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“Yes, I knew you'd balk so I lied about that as well. I assumed once you were here, I could convince you. You see, we won't need Destiny's consent since Heartbreak is drawn to her. So, if I calibrate my machine to her resonance as it transfers Heartbreak, just as I told you I would, I'll be able to recreate her resonance and lead your Curse into a new vessel.”

“No,” Bart muttered, shaking his head. “No, I'm not passing this to an innocent person. I won't do it.”

“Who said anything about an innocent person?” Osric offered a thin, placating smile. “I will select someone deserving of the punishment. Someone society has already discarded. A murderer, violent criminal, or rapist. I will transfer your Curse into them, place them in a secure subterranean cell beneath my estate, and keep them confined under constant observation. You walk away as an ordinary mortal man, and the world is rid of a predator. It is an act of justice. And if I can study a Curse, I can help vessels even more, perhaps even find a way to destroy the Curses.”

“He's lying to you, Bart.” I pushed myself the rest of the way up. The residual effects of Hangover made my pulse race, but my head was clear.

Bart flinched, his eyes darting to me before dropping in shame. “Destiny, I'm—”

“He isn't going to find some deserving criminal to bear your burden.” I kept my gaze locked on his miserable gaze. “He wouldn't risk containing someone dangerous. He's going to pick someone he can control—a woman or maybe a child. He used you to get me here.”

Bart swallowed hard, looking from me to Osric. “Osric, is that true? I won't let you put my Curse in a child.”

Osric didn't bother looking up from his diagnostic screen. “Bartholomew, you delivered what was required. If you're scared of what I offer, you may go. But, for your information, I would never put a Curse in a child. I'm not a monster. She said that for affect.”

Fabian took two sharp strides forward, glaring at Bart with cold fury. “Get out, Brook. Your part in this is finished. Leave now before we set the wards.”

Bart hesitated, shifting his weight. His gaze flicked toward the central circle, his expression torn between horror and hope. “Do you swear it will be someone terrible?”

“Yes, yes,” Osric said absently.

“There is nothing for you here tonight,” Fabian snapped, pointing toward the door at the end of the room. “Either way, we still have to find a vessel. Now leave.”

I watched Fabian's face. There was no hatred in his eyes when he looked at Bart—only calculation. The pieces snapped together in my mind.

If Bart left right now, where could he possibly go? He had betrayed Tristan and me, but he had nowhere else to turn except the Conclave. He would drive straight back to Great Falls, broken by guilt, and confess everything to them. He would tell Tristan exactly where I was.

“You want him to leave,” I said.

Fabian froze, his gray eyes snapping to mine.

“You want him to run straight back to Tristan so he can tell him where to find me. You can't simply call him. That would be too suspicious.” Not that it mattered. Tristan would come either way, but I wanted Bart to see how conniving these men were.

Fabian’s mouth tightened into a hard, bloodless line. “Tristan is living in an endless torment. He has suffered for seventeen hundred years, Destiny. You've felt his pain. You know I'm telling the truth. This will free him.”

“And sentence me to Heartbreak.”

“It won't be a burden for you.” Fabian stepped closer to the edge of my circle. “You proved that. You will take Heartbreak, and free Tristan.”

Before I could respond, an alarm started beeping.

Osric checked his phone, nodded at Fabian, and they went to a spot between the equipment and the door. Kneeling, they set their hands to the concrete and chanted. With their words, light surged down a line across the space, separating us from the door, and then it winked out. They stood up and returned to their work.

“What the hell is that?” Bart demanded.

“You had your chance,” Fabian said. “Now, you're stuck here until it's over. Prepare to face your friends, traitor.”

Chapter Thirty

I lunged for the edge of the circle, intent on breaking across the line before Osric or Fabian could react.

The moment I neared the perimeter, the arcane symbols ignited again. I was prepared for the barrier, leaning into it with my shoulder. Still, the solidity shocked me. The invisible barrier felt like a stone wall, and I was thrown backward onto the concrete. The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, vibrating through my ribs and sending a sharp, static sting across my palms. I scrambled up, and tried again, and again.

Heavy footfalls pounded against the corridor outside, and I sat up, pausing in my assault. The handle turned, and the steel door burst open. A man in black tactical gear came through, his automatic rifle sweeping the room before settling on Fabian. He was followed closely by more guards.

“Welcome,” Fabian said. “Please, join us.”

Seraphel strode through the doorway like judgment itself, his head lifted and eyes narrowed. Alistair came next, a slim sword in his hands, his gaze darting to me before settling on Bart. Under Alistair's wounded stare, Bart shrunk back into the shadows. Last was Tristan, bursting into the room as if he'd been restrained.