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Page 53 of The Deathless One (The Gravesinger #1)

He didn’t like any of this, but he also knew she needed to do this on her own. He could sweep in and be that voice in her ear, guiding her as he had in the moment with Benji when he had known she would fail. But this time, she would not fail.

She’d walked into this den of hissing snakes with a confidence he had never seen from her before. Was this what she had been like before she died? He could so easily picture this woman upon a throne, ordering around her subjects at a whim.

He could see her ordering him around, too, as she had in the darkness when he’d wanted to lick her from head to toe. She had told him to crawl, and he had. A god. So easily on his knees for a mortal woman, because she had ordered him to do so.

He should probably be ashamed of that. Or at the very least, embarrassed.

Instead, Elric watched with passion and pride as she stared down the man who had raised her.

The man who had betrayed her more than any other person in her life.

He could only imagine this was about to get worse.

After all, Callum Quen was a liar through and through.

Elric could see it on him like a slick oil that clung to his skin.

The man was bigger than he’d expected. Jessamine’s memories were that of a child, so of course she remembered Callum as a giant. But as he ushered her out of the courtyard into the central building, Elric took stock of the man who threatened his nightmare once again.

Callum’s clothing was well-tailored, not a speck of dirt on the white shirt he wore.

His hair was oiled back; he was clearly a man who cared about his appearance.

But the faint wrinkles around his eyes and between them revealed a man who spent an awful lot of time frowning.

And then there was his stance. A fighter’s stance, always at the ready, with his gaze flicking from side to side, watching for someone to sneak out of the shadows.

This was no mere guard. This was a man who had grown up on the streets and knew exactly how to keep himself alive. That was a man who was not trustworthy, because he did not trust himself.

“Careful, nightmare,” he murmured, keeping close to his witch. “Don’t get out of reach.”

She glanced over her shoulder, and her gaze told him she knew well to stay close. Even if she had once trusted the man beside her, she didn’t any longer.

“Everything all right, Jessa?” Callum asked, the nickname falling from his lips far too easily for comfort.

“I’m fine.” She cleared her throat before changing the subject. “You always told me you grew up in the Factory District. I have to admit, I didn’t think you meant like this.”

The interior of Callum’s kingdom was not what Elric had expected.

This place was immaculate. While the exteriors of the buildings had been rather dismal, this place was clean and well kept.

Warm wooden walls lined the hallways, and they’d already passed through a large shared living space with multiple men and women.

They also walked past a room with its door ajar, in which Elric glimpsed wall after wall of weapons.

Knives, swords, rifles. All the things he might have kept if he was amassing an army.

But why would a man like this need an army?

Finally, they reached a door that Callum opened before the man gestured them through.

The office was as neat and clean as the rest of the building.

Again, warm wooden walls, and a red rug with faint brown staining around the edges.

A massive oak desk nearly filled the room with twin chairs before it.

This was not where Callum gestured Jessamine to sit. Instead, he ushered her to join him by a fireplace to their right. Twin cushioned seats waited for them there, the backs patched a few times with fabric that didn’t quite match.

“I have been so worried about you,” Callum said, his voice low and calming. “You cannot imagine the fear I felt when I saw you fall off the edge of that cliff. I had thought before that moment I might be able to save you.”

“Did you?” Jessamine’s voice was cold and her spine too straight as she perched on the edge of her chair. “Was that before or after you watched Mother die? I was under the impression her death would hurt you worse than my own.”

At least Callum winced at her accusation.

But then he sighed, and the mask slid back into place.

“It was all horrible to watch, Jessa. I would not wish it on my worst enemy. I barely escaped with my life after what that beast did. I’ve been searching for months for a way to get back at him. Your mother’s death deserves revenge.”

Elric walked closer to the fire, bracing a forearm against the crumbling wood above it. He stared into the flames, trying to find a thread of patience to calm himself with. “He’s lying.”

“I know you’re lying,” she said, answering both of them. “You were part of this, Callum. What I want to know is why?”

“Jessamine, after everything I have taught you, don’t you know jumping to conclusions always ends wrong?”

The older man would not give up so easily. Elric looked over his shoulder and watched as Callum shifted in his chair, bracing his ankle over a knee and looking, for all intents and purposes, calm. As though he hadn’t just been caught.

Callum never took his eyes off Jessamine, staring her down until she looked away and folded in on herself. Perhaps this was something the older man had done to her when she was a child: remaining in complete and utter silence just so she had to be the first to break.

Even worse, he hated to see the tactic working. The confident, powerful woman who had walked in here was slowly disappearing into the little girl who was desperately afraid of disappointing the fatherly figure she loved. It all drained out of her, as though this man was a leech.

“Don’t give in to him,” Elric snarled. “It’s easier to control you if you believe you are lesser. You are not the child you once were, Jessamine Harmsworth. Remember your value.”

Though her gaze didn’t move to him, Elric knew her next words were for the god in the room, not the man. “I trusted you once. More than any other person. Even more than Mother.”

“He does not return that trust.” Elric returned his gaze to the fire, his hands clenching on the stone mantel as if he could snap it off in his hands and hurl it at the other man. “No one deserves your trust if they cannot return it.”

As much as it hurt to say them, he meant those words—and he was forced to admit he had never returned her trust in the same way she had given it to him.

Jessamine had given him her life multiple times now, and trusted that he would bring her back.

What had he given her in exchange? Whispered promises that he intended to break the moment she resurrected him.

Callum sighed, steepling his fingers and pressing them against his lips. “Where is this coming from, Jessamine? You were always such a biddable young woman. You wanted what was best for this kingdom.”

“And I still do.”

He gestured up and down her body. “This is what the kingdom needs? A princess who does not know how to run a kingdom, so she turns to dark magic? This is not the way of things, Jessa. You have so much to learn. But I’m glad you have come, because I am more than happy to teach you.”

