Page 62 of Soulbound
Morgana. A shiver ran through Cleo. Seeing him like this was a brutal punch of truth. He'd told her a thousand times he was dangerous; she'd never truly believed it. Not her Sebastian. Her quiet, genteel husband, who took such care of his precious roses, and hid his raw pain behind a cool, emotionless mask.
She might not be able to see new Visions, but her old ones haunted her. Especially the one she called London's doom: an enormous shadow of rippling darkness that took over London, sweeping away every light that lit the city, and leaving nothing but ruins.
She'd thought it was the demon, once upon a time.
Now, watching her husband, she wasn't entirely certain.
But: The key to defeating the darkness lies with Sebastian.
She had to maintain hope.
"This way," Cleo whispered, gathering a pair of young girls who hadn't even earned their first apprentice ring. She didn't take her eyes off him, however. "Sebastian, we need to join the others."
Those silver eyes glittered. "Go," he said. "I'll join you in a moment—"
"No." Cleo stood her ground. "There are other sorcerers here who need help. Your help. Morgana can wait."
Grabbing the first young woman's hand, she pushed them ahead of her, warding the three of them. "Through the door! Into the gardens!"
The young girls screamed as every window along the sidewall smashed into little shards, one by one.
"Run!"
A static buzzing echoed in Cleo's ears. Her face went numb, then hot with sudden heat. She didn't understand what was happening until a wave of force smashed through her half-tended ward and sent both her and Sebastian sprawling.
"Cleo!" Something grabbed hold of her, and then she was slammed against a warm body, the pair of them tumbling head over heels.
It finally ended, and Cleo sucked in a sharp breath, looking up from where she was shielded by Sebastian's arms. Everything hurt. She was lying atop him, and half his coat was melted, stinking of burned wool.
Ears ringing, Cleo looked up.
"Hello, my sweet, sweet son," said a hooded figure who stepped out of her crowd of imps, reaching up to draw her hood back.
Morgana's black hair was heavily streaked with white, and the last Cleo had seen of her, the woman had been crippled, but now her stride was firm. The demon must have healed her.
Sebastian staggered to his feet, dragging Cleo with him. He'd been a vicious whirlwind of sorcery, obliterating large swathes of imps with a wave of his hand. But the second he saw his mother, his powers seemed to wane, turning into chaotic golden threads around him.
Emotion was his weakness.
It always would be. And when it came to his mother, the storm within him was too volatile to control.
Shoving Cleo behind him, he held both hands splayed, plunging the room into a frigid environment as he sucked in enormous amounts of energy. No! Cleo breathed through a raw throat, her heated breath steaming in the suddenly icy air. Sebastian. She tried to say it, to warn him, but her voice wasn't working. Catching hold of an enormous Chinese vase, she tried to stay upright against the sudden draining whirlpool.
"You," he spat, and lashed out, lightning sparking from his fingertips.
Morgana merely smiled, and waved it away. "Your father sends his regards."
"You mean the demon in his body," Sebastian snarled, and enveloped his mother with a wave of pure darkness.
A storm of force lashed back in return, and Sebastian went down on one knee, his wards blown behind him as Morgana stepped forward, her red skirts whisking around her legs.
"Get up," Cleo whispered, crouched behind her vase.
"Tsk, tsk," Morgana said, circling him slowly. Light flickered off the seven rings she wore on her fingers; a sign of just how far she'd progressed through the Order ranks in the past. "Someone's forgetting all the lessons he's clearly been taught. Did you think you could defeat me?"
Sebastian flung another wave of pure force at her, which Morgana parted with ease. The wind rippled past her, sending her skirts and hair flying, but she responded with something that made him cry out and fall backwards, scratching at his arms, his face, his eyes—
"What's wrong, dearest?" Morgana mocked. "Can't you focus on your weaves? Is it difficult to concentrate right now? It's so tempting to fall back on Expression, to forget everything you've clearly tried to learn. Come on, Sebastian, show me your wards."
