The Stars Over Bittergate Bay

Chapter 43

43

M orrow’s contract was written in impossibly small script. Not that Sidney could read it, laid out on the altar like some kind of occult sacrifice. Morrow had explained the parts he’d thought relevant through gritted teeth, bound by some magical rite to explain certain elements of their agreement.

Sidney tuned him out, trying to come to terms with the easiest hard decision he’d ever made in his life. Could Leo keep himself safe if Sidney refused to sign away his soul? And was dying with his soul intact really that important to Sidney in the first place?

Because Morrow would kill Sidney, one way or the other. Zac had stepped into the circle with a long knife in his hand too. And this one wasn’t fine bladed and sharply tipped. It looked more like a machete.

His body still wasn’t responding much. Fighting wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He was going to have to keep stalling, and he was running out of time.

“What about Jonas?” Sidney interrupted Morrow’s reading. Morrow snorted.

“What about him?”

“What if I want to add him to the contract? Return his magic and I’ll sign willingly.” Morrow laughed. Threw his head back. It was a high pitched, irritating sound.

“Impossible. The clause itself is too complicated. And he’d need to be present. He’s not likely to accept an invitation from me any time soon.”

“He would from me,” Sidney said. Morrow rolled his eyes.

“You think he still cares for you? After what he saw?” Morrow lifted his eyebrows, his gaze darting across Sidney to Zac. “Do you think he wants anything to do with you?”

Sidney’s stomach clenched painfully. It was true. Sidney had misunderstood what had happened between Jonas and Asterion, and he hadn’t listened to Jonas’s attempts to explain. But he thought Jonas might listen to his? Jonas wouldn’t forgive him after what he’d seen in the conservatory. Why should he, when Sidney hadn’t been willing to grant him the same?

“If he ever loved you, he doesn’t now. Take it from me, Jonas doesn’t stomach betrayal well.” Morrow chuckled, and rage bubbled up again in Sidney’s chest.

His pain wasn’t limited to his throbbing head or the tingling of his half-numb limbs anymore. He’d never felt so guilty. Been so ashamed. If he’d really wanted Jonas so badly, he should have been willing to fight for him before. Not now, when it was useless. When it was too late. Morrow had almost killed Jonas in his pursuit of power. And now if Sidney didn’t sign away his soul, they would kill him and go after Leo too.

Zac leaned his elbows on the top of the altar, his breath hot and sickly, honey sweet in Sidney’s nostrils. He smirked as he slid a claw down Sidney’s temple, dragging blood into Sidney’s hair.

“I can buy you another fifteen minutes or so, if you like. Finish what we started.” Sidney nearly retched.

“Get away from me.”

“Let’s not test the proprietary mesmer, Mears,” Morrow grumbled, shooing Zac away from Sidney with the flat of his blade. Zac rolled his eyes, but he stepped back. Morrow turned the knife, the point of the blade pressing into the base of Sidney’s throat. “Quince, do you agree to the terms?”

Sidney’s heart pounded in his chest. He tried to shift his shoulders, his arms. He could move, but he wouldn’t go anywhere fast. And agreeing was the only way to keep Leo safe. Sidney was going to die, no matter what he said. He didn’t have a choice.

“Yes.”

“Good boy,” Morrow smiled. Before Sidney could retort, Morrow brought his knife down. He flipped Sidney’s hand over on the stone and punctured Sidney’s thumb. Sidney winced but could barely feel the prick as blood welled up over the pad of his finger. Maybe it should have hurt more, but Sidney was numb with the agony of everything he’d lost. Jonas, first. Now his own soul.

Would he still be alive without it? Would he wither and die? Did it matter? Everything he’d wanted, thought he had, was gone. He’d saved Leo. That was going to have to be enough.

Morrow pressed Sidney’s thumb to the signature line of the contract, and Sidney watched as the paper shimmered suddenly, a sheen of gold overlayed the text for the briefest of seconds, before disappearing from existence.

