Authors: Erica O'Rourke

Bound (9 page)

BOOK: Bound

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I don’t know what made me protect Billy, but without thinking, I threw the knife at Anton, aiming for the center of his back.

I missed, of course. You can learn a lot of trick throws with darts—fancy moves that impress the regulars, especially if you’re eight and looking for a few bucks to spend on the ice-cream truck. But darts and daggers are very different things, and my throw dipped, catching the back of Anton’s calf instead. He went down, but the blue glow spreading across the injury told me he’d be up again in a minute, completely healed.

Behind me, Luc hacked apart the remaining Darkling. The air was thick with the scent of decay. I staggered, nauseated as Luc sent another bolt of energy sizzling across the alley, forcing Anton back several paces.

Billy sagged against the door frame, ashen faced.

“Go inside,” I repeated, and tried to push him back into Morgan’s. But he shook free, staring as Luc and Anton faced off.

“I can call more Darklings,” said Anton.

“I can call more guards,” Luc countered. There was a flash of light, a cracking sound, and he grinned. “Already did, in fact. And they’ve got orders to kill you on sight.”

Anton scoffed. “I’d like to see them try.”

“That can be arranged. But actually”—Luc’s voice dropped to a conspirator’s whisper—“I’m plannin’ on doing it myself.”

Anton shifted, his eyes flickering to the group of Arcs rushing down the alley. “Next time,” he said with a mocking little bow before he went Between.

Luc grabbed my arms. “You okay?”

“No. But ...” I gestured to my uncle, whose mouth was opening and closing soundlessly. “What about him?”

“Hold on,” Luc said, and strode to the guards that had halted a few yards away, barking orders. The group snapped to attention, hung unquestioningly on his every word. It was yet another side of him I hadn’t seen before—a leader. It suited him. Everything about this life suited him, and I wondered at his insistence that someone like me should be a part of it.

Billy braced an arm against the Dumpster, his eyes wide and fearful. “Mo—”

“I can explain,” I said to Billy, as my teeth started to chatter. I bent down and picked up the dagger I’d thrown, the blood on the blade so dark it looked like oil.

“You should clean that before it rusts,” Billy said, his voice hollow.

I nodded, wiping it on my slush-soaked apron, afraid to ask how he knew that.

“That thing,” he said finally, gesturing to the spot where the Darkling’s body lay crumpled. “What ...”

“It’s called a Darkling. They’re assassins. Hunters.”

He stared at it and crossed himself. “Not human.”

“No.”

“You’ve seen them before.”

“Yes.”

He nodded at that, and I watched him take it all in, assemble the clues like a crossword, seeing how the different parts connected. And finally he looked at me. “Those things ... they killed Verity?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

Luc approached us. The sword was gone, but he still wore a fierce, deadly expression. It softened as he took in the sight of me. “You’re soaking wet, Mouse.”

“I fell.”

“I noticed.” He brushed a hand along my sleeve, along my back, the warmth spreading through me and drying my clothes. With a few words, the rip in my coat began reweaving itself. “Hypothermia ain’t a good look for anyone.”

Billy was regaining control—no longer leaning against the Dumpster, smoothing his hair down, retreating to the role he played best. He folded his arms and stared Luc down. “And who would you be?”

“Luc.” He said it carelessly, as if Billy’s discovery didn’t put us in jeopardy. I knew differently.

“I’ve not heard of you.”

“I’ve heard of you,” he said. “The uncle, right? You’ll want to forget what you just saw.”

“What I’ll be wanting is an explanation,” Billy said ominously.

Just then, Colin’s truck rounded the corner, the headlights capturing us in an unlikely tableau.

“Hell, Mouse. You’re the only person I know turns a back alley into Grand Central Station.” Luc scowled at the truck.

“This isn’t my fault,” I shot back. “It’s not as if I asked Anton to attack me.”

“You’ve someone else after you, Mo?” Billy asked.

Colin strode toward us. “What the hell happened? What’s he doing here?”

I didn’t know if he was referring to Billy or Luc, so I covered both. “Anton showed up with a bunch of Darklings, followed by Luc. Billy came looking for me in the middle of the fight.”

“Are you okay?” He inspected me carefully, eyes going steely at the sight of the dagger in my hand. I nodded, and he pulled me into his arms. “How’d he get so close?”

