Chapter 9
SEBASTIAN
The woman who sired me is as intimidating in death as she was in life—and just as radiantly beautiful. Only, this version of her before me now is exponentially more insane.
Or that could be me.
Manon walks backward, each step silent on the stone floor of the tunnels despite the point of her stiletto heels. Her steel gaze is fixed on me in a relentless stare.
It’s been two hours of enduring the silent eyeballing, and at this point I almost wish she would say something.
The ghostly silence is somehow worse.
What do you want?!I want to scream at her. Leave me alone.
If I thought it would do any good, I would.
But I don’t. Nothing good ever comes from interacting with my hallucinations, so I vowed to shut her out completely.
She isn’t there.
Manon must sense my resolve, because she finally breaks our tense silence with a long sigh. “Don’t tell me you intend to ignore me forever, my love.”
I’ll do my damndest.
And Manon is doing her damndest to make that as difficult as possible.
She stops suddenly, and every muscle in my body tenses as I collide into her. I don’t, of course—I walk through her as easily as walking through a doorway.
As if she was never there to begin with.
“Because she isn’t real,” I remind myself, my own voice too loud in the silent tunnels.
“Sebastian, that was downright boorish.” She appears before me once more, continuing to stare at me as she walks backward, always directly in front of me. “You’ve changed. My sweet Sebastian would never treat a lady with such poor manners.”
“You aren’t real,” I tell her. “You’re dead. Manners don’t apply to the dead.”
She pouts and almost looks like the woman I knew—the real Manon. “That hurts, darling. When did you become so cold?”
Even though I know it’s not real, her admonishment still feels like the cold blade of a dagger in my chest.
I shut my eyes, taking refuge in the blackness of my mind to escape from my ghosts. I’ve walked this path thousands of times—I could do it by touch alone if I had to. But I shouldn’t have to.
This is pathetic.
It’s absolute foolishness, navigating my way through the tunnels by sound and memory, hiding from an entity that no longer holds command over me. Whatever she is, she can’t hurt me.
This isn’t Manon. It’s a figment of my imagination—that’s all. A manifestation of my guilt.
I consider, for the millionth time, confiding in Rune about my sufferings. Except doubt stops me each time.
How would he take it?
If he is loyal to me, he might be able to help.
If he is loyal to the French Quarter horde, he wouldn’t hesitate to take me out.
And he shouldn’t.
I’m nothing more than a liability at this point.
Fintan is more practical. Logical. He wouldn’t think with emotion. He would assess me as the dangerous monster I am and he would lock me up while he tries to cure me.
That would leave me to spend the rest of my days rotting away in my own dungeon.
It’s not like I haven’t looked for a solution. There is little research on the topic. Short of rereading King Lear, or Caligula, I’ve got nothing to go on.
The story of the mad king is so old it’s comical.
It makes me wonder if my descent into madness started even before Celine Dumont rejected me. Does it go hand in hand with the stress of ruling? Was I destined to break? Have I always been mad?
These rare moments of clarity are more crazy-making than the madness. A sane person doesn’t question whether or not they have lost their mind.
A sane person doesn’t see ghosts.
A sane person doesn’t black out and have their alter ego take over.
Where is the line drawn between me and my unhinged alter ego? How different are we, really? We are, after all, two sides of the same metaphorical coin.
They are both me.
If I wasn’t such a coward, I would come clean to Fintan and Rune. Or take care of the problem myself. I would rather go out on my own terms while some remnants of my old self are still alive.
The scuffing of shoes against the pebbled floor rouses me from my thoughts.
I open my eyes expecting to see Manon, but the only thing I see is a fork in the path, empty dirt and stone down each one. I look over my shoulder, but she’s not following from behind either.
“Rune?” I call quietly, knowing the tunnels will carry my voice.
All I receive in response is a hiss of sound from the branch to the left. I follow the noise, and when I turn the corner, I find my second-in-command carrying Josephine in his arms—a sight that both intrigues and infuriates me.
Her delicate body rests against his chest, and the unity bond has etched itself upon their beings and left a radiant, crimson glow in Rune’s eyes.