“Someone’s coming,” the woman said. She was still in the shadows, the outline of her horns visible in the moonlight through the stained glass.

“Who?” Zac demanded.

“Probably just some guests from the party looking for a good place to?—”

“Quickly then,” Morrow huffed. He pulled Sidney’s pocket watch out of his trouser pocket and pressed it to Sidney’s hand. “Hold that.”

“Why?” Sidney asked, mostly out of habit. And he’d thought signing away his soul would have hurt more.

“It’s a binding agent,” Morrow snorted. “Shall I explain the technical aspects of the spell as we go along? It only seems right, seeing as you’re Jonas’s little protege.”

Morrow began to talk as he slid the knife down Sidney’s arm, and there was the pain. Blood seeped into the fabric of Sidney’s borrowed dress shirt. His grip tightened around the watch, as he swallowed down a groan of agony, and he tried to think about Jonas. Jonas had fixed this watch for him, an unnecessary kindness. He’d cared for Sidney; he’d shown it in his own way.

A twist of the blade at his wrist made Sidney whimper, his stomach souring. Jonas had pulled out his own magic for this horrible man. He’d given something and never tried to get it back. Morrow had taken advantage of the way Jonas was generous with his whole heart.

Maybe Sidney shouldn’t have still loved Jonas. But he did, and there was no use denying it now.

When Morrow pressed the knife into Sidney’s palm, Sidney screamed.

“Shut him up!” Zac shouted.

Which meant there was someone to hear him.

Sidney screamed again. Louder, and kept screaming, until Zac pressed the blade of his knife against Sidney’s throat.

“Mr. Quince left with a Mr. Zachariah Mears, a little over an hour ago,” Verne said, without looking up from the dish he was plating.

“Never heard of him,” Jonas said.

“Neither have I,” Asterion agreed, which was concerning, as Asterion knew everyone there was to know.

“Mr. Mears was an invitee of Ms. Desdemona Briarthorne,” Verne added. Jonas and Asterion exchanged a glance. That didn’t bode well.

“Where did they go?” Leo demanded. Verne shot him a look that would have curdled milk, and Jonas was impressed that Leo didn’t flinch.

“My business,” Verne said, primly, “is the inner workings of this property. What people do outside of the property is not my concern.”

“They left the property?” Jonas asked.

“Yes, sir,” Verne replied. “By way of the northern road.”

Armed with flashlights, Jonas, Asterion and Leo set off. As they crossed the lawn, Jonas hazarded a glance at Asterion again.

“You really don’t have to?—”

“You’ve said that to me twice already,” Asterion said, dryly. “If you tell me again, I’m going to hit you.”

Had he already given Asterion the offer to stay behind? Jonas couldn’t remember. He’d started to get nervous when they’d gone through the cottage and found it empty. Verne’s revelation that Sidney had gone off the property chilled him to the bone.

The chapel was on the northern road, true. So were the caves. So was a vast expanse of forest. Technically, the caves were still on the property, just beneath it. But Jonas had no idea how far Verne’s powers of observation reached. Or how deep magically imbued property boundaries sank.

The night was cold, and the half-moon spent a good portion of their trek behind fast-moving storm clouds. When they reached the graveyard, Jonas paused as the strange starlings began to chirrup, like they didn’t know it was night.

“What is this place?” Leo asked, apparently unfazed. Perhaps a lack of self-preservation instinct ran in the Quince family.

“This is the edge of the property,” Jonas said. “Right up to the graveyard. Everything here and up the hill belongs to the chapel.”

“What denomination?” Leo asked, as he started up between the headstones.

It was a good question. One that, somehow, Jonas had never considered. All churches were sort of the same to him. He knew about them in vague swaths. Knew the stories. Appreciated how easily their blasphemes rolled off the tongue. He shrugged and glanced at Asterion.

“Don’t look at me,” Asterion chuckled. “How on earth would I know?”