Behind me, Luc sounded as weary as I felt. “He didn’t use magic, so he didn’t trigger the wards. Darklings don’t use lines, so they didn’t, either. Nobody realized what was going on until he started the Rivening.”

“You knew about all of this?” Billy demanded, drilling a finger into Colin’s chest. “You’ve known all along these creatures were after her? That such things existed? And you said nothing to me?”

“You wouldn’t have believed him,” I said.

“Magic,” he said, and his tone wasn’t fearful. It was ... wondrous, like he’d had a celestial vision. The shift alarmed me. “This changes everything.”

“It absolutely does not.” I turned to Luc. “Isn’t there something you could do to make him forget? Erase all of this?”

“Nothing but a Rivening,” he said. “And that’s a line I won’t cross. Not even for you.”

I shook my head, remembering the sensation of Anton digging through my mind. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. And I didn’t want Luc to be capable of it. “You can’t talk about this,” I said to Billy “Not a word.”

“But, Mo, darling girl ...”

I gathered up every last bit of strength I had, tightened my grip on the knife, and said, “I am not your darling girl. I am tired and I am cold and I am really, really sick of people trying to kill me. You don’t talk to anyone about this. You forget tonight ever happened. You leave it alone, Billy, because if you don’t, someone’s going to get hurt. Maybe even you.”

Luc smiled, even as he pried the dagger out of my hands and tested the blade with his thumb, his eyes on Billy the whole time. “No maybe about it.”

Billy glanced from me to Luc and back again. His mouth opened and shut with a snap.

“Home,” Colin said firmly. “Now.”

“My bag ...” I trailed off at the look on Colin’s face.

“Donnelly’s right,” Billy said. “Best we get you home. I’ll come around with your things later. We’ll have a chat, you and I.”

The warmth in his smile turned my blood to ice. Without another word, Colin steered me toward the truck.

Luc followed. Voice low, he asked, “You sure you ain’t hurt?”

I pressed my lips together. I wasn’t hurt—not really, though my hands and knees stung from falling, and my neck ached where Anton had grabbed it. But this was everything I’d tried to avoid—the magic and the mundane parts of my life crashing together, endangering everything I’d worked for. Billy knew the truth now, and that made him dangerous.

From the moment I’d taken Verity’s place as the Vessel, Luc had insisted I would have to choose between a life with the Flats and one with the Arcs—and he’d made no secret about which one he believed I was meant for. Until tonight, I’d thought I could handle both. I’d argued and pushed and run and refused. Now I had to wonder if he was right. If he was right about where I belonged, what did that mean for my relationship with him? And for my future with Colin?

Colin, who bristled beside me as if Luc were the danger. “Can it wait until morning?”

Luc dragged a hand through his hair. “We can talk tomorrow. But you’ll need protection from here on out.”

“How did you know?” I asked, finding my voice. “He told me if I called for you, the Darklings would attack.”

He touched my chin, the gentle movement replacing the memory of Anton’s grip. “The binding works both ways. When you got scared—big, bone-deep scared—I could feel it.”

And he’d come for me.

Before I could reply, Billy sidled across the alley and extended a hand to Luc, some sort of man-to-man gesture designed to put them on equal footing. When Luc didn’t move to take it, Billy dropped his hand, cleared his throat. “Think what you might of me, but she’s my family, and you have my thanks.”

Luc strode away, not deigning to respond, every inch the Heir. Outrage flashed across Billy’s face, quickly hidden, and I pretended not to notice, even as his gaze trained on me like he’d scented fresh prey.

Colin, of course, didn’t care about either of them. He bundled me into the truck, helping me with the seat belt when my fingers shook too much to manage. Billy waited until Colin walked to his side of the truck, and leaned in.

“Later, then,” he said. “We’ll have our talk.”

I didn’t answer. Colin drove away, but in the side mirror I saw Billy waving us off, more good-natured than you would expect for a man who’d just seen his world turn inside out. That couldn’t possibly be a good thing.

Colin blasted the heat on the way home, but I burrowed into him, unable to warm up, trying to press inside his skin through will alone. His hand moved shakily over my hair, a gesture of reassurance for both of us.

“I don’t like Luc,” he said eventually.

