Page 51 of These Eternal Bones

A Bronze Man

Molly

I didn’t have to wait long, but were those next two days some of the longest of my life? Absolutely.

Tien whistles from the bottom of the stairs, giving me a warning that he’s here, though judging by the growl that left Elric’s throat seconds ago, I knew someone was coming.

I bring my cup of tea to my lips, blowing on the steaming China.

He used his power to enter. Does that mean he doesn’t have the key?

“Sir Jin got out last night. We think the storm spooked him; he’s lost to the woods.”

I choke on the tea.

Elric tenses at my back. “Molly?”

Worry lances through the bond as I hack, sputtering out reassurances between coughs.

Is this it ?

Schooling my features, I turn back to Elric. “He only responds to you, doesn’t he?”

His eyes flick to mine, and I can see the warring on his face. I certainly didn’t help matters by hacking half to death in his lap seconds ago. “And you.” He offers, trying to sound calm.

It does not work; his voice has that eerie note to it. Like it’s coming from him and everywhere else at the same time.

“Barely,” I mutter, my pulse jumping as he sighs, lifting me off his lap and back into the chair.

“I’ll go get the beast and be right back, syringa.”

Be calm, Molly. Be calm.

I just nod, leaning in for a kiss. Standing, I only come up to his lower chest, but sitting, I’m even smaller. He never seems to mind bending to meet me. He lingers, his tongue testing the seam of my mouth, and it frazzles my brain in a way I don’t have time for.

Tien’s reptilian brows furrow at me as he catches himself, offering his own odd version of a smile before he follows Elric out.

Was that it?

Oh god, it had to be, right?

I’m up and pacing before I know it, worrying my hands in front of me.

It only takes a few minutes before I hear a lock turning in the door.

It closes in a rush but shuts silently, like when you hold the handle and let it twist slowly.

Cartiel regards me with no small amount of displeasure as he clears the top of the stairs. “You’re going to get me killed.”

“Elric won’t know.” I cringe at the desperation in my voice.

The man chuffs at that. Arrogant as ever. “Of course he’ll know. He’s a god.”

“And you’re the son of one. ”

“Bastard son,” he corrects, nodding toward the stack of non-aggravating books Elric allowed me to have.

He wasn’t trying to be restrictive for the sake of restriction, but he refuses to let me stew over the curse, over answers.

Yet here I am. Stewed. He leans down, his bronze golden locks falling into his face as he regards the book at the bottom of the pile, one my selkie accomplice snuck to me. “You’ve done your homework.

I shrug. I hadn’t wanted Elric to know I was reading into Nephilims. It seemed an unnecessary risk to the man’s life when my mate spent most of his time near the edge of sanity, anyway. Most of the words in there I couldn’t figure out, so I gleaned very little.

“What do you want, Molly?”

I swallow hard; heavens, why am I so nervous? “We were friends, close friends.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You helped me in the library,” I offer, trying and failing to find the words.

My brow furrows as something flashes across his eyes, something akin to a wince.

“I don’t blame you. The fall was an accident.

” The hidden message is there, lingering, thickening the air.

I don’t blame you for her, either. There was nothing you could do, nothing you did wrong.

I want to see the smile she wrote about someday.

His throat bobs. Clenching and unclenching his fists. “We have little time. Whatever it is you want me to risk my life for, get to it.”

Every bit of class and decorum I have flies straight out of the nonexistent window as I rush forward, gripping the bars, making him take a step back.

Like he can’t stand the thought of being near me.

“You know more than you’ve said. I can feel it,” I point at him. “Don’t bother lying, you suck at it.”

“I do not. ”

“You do. There must be something, a book, a ledger, something from the coven that did this…I know Elric, he’s meticulous.

He would’ve kept everything after they were gone.

There must be a way to stop this, Catriel.

I want it to end, to end the curse so we can be free.

This life…it has to be the last.” My voice breaks.

“However long that may be. He’s suffering–”

“To fucking hell with his suffering! This is his fault! He did this to you! Did it to all of us!” I flinch as his eyes burst into a glow, erupting like daybreak.