Elric snorted. “Teach you? What could he possibly teach you that you haven’t already learned?”

Jessamine, his nightmare, whispered in broken tones, “I don’t know who you are anymore, Callum.”

The words hung in the air, so light and innocent they were almost painful. He winced, turning to see the same expression on Callum’s face before Elric moved behind her chair and crouched at her side. “What did I say about needing anyone to justify your greatness?”

She looked at him then, just the barest flicker of her gaze turning toward his. Elric reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly in his own. “You are powerful and great and wicked. You have to believe that, nightmare. Your god demands it.”

He could see the confidence creeping back into her features.

A cold chill danced down his spine, as though perhaps she was pulling magic from him.

But that couldn’t be right. When she drew her power from him, he was warm.

So warm, in fact, that it was like a fire burning in his chest. This was cold, like the doomed gravesinger hands pulling him back to his own realm.

“Jessa,” Callum said, slowly standing. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

She stood, and so did Elric. But the moment he tried to follow, he found himself… stuck.

Frowning, he looked down to see runes marked on the floor around him. Runes that hadn’t been there before, that moved sluggishly on the wooden floor. Like someone had bled around him.

“What magic is this?” he hissed. “Jessamine, turn around.”

She started to turn, but Callum banded an arm around her shoulders and yanked her farther away from him. One moment, his nightmare was within reach, and the next, she was nearly on the other side of the room. Wild-eyed, hair falling in front of her face, she stared at Elric with dawning horror.

Callum leaned down, his eyes wide as he pressed his lips to Jessamine’s ear. “I can’t hear him, but I know you can. He must be spitting mad right now to know he’s been bested. So what’s he saying, Jessa? What does a god snarl when he’s been defeated?”

“Tell him nothing,” Elric spat. “He gets nothing from me and nothing from you.”

Her cheeks burned bright red, and he knew she was about to say something stupid. “He said he’s going to kill you for this. It’s the only warning you get, Callum, so don’t risk your life. Don’t think you can best a god.”

“I bested the royal family, now didn’t I?

” He jerked her to the side, her neck snapping painfully as he tossed her toward the door.

“I can do more than you believe, Jessa. Unfortunately, that’s a hereditary problem you’re going to have to overcome.

I would prefer you alive, but you’ve already died.

The woman you are now is but a fleeting image of the girl you once were.

If there was ever a person I thought of as a daughter, it was you.

A disappointing one, to say the least, but that can be changed.

You could be molded into someone I like, but this god and I need to come to an understanding. ”

“What?” she cried out. The door opened sharply as one of Callum’s cronies entered the room. It clipped her on the side of the head, nearly hard enough to knock her out.

“Jessamine!” Elric called out, reaching for her, only to find his arms coming up short. There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all. All he could do was stand there and shout as the person behind the door scooped her up into their arms.

Of course she fought. His little nightmare fought with every ounce of rage in her body. He could feel her trying to draw magic from him, the desperation inside of her reaching for the god who was supposed to keep her safe.

He had failed her in this. He had promised never to fail her again. And he would kill the man in front of him for it.

Callum watched her fight with amusement on his features and a soft chuckle falling from his lips. “Would you look at that? I didn’t think the princess had it in her. Apparently, there’s a fighter underneath that prim and proper exterior.”

“Callum! You will regret this for the rest of your very short life,” she hissed, her hair a tangled mass over her features now. It gave her the look of a creature from the grave, like she’d just crawled out of the earth to tear her claws through anyone who stood in her way.

“And who is going to end my very long life? You? A dead princess who is now cut off from the source of her power? No, my dear. There are things I need from you, and unfortunately, that requires a rather long talk with someone other than you.”

Elric bared his teeth. “What spell did he use to trap me? Get it out of him, Jessamine.”

He could see her wild thoughts running freely in her mind. She spat out, “You don’t even know magic, Callum! Did you employ some witch to do this? That is so beneath you.”

Apparently, that wasn’t a bad tactic, because the confession came easily.

“I have no witch, but you don’t have to be born a witch to use spells.

All you have to do is follow instructions, especially when it comes to the gods.

Look at you. Proclaiming yourself a witch in front of all my Iron Knuckles.

Your mother is rolling in her grave right now. ”

Elric’s mind ran wild. What spell? There were no spells to trap gods, not that he knew of.

And certainly not a spell that someone without the power of witchcraft could cast. Such magic was difficult and required concentration, years of preparation.

This wasn’t a man who had been brought into power just moments ago.

He had planned this.

He had been planning this for a very long time.

“My mother?” Jessamine hissed, her voice cracked and raw. “My mother is rolling in her grave, you say? What grave, Callum? I heard she was thrown into a pit with the rest of the people who died under your watch. There is no grave for my mother!”

Something in the older man cracked. A small fissure, just enough to bleed.

Elric could see it in the way he flinched, and when he pressed a hand against his heart like the words hurt. As they should.

Callum walked with so many deaths weighing on his shoulders, and he had yet to make any atonement for such things. To whom should he cry out for forgiveness? The many souls he’d killed? Or the gods who were long gone?

They would never forgive him. Those spirits would haunt him until his very last breath. Elric would make sure of it.

Quen started to close the door, pausing only when Jessamine braced her legs against the frame and shouted, “You killed me, Callum Quen! And now I will haunt you into your very grave!”

The door slammed shut, and he was forced to watch as the man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. A page that looked familiar, written in a language no one had been able to read in years. Until this man started speaking in a language that had long since died.

Cursing, Elric cast a spell of his own, hoping it wouldn’t fizzle out before Callum finished. He sent a message to his coven, to Sybil.

Their god was trapped. He summoned his witch to him, or they would both lose their power forevermore.