“He’s not—”

“Listen to me.” His voice sounded strangled and halting. “I hate his guts. I think he’s dangerous. I think he drags you into things you aren’t ready for, and asks you to do things no one has a right to ask. I think he wants you for himself, and he’ll use anything he can get his hands on to make it happen. I think he’s sneaky and manipulative and untrustworthy in a thousand different ways. He makes my trigger finger itch every time I see him.”

“Can we not do this right now?”

“
Listen to me.
None of it changes the fact he’s the only one who can protect you. I’ve seen the way you push back at him and the Arcs. Partly, you’re trying to keep them from hijacking your life. That’s good. But another part of it is because you’re afraid Luc will come between us, and that’s bullshit. We’re better than that. So when he comes to you and says he’s got a plan to keep you safe, don’t turn him down because you’re worried about my feelings. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Arcs and their prophecies. All I want is you. Safe. Everything else—everything—comes second to that.”

“The Seraphim want to destroy their whole world. I might be able to stop them.”

“But you don’t need to. You don’t owe them.”

“It’s not about owing them. It’s about standing up when no one else can. Even if the cost is terrible.”

“There has to be another way. With all that magic, Luc can hide you. He would, if you asked him to.”

I wasn’t so sure. Not if he thought the Arcs needed me.

“I don’t want to hide. You do it. Every day, you hide. Even from me. Does it make you happy?”

“This isn’t about my past,” he said.

“No. It’s about my future. Our future.”

“Our future isn’t worth your life.”

“That’s where we disagree,” I said, and tried to keep my voice light.

We pulled up in front of my house, and he kissed me—desperately, like he was exorcising demons, trying to crowd out fear with wanting, and I kissed him back just as hard, telling him everything I couldn’t say with words. I’d taken another step into the Arcs’ world, to a place he couldn’t follow, and we both knew it. But tonight had taught me I could fight back ... and win.

C
HAPTER
11

I
woke from a dream about the magic—the Quartoren’s table alive with symbols, light dripping from them like tears, and the dagger Luc had given me slipping out of my grasp, reopening my scar, the blade gleaming with my blood—and my mouth was cottony with fear. I reached out to the magic and felt the Quartoren’s wards in place just like at school. Like my very own supernatural alarm system. I was safe here.

Safe and terrified.

I lay in bed for a long time and listened to the familiar noises of our house—the radiator knocking, the foundation settling. The occasional snore from my parents’ room. Comforting noises. But they didn’t soothe me the way they used to.

I threw the covers back, wincing at the icy floorboards underneath my feet. Warm milk. As a kid, whenever I couldn’t sleep, my mom made me a mug of warm milk with vanilla. I eased open the door, left the hall light off so as not to wake my parents, and felt my way downstairs to the kitchen.

Nerves jangling, I flipped on the stove light, casting a comforting glow around the room. I pulled a mug from the cabinet and filled it with milk, then crossed over to the spice cabinet, where Mom kept the vanilla extract.

“I thought you might want your books,” said my uncle, strolling in from the pitch black living room.

I stifled a scream, my heart pounding crazily. “What are you doing here?”

He’d been sitting in the living room, some part of my mind registered. He’d watched me stumble past him through the darkness and stayed silent. He’d waited until I was distracted and then cornered me.

“You spilled some milk there,” he said, pointing to the counter. “I told you I wanted to chat.”

Hands trembling, I grabbed a towel and mopped up the milk. “It’s the middle of the night. And there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Isn’t there? After everything I’ve seen tonight?”

“I told you—you need to forget what you saw. It’s only going to bring you trouble.”

He waved my words away. “Trouble I’m better suited to handle than you. You’re not thinking this through, Mo. The possibilities. What this could mean for us.”

I stared at him. “You can’t deal with these people. They don’t care about you. You’re inconsequential to them.”

“But you aren’t.” He smiled again, thin and unpleasant. “You matter quite a bit, I’ll wager, judging from the look on your friend’s face tonight. We can use that.”

My stomach turned. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t use Luc, wouldn’t let Billy have access to that kind of power. He had too much already. “Get out,” I said, trying to keep my voice strong.

“You don’t give the orders, Maura Kathleen. Have you forgotten that?” Billy drew himself up, storm clouds gathering, fist clenched as if he was about to strike.

