Page 117 of Soulbound

"How do we use the Relics against it?" Sebastian demanded.

Drake's teeth gritted together, and his entire face screwed up in strain. Gasping, he ground out, "Use the Blade.... Only Cleo can wield it. Sink it.... Sink it into my heart."

"No." There had to be another way.

"Only Cleo," Drake stressed, gasping again. A wild ripple of movement slithered inside his cheek, and the veins on his temples stood out. "Agatha knows what to do with the rest of it."

"Stay with us!" Sebastian called, suddenly feeling like he could move again. Please. There was so much he wanted to say.

"It's too... late."

Drake shuddered on his hands and knees, sucking in breath. Those things were moving beneath his skin now in angry waves. Drake screamed, his knuckles straining white. "Run!"

The sound of his scream cut off so abruptly, Sebastian froze. Drake's body began to still, and slowly he looked up, bringing his breathing under control.

It wasn't his father. Not anymore. Even though the demon tried to hide it, Sebastian could see the frustration and rage turning those silver eyes to liquid obsidian.

It laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. "He's stronger than I thought." And it pushed to its feet, locking murderous eyes upon the pair of them. "And I am done playing by his rules."

Flinging a hand toward Cleo, it hooked its fingers and yanked its hand close to its chest. Cleo soared across the room, clutching her throat and choking as she sank into a pile of ruffled skirts at its feet.

"No!"

Sebastian darted forward, but the demon hauled her to her feet, and yanked her back against its chest.

"Oh, I wouldn't," it warned in a dark voice, its hand sliding up her throat and forcing her chin high. Silver glinted as it flicked its wrist and set the edge of the razor to the pulsing beat of her carotid artery.

A single red bead of blood formed, and Cleo sucked in a wild breath, her spine arching to alleviate the press of the razor. Her wild eyes met his.

"Pressure points, Sebastian. Don't forget that."

His hand lowered, and he didn't dare reach for his sorcery. Pressure points. He knew a little about pressure points. His mother had taught him the price of having them all his life. "What do you want?" he demanded flatly.

The demon laughed. "Now you're starting to play the true game." Its laughter shut off abruptly, as if it had never been. "You've been very busy, haven't you? You have my pawn. You have my Relics. I want them all back."

"Your pawn?"

"Morgana."

It had wanted to kill his mother last month. Sebastian's mind raced. Cleo had said something about chess pieces.

"Don't," she whispered, clinging to the demon's sleeve. "Don't give them to him."

The demon caressed her throat with the razor, dragging the tip of it down to rest in the hollow of her collarbone. It slowly looked up. "You have twenty-four hours to deliver what I want, or I'll do to your lovely wife what I did to Lady Beaumont. I'd suggest you take a good long look at Lady Beaumont before you make your decision."

It was no decision. "Where am I to deliver them to?" he asked hoarsely.

"I'll send a message." It dragged Cleo back toward the door, opening it with a twist of telekinesis. "All three Relics, don't forget. If you double-cross me, she's worse than dead."

"Alone?"

It smiled. "No. Bring whomever you want. I'm hungry."

Sebastian stole one last pleading glance toward her. He'd never felt so helpless in all his life. "I'll come for you."

"Don't. Please don't." A tear slid down her cheek. "I don't want to see you hurt. Use the Relics against it."

"I'll come for you," he repeated. He would do whatever the demon demanded. Even cut his own throat to save her life. "You are my everything, and I will not risk you."