But it’s the unwanted, ghostly visitor that gains my attention.
Manon hovers close to Rune, leaning over him until her hair brushes against Josephine’s face, making the witch stir. Manon’s lip pulls back as she opens her mouth over Josephine’s pale neck, fangs poised to strike her jugular.
“No!”
Rune whirls in my direction, hissing at me to be quiet. “What is wrong with you? She’s asleep,” he whispers, looking pointedly at the Sun Witch in his arms.
“I’ve been looking for you.” I ignore Manon’s satisfied smirk that tells me my reaction played right into her hand.
If I keep acting strange, Rune and Fintan will put the pieces together, whether I want them to or not.
“And?”
My gaze narrows at the challenge in his tone. “Did you forget you were supposed to meet me nearly an hour ago?”
“I didn’t forget. I just had something to take care of first.” He brushes past me, as intent on ignoring me as I am on ignoring Manon.
I notice the fresh imprint of fangs on Josephine’s neck and get a waft of the potent aroma of lust that clings to him.
“Ah, and take care of her, you did,” I say.
Rune scowls at me. “Be very careful what you say next, Bas. Josie is our mate. Ours to protect.”
I wish I could share his opinion of the woman. From where I sit, she is merely a vicious reminder of the worst moments in my long life.
But that is a very unpopular opinion.
“First, you lose Fintan, and now your trusted Viking brute?” Manon smooths a black wave of hair from Josephine’s neck and leans in for a better look at Rune’s mark. “Your brothers are growing more attached to her by the hour, my love.”
The madness rears its head, and I grit my teeth as I stave off the inevitable.
“Does Fintan know you’ve made Josephine your own?” I ask, my tone more accusing than I mean it to come out.
It’s not as though he can hide it. The unity bond between Rune and Josephine has left an indelible mark on both of them.
I can almost taste the electric charge that lingers in their wake.
Rune’s hold tightens on Josephine, and I’m met with a harsh stare. “Are you suggesting I should’ve asked Finn’s permission? Josie is as much mine as she is his.”
I raise a curious brow. “Is she? Does Fintan’s hold on her remain?”
“Josie can still feel her and Finn’s connection. Looks like he was wrong about only one of us being able to complete the bond with her.”
“We don’t know that yet. At this point, everything is up in the air.”
“Do you smell that, my love?” Manon’s breath whispers in my ear, her body pressing into me from behind.
I inhale deeply and regret it.
Blood.
All of my senses scream for it, every atom of my being straining to get at the faint trickle of fresh blood at Josephine’s throat. My gaze focuses on the pink fang marks newly healed on the witch’s neck, my heightened hearing tracking the steady thumping of her pulse just beneath.
It doesn’t matter how much I try to deny it to myself—I want to taste her. I want to tear my fangs into the soft flesh until she screams, and—fuck. I wince as I bite down on my tongue, steering my thoughts of murder and carnage to an abrupt halt as I taste blood.
“Bas? You good?” Rune takes a step forward, but I put up my hand and stop him from coming any closer.
I can’t handle another whiff of Josephine’s blood. I’m barely holding it together as is. “Put the witch to bed and meet Fintan and me in the library, where you were meant to be an hour ago.”
“You got it, boss,” he says, the response almost robotic despite the spark of defiance in his red-eyed stare.
“The Dumont witch is quickly building a wedge between you and yours, Sebastian,” Manon whispers to me. Her breath is cool against my skin and sends a shiver down my spine.
I stab my tongue up into my fang, hoping the pain will block my sire out completely. It doesn’t.
“Eventually, they will both leave you for her,” Manon taunts, “and then you will be alone. Truly alone. A mad king, with all the riches and power he could want, and yet left with nothing.”
I turn and leave, using my full speed, eager to put as much distance between myself and temptation as I can.
Temptation or damnation?
The scent of Josephine’s magically potent blood still clings to my nostrils when I burst into the library, the suddenness of my entrance stirring up a flurry of loose papers scattered across the floor.
Thankfully, the only thing to hurt in here is an endless supply of books. Though something tells me ripping through the flimsy paper of even the thickest tome will do nothing to erase my need to have Josephine’s blood slicking down my throat.
