Chapter 26

I extinguished my cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the windowsill, leaving it to smolder next to the other fresh stubs. My hand drifted to my face, rubbing along my clenched jaw. I stared out into the nocturnal desert, the moon casting a sickly glow across the dunes.

Kerys's scent still lingered in my nose. Her pained cries and sweet moans echoed in my ears.

Blood flowed to my cock, but I forced down the urge to return to the bedroom and do it all over again. Do her all over again.

Next time I really would've brought my knife.

I patted my cheeks and blew out a breath, trying to focus. I could have spent the rest of eternity buried in her cunt, but I'd done my lonesome brooding, and then I'd let out some frustration alongside my wife.

Now, she needed to rest—and I needed to figure this shit out.

I tried lying down in one of the spare guest rooms, but couldn't bring myself to sleep without her, my thoughts racing. Something about the assassination attempt on her and those warped memories stunk like a bloated corpse roasting in the sun.

I strode to the desk and dropped into the upholstered chair in front of it. The ritual manual from Dr. Mavix still laid open, and I skimmed the text again. Just like the other times, I found I'd made no mistake reciting or executing the spell.

Everything went perfect. We were alone at the site, no one there to interfere.

But then why? Why did Kerys see me as her murderer?

I was a butcher and a scoundrel. A thief of treasure and coin. An opportunist and a liar. A charmer. I was a villain, by all means.

But by the Gods, I wasn't a wife killer.

I took up my gilded cigarette case from the table and slipped out a fresh roll of tobacco, lighting it with the last match from the matchbook in my pocket before tossing it into a bin by the desk.

Puffing smoke rings above my head, I leaned back.

I had no doubt Kerys told me the truth about her vision. She might have withheld some information in her panic, but what she did share was what she believed to be fact.

I rhythmically clicked my tongue stud against my teeth, frowning.

If I hadn't made a mistake with the ritual and she'd been forthright, there must've been a third player in this game, pulling the strings from the shadows.

I hadn't seen anyone at the ritual site. But who said that meant no one was there?

My eyes widened and my tail flicked into action.

I had been distracted, my focus on Kerys and the spell. And if someone used magic to disguise themselves, they could have slipped past my attention.

A quiet knock sounded at the door, and I took a long drag before answering, smoke streaming from my mouth when I did.

"Come in."

Emily stuck her head into the room, smiling. "Is now a good time to talk?"

I gestured toward the center of the chamber. She nudged the door fully open with her foot, then closed it again the same way, a silver tray occupying her hands. A groan escaped me as she jutted her chin out at the ritual manual. I closed the book and stashed it away in my pack under the table while she set the tray down on the remaining random papers littered across the desk.

"You've not eaten since last night in the garden, and I took the liberty of preparing a light meal," she said and took the cloche from the plate. "A bottle of wine, too. Dry red, your current favorite."

I exhaled a sigh, glancing at cubes of meat in rich gravy, accompanied by a side of roasted greens and a serving of rice. "You know I don't have to eat as frequently as mortals."

Emily shrugged and walked to the window. She retrieved the ashtray, emptying it into the bin before putting it on the table. "I still think it would make you feel better. Home-cooked meals are always a comfort."

I grunted but stubbed the cigarette out and took up the fork while Emily poured a drink for me.

"Did you take care of Kerys first?" I asked.

Emily clasped her hands behind her back. "Yes, I followed your orders to the letter. First, I helped her bathe and dress the welts on her rear, applying the herbal ointment as you instructed—to ease the pain, not erase it. Then I brought her dinner. The same meal you're having, followed by a dessert of nougat and tea with a splash of milk and one spoonful of sugar."

My fork hovered over the meat as I looked up at Emily, my stomach hardening. "How was she?"

"She seemed well. Angry, but physically hale."

"And the rune?" I asked. "She was still asleep when I left, but I gave her a low dosage of poison to ensure she wouldn't wake while you worked on her."

"I don't believe she even knows I cast it on her while she was unconscious," Emily said and ran a hand along her nape, tapping a spot hidden beneath her brown hair. "I masked the spell signature and chose a place she physically wouldn't be able to see on her own, right on the back of her neck next to a beauty spot."

My stomach flipped at the mention of the star-shaped beauty mark and how often I'd kissed it.

"Using your blood and hers in the bond will have the desired effect," Emily explained. "Should she stray further than a mile from you, debilitating pain will disable her."

My heart pinched. I didn't like hurting Kerys, but I would've done anything to keep her with me.

"It won't cause her permanent harm?" I asked.