“Is that a light?” Leo pointed toward the chapel. From their position down the hill, they hadn’t been able to see inside. But now?—

A scream of pain split the air and silenced the starlings. Leo took off running toward the church, and Jonas caught up with him in three strides.

He needed it to be Sidney. He desperately needed it not to be Sidney.

Jonas slammed his shoulder into the chapel door, expecting it to be locked. Instead, it burst open and he fell inside, just catching himself on a nearby pew.

The soft wash of gold from the candles in the center of the room illuminated a grisly scene. Sidney’s long limbs were dangling across the altar. The demon from the conservatory, Zachariah Mears, held a blade to Sidney’s throat. Morrow was standing beside Sidney, behind the altar like some unholy priest, his hands red with blood, casting. A silver-green light shimmered over Sidney.

Sidney’s eyes were wide, his face pale, as he turned his head toward the door. Blood stained his shirt. Jonas could smell it in the air, the scent of it somehow unmistakable. Sidney’s jaw dropped at the sight of Jonas, and the only thing Jonas could hear over the roaring of rage in his head, was Sidney’s sharp inhale of breath.

Jonas had frozen, but Sidney’s gasp sent him lurching forward. Leo was faster, bursting across the room with a shout.

Jonas’s fingertips brushed the back of Leo’s collar, reaching to stop him too late, as Leo careened across the room, scattering candles. He threw himself at Mears, knocking the demon and his knife to the stone floor.

Morrow jerked back in surprise, the thread of the spell lost and the green glow vanishing with it as he watched Leo lay fists into Mears. Jonas moved, seizing his opportunity to rescue Sidney a moment too late. Morrow had seen him out of the corner of his eye and laid his own bloody blade against Sidney’s throat.

“No!” Jonas barely recognized his own voice. As though he’d cast a spell, everything stopped. Even the candlelight seemed to hold steady. Slowly, Morrow’s mouth pulled into a smile.

“What a surprise. Jonas Rookwood. After all these years.”

Leo scrambled back from an unconscious Mears, a slash across his forehead.

“Let him go,” Jonas said.

“He has something of mine.” Morrow held up the paper. Gestured down to Sidney. A contract. “I intend to take it.” Jonas grit his teeth. Tension raced through his shoulders.

“Void it.”

“This isn’t your property, Jonas. You don’t have any power over me here. Neither of you do,” he sneered, his eyes darting to Asterion, who stood at Jonas’s side. “Though, to my credit,” Morrow’s voice simpered. The meekness, the falseness of it, made Jonas’s stomach clench in disgust. “I didn’t know he was yours when they brought him to me. I would have killed him outright. So much kinder than a soul-drain. Or so they tell me.”

Sidney’s soul.

“I’ll kill you,” Jonas said. It was as much a threat as a practical solution. Morrow’s death would void the contract. Return Sidney’s soul back to his body.

In fact, when Jonas considered it like that, it made perfect sense. He took a step forward, remembering vaguely his military training, thinking of death in a practical sense. A tool he would gladly wield. Maybe his thoughts showed on his face. Asterion put a hand on Jonas’s shoulder, as Morrow pressed the tip of the knife more firmly against Sidney’s skin, his eyes narrowing in concern. Morrow was afraid. Good. He ought to be.

“You don’t want to do that,” Asterion murmured, his mouth as close to Jonas’s ear as he could get. “He’s Assembly Viceroy now. There’ll be an inquest and a?—”

“Anything Sidney agreed to was done under duress.” Leo was on his feet, swiping the blood out of his eyes. Morrow smirked at Leo. “All contracts are?—”

“Unfortunately, the contract is already signed. In blood,” Morrow waved the contract in Leo’s direction. Leo staggered forward, and both Jonas and Asterion winced.

“Leo—” Jonas warned. Leo held up his hand toward Jonas and moved around the altar. “Leo.” No response. No survival instinct in either of the Quince brothers.

Leo reached toward Morrow for the contract. When Morrow held it out to him, Leo punched Morrow in the center of his face and broke his nose.