For whatever reason, Manon didn’t follow me back to the hotel. I know better than to think that means she’s gone. She hasn’t given me more than a day’s rest in twenty-five years. That won’t change simply because I’ve opted to ignore her.
I wish it were that easy.
Following the consistent thwick of flipping pages, I delve further into the library. The room is nearly pitch dark with so many floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed into the space, all of them packed with so many books they spill onto the floor, stacks of them piled in towers that reach my chin.
I will never understand how or why Fintan spends hours, sometimes days, locked away in here. There is barely room to stand up, let alone move around.
The room is jammed with so much knowledge I have to shimmy sideways between two shelves. It’s how I imagine Finn’s mind looks on the inside.
I find him on the floor in his usual spot, tucked up against a blacked-out window in the back corner, a spread of books and pages fanned out in a semi-circle around him.
“Where’s Rune?” he asks without looking up from where he’s furiously flipping through the pages of two books simultaneously, unblinking eyes flicking back and forth, devouring the words with impressive speed.
“On his way. Have you found anything?”
“Not yet.”
He isn’t likely to. The only recordings of the night of the unity ritual are in the hands of the witches. And they have been very good at concealing their spell books and knowledge since long before the war. They have only grown more creative with their hiding places since.
I don’t bother saying any of that out loud.
Telling Fintan not to read is like telling a leprechaun not to play mean-spirited tricks, or a selkie not to swim. It goes against his nature.
“What’s managed to change your mood so drastically?”
“Your sire,” I grumble.
Finn hums, noncommittal, and I get the feeling Rune is in hot water with more than just me today.
He knows about Rune and Josephine. He must.
A few long minutes pass in silence as I watch him read, and the urge to ask grows strong, but as if he can sense the question coming, Finn picks up the conversation and steers it in a different direction. “Did you see the sunstone dagger?”
My heart jumps at the question, and I hope Fintan doesn’t catch it.
“The night of the unity ritual,” he clarifies, those piercing green eyes flicking up to meet mine before lowering to the page again. “You were there. Did you see it?”
“I was there. That’s how Celine and I were trapped in a unity bond—one of the first.”
“So, you must have seen the dagger.”
“I saw the dagger and the amulet, but I didn’t realize either of their importance until later.”
“Anything you remember about either of them could potentially give us a lead and help us track down the missing witchstone.”
My ears pick up the miniscule sound of the doorknob twisting, signaling Rune’s entrance and saving me from answering Finn’s interrogation.
“It’s about time you joined us,” I call as Rune navigates his way through the maze of books and shelves.
“You could have waited until tomorrow to call a strategy session. I’m missing my beauty sleep here, Bas.” The Viking comes into view and takes his place, leaning against a sturdy wall-to-ceiling bookcase.
Fintan watches his sire out of the corner of his eye. “I’d say you’re well-charged.”
Rune raises a thick brow and crosses his arms over his chest. “Is there something you want to ask me, Finn?”
“That depends on if there is anything you want to confess to me.”
“Nope. Nothing I feel I need to say.”
The two of them hold their ground over a long, tense moment of male machismo.
Really?Is this what it’s going to be like having Josephine in our midst?
“We can all retire to our quarters once we figure out what the hell Lilian Beauchamp is doing back from the dead. She spent the last twenty-five years living in a shack to stay under everyone’s radar. She wouldn’t reveal herself to us only to get help finding the sunstone dagger. There has to be another angle she’s working.”
And we need to figure out what.
I need the combined efforts of my Viking warrior and my Celt bookworm.
They seem to have missed the memo.
Neither of my seconds-in-command respond, too distracted by the territorial pissing match. I’m starting to think we should’ve rescheduled this conversation. Oh well, the damage is already done.
“Rune, what are your thoughts?”
“At this very moment? I’m thinking I should’ve crawled into bed with Josie if this is how the two of you are going to act.” His voice is low, angry, and directed towards Fintan.
“You’re the one who made things difficult, brother,” the Celt accuses cooly, eyes returning to the page of his book.
He can act as unbothered as he wants, but Rune and I both feel animosity wafting off him like the stink of a skunk.
