Drake rubbed the piece of parchment. A Sclavus Collar was bad news. An unregistered sorcerer added to the danger, for he should know all of the sorcerers who lived in Britain. There was only one reason to keep it from him, and that didn't bode well at all.
Plots, everywhere he looked. Damn it.
"Well?" Eleanor's eyes softened with concern. "Is it important?"
"It is." He passed her the letter and kept the envelope. "Can you tell me where this came from? Anything you might pick up from it?"
Eleanor sat on the middle of their bed and crossed her legs, her breathing soothing into slow and steady meditation. Drake paced for long minutes, aware of time ticking away on the clock on the mantle.
"A young woman writes it," Eleanor intoned, her eyes moving behind her eyelids, as if she was seeing something. "I feel like... I can't see anything. I'm trying to write with my eyes closed? I don't know. I'm using my fingers to feel out the letters. I don't want to be caught. I'm worried about... about someone else? I can't see anything else, but I keep getting feelings about my father. Is she worried about her father?"
"No, the person I'm looking for is a young man."
"A young man..." Eleanor muttered under her breath, her fingers rubbing the letter. "It's getting hard to pick up anything now. A young man, yes. A dangerous young man. I... I feel sorry for him. I want to help him." Her eyes fluttered open, shock catching her breath. She dropped the letter. "There was a demon, Drake. I didn't catch a lot of it, but she's worried about a demon."
"Bloody hell." Summoning a demon was strictly forbidden now, though ancient members of the Order had originally dabbled with them out of curiosity. He'd sent his own son to Bedlam for summoning one, and he himself had... dabbled... as a youth. What was he going to do? He needed to find this dangerously out-of-control sorcerer, but a demon was on par with that, as far as risk went. Had they managed to summon one? Or were they about to?
"Montcalm... Montcalm... I've never heard that name before. Not in our circles. How am I going to find out more?" he mused, more to himself than anyone. "I could ask D'Arcy how to find this girl..."
"Do you trust D'Arcy?" Eleanor's voice was quiet. "He's your clairvoyant, yet he's mentioned none of this, not even anything about the relic's theft. He should have seen something coming. And would he be strong enough to pick up anything more about the letter than I could?"
"No." Which was truth.
"There's one person you could ask," Eleanor suggested.
"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?"
"Because you're not." She cleared her throat and folded the letter in her lap. "Tremayne's daughter is the current Cassandra. She's terribly accurate, and her talents far exceed my own. She could trace where this letter originated."
Drake shot her an incredulous look. "He won't let me anywhere near her."
"No, he won't. He might let someone else though, if they pay him enough. He doesn't have to know what the request is for. I know he doesn't sit in on most readings. I'm sure he has a chaperone in place, but that can be dealt with."
"Eleanor," he said, starting to see where her mind was going. "No. Tremayne's dangerous. If I were to list five sorcerers who might be involved in summoning a demon, his name would be on it." Taking her hands, he drew her to the edge of the bed. "You are too precious for me to lose. You don't know..." He let out a deep breath. "You don't know how long I've searched for a woman who cares more for me as a man than what I can do for her as Prime."
"Which is why I offer this." Eleanor squeezed his hands. "I love you. I don't want to lose you, and right now, I am seeing the odds stacking up against you. The comet is in the sky, Drake, someone has stolen a dangerous relic, there's a sorcerer on the verge of exploding with Expression, and now someone is toying with demons. It might even be the same person who stole the relic."
"Which is why I should go."
"And yet you won't get near her." Eleanor slid off the bed. "You cannot do this. I can. I'm a big girl, Drake, and more than capable of handling Tremayne if need be, and the simple question is: Who else can you trust? Ianthe is already occupied, and we know there is an enemy within your closest ranks. You don't have anyone else to do this, and you need to find this unbalanced sorcerer, or there might not even be a city to protect from a demon. I could find this sorcerer using Expression, but would I be able to handle him? We both know the answer to that. Both these quests are important."
She was right, damn it all. He was stretched too thin as it was, but he couldn't say it. Sending Ellie into danger was like cutting out his own heart. Instead, he dragged her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Be careful." He drew back, cupping her cheeks firmly in both hands. "Don't get yourself killed. That's my heart you're carrying. Be careful of it."
Eleanor smiled. "I always am."
Lucien woke before dawn and blinked several times, surprised to find himself nestled snugly around a warm, soft weight with the covers thrown over him. He had barely slept since Bedlam, his body unaccustomed to the soft mattresses and the excruciating sensitivity to the world around him. The only sleep he'd managed to snatch so far had come with him stretched out on the rug on his bedroom floor with a blanket and no pillow.
This... This was unexpected.
Lifting his head, he peered down at the black-haired beauty in his arms. Her silky hair was all awry, and her pale cheeks were still puffy from last night's tears, but she didn't move. Only her back rose and fell, her head neatly pillowed on his bicep, trapping him there.
Or not, perhaps, trapping at all. The truth was he quite liked the way her bottom nestled snugly into his hips, pressing against his dawning erection, and the way she had curled her fingers around his. Lowering his face, he buried it against the nape of her neck, breathing in her scent.
If he didn't have a thief to find, then he'd be quite content to spend the day here. Judging from the patter of rain against the window, it would be the best place to stay.
"Miss Martin?" he whispered, sliding his fingertips down the curve of her side, over her hips, then back up again. "Ianthe?"
She was difficult to wake. Lucien closed his eyes, enjoying the glide of her skin. With a murmur, she half turned, her hips flexing a little as he traced small circles there. Lucien's cock became steel. Pressing a kiss against the back of her neck and licking the hard indentation of her spine, he let his fingers trace lower, slowly tangling through the soft thatch of hair between her thighs and delving between slick folds.
