“She’s in agony.” Gabriel’s jaw clenched around the words, his hands curling into fists. “Fix. It.” As soon as he finished speaking, he realized the solution, his Seraphim mind taking over and misting him as far away from Hydria as possible.
Only, it took him to the one place he shouldn’t have gone—home.
Where two messenger Seraphim were waiting for him in his living room.
Apparently, there was a deadline after all.
Of right fucking now.
“What the hell just happened?” Lucian demanded, entering the room about five minutes too late. He’d been so focused on that Eliza chick that he hadn’t witnessed Gabriel’s intense reaction to Clara’s power.
It seemed experiencing emotions after a lifetime of disregarding them had been a bit too much for the Seraphim to bear. Or, more specifically, it’d been the “agony” he’d felt from the blonde Ichorian in the corner.
Sethios studied her while Balthazar brought Lucian up to speed with a quick summary of the events. “Gabriel imbibed some of Clara’s blood, thereby inheriting her empathetic abilities. He didn’t seem to enjoy it.”
“He said he needed an empath to test his emotional levels. I assumed that meant he wanted someone who could read him, not someone he could literally drink power from.” Lucian turned thoughtful. “I wonder if all Seraphim can do that.”
“Caro couldn’t,” Sethios murmured as he went to his haunches before Clara, a strand of familiar energy catching his eye.
“Stas can’t manipulate vision, yet she has obviously bitten Wakefield,” Balthazar added, his words painting an unwelcome picture in Sethios’s mind. He chose to ignore it and follow the enchanted lines weaving an invisible trail across Clara’s svelte form. It wasn’t an essence many would recognize or even be able to identify, but he had a lot of experience playing with spells such as these.
They were his father’s favorite creations, after all.
This one was crudely done, as though he’d thrown this compulsion on her in a hurry or perhaps without much care. Maybe he’d anticipated someone seeing it and undoing the persuasion. “Has Astasiya seen Clara since you imprisoned her?” Sethios wondered out loud, his focus on those loose strands around her.
“No, why?” Lucian asked.
“Because I think my father left her a present to unravel.” It would be just like him to compel someone as a training gift. Sethios paused for a moment, considering the opportunity to teach her, but decided against it. He wanted to know what his father had persuaded this girl to do before he endangered his daughter with the task.
Just a few more strands, he thought, untying the proverbial bow with his mind. And... done.
The girl shrieked in response, the scream harsh enough to make his ears bleed. He nearly commanded she shut up, but words were streaming from her mouth in a rapid fire of insults and accusations that all seemed to blend together. None of it was meant for him but was directed at the two Elders behind him.
“How could you?” she demanded, her voice breaking as she lost herself to a sob that had Balthazar immediately kneeling before her. “I would never do that! You know I would never do that! God, and the excuse. Issac. Are you kidding me? Aidan was my father. My family. I would never... I would never!”
Sethios moved out of the way as the mind reader reached for the girl. He didn’t want to be in the middle of whatever the fuck this was.
Which turned out to be the right move because Clara punched Balthazar half a beat later. Then she cried out in horror, another scream parting her lips.
The Elder massaged his jaw, his brown eyes narrowing up at Sethios. “What did you do to her?”
“I removed Osiris’s compulsion,” he replied. “I don’t know what he persuaded her to do, but it’s gone now.”
“You can do that?” Lucian sounded intrigued.
“Not typically, no. This seems to have been done on purpose. I think he meant for Astasiya to remove it.” Given the female’s reaction, he was glad he’d handled this instead of his daughter.
Someone cleared a throat from the doorway, causing Sethios and Lucian to turn.
Alik stood with his arms folded across his chest, his hip propped against the door frame. “I assume this means Clara wasn’t actually our mole but was framed as one.” He didn’t phrase it as a question so much as a statement. “Which means we have an even bigger problem.”
“Unless Clara can tell us who did this,” Lucian pointed out.
“She doesn’t know,” Balthazar murmured, his palm against the girl’s cheek. She’d quieted a little, perhaps because he’d engaged his ability to manipulate emotion. Sethios had never actually witnessed that talent before, but he could see its usefulness in this situation.
“What does she know?” Lucian countered.
“That everyone she loved betrayed her,” Balthazar growled. “That we chose to believe a cruel trick over decades of friendship.”
