Page 25 of The Deathless One
“You know what I’m doing,” he grunted.
Sybil stood in the doorway, lingering in those shadows like she feared coming into the room. “But you’re…”
“Patrons can summon me at will. Gravesingers I can find without needing a summons. You know how this works, witch.” He looked over at her, certain that she couldn’t tell where he was looking unless he turned his head and she saw the movement. “I wouldn’t need a summons at all if I had my body back. As you were supposed to convince her to do.”
“I’m not asking for the how. I’m asking the why.” Sybil stepped into the room quietly, her hands wringing the skirts around her waist. “Why are you here with her?”
He didn’t have an answer for that. Only that she was here, and so was he. Sitting in the corner of her room like some bird of prey, just waiting for the twitches she made in her sleep that made him want to leap on top of her.
Sybil blew out a long breath, casting her eyes up to the ceiling, andhe could see the caution running through her head. She was telling herself not to say anything, and yet, she opened her mouth anyway. “She dreams of the other gravesingers.”
“Nightmares are normal in her situation.”
“She dreams ofyourgravesingers. They tell her things that are dangerous for her to learn this early.” At his sudden jerk in her direction, she took a step away from him and added, “They tell her to take from you. To rip from you.”
This was a problem. He didn’t want her to think that there was another end to this story. Why Sybil didn’t want her to hear it, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps this witch thought she would take his power from him before Jessamine did.
She was wrong, but he did not care what reasoning she had. He nodded and turned his attention back to the sleeping woman. “I will take care of them.”
“Can you?”
“They exist in my realm, witch. I cannot destroy the energy they have left behind, but I can and will control them.”
At least he thought so. They were bound to him just as he was to them. They were the lingering remnants of those witches who had sacrificed their lives so the one remaining gravesinger could use that power in whatever way she saw fit; they were the ones who had dragged him down into the muck. Their curse was a thorn in his side, but not one he couldn’t control.
Chains would do. Once he got back into that realm, he would loop the chains over their forms. Over and over again until they were trapped in a small section of his realm that Jessamine would never find.
And if they still bothered her, then he would cut out their tongues.
A shudder rippled through his body at the feral thoughts. He wasn’t… like that. Not with witches. Not with anyone, although he had very little experience in any of these matters, he supposed.
The Deathless One was a god who was used and then discarded. That was his function in life, and always had been.
Sybil still hesitated, standing in that doorway with more thoughts on her mind.
“What is it?” he growled.
“Isn’t there something you can do for her? For now? She’s just… She’s awfully frightened. It’s hard to teach someone who is so afraid of what she might turn into.”
He sighed. “I do not know anything about comforting witches. That is why you are here.”
“You’ve been around us for centuries on end, and you still don’t know how to make us feel better?” She clearly had not intended to blurt the words, because the moment she said them, her eyes went round and her jaw hung open. “I’m sorry, Your Holiness. I should never have thought—”
He lifted a shadow hand, pausing her apologetic rant. “You do not have to be fearful, witch. I have use for you yet.”
Sybil nodded but was already backing away. “I will do my best.”
“I tire of the bowing supplicant. Think of me as your…” He didn’t know what to call himself. He was her god, and sheshouldbe afraid of him. “I am your patron, witch. You may speak your mind without fear.”
She’d already ducked out of the room, though. Leaving him with a unconscious gravesinger and a hundred questions running through his mind.
Though it might have been smarter to think about the opinionated witch with some semblance of power, he couldn’t focus on Sybil. His gaze continually returned to Jessamine’s trembling figure. Over and over again, no matter how many times he told himself to stop.
What was going on with this little nightmare who had walked into his life? He had all her memories. He knew every step of her past and all the decisions she’d made. Nothing was hidden from him. Not the number of times she’d snuck into her room to pleasure herself, not the trysts she’d had with neighboring dignitaries, nor the disgust she felt when they did not satisfy her.
And why was he even thinking about those memories? He didn’t care about her sexual history, just like he didn’t care about Sybil’s. They were both witches. Both creatures who would stab him in the back the moment they were given the opportunity to do so.
Still, every time she shivered in her sleep, something coiled tighter inside him. A knot that he could not loosen, no matter how much he tugged at it.
