Chapter Nineteen

Celia plastered on an impassive, cold expression. She shouldn’t have hesitated. She should have killed Stasik when she had the chance, not questioned the Master’s intentions. Now there were two Innecroestri on the island.

Ward slid his gaze to her then followed the parade of evil back up the slope to the temple. She fell into step beside him. No point getting angry over actions not taken—as much as she really was angry about them. They had made a decision to learn what Stasik planned. They. Ward and she. She couldn’t blame this complication on Ward’s ridiculous moral code—all right, maybe she could. It was his damned code that had made her hesitate, and it was his code she’d fallen in love with.

The path twisted and the trees parted, revealing the temple, but Stasik took the path leading away from the entrance, around the side to the steps and the fissure.

Maybe, if she was fast enough, she could kill Stasik and Lauro right now.

One of the infected pirates a few steps behind her said something. She glanced back. Thanos grunted and slapped the man on the back, drawing chuckles from the rest of the men.

She might have been an excellent assassin, but even if she was fast enough to kill Stasik and Lauro, Ward and she wouldn’t be able to get away from all those pirates—regardless that only three had been infected with the sangsal—and she wasn’t ready to turn this into a suicide mission. She’d just brought Ward back. She was not going to lose him again.

They climbed the stairs to the fissure. The girl’s body had been removed from the center of the octagon, but blood still stained the white marble around the altars. Beyond lay the cliff and the lake and a hint of light on the horizon. Dawn was coming.

“This is amazing,” Lauro said, his voice breathy. He stood at the edge of the obsidian octagon but didn’t cross it. The rest of them stood a few feet back.

“It is.” Stasik’s smile turned smug. “I’ve already drawn sangsal from the fissure.”

Lauro stiffened, an ever so slight tightening of his back and neck. “I saw that.”

“And you think you’re more powerful than me?”

Lauro shrugged, but his tension remained. “I have the Eye of Ivia.”

Ward drew in a sharp breath.

Lauro turned to Ward, his smile as smug as Stasik’s now. “You’ve heard of the Eye.”

“Any Innecroestri worth anything has heard of the Eye of Ivia,” Ward said. His voice was even, but all the blood had drained from his face. This was not good.

“Which do you think makes the wielder more worthy of ruling the Council of Blood—being able to draw sangsal from the fissure or possessing the Eye of Ivia?” Stasik’s expression hardened.

Lauro tilted his head, one eyebrow raised.

This was a test, and whomever Ward picked, he’d piss off the other man. A part of her knew the Eye of Ivia was extremely powerful, but she wasn’t supposed to know that. She pushed that nagging information back, afraid Remy’s fractured essence would overwhelm her and she’d lose control when she couldn’t afford to.

“I’m not sure I’m the best judge,” Ward said.

Lauro snorted. “You’ve heard of the Eye and you’ve heard of sangsal.”

“Well.” Ward shifted. “The sangsal can create an army.”

“A small army. The Eye can hold more magic than a hundred soul jars. I could walk past dozens of cemeteries and raise battalions of the dead with that much power,” Lauro said.

“Of mindless soldiers,” Stasik said.

“Yes.” Sweat beaded at Ward’s temple. “They both have their advantages and disadvantages.”

“And…?” Stasik said, drawing out the word, daring Ward to pick Lauro.

“And this kind of who’s-the-best contest is best done over wine,” Celia said. It was a risk to be so forthright, but she needed an excuse to change the focus from Ward—not to mention find a way to get them alone, if only to get off this damned island.

Lauro threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming over the octagon. “I can see why you didn’t kill them. Not only are they fascinating, they’re also immensely amusing.”

“Wine, my lords,” Celia said. The Eye of Ivia was dangerous and so were the sangsal-infected pirates, not to mention both Innecroestri without any other aids. Goddess, she’d never run into so much magic before meeting Ward. Now it was an everyday occurrence.

“So be it.” Stasik clapped his hands, and two pirates not infected with sangsal stepped forward. “Show Lauro to the parlor. We can continue our conversation there.”

“I need to make sure my men are situated first,” Lauro said.

“Your men can wait. The lady has suggested wine, so wine we shall have.” Stasik waved at the men, and they led Lauro away.

With a chuckle, Stasik headed back to the stairs. As he passed Ward, he clenched his fist. Pressure twisted in Celia’s chest, and Ward gasped.

“Diplomacy will not win my confidence, apprentice.” The pressure released. “Come along.”

