Page 118 of Hexbound
And didn't move.
A small, pale spark floated above the body, beckoning just for a moment.Yes.God, yes— No!Bishop curled his fists into his body, fighting against the pull of themaladroise. His jaw ached as he ground his teeth together, and he shook and shivered, blinded to the world around him for the few seconds it took to fight his way through it. Before his eyes, the soul-spark slowly vanished.
It took longer than he'd expected to find his feet. Damn it. If he'd waited he might have some answers by now. A part of him wondered whether he'd reacted merely on instinct, or whether that thrice-cursed hunger had taken over for a second.
Bishop rolled the body over.
It was nobody he knew.
And that was when he heard the scream.
Verity had spenta lot of time on the streets, working as a dipper and a spotter, or even running rackets.
She recognized a con when she saw one. The second Bishop slammed into the forest after the would-be assassin, Verity suddenly realized what a target they all made, sitting there. For an outsider looking in, all they'd see would be two male sorcerers, one whose doubt had cost him the mantle of Prime, and another still wounded by some mysterious assault on his aura; a woman who might be able to match them but couldn't protect all of them; a young woman with no training; the still-crippled Eleanor; and herself, an unknown, but certainly not a threat to watching eyes.
Bishop was the most dangerous one out of all of them.
And now he was gone.
"Damn it!" Drake cursed, rolling to his feet and reaching for his cane. He glanced toward Eleanor, hesitation marking his face, before he turned toward the silent forest. "We have to go after him."
Which would play directly into someone's plans.
"Wait!" Verity darted forward and grabbed his arm. "There's a con we run in the Dials—when we're trying to steal from someone rich, we send in a decoy. He's cocky, draws attention, makes the con focus on him, because he looks exactly like what a thief looks like and the noble doesn't want him anywhere near him. That's when I show up dressed in silk and bump into the swain. Within two seconds I've got his purse and I'm away, stammering apologies and pretending to be all virtuous and embarrassed. He never thinks I'm the thief because he's too busy watching the decoy."
"So what you're saying is that this was a distraction?" Drake's eyes narrowed.
"That's how I'd play it. Bishop's not in danger," Verity breathed, looking around the suddenly still forest. "They've drawn him away. If we separate, we play directly into their hands."
Drake met her eyes and she saw the moment he realized the truth. The only person who could match a Sicarii assassin was another one. "Don't move out of the ward," he said, and sudden tension suffused the group as they all looked into the darkened trees.
"Lucien, could you see to Eleanor and Cleo?" Ianthe asked, settling herself in the middle of the group.
"Got them," he replied, tugging the pair of women into the space around him. A second ward crackled down over them, which made Drake sigh with relief and turn his gaze outwards.
Ianthe's blue eyes lit on Verity. "Drake and I will protect you—"
"It's not necessary," Drake cut in, nodding at her. "Verity's our secret weapon."
Ianthe looked at him sharply, then nodded. She put her back to Drake's and the pair of them stared out into the forest.
A tall figure dressed in a red velvet cape stepped out of the trees, wearing a blank silver mask that hid his or her features. Another joined them. Then another. And another, until finally there were seven sorcerers in all locking them in.
"You would be wise not to do this," Drake called, and Verity startled at the powerful sound of his voice. She'd grown quite used to the soft-spoken man with his sad eyes and gentle nature.
The circle began to draw in power and the hairs on Verity's arms lifted as they all joined hands.
"Not even you can challenge a full circle of seven," one of the masked figures sneered. "We've grown weary of your puppet strings. This time we're going to take back what we're owed."
Drake's eyes narrowed. "Tremayne."
The stranger lifted his hand to the mask and cast it aside, an ugly smirk splitting his face. They were of an age, but from the intensity in both their eyes, Verity guessed these two men held bad blood between them.
"Father!" Cleo begged, stepping out from under Lucien's wards. "Don't do this."
Tremayne barely glanced her way. "You're not my daughter anymore. The second you cast your allegiance in with him was the second we stopped being blood."
Cleo swallowed and tilted her chin up. "This won't end well for you."
