It was, according to Mo, anima nexum, which basically meant soul connection. Apparently there were three different types—one that was little more than a meeting of gazes and a recognition of fate, one where souls are doomed to battle each other through time eternal, or a final version where two souls were destined to meet through multiple lifetimes until whatever had gone wrong in their initial relationship was rectified.
Luc and I were the third type, and our connection ran back to the soon-to-be wife of the very first Witch King and the Blackbird who’d abandoned her when their affair had become known. And it had been Vivienne—incensed that the Blackbird had walked away from love rather than overturn duty and confront the king—who’d laid this curse on us.
“You got here fast.”
“Kit was already prepping for another trip, and it wasn’t much of a detour. Where is she?”
I motioned to the still form on the floor. “Mo spelled her asleep, but she didn’t escape without permanent injury, I’m afraid.”
“How bad?” It was flatly said but the air burned with the force of the emotions he was suppressing.
“She’s missing a part of her left hand, including her last two fingers.”
Just for a moment, anger flared deep in his eyes. Anger at me for my actions, and anger at himself for not being able to protect—or at least shield—his younger sister from something like this.
“I’m sorry, Luc,” I said softly. “I really had no other choice. I also had no idea is was your sister until after it was all over.”
He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. The anger disappeared from his eyes, and a somewhat wan smile twisted his lips. “This is not your fault.”
“It’s not yours, either.”
“No.” But the edge in his voice suggested he didn’t actually believe that. “Have you talked to her?”
I shook my head. “And if you want to, I’ll need to call Mo down to wake her.”
“Already here,” Mo said, as she came down the stairs. “Heard the copter fly in a few minutes ago. How are you, dear boy?”
“Disbelieving.” He grimaced. “It seems the tendrils of darkness are far wider than any of us presumed.”
“I’m afraid Darkside has never risen without first ensuring they had a solid base from which to launch their attacks.”
She squatted behind Noelle and placed her fingers on either temple. Luc stopped at his sister’s feet, his face expressionless but his eyes glowing with the fury he was somehow restraining.
Noelle’s eyes snapped open, but for several seconds there was nothing more than vague incomprehension showing. Mo remained behind her, and faint tendrils of her healing magic continued to spin around the younger woman’s body. Something obviously wasn’t quite right—something that hadn’t been apparent when she’d been unconscious. I rather suspected it had something to do with the odd sort of energy pushing back against Mo’s healing power.
Noelle took a deep breath and looked around. There was no fear or confusion in her expression, just a vague sort of remoteness. It was almost as if she was only partially present.
“Luc, why are you here?” Her voice held a note of surprise that didn’t quite seem real for some reason. “And where are we?”
“How about you stop with questions and start answering them.” He crossed his arms. “For a start, why the fuck are you working with Darkside?”
“I’m not—”
“Then why did you break into this store accompanied by a half-blood demon?”
“I didn’t—”
“I suppose you also weren’t wielding a sword imbued with the soul of a demon?”
She frowned, though it was a half-hearted attempt at best. “A soul blade? We both know that’s impossible—”
“Apparently not, given we have the blade and your fingerprints are all over it.”
“Luc, I honestly have no clue what you’re going on about.” As she struggled to sit up, her gaze fell on her hand, and the faintest glimmer of confusion stirred in her bright eyes. “Why am I missing fingers?”
Her reaction—or lack thereof—very much suggested she either had a will of iron when it came to controlling herself—which was very possible if Luc was anything to go by—or there was something else going on.
“I’m afraid that happened when I was defending myself against your sword attack.” My voice was as cool as Luc’s, despite the gathering suspicion there was more to her betrayal than we’d initially thought. “Your hand was healed to stop you bleeding out.”
“But … my fingers? You couldn’t reattach them?”
“We’re in a shop, not a hospital, dear woman,” Mo said. “And you tried to kill my granddaughter. Think yourself lucky you’re alive and coherent.”
Noelle glanced around. Just for an instant, something flickered through her green eyes. Something that spoke of hunger, darkness, and inhumanity.
A chill ran through me, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. My gaze met Mo’s and she shook her head, silently telling me not to ask the questions now crowding my mind.
“Why did you come here, then?” Luc said. “Was it to kill Mo and Gwen? Or did you have other orders?”
“Why on earth would Kendrick send me here to kill either of these ladies? They’re obviously not demons—”
“Noelle—”
“Damn it, Luc, I have no idea how I got here or what the hell is going on. You have to believe me!”
He obviously wanted to. Desperately. “I’d love to, but the evidence—”
“Can be manufactured. We both know that.”
“Not in this case. Not with these ladies.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “What’s the last thing you do remember, then?”
The shadows rolled through her eyes again, and she paused long enough that I thought she wasn’t going to answer.
Her reply, when it did come, was oddly disjointed—as if she was struggling to remember. Or struggling to speak.
“I was sent to … to Euston … to investigate a disturbance.”
“Alone?”
“No. Katie was with me.”
“Katie being a fellow operative,” Luc said with a quick glance my way. “What sort of disturbance?”
“I … I can’t remember.”
He frowned. “What happened when you got there, then?”
“We went inside.” This time, her reply was so faint it was barely audible, but the shadows in her eyes spoke of a trauma she either couldn’t or wouldn’t confront. A trauma that didn’t bode well for Katie. “Everything beyond that is blurry.”
“When did all this happen?”
“Today.”
“You mean yesterday?”
“Today—Friday.”
Alarm ran through Luc’s expression. “Last Friday? Are you telling me you can’t remember anything at all since then?”
Another flicker of confusion broke past the remoteness. “Why do you say that like it was ages ago?”
“Because Friday was three days ago.”
“What? No. That’s impossible.”