The door to the screened porch swung open, and Luc stepped inside. “Problem here?” he asked.

I let out a long, slow breath, and Billy’s expression transformed to one of welcome. “Luc! Just dropping off my niece’s books, as I promised. Good to see you again.”

Luc nodded, a curt gesture that didn’t bother with sincerity. “Little late for family to be droppin’ by.”

“It is,” I agreed.

For once, Billy took the hint. “We’ll continue this another time, Mo. If I were you, I’d tread lightly.”

“Excuse me?” With Luc standing next to me, it was easier to inject disdain into my voice.

“Your mother’s a light sleeper. I’d be careful on those stairs.”

And with that, Billy left.

Luc’s hand cupped my elbow, keeping me steady. I took a long, slow breath and said, “Your timing is impeccable. Again.”

He smiled grimly. “Saw him come in. Didn’t want to interrupt, but he looked like he was about to go after you.”

“You’ve been watching the house.” After the night’s events, the idea didn’t bother me like it once would have.

He’d changed out of the blood-stained clothes from the fight. Now he wore a pair of ancient jeans and a white T-shirt so pristine it seemed luminescent against the black leather of his coat. “You’ve got guards, but ... I wanted to be sure.”

I almost told him to leave. Billy wouldn’t return, and it wouldn’t make sense for Anton to come after me tonight. No doubt he was off licking his wounds, plotting his next attack, whipping his followers into a frenzy. But Anton was insane. Nothing he did made sense. And the idea that Luc would be watching over me suddenly felt secure, not stalkerish.

“Come upstairs,” I whispered. He took my hand, concealing us as we crept back to my room. “Did the Quartoren tell you to come?”

“They know I’m here.” I turned on my lamp and settled on the bed, watching him prowl the room. He moved to my dresser, poked idly at the tumble of jewelry and detritus—ticket stubs, last year’s school ID, pens, hair clips. He picked up a bottle of perfume and sniffed, nose wrinkling. “Doesn’t smell like you.”

“I never wear it. What did they say?”

“Told me to bring you back.” He shrugged, a quick angry jerk of his shoulder.

Of course they had. They were probably rubbing their hands together in glee and practicing their “I told you so.” I pulled my knees to my chest and tried to keep the weariness from my voice. “Tonight?”

He moved on to my desk, picking up the geode I used as a paperweight and tossing it from hand to hand. “Figured you could use some rest, so I volunteered to stay with you instead.”

“And they went for it?”

He grinned, teeth gleaming as white as his shirt. “Rumor has it I am hard to say no to.”

I couldn’t help smiling back. “Never been a problem for me.”

“Exception proves the rule.” He crossed the room and sat down next to me. “And you are one hell of an exception.”

Chin on knees, I studied him. Dark smudges under his eyes, a crease between his brows that was on its way to becoming permanent—the night had taken a toll on him, too. “You’re exhausted. You can’t stay up all night just to watch me.”

“Not sure I can sleep. I keep seein’ Anton grab you, like a movie in my head. Can’t make it stop. Does it hurt?”

“A little,” I said, remembering Anton’s fingers pressing into my throat, cutting off my air. I inhaled deeply, just because I could.

Carefully, Luc pushed my hair to the side, baring my neck. His voice was hard, but his touch was light and tentative. “Bastard left marks.”

“I know.” I’d already tried to figure out how I would hide them. Makeup wouldn’t cover the purple welts. A scarf would be better, but a violation of the dress code. I hadn’t owned a turtleneck since the fifth grade. And no matter how I hid the marks, they’d still exist. I’d still feel them and remember.

I straightened, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes, unable to stop the hitching of my breath.

“Let me fix it,” he said.

“No. It’ll hurt you.” Arcs could heal wounds—and Luc was particularly good at it—but our bond meant that any time he healed me, he injured himself. “What if Anton comes back while you’re recovering?”

“He won’t. Please, Mouse. Bad enough it happened at all. Neither one of us needs a reminder.” He reached out, saw me flinch, and took my hand instead.

“You promise it won’t hurt you too badly?” I couldn’t stand the thought of causing him more pain than I had already.

“Can’t hurt more than looking at ’em,” he said. “Tilt your head back.”

