Page 40 of Soulbound
"Retreat!" someone called.
And then the wave of imps vanished, shooting the pair of them cattish glances, and hissing at them as they melted back into the shadows.
Sebastian slumped over, letting his staff vanish. He rested his hands on his thighs, breathing hard. It was one thing to spar with Bishop, quite another to fight for his life.
It felt good.
Bishop's red mage globes flickered out, leaving him merely a shadowy figure. "I can't sense anything alive out there." He turned toward Sebastian. "You're bleeding."
"A scratch." He clamped his hand over his ribs and winced again.
"They have poisonous claws."
"Noted."
A hand reached toward him, and he drew back, before realizing Bishop only intended to touch his arm.
"I can heal you," Bishop said slowly, as if sensing his reluctance.
"Sorry. Habit." He'd nearly sent a punch of power in Bishop's direction. "Maybe later when we're home." Exhilaration thrilled through him, his muscles twitching as if they hadn't received the message that the fight was finished. "It's not safe here, and we need to get the Wand back to your house before they can send for reinforcements."
His vision was slowly adjusting to the moonlight. Bishop's eyes gleamed black, locked on his face. "Don't say I didn't offer."
"I won't." He strode toward the sorcerer he'd downed at the start of the fight, holding just enough power within him to deal with any threats in case the sorcerer suddenly sat up.
"He's dead," Bishop called, following him.
And as a sorcerer of the Grave Arts, Bishop would know. Sebastian released the energy he held. His legs and arms trembled from the rapid fluctuation of power he'd wielded. Bishop had warned him not to use his own energy reserves, but in the heat of the moment, he thought he might not have obeyed.
Or maybe the poison from those claw marks was working its way through him swiftly.
Bishop turned the body over. A pale face stared sightlessly at the sky. A man in his twenties by the look of it, his figure cut lean, pockmarks on his cheeks. A gold stud gleamed in his ear.
"Anyone you recognize?"
Bishop's lips thinned. "Not a face I know, no. He doesn't belong to the Order."
"There are plenty of sorcerers outside the Order."
Bishop revealed a black tattoo on the back of the corpse's left hand. A crow, by the look of it. Bishop sucked in a sharp breath. "This is a sign of the One-Eyed Crows."
"Isn't that a street gang from the Hex Society?"
"Some old friends of Verity's, yes."
Chapter 9
"I'M NOT SURPRISED the One-Eyed Crows are involved. Daniel Guthrie wasn't very happy with me when I defected last month, and made him look like a fool in front of the entire Hex Society," Verity grumbled, brushing off Bishop's coat as she slid it from her husband's shoulders. "You've burned another one."
"Couldn't be helped," Bishop murmured.
Cleo watched the pair of them tend each other. There was something more important than words passing between them as Verity chided Bishop about sending her away. Verity kept clucking over the coat, but it was clear she was using it as a euphemism for her husband, and Bishop paused in his movements to tuck a strand of hair behind Verity's ear. A gentle moment from the assassin who rarely revealed his feelings.
And one that left Cleo feeling vastly left out.
Sebastian poured himself a brandy. Clearly favoring his right side, he ignored the byplay, though he rested one hand on the side table as if his legs weren't quite steady.
"Are you all right?" she murmured, crossing to his side.