"No permanent damage. Just horrible agony that will make her pass out."

"Good job, Emily. As always," I said, and she smiled.

I enjoyed working with Emily.

Years back, she was supposed to be a one-time contact, hired to cast a spell to enfeeble a business competitor through blood magic, but her skills, reliability, and discreet methods had led me to offer her a permanent position. Before I knew her, I didn't believe hemomancy could be this varied, ranging from blood bonds tethering souls, to healing, or even curses.

Officially, she was just the head maid, and indeed, she directed the rest of the staff. She also cared for important guests, seeing to it that the household ran smoothly, but behind that fa?ade, she was my most trusted confidant. My right hand.

Her youthful appearance—any hint at her real age, which lay far beyond fifty, undone by blood magic—often had targets misjudging her as naive. And her friendly, patient disposition made most people enjoy her company. It made them trust her, get chatty and let their guard down, which was exactly the point.

Especially when her jobs included more covert tasks like industrial espionage. Information gathering. The subtle, friendly art of interrogation through companionship or seduction.

Emily possessed a wealth of medical knowledge, too, and in combination with her spells, she'd tended to my wounds more than a few times. Some injuries, even my faster-than-mortal healing couldn't handle without help.

I skewered a piece of dark meat and put it between my teeth. It was horse, but slow cooked and tender, full of earthy flavor, perfect with the herbal, creamy taste of gravy. I took another bite when Emily cleared her throat, making me look up from my plate.

Her hands smoothed over her apron, then intertwining at her belly, her head cocking. "May I speak freely?"

I waved a hand. "Go on."

"The other maids and members of staff might not realize this because they have never seen what's inside your locket. I never would have pried, and that time I caught you asleep in the living room with it hanging open was an accident—but I still know. I recognized her the moment I looked through the brothel's catalog, and she matches the description you gave me as your ideal type , the kind of woman to look for ." She drew invisible quotation marks into the air.

I glared at her, but Emily didn't crumple under my gaze like most people did. She just smiled again, the tug of her lips full of kindness.

"I don't know who that woman in the picture is, and it's not my place to judge why you have been searching for anyone looking like her," she continued. "But it doesn't take a genius to tell that she's important to you, and Ella is the spitting image of that woman—or should I say Keryssa, as you've been calling her."

I growled, rolling my eyes as my tail lashed.

Fucking Hells. I'd really hoped she had forgotten seeing the portrait inside the locket.

Emily knew many things about me no other mortal did—more than anyone else apart from Kerys, actually. Though she hadn't met Aculeus and didn't know exactly how our pact came to be, she was aware of the powers it gave me. It never scared her.

She was content working for me and solving the challenges my requests presented her with, the handsome wage an added benefit for the mutual respect we shared. I had no reason to doubt her loyalty. But shit, I rather would've kept this to myself. Probably something to do with the shame and guilt about Kerys's death eating away at my guts like maggots.

Emily didn't need to see me defeated, hopeless, broken. As much as I considered her a friend, as much as someone like me could have a friend, I'd never taken the mask off in front of her. Never let her see the darkest, most desperate parts of me.

"I suppose what I'm trying to say is that if you need help, I'm at your service as always, sir," Emily said, inclining her head. "And if you need someone to lessen the burden of whatever is weighing on you, I will happily lend an ear. Or a spell."

My chest heaved with a deep breath. "Noted."

Lips pinched, she nodded again.

"What about the autopsies? Did you find anything interesting?" I asked before continuing my meal. The food was indeed making me feel a tiny bit better, making it easier to think.

Just like now, Emily was often infuriatingly correct. Frequently, she reminded me of the hazy memories I still had of my mother. When I was still a pure mortal, I never would have guessed how fast our minds forgot, and by now, when I thought of my mother, it was often Emily's face popping into my mind. A ridiculous notion, given how much older I was.

"I completed the dissections this morning while you were out with Keryssa." Her expression darkened. "Actually, I'd prefer if you came down to my laboratory and had a look before I influence your judgment with my … theories ."

I swallowed a big bite of rice, meat, and vegetables. "That doesn't sound good, Emily," I said, already making to get up, but she chuckled.

She reached across the desk to set a hand on my shoulder. "Sit down. The bodies aren't going anywhere. You might as well finish your meal."

The scent of iron and herbs thickened the air.