I did, pulling my hair into a ponytail, and closed my eyes. His hand moved over my throat, and I started to choke, panic stealing my air. Immediately, he pulled away.

“Breathe for me. Nice and steady. In and out.”

I opened my eyes. “Sorry. I freaked a little.”

“My fault,” he said easily. “Let’s try somethin’ different. Look at me this time.”

So I did. He sat across from me on the bed, cross-legged, and I mirrored him, feeling self-conscious in my thin T-shirt and ratty flannel pants. I forced my fingers to still, gripping my knees, and let myself fall into his eyes.

Even if I hadn’t known Luc was magical, his eyes would have given it away. No one had eyes that green, unless they wore colored contacts. Green flecked with gold, and depending on the mood, they could flash like emeralds or turn soft as summer grass. Lashes the color of soot, indecently long, like they might tangle together when he blinked. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, as if he was smiling, but I didn’t dare look away to check. I felt his touch on my collarbone and my windpipe started to close.

“It’s only me,” he said. The world narrowed down to the low, musical drawl of his voice and the pools of his eyes. “Keep looking at me.”

His finger hovered above my neck, separated by a few molecules of air. No pressure, only a sensation of warmth, shimmering and sinking inside of me, and the magic responded, unfurling like a flower in sunshine. Luc’s eyes turned a deeper, glinting green, and he covered each of the bruises in turn as the magic built between us, our bond strong and silvery, impossible to ignore.

Slowly, he ran his thumb along the side of my neck, across my collarbone, stopping at my shoulder. And then he blinked and fell back, the air whooshing out of his lungs.

“Are you okay? Can you breathe?” I scrambled across the bed and knelt next to him. “Luc?”

“No worries,” he gasped. For a long minute, he sounded like he’d run a marathon, and then he propped himself on one elbow, studying me.

“You’re sure?” The circles under his eyes were darker, but his breathing had evened out.

He threaded his fingers through my hair. “Pretty damn sure.”

I went still at his touch—startled, but not afraid—and my own breath came more quickly.

“We should get some sleep. It’s really late.”

He sighed. “Whatever you say.”

I pulled back and made a show of reaching for my alarm clock, fighting for normalcy. “I say you should take a pillow. And you’re sitting on the spare blanket.”

When he’d settled into his makeshift bed on the rug, I turned out the light, oddly nervous. Not afraid, exactly, but the air felt charged, full of things we hadn’t said, words that might be easier in the darkness. I wondered if Luc felt it, too.

“You ready to come clean?” Apparently, he did.

“About what?”

“I’ve healed you plenty of times. Before the binding and after. This was different. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the magic was gearin’ up to protect you. When it realized I wasn’t a threat, it boosted my spell instead of blockin’ it. Like it was trying to help you.”

“So?” I rolled onto my back, stared up at the ceiling. “That would be a good thing.”

“
That
would imply the magic made a conscious choice. Like it has a mind of its own. Which is about as crazy as saying gravity decided to keep the planet in orbit another day.”

I wanted to tell him the truth. Even the magic seemed to yearn for it, in tandem with my heart. But some part of me resisted, wary and skittish. I didn’t know if I was guarding the magic or myself. “You’re the one saying it.”

“You ain’t denying it, either.”

I didn’t answer. It was the best I could do, for now.

“I don’t know how to make you trust me,” he said.

“You can start by not trying to
make
me do anything.”

“Fair enough. But let’s say I’m right—and the magic is aware. Alive.” He sounded awestruck at the idea, and more somber than I’d ever heard him. “It’s a game changer, Mouse. You’ve got a connection to the magic, and if you can tell it what to do ... if it’ll listen ... everyone will want at you. Not just Anton. The Houses, too. The Quartoren.”

“I’m aware.” But hearing Luc state it made it more real. More dangerous. And it made me feel more alone than ever.

“I bet. You can’t tell them. I can’t make you do anything, but I’m asking you to promise. Promise you won’t tell anyone.”

“Not even the Quartoren?” Was he really warning me against his own people? Putting me before his duties as Heir? If he was truly on my side, I could almost believe we’d get through this. “I thought you trusted them.”

He sighed again, heavily. “I trust them to do right by the Arcs.”

“I’m not an Arc.”

“Exactly.”

BOOK: Bound

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