Page 46 of Hexbound
If asked, Bishop knew the answer to that. Expression—the art of spontaneous acts of sorcery through emotion—was dangerous. Entire towns had been torn apart before. The Great London Fires had been caused by Expression. The Order had ruled that sorcerymustbe a rational act, stripped of emotion and guided by rituals, by careful meditation. Only then could the populace—and by extension sorcerers—be safe. Otherwise they would have been banned and hunted to extinction.
The Vigilance Against Sorcery Committee already wanted to do that. The Queen's use of sorcery in her empire expansion, however, meant that Sir Grant Martin's Law Against Devilment hadn't been pushed through parliament.
Yet.
"Yes," he said, into the stillness of the room. "Yes, I would have taken the commission to kill Sebastian. Out of duty for the blood we shared. If any of the Sicarii were going to kill him, it should have been me."
Drake's entire expression shuttered. "I would have stopped you."
"You couldn't have. I'm very good at what I do." Very good at killing. Perhaps it was the only thing he was good at? "I always find my target." The words were emotionless, which almost made him laugh. One son too given to emotion and one who could barely feel it. Which one was the monster?
Or had been.
"Eleanor wouldn't have wanted you to resign," he said quietly.
"Really?" His father's nostrils flared in rage. "Well, why don't you ask her? She's not dead. She can hear what we're saying."
Bishop glanced toward the woman, then away. She'd always been kind to him. The only one he'd been able to speak to of Mya, in fact. But was she still in there? How could she be?
"I'm sorry, Eleanor," he said, for he'd been rude, and if his father was correct, then he owed her more than that.
Eleanor stared at him, her right fist clenching and her eyes spitting sparks. "Mm-hmm... I'mmm...."
Drake strode to her side and fell to his knees. "Darling, it's all right. Here, have some water."
"What are we going to do about the demon?"
His father held a glass of water up to Eleanor's lips, murmuring something to her.
"Don't you care?" Bishop demanded. "If the demon has found a way back to our plane of existence, then it will be coming for revenge. You're the only person it fears, the only person who has some sort of chance of standing against it, and it won't let that sit idly."
"I'm aware of that." Silver eyes glinted in the firelight as Drake looked up. "I'm just not certain what I'm supposed to do about it. I'll alert Lucien, and let him know that there might be some more danger coming his way."
Lucien Devereux, Lord Rathbourne, was Bishop's other half brother, and had once been chosen by the demon as the perfect candidate for its vessel. After thwarting the demon's attempts to take him over, Rathbourne was enjoying a quiet month with his new wife and their child. He wouldn't welcome this news.
"You'll alert Lucien." He couldn't stop bitterness from seeping into his tone. "I'm sure that will do the world of good. He can barely use magic after the demon's psychic attack."
"He and I are working on that."
"Damn it, Drake," Bishop appealed directly to him. "We need leadership. Of all the times you could have chosen to step back from the Order, this was potentially the worst." And he knew why. It wasn't just Eleanor's state of being, but the loss of Sebastian, the son Drake had never known about.
"It will sort itself out—"
"That's the best you can offer?" he exploded. "What about all of the people who relied upon you? Those sorcerers who aren't strong enough to stand against this war that is coming?"Me, damn you. "How do we fight a demon without you? How do we—"
"Well, perhaps I don't have all of the answers anymore!" Drake slammed the spoon down, his eyes flashing silver lightning.
Finally. Bishop glared back.
And then Eleanor touched Drake's hand. Just that, a simple touch, a fumble, but the Prime turned back to her, bowing his head. Bishop couldn't quite meet her eyes as she glanced up at him above his father's head, as though trying to tell him something.
Drake's head sank, and Bishop felt ill at the sight. He wanted to apologize, but it was too late. "How do I savethem?" Drake rasped hoarsely. "When I cannot even save those I love?"
"By trying. I don't know." Bishop swallowed hard. "The Order needs you. Lucien needs you. There's no way he can stand against the demon a second time." Still no response. "Ineed you."
This time, those silvery eyes turned his way.
"I've never asked you for anything," Bishop blurted. "I know why you couldn't be in my life as a child. I know that prophecy dictated your presence would bring about the deaths of all your sons, and so you kept away. Well, it's too late. The prophecy is here. It's already stolen one of your sons. You have two left, and one of us is the next to die." Reaching for his hat, he swallowed hard. "If you sit here, then maybe it will be both of us next time."
