The stone blade for bloodletting. Blessed with the power of hundreds of sacrifices and thousands of years of Dru-vid lore. The blade held the memories of all of it.
If he could find a way to use the blood Shadows stored within the stone, it wouldn’t matter that his stash had been destroyed.
He needed to get back to the manuscript his father had gifted him and look for how best to wield the blade. Right now.
He looked his useless Council up and down. They were grim-faced and utterly silent. Finally, they understood what it meant to serve an Archdderwydd. But somehow, even looking at their faces was irritating. His euphoric high was already fading and leaving a bleak emptiness in its wake.
He needed more Shadows to strip. And it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup plan either.
Now that he was thinking clearly, therewasone person who would meet his needs perfectly. Someone whose blood could be traced back to the Seers on Anglesey. Someone vulnerable. Whose own potential for a triad had been betrayed years ago. Someone who had been a thorn in his side for too many decades.
He gestured toward the Council, ignoring the broken husk lying at his feet. “I have a job for you.”
ChapterSeven
James was an arsehole.In some ways, it was a relief to know. He was an arsehole, but he wasauthenticallyan arsehole.
The charm and easy good humor he’d hidden behind for so many years had been burned away in a crucible of pain and guilt. His blood was free of Shadows, his mind was free of Gordon. From now on, every decision he made was his own. And so were his mistakes.
The look on Riley’s face when he stormed into the living room cut him all the way down to his mangled heart. She didn’t understand that all he’d ever wanted was for her to be safe. He wanted her far away from this shit show precisely because it was a shit show. Not because he wanted her far away fromhim.
Heacceptedthat she had to be far away from him. That was different. He deserved the wounds he had and the wounds that were certain to come. She did not.
But she didn’t understand. She thought the worst of him. And how could he blame her? He’d hurt her just by wanting her.
James scratched his thumb through his thick beard. He hadn’t bothered to shave for days. Or to shower. But now he was sticky and slightly lightheaded, probably from the aftereffects of the mistletoe and belladonna berries he’d forced himself to swallow. And since he’d stormed out of the living room to hide in his bedroom like a teenager, he’d had hours to think about just how disgusting he felt.
Coming to London to face Gordon had been like emerging from a dark cocoon. He’d sloughed off the skin of bitterness he’d been wrapped in, the inertia that had held him trapped in his sickroom for far longer than his body needed, and finally found a purpose. He’d known there was a good chance he wasn’t going to make it, but at least he’d been in control. He’d made his choice. His plan to kill the man threatening everyone he loved had given him a reason to get out of bed. It had kept him moving forward.
Now that purpose was gone. But something of that need to move still remained. He couldn’t just lie around feeling dirty anymore. Now that he was out of those bindings, he couldn’t bear to go back. And he couldn’t bear to hurt Riley. Ever again. Which meant he had to get his shit together right now.
First, he needed to get clean. And then he needed something to eat. Someone—probably Riley and Ethan—had purged the poison from his system, and he vaguely recalled vomiting out the berries. But he hadn’t had a meal since… he couldn’t remember when. Food had stopped seeming important. And the effort required to emerge from his room to eat it had felt insurmountable for such a small reward.
But now, he was moving again—even if he didn’t know where he was moving to—and for the first time in weeks, he actually felt interested in eating. And showering. He just had to wait a little longer.
He sat in the uncomfortable wicker chair in the bedroom he’d woken in, watching as the long summer evening faded and the room grew gloomy and then dark. Eventually, on the other side of the door, his friends began to settle in. Kay and Emma called out their goodnights, and footsteps sounded on the floorboards. But James didn’t move. He didn’t want to risk seeing anyone. It would just be another disaster.
Finally, the house fell silent. He waited another half hour to be completely certain, then, when nothing moved except for the gentle creak of the walls cooling, he stood and rolled out the stiffness in his shoulders.
He pushed open the door and made his way into the corridor he’d stormed down earlier. At least this time, it wasn’t swaying and glittering. And it seemed a hell of a lot shorter.
He still didn’t have a clue where he was, which was strangely unsettling. He’d left his phone behind in Wales, and Kay hadn’t said anything before he insulted everyone. Given that they hadn’t exactly had time to travel far, he assumed they were in one of the less expensive London suburbs, although there was no way to know for sure.
The bland, neutral decor suggested it was a holiday rental, which made sense. Hopefully, Ethan had paid. Should he wake Kay and check that they’d avoided the Order’s bank accounts? They knew it would be dangerous to use them, surely. He paused for a moment, uncertain, but then he shook off the worry that had begun to rise. Kay would know better. And she would never do anything to risk her Circle.
He found a bathroom, its door slightly ajar and releasing steam, and slipped inside. The room was small, with a fake orchid balanced on a dresser holding folded towels. He grabbed one and looked around for a hook. There wasn’t one, so he draped it over the door handle, just a little too far away to reach from inside the shower. This house was definitely a rental.
The shower cubicle was tiny, but the water was hot, and it sluiced away the grime, sweat, and sour smell that had enveloped him. He used the soap to wash his boxers and socks—when he left Wales, it hadn’t ever occurred to him that he might need a change of clothes—and even managed to wash his hair. By the time he was out and dried, he felt almost human.
He wrapped the towel around his waist, hung his underwear over the corner of the empty rail to dry, and went back to his room, where he dropped his jeans and T-shirt onto his bed. Next, he needed to find something to eat.
He’d had a setback, but in the end, someone still had to stop Gordon.Hehad to stop Gordon. Only now, he had to figure out a way to do it that didn’t result in harm to everyone he cared about.
If the others had just stayed in Wales, they would have been fine. He’d tried to keep them out of all of this, but now it was too late. Gordon would be enraged, and he would be planning his revenge. On all of them.
James bit back a frustrated groan. First food, then he would find a solution.
He shuffled down the corridor, ignoring all the doors that led to bedrooms. Everyone was sleeping, and he had no desire to wake them.