“He did this to you, and all you can think about is him.” I nearly scream when Cartiel rushes the bars, his face inches from mine.

He smells like summer, like my home in Mertigas, but only in the good ways.

“To fucking hell with his mercy, Molly. He deserves none .”

My hands are shaking as I reach through the bars, as desperate to comfort him as I am to scream at him for the horrible things he said.

When my hand covers his, I almost do just that.

Scream at him, but a wave of déjà vu stops me.

Why do I feel he’s said those words to me before?

I feel like I did scream then, but that makes no sense.

He’s only been around for two of my lives.

This one and the last. I found out about the curse the night I died; I was rushing to open the door–

“This is insanity,” he whispers, looking horribly sad for a breath before his mask slips back into place.

“In that, we agree. I need your help. There’s got to be a clue–”

“All texts he took from that night are lost,” he says, slipping his warm hand from mine and backing away.

“And why is that?”

He shrugs. “Seven hundred years is a long time. Things happen.”

I ignore the odd nagging in the back of my mind. “You know how to help me. ”

He shakes his head. “I don’t, but I know someone who does. Someone with a long memory.”

“Who? What does that mean?”

He takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to convince himself to tell me. “Maybe Elric, in his rage…forgot one.”

My eyes widen, and I can only fathom what my mate is feeling in our bond. I try to calm myself but fail; my eyes welling with tears. “One of the ones who cursed him?”

Cartiel’s eyes meet mine and, for once, they don’t flick away.

“No, not directly. There’s more to the story than maybe even he knows.

I doubt there was much humanity to be found on either side that night.

” I swallow hard, trying to steady my shaking as I brace myself for another deafening blow.

“One witch was with child, Molly. A child born from her mother’s corpse. ”

My stomach churns as I press my hands to it.

“She survived. How?”

He simply stares.

“How? It doesn’t make sense, nothing I read claimed witches to be immortal; that would be…over seven hundred years.”

“That’s not my story to tell. If there’s anyone that can end this…it would be her.”

Apprehension fills me, only further upsetting my stomach. “Would she? They certainly didn’t help me then.” I take a step back, unease pulsing my chest. “They killed me, simply for being his mate. For just wanting a child.”

He shifts on his feet. “I know nothing more than that. Nor do I care enough to sit here while you toddle with your thoughts. You either take the lead or not; it matters little either way. ”

He turns on his heel, heading toward the stairs when I lurch forward. “Wait! If you hadn’t noticed, I can’t simply hike to her. What good does this do me?”

“I could tell her, obviously.”

“Stop being rude.”

He just glares. “Write her something quick. I’ll pass it along if I have time.”

My eyes snap to my sketchbook before embarrassment sends color flooding my cheeks. “I-I’m not so good at that yet.”

He heaves a sigh, like my illiteracy is just a terrible inconvenience to him.

“I’ll pass along who you are and what you want.”

“Is that…wise? Hang on, maybe we should think about this more.”

He waves me off. “All anyone can talk about is the legend of the Vampire of Port Clyde, all but confirmed to be true now that you’re here.

How young women go to his castle and never come out alive?

I’m sure she already knows he’s taken another one.

I’m sure she knows exactly what that means.

You’re telling her nothing she hadn’t already gleaned. ”

Spoken like someone who knows…

He leaves with that, and my mind is reeling too hard to stop him.

I step back until the backs of my knees hit the bed, forcing me to sit.

I’m barely lucid when Péal rushes in shortly after, displaying her hands in front of her as a sharp buzz of energy crackles in the room.

Where there had been traces of summer before, there is only the smell of the ocean, the sand, and salt.

I quirk a brow at her.

“It’s projection. Like what I do with the water, only instead of taking it, I just borrow some of its essence. I can’t say it’ll completely mask the scent of him, but it’s better than nothing. Did you find what you were looking for?”

I frown. “I’m not sure yet.”

She just nods, her hair windswept. It’s then that I realize she was acting as some kind of lookout. My heart warms for the sweet woman.

My friend, the only one I think I’ve ever had.

I got what I wanted, though, at least a good start to it. So why don’t I feel even an iota of the relief I thought I would? Why does it feel like I’ve just made a huge mistake?