Page 90 of Soulbound
The last thing he wanted was the demon's gaze lingering upon his wife. "Cleo."
"I need to do this," she told him, and he heard the catch in her voice. "I'm the greatest seer of this generation. I have an item Morgana once touched in my hand, unlike last time. And Farshaw spoke of how to break through a Veil. I can do this. I can find her. I have to find her."
He stared at her determined face. This was more than merely an attempt at scrying out their enemy. She'd lost so much, but most of all she'd lost her belief in herself.
"If anyone can do this, it's you," he said, circling the table and sitting beside her. "Hold my hand. If you need me—my power, anything—then it's yours. Just don't push yourself too far. Madrigal spoke of knowing your limits."
Cleo took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as he squeezed her hand. "I won't push too far."
She closed her eyes. Started muttering under her breath. Long moments stretched out as he stared at her moving lips. She shook her head. "The Veil's still there. The watch isn't enough."
Shoulders slumped, all around the table. He'd actually thought she could do it.
Cleo's eyes suddenly popped open. "I'm an idiot."
"You are?"
"Here, give me your hand," she said, reaching for him. "Bishop, do you have a knife?"
Bishop produced one—of presumably many—from within his coat. "Always."
She took the knife and met Sebastian's eyes. "Blood calls to blood. You have a direct link to your mother. Do you trust me?"
He nodded, holding out his hand.
Cleo took a deep breath, and sliced a small line across his finger. Blood welled, and she smeared it across her hands, before taking both of his palms in hers. "You might see some strange things, considering how we're bonded. Whatever you do, stay calm. And close your eyes."
He obeyed her, seeing nothing but darkness.
Cleo started murmuring her ritual words under her breath again. Suddenly he was floating high above London among fluffy gray clouds, even as he sat in a chair in Bishop's dining room. London seemed so far away, church steeples spearing up toward him, and a thousand miles of cobbled streets lying in wait, should he fall. He would have panicked, if not for the hand in his.
"Relax. We cannot fall. We're not truly here."
It felt real enough. Sebastian discovered a hitherto unknown fear of heights. He looked stoically at her bloodied hand in his, realizing he was clinging to it.
Cleo floated beside him, wearing a gown of pure white, with her silvery hair cascading down her back. He could barely make out her face. Some sort of diamond of pure light gleamed in the middle of her forehead. She looked like an angel.
Dark eyes flashed toward his, and she smiled. "That's very sweet, Sebastian. But I'm no angel. This is merely my astral form. What you're seeing is my Third Eye."
"Can you find her?"
Cleo turned her attention toward London. "This is where it will get strange."
Merde. He'd almost reached the levels of strange he could handle.
A throb of heat began to beat between their linked hands. The world around them pulsed in response.
"Blood follows blood," Cleo whispered. "Find me Morgana Montcalm. Find me blood of blood."
They swooped down, and he was fairly certain he screamed. Streets flashed past him. A cemetery ringed in an iron fence. Oxford Street, bare of any pedestrians. Covent Gardens theatres. Kensington.... Each image pulsed past him, until his heart was racing.
Then there was a hazy gray barrier in front of them, almost like a wall of pure fog.
Sebastian found himself standing upon a cobbled street, with Cleo's hand in his. Sweat dripped down his spine. Solid ground. Bloody hell.
"Here's the Veil," she said, her brown eyes fueled with pure determination. "I could never get through it in the past. But now I know how."
She began whispering again, strange words he almost, almost understood. Reaching forward with her free hand, she began to trace runes in the air, channeling power into them. They glowed with golden light, vanishing one after the other.