My shoulders rolled. The windowless chamber felt too small, a strange cold oozing from the walls, and the small fireplace with a cauldron hanging over it was unlit. Dull jars full of spell ingredients lined ceiling-high, chaotic shelves. Some had labels reading things like ground bones or virgin's hair, others were mercifully unlabeled, their contents mushy, different shades of green or brown or red. Books were stuffed in between them, covers bent and stained or faded with age.

I didn't come down into the basement often. This twisted mixture of a witch's lair and a hospital room was Emily's domain. I had it built after she started working for me full time, providing her with a space to experiment and research to her heart's content.

I dropped the scalpel onto the maroon-stained, wooden examination table, and looked to Emily, who stood on the other side.

"You're the back-alley surgeon and resident expert on anatomy, but I can't find any proof of magical abilities in her." I waved a bloodied hand along Lara's gaping chest cavity, held open by a metal spreading tool. "The organs are pristine. None of the extensive but harmless micro-crystallization a mortal caster would show once they reach middle age. She can't have woven the spell to create the simulacrum. Making one is fucking difficult anyway, especially a construct that speaks."

Emily hummed. I interpreted the noise as agreement.

She strode to the shelves, rising on her tiptoes while she picked out a green bottle with a cork stopper. Her head cocked as she held it up. "Remember this?"

I groaned. "It's unlabeled, and you have a million bottles and potions down here. Enlighten me, please."

"Then do you recall the very first time I patched you up? When I hadn't advanced my studies enough to heal that nasty gash on your chest with my hemomancy alone, and you needed stitches?"

My brows drew together. "What about it?"

"I used the same recipe, a mixture of herbs and alcohol to disinfect my hands and your wound, but you sprouted little"—she waggled the fingers on her free hand—"writhing vines. It was an interesting way to find out about your powers."

I huffed, resisting the urge to run a hand along the heating back of my neck. " That . Yes, I recall."

Emily walked to the copy of Lara—or what was left of it—laid out on a second surgical table behind me. I turned and grimaced at the shriveled heap of misshapen bones and gooey, black flesh. It wasn't every day one got a close look at a simulacrum, even a dead specimen. After the events at my birthday celebration I had read up about them, and its rapid, strange decay was a textbook case.

"When I finished Lara's autopsy, I wanted to clean my hands before diving into my analysis of the copy. A few drops of the herbal solution dripped onto the simulacrum and …"

She tipped the bottle. A thin stream of pungent solution flowed from it, right onto the darkened remains. The flesh sizzled and smoked. And writhed .

I froze. My breath halted.

Where the liquid touched, tiny vines grew from the carcass. They undulated and lashed, reaching for the ceiling before they collapsed into mush.

"I think you see what I mean," Emily said.

A pounding in my ears, I pulled my lips into a sneer. "Fuck!" I banged my fist onto the table, the cadaver jiggling.

The same reaction meant the same source of magic.

"At first, I thought you had created—" Emily began.

I gripped the scalpel I'd used on Lara and hurled it at her. The blade hit her in the upper arm, and she winced slightly, otherwise keeping her composure.

"Don't even finish that sentence," I bit out, my voice a shaky growl. "Don't even imply I would harm Kerys, or I'll aim for your eye next time."

The head maid clicked her tongue like a disappointed parent, pulling the scalpel from the wound. Beneath the split fabric, the cut closed almost instantly.

Damn hemomancy.

"With all due respect, Skrain, sir, if you had let me finish, we could have saved ourselves this needless outburst. I would have told you that I have seen how you look at Keryssa and that I am convinced you wouldn't hurt her. In all my time with you, I have never witnessed you caring about anyone, have never seen the sparkle of any emotion besides anger or hatred in your gaze. In truth, I often doubted if you possessed any other feelings."

She laid the scalpel on the table and picked at her damaged dress, rolling her eyes while she pinched the cloth between two fingers as if she wished it would grow back together like the gash had.

"But that aside," she continued, looking at me. "Based on the information I possess about your pact, that leaves one possible culprit."

Indeed .

"Yes, I think I know who helped Lara," I ground out.

It felt as if I was boiling from the inside, as if my blood was going to explode, tear me into shreds of flesh and thorns splattered across the basement walls.

The magical signature had been well hidden. Emily didn't sense it before, and neither had I. But now that I knew what I was searching for, I perceived a faint trail of power emanating from the simulacrum.

Maybe I could only feel it because it was familiar. So fucking familiar it almost could've been my own.

I gripped the edge of the examination table as I met Emily's eyes. My tail swung wildly, vines creeping from my palms, writhing like vengeful serpents.

The syllables of the name budding on my tongue were sour like poison, and I spat them out like a curse.

"Aculeus."