Ward pressed his hands to his chest, panting. His legs buckled, and he sagged to his knees. Thanos sneered at him, then he and the others followed Stasik down the stairs.

Celia rushed to Ward’s side. “Does it hurt that much?”

“No,” he said, his voice soft. “We need a plan, and feigning collapse was the only way I could think of to give us a moment alone.”

He was learning. Thank the Goddess.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

He offered her a weak smile. “You’re happy I’ve finally got some common sense.”

“That wasn’t—” But in a way it was. How did he know? Obviously they’d spent enough time together—or gotten into enough trouble—for Ward to have figured out how she worked. But Remy’s knowledge said it had more to do with the soul chain binding Ward to her.

A shadow flickered at the edge of her vision, and she fought to focus on Ward.

“Celia?” he asked, his tone thick with concern.

“I’m fine. How bad is this Eye of Ivia?”

“Bad.” He stood and stared at the fissure. Another tremor slid over him. “I don’t know if it’s worse than the sangsal or not. Stasik’s ability to infuse his men with the sangsal is based on a ritual. Casting a spell, any spell, even one with a blood sacrifice, can take a lot out of you. If he wants to perform the spell again, he’ll need to wait or use more than one sacrifice. I’m guessing, given that Maura said he’s been here just under a month and how many sangsal-infected men he has, he’s waiting.”

“And this Eye?” They needed to head in soon. If they waited too long, Stasik and Lauro would become suspicious, but she wanted to know from Ward what they were up against—and not give in to Remy’s memories.

“The Eye is like a soul jar.”

“Can’t an Innecroestri already make those?”

“Yes, but an Innecroestri’s soul jar can only hold one or two souls, so the amount of power in each jar is limited, and souls can only be put in a jar one at a time. The Eye is imbued with a spell that sucks up souls. The Innecroestri doesn’t even need to do anything, he just has to be around when someone dies. The Eye of Ivia was one of Diestro’s greatest magical items.”

“The blood magi who killed hundreds of people? Wonderful.” The impulse to grab Ward and run thrummed through her.

His gaze captured hers—warm, dark, depthless pools—and he closed the distance between them and took her hand. He pressed it to his chest, capturing it with his palms. His heart beat strong and steady, with a surety she wouldn’t have expected given their situation. This was not the awkward man she’d met in her father’s house, and yet, it was still the same soul. The one she’d manipulated into helping her solve her murder.

“Celia.” He breathed her name, sending shivers through her.

He inched closer, his lips parting. He was going to kiss her. She desperately wanted him to kiss her. Except they needed to talk about their situation.

She pulled her hand free, stepped back, and prayed he wouldn’t renew the contact. It was hard enough to concentrate with him only a step away. “So with the Eye, Lauro can do what, exactly?”

He pursed his lips, his expression growing hard. He wanted to be close to her, and she wouldn’t let him. It made her chest ache with regret, but it was for the best right now.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” she said.

He growled and ran his hands through his hair. “With the Eye, Lauro can do anything—depending, of course, on how many souls he has in it. All he needs is to be around someone when he or she dies to collect the power of their soul before it crosses the veil. Then he can create dozens of vesperitti, or he could use that power to raise thousands of zombies and skeletons. ”

“Every man killed would become trapped in the Eye.” The horror of that fate chilled her, and a flash, unbidden, of a black jeweled medallion—the Eye—swept through her. It could capture an enormous number of souls, trap them for an eternity of being stretched torturously thin, never able to cross into the heart of the Goddess. It was powerful. It was—

She shoved at Remy’s memories, using all of her will to stay focused. “Does that make Lauro more dangerous than Stasik?” She headed to the stairs and the path leading to the temple, her pace slow. Shadows flickered, just out of sight.

Ward fell into step beside her. “Depends. If war is the goal, Lauro could conceivably control a massive number of zombies like Diestro did. He’d kill innocents, men, women, and children, capture their souls, then animate their bodies and create an army.”

“So Lauro kills half of Stasik’s normal pirates and they all become zombies as well as strengthens the Eye.”

“Yes. Stasik, on the other hand, can only infuse sangsal into one man at a time, but they’re more powerful than zombies.”

“I’d say a lot more powerful. All right, well, I don’t think we need to know what their plans are. We need to stop them. I think it’s time we find your grandfather.” That would get Ward safe and off the island, and then she could figure out her mess of emotions and this issue with Remy’s memories.

“We can’t risk leaving yet.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?” She could just strangle him and his damned honor. “Let me guess, you’ve come to your senses and realized you can’t kill them?”

“Actually, I think killing them is our only option.”