“Jonathan Fitzgerald’s son.” Gabriel shifted, lowering one foot to the ground and lifting his other ankle to rest against the opposite knee. “He’s a Hydraian, and valuable. You can’t kill him.” He looked pointedly at Issac. “It would greatly upset Amelia.”
“Bollocks,” the male muttered in reply.
“Seriously, none of this matters. You said Mom might be in a memory loop. I want to know what that means, how it works, and what to do if it’s true.” Astasiya’s tone resembled Caro’s no-nonsense voice, the kind she used when reprimanding without much emotion. It caused Sethios’s heart to pang softly, his concern regarding the Conclave vanishing in an instant.
His daughter was right—they had more important matters to discuss.
“Show Issac your dreams, Gabriel. Then he can play them for all of us, and we can search for loops. Astasiya can do the same. Then I’ll offer what little I can. We’ll see if your theory checks out.”
Gabriel nodded, the practical course one he would obviously favor.
Issac visibly flinched, the Seraphim already unloading his thoughts without another word.
Sethios glanced at his daughter, catching the worry in her expression. He decided to distract her by answering one of her comments.
“As you know, Vera can manipulate and change memories. But she’s not the only one with that gift. If your mother has in fact been taken by the Seraphim, it’s possible they’ve been trying to rehabilitate her, and during that process, they may have put her memories on a loop.”
“But why would they do that?”
“To ensure those connected to her didn’t sense the change in her location,” Sethios replied. “Unfortunately, if this is true, it implies Gabriel is no longer within their circle of trust.”
“It also implies they know about my fealty pledge to Astasiya, something they’ve not indicated in any disciplinary hearings yet.” The Seraphim spoke without taking his gaze away from Issac. “However, if we’re right about this, then we’re being monitored. Which means we’re not safe here.”
“Jesus, slow down,” Issac said, sounding breathless. “You’re quite literally drowning me in details.”
“Work faster.”
Issac’s eyes narrowed, and the Seraphim suddenly choked. “Fast enough for you, mate?”
Gabriel coughed and sputtered as though he were drowning himself while power poured off of Issac, his expression one of astute concentration.
“That’s a very useful ability,” Sethios mused.
“Indeed,” he returned. “And I can already tell this is a manipulated loop. Her movements are restricted.”
“She’s tied to a chair,” Gabriel pointed out, his voice hoarse.
“That’s not what I mean. Look. Watch her eyes and mouth. They move in the same sequence on repeat.”
Caro populated Sethios’s mind, so real and tangible and not two feet away from him. He reached for her on instinct, his fingers brushing air. A vision. And a horrid one at that.
Agony etched a scar into her pretty face, her screams muted yet present in the way her mouth formed wordless sounds. She began to choke, causing his heart to beat faster, his own anguish pouring out of him in waves.
“No!” He dove toward her, going through her and landing on the floor.
“Stop!” Astasiya demanded.
The vision vanished, Caro’s pain disappearing into mist and revealing Gabriel’s great room. Sethios wheezed on the ground, his chest vacant, his heart no longer beating.
His angel… Oh, fuck…
He curled into himself, the pain threatening to shred him inside.
All of Osiris’s tortures combined hadn’t compared to this. Oh, how she’d suffered. He searched for her, his soul in tatters, his blood refusing to flow. Goddammit, Caro. Talk to me! He shouted the command through their bond, his fury a whiplash to his senses. Talk to me now!
Shh, her voice hushed him in reply. They’ll hear you.
Sethios froze. Caro? he breathed, worried his mind might be playing a cruel trick on him.