Finn may be an empath, but he has a hard time disguising his own emotions.
“So, you’re the only one who’s allowed to act on the bond?” Rune rumbles. “What makes you so special, brother? And don’t give me some ‘I saw her first’ bullshit. The new moon bound all three of us to Josephine, not just you.”
“I know that.”
“Then stop acting like you don’t, because Sebastian is next up at the plate.”
I scoff. “I don’t fucking think so.”
Rune and Finn both turn a confused gaze my way. Oh, look. I’ve united them once again.
“You won’t drink from her?” Rune asks.
I thought my comment made my position on the matter clear. Apparently not. “I have no intention of ever completing the unity bond. Tried it once—didn’t care for it. Hard pass.”
Rune props his concrete fists on his hips. “What the hell are Finn and I supposed to do?”
“You two are already bound to her. What do you care if I opt out?”
“It was destined by the ritual. Josie is ours to claim and to protect.”
I roll my eyes. “Most Sun Witches have one match. Josephine already has two. I’m sure it won’t matter if I decline from participating in the bonding experiment.”
“What if it’s not complete without all four of us?” Rune asks. “What if we’re not…connected like we’re supposed to be for what’s to come?”
“Can you feel Finn in your bond with Josephine? Are the three of you connected?”
Rune blinks and tilts his head as if he hadn’t considered that. “I dunno. I didn’t try.”
“It’s not the same as with Josie,” Fintan answers, “but I can feel Rune through the unity bond.”
“You can?”
Finn keeps his face neutral as he regards Rune, the Celt’s irritation so potent it taints the air of the room. “I felt it the moment your fangs pierced Josephine’s skin and every moment since.”
He shifts, and my gaze is drawn to the book he has tented over his lap.
Rune notices too and scoffs. “You were spying on us and getting off on Josie’s pleasure? Could you tell I fucked her with my fingers? Could you feel how hard I made her come?”
Finn grimaces. “Do you always have to be so crude?”
“Says the selenophile,” Rune shoots back.
“The what?” I ask, more baffled by Rune’s use of a twenty-point Scrabble word than anything.
Finn rolls his eyes at his sire. “A selenophile is someone with a fondness for the moon. You meant scopophiliac.”
“Yeah. That.”
“And now I’m regretting trying to broaden your vocabulary.” Finn turns to me. “He’s calling me a voyeur, a peeping Tom.”
“If the fang fits.”
“First of all: that’s not a saying. Please don’t try and make it one. Second: it’s not like I wanted to be in on the experience. It just…happened. And once I was in, I couldn’t pull myself out.”
“Oh, I’m sure you pulled yourself out,” Rune says with a pointed look at Finn’s book-covered crotch.
“That’s not what I meant,” Finn says, though I notice he doesn’t deny it. By the blush creeping up his neck, I doubt he was only a passive observer.
“I know what you meant, Fintan.” Rune’s stance shifts, his fists balled at his sides. “How about the next time Josie and I are having a private moment, you stay in your own head? My time with her is strictly invite only.”
Finn flashes to his feet with vampire speed, baring his fangs at his sire. “I told you—I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
My breathing picks up as the sound of Rune and Finn’s bickering grows louder and then is replaced by a sharp ringing in my ear. The noise is piercing as the building pressure of their standoff comes to a head.
Manon was right. Josephine is driving a wedge between the three of us. She’s putting us at odds with each other.
“Sebastian?” Rune’s voice comes over the ringing, barely audible. “You good?”
Fintan prods at my mind with his own, attempting to peek inside, and I shut it down immediately, slamming all doors and windows into my psyche shut and locking them tight.
“Bas.” Rune’s voice is tight.
I blink and startle as my vision changes.
Finn’s bright green eyes are round and terrified, every part of him motionless, and I realize I’m snarling inches from his face, my teeth bared and poised to tear out his throat.
Oh, fuck.Is it my fault? Am I the one driving the wedge between me and my brothers?
My fingers tremble, yet refuse to let go as I try to reclaim control of my body.
