Page 91 of Soulbound

And then a thin golden strand of pure light latched around him, driving from his naval through the Veil.

"There it is," Cleo whispered. "Where is it taking you?"

Something tugged at him. Then he was flying forward, hungry faces swimming through the fog to meet him, their mouths opening toward him—

They punched through the Veil, the golden line hauling him faster and faster. He could hear himself screaming, gasping, trying not to react.

And then they landed in the middle of a garden.

A house stood before them. A beautiful house, glimmering all over with a cascade of wards. He was on his knees, the golden strand at his naval tugging him toward the house.

"There it is." Cleo took a step toward it, slowly letting go of his hand.

Sebastian opened his eyes, finding himself on his knees on the carpet inside Bishop's dining room. Mother of night. There was a hand on his shoulder. Bishop. An empty tureen in front of him, just in case he wanted to cast up his accounts.

"A pleasant journey by the look of it." Bishop looked amused.

"Fuck," he said, scraping a hand over his sweating face and shaking. The world had stopped moving around him. He wanted to kiss the floor.

Cleo remained sitting in her chair, her eyes closed. "I've got her now. Morgana's in a house... a beautiful house. The West End somewhere, I suspect." Cleo's head cocked to the side, almost as if she were listening. "I can't see inside the house. It's warded quite heavily. I'm only just getting through. Not enough to give me any details."

Her eyes blinked open, staring into nothing. "Get me a map."

Bishop hastily produced one, scraping the tea setting out of the way.

Cleo took a deep breath, and hovered her hand over the map of London, shutting her eyes once more. She moved her hands slowly across the map, pausing over Knightsbridge.

The rest of them leaned forward. A sliver of tension went through him. After last night, Sebastian felt a little conflicted about confronting his mother. She deserved to die, but... it all felt a little raw.

"There," Cleo whispered, her eyes flicking open and her bloodied finger stabbing into the map. "She's right there."

"Hammerton Lane," Bishop mused, launching into action. "Let's go."

* * *

Lascher looked up from its working, halting the flood of power as he sensed a distant tickle at the back of his mind. Bloodied lines crisscrossed the lawn, and seven bodies lay discarded, their throats and wrists slit in sacrifice.

It turned his head toward London, and opened himself up to his Sight. For a second it saw the girl standing in front of Morgana's townhouse in her astral form. She glowed like a perfect beacon. The White Queen in all her glory.

She was learning. She'd pierced its Veil, and found the decoy.

The demon smiled. Run little rats.

And then it turned back to its work.

Nothing could stop it now. Plans were proceeding perfectly. And she still hadn't found its black queen.

* * *

"Slight problem," Verity said, popping out of thin air.

Sebastian would never get used to that. "What sort of problem?"

Ianthe, Lucien, and Agatha were leading a scouting party to find out if the demon was with Morgana. He hoped the problem wasn't coming from them.

"The house is warded. Bishop can't get inside. He tried to cross the threshold and it nearly knocked him out." Verity's face paled. "The illusion works. Even I wouldn't recognize him, but we can't get the Blade."

"Can he get through the wards?" Cleo asked. "He said he could slip through Drake's."