’d regret this even more than his other mistakes. Perhaps he was consigning himself to more misery. Sin closed his eyes tight and let fate have its go. “Tell me what I must do.”