Page 135 of Soulbound

And he couldn’t do it.

"Yes, you can," Cleo whispered through the bond.

He looked down at the two bloodied lines which led directly from his feet to Bishop and Lucien’s. The two of them stared at him, Bishop gritting his teeth against the stream of power running through him. Bishop needed the lines to connect, so he could earth some of the energy.

It took everything within Sebastian to reach toward both Bishop and Lucien. It felt like he was pushing against some enormous iron doors in his mind; brushing against Bishop’s psyche in a fumbling attempt to connect.

But Cleo believed in him.

And Bishop had been there for him, and Lucien, and all the others. This was family, the one thing he'd always craved.

And… there.

Bishop’s metaphorical hand caught his own, just as he tumbled from the cliff in his mind.

"Got you." Bishop said along the link, and then power was roaring up through Sebastian’s feet.

He was no longer in control. He was drunk on the feeling of it, Bishop angling the lines of power out toward Lucien.

"Got you," Lucien said, with a wince.

The triangle of light—one half of the hexagram—lit up, burning through the remaining snow. The demon in the center of the star looked down in surprise, clouds of darkness whipping past it, and the tear in the fabric of reality above it pausing. Sebastian could almost see its thought process. It turned toward Bishop, recognizing who held the triumvirate of power.

Who to kill.

"Now!" Ianthe yelled.

And the second triangle lit up as she, Verity, and Lady E took the remaining points of the star.

Ianthe was wielding the second triangle, and where the lines crossed the first, he could feel some sort of shiver of connection.

Bishop started chanting, binding the spell work into the ritual.

Sebastian ground his teeth together.

He'd spent all bloody night learning the words. It didn't truly matter what he said—the key was in the ritual, in his mind recognizing what he wanted to create—but the spell was complex enough that he'd stuck to memorizing Bishop's spell. Words spilled from his lips, echoed by the other five.

The sheer amount of power Bishop was handling was incredible. Not even Drake’s reserves could match it. But the demon was trying to fight, holding them at bay as they channeled energy through the three Relics Infernal.

A trembling hand rested on his forearm. He could barely feel it. The pain behind his right eye was intensifying. And then Eleanor stepped past, hobbling on her cane, her eyes locked on Drake.

They were betting everything on this moment. Eleanor’s magic had not returned, not yet. She couldn’t protect herself from the demon if it chose to annihilate her.

But there was someone who could.

Someone who could no more see harm done to his lover than he could harm her himself.

The demon’s eyes lit up—just for a second—and then its face began to ripple again, horror filling its eyes. No, Drake’s eyes. For just a second Sebastian saw the man he recognized as his father emerge from behind the demon's cool mask, stricken by the thought of harm coming to the woman he loved.

"Drake," Eleanor whispered, stepping inside the star with her hand outstretched. "Cast it out. Come home to me... please."

Drake went down on one knee, his fingers curled into claws, and that horrible rippling still continuing beneath his skin.

Cleo moved toward him, the Blade in her hand, her skirts whipping behind her.

"Do it," Drake rasped, holding his hands wide.

"Begone," Cleo whispered, and grabbed a handful of his hair. "I cast you out, back to your world. You don't belong in this one."