“You came and chewed me out for a reason, boss. Remember?” Rune’s soft voice is placating, and only succeeds to make me want to tear into his throat. “How about you tell us why we’re here instead of us hitting the sack?”
I drop my grip on Finn’s shirt and step back, smoothing out the wrinkles of my own button-up so I don’t have to look either of them in the eye. “I don’t trust any Moon Witch, but I especially don’t trust Lilian Beauchamp.”
It would’ve been easier if she had stayed dead.
“She says the Moon Witches are looking to break the unity bonds and be free of the wolves,” Rune says. “Given how they treat their bonded mates, I don’t blame them.”
Finn backs himself up until he’s standing with Rune—a safe distance away from me. “Egan won’t want anything to interfere with the bonds. He benefits from the power of the Moon Witches, and the Unity Witches mated to his wolves make his pack stronger.”
“And the Sun Witches do the same for us,” Rune says. “The difference is vampires don’t fight the bond at every opportunity like the werewolves. We see it for the fucking windfall it is.”
“Windfall?” I repeat. “I haven’t had sex in twenty-five fucking years because a bitch witch rejected me and another killed her while our bonds were incomplete. I fail to see where I won the fucking lottery there, Viking.”
Rune’s expression falls. “Sorry, Bas. I didn’t mean it like that. What happened to you wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve to suffer like that—it fucking sucked—but we can turn things around now. New beginnings and all that.”
I understand the wolves’ resistance. To be forced into a lifelong bond with someone the moon chooses for you is a sadistic torture. One that, in my personal experience, lasts long after the Unity Witch has died.
Witches aren’t immortal. Their lifespans are finite, and I don’t intend to get caught in a unity bond a second time.
My brothers don’t share that sentiment. They hoped for a match even before Josephine Dumont, and now that they have one, they are completely taken with the witch.
They think the sun shines out of her ass. That would take Sun Witch to a whole new level.
I shake myself inwardly and try to stay focused. “Lilian Beauchamp is either lying outright or hasn’t given us the entire truth.”
“What are your orders, boss?” Rune asks.
Great question. I study the two of them and sort through the sludge fogging my brain. “Fintan, you stick as close to Lilian and her rogue coven as you can without being seen. If she meets with anyone else, I want to know who. If she’s double-crossing us, I want to know her hand before we show ours.”
Finn nods, eyeing me warily like I might strike again. I wish I could promise him I won’t.
“What is our hand?” Rune asks.
“The cards are still being dealt.”
The truth is, I have no idea what our next move is. How can I when we aren’t even sure what players are at the table?
Going mad is tiring business.
So is ruling a horde of vampires.
Between dealing with the day-to-day of ruling the French Quarter and constantly having to ward off Manon and her influence, I was running thin. Now that Josephine Dumont is here and my past is torturing me every waking moment, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.
At least one more night.
“Rune, you’re on the Algiers pack,” I command. “See what Egan is up to now that he’s down an accomplice. I’m sure he’ll be working up to some kind of retaliation. I don’t want to be taken by surprise because our focus is elsewhere.”
“On it.”
“Meanwhile, I am going to pay a visit to the Marigny horde. If Lilian’s intel holds a smidgen of truth in it, we’ll need to be prepared.”
“As I recall, the last time you and Estelle were face-to-face, she threatened to rip your dick out through your asshole.”
I chuckle. “She’s just a little unhinged since being turned and losing her magic.”
“And imaginative,” Fintan says absently, swapping books from one pile to another before opening the next.
“She’s batshit, is what she is. Lady is off her damned rocker.”
Normally, I would agree with Rune, but that is a pot calling a kettle black situation. I surpassed Estelle’s level of crazy a long time ago.
Besides, as a former Tremé witch, she might be the only one who can help with my situation.
“What about the sunstone dagger?” Fintan asks. “Shouldn’t we be tracking it down, so Egan doesn’t get his hands on it first?”
“Lilian didn’t seem to think he knows where to find it,” Rune says.
“But what if he does?” Fintan counters.
I hold down the snarl that threatens to burst out of my throat. Just barely. “No. Our attention is needed elsewhere. We focus on ourselves first—our horde. Family comes first. Always.”