Page 125 of Soulbound
"Hell," Lucien cursed, under his breath. "We're idiots. Three sons, three relics, three of... us. The key was there all along."
"Yes, excellent," Sebastian said. "You can count. What does any of that mean?"
Bishop remained frozen. "No," he said succinctly. "It wouldn't work."
"Why not?" Lucien pushed away from the balcony, brushing snowflakes off his sleeves. "Bonded sorcerers are always stronger than a single one. If we link—"
"I can think of a dozen reasons why it wouldn't work," Bishop countered. "Trust issues, for one. Who's going to be the Anchor?"
Sebastian looked between the two of them. "What the devil are you talking about? Anchor... for what?"
It was Bishop who answered, turning to the garden to stare into it as if it held all the answers. "He's talking about the three of us linking. It's something two or more sorcerers can do to combine strengths. The problem is: one of them has to lead it. One of them controls everything."
A trickle of ice went down Sebastian's spine. He'd been the demon's vessel for all of a day last month. It had been the ultimate loss of control, after a lifetime of being at the mercy of others. "No."
Not even to save Cleo?
That wasn't even a question, but could he do this? Could he physically hand over control of his will, body, and sorcery to another?
"Precisely," Bishop shot back, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Lucien didn't seem quite as sanguine. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't know why you're so bothered," he told Bishop. "You'd be the one in control."
That earned him a savage glare, but Lucien met it with a faintly arched brow. "I'm stronger than you are—technically you're the weakest when one considers the amount of raw power one can wield. I'm barely beginning to regain mastery of myself, let alone two others. And Sebastian already has strength—what he needs is finesse."
"I don't want to control the link." Bishop replied. For the first time that Sebastian could recall, he actually saw doubt on Bishop's face.
Then he turned and walked back inside, leaving Lucien and Sebastian staring at each other.
* * *
"Why don't you want to be the Anchor?"
Sebastian found his brother in the billiards room, after Lucien joined the ladies. Bishop poured himself a generous glass of brandy, and then looked up when he entered the room and added another glass.
"Linking with another person is... quite a personal experience. There are only two people I've ever done it with." Bishop nudged the glass toward him.
"Verity and Agatha," he said, but he watched his brother's face. "And that's got little to do with it. Nice try."
Bishop's lips thinned.
"You promised me honesty," Sebastian said. "We don't have time for you to lie to us—or yourself."
There was a drawn-out moment of silence. Bishop sighed. "You're right. I demand honesty from you. I bet you're enjoying this moment."
"Somewhat," Sebastian admitted, and would have smiled if the circumstances were different.
"What do you know of the Grave Arts?"
"They're mostly necromancers." He glanced at Bishop. "Or Sicarii assassins, like you. Killing people gives them a rush of power that most couldn't imagine."
"It's addictive," Bishop said flatly. "We call it the maladroise, and it haunts my steps day and night. Little whispers in my mind—how good it would feel, how easy it would be to take...." He suddenly shook his head, as if casting off a sudden weight. "It usually ends with the afflicted sorcerer starting a lovely little murder spree that demands execution. I used to think there was no cure."
"Is there?"
"Yes." The way he said it made the word sound hollow.
Sebastian frowned. "Then what seems to be the problem?"
