Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

Joss knew what Cain was saying. He had a special affection for Joss, stronger than what he felt for any of the others. Joss’s capacity to lead had won him the position in his team, but an unspoken bond had secured a connection between Cain and him. However Cain was dedicated to the greater good of their mission, and he wouldn’t hesitate, not blink an eye, if he had to eliminate Joss.

Joss tensed further. “I’ll do what’s right.”

Cain smiled. “That’s a word that doesn’t exist in your vocabulary.”

“It’s just found its way in.” Strangely.Joss left the yacht with Cain’s grant of another couple of days to secure Erwan. After that, he had to hand Clelia over and let Cain do it his way. If Cain had to tie her to a tree in the middle of the woods to bring out the wolves, he would. Joss had to find the old man before that happened. It was only a matter of time before they’d sniff him out. He just prayed he’d be the one to do it. If Erwan got hurt, Clelia would never forgive him, and for some reason that bothered him. He’d already done her enough harm. He didn’t want to pile up the sins. Besides, Clelia had no one else. He couldn’t be the reason she was left alone in the world.Chapter 11The closer Joss got to the house of his childhood, the faster he drove. It was dark. He’d stayed away too long, not that it could’ve been helped. He surveyed the surroundings with a practiced eye to ensure he wasn’t being followed. His scalp pricked with unease. Clelia was safe—the remote device he carried in his pocket would’ve alarmed him if any of the sensors he’d placed on the windows and doors had been disturbed—but for some reason he was eager to get back to her.

He parked the van in the garage that stood away from the house, grabbed his parcels, and closed the roller door so the vehicle wasn’t visible from the road. On the dark steps of the porch, he paused. The old memories assaulted him anew, squeezing his ribcage like the ivy tentacles that strangled the walls. It was the one safe place no one would dare to come. Except…

Damn him. He never considered the one thing that wouldn’t be repulsed by this place. Evil. The thought was frightening. Only evil would search out this birth ground of the devil, and he had an angel tied up inside as bait.

His plan wasn’t genius, but it was the only one he had. Between evil and good, he didn’t know which one would come for her first, his own or Lupien’s people, but he had no doubt someone would come. It was inevitable. He knew it with a certainty he’d never felt. He hadn’t admitted it to Cain, but in his gut he felt the truth of the words his boss had uttered. It had started. It was a pebble in the pond, and the ripples had to follow.

He grimaced at the thoughts that rooted in his mind, as if a magic seed had been sown many years ago to sprout after years of watering had matured it for this moment. He tasted the memory of Clelia’s blood on his palate as he unlocked and secured the door behind him before taking the stairs two by two.

He stopped in the doorframe of his old bedroom. He’d left the light on so she wouldn’t be scared. The washed-out glow dispelled the darkness, but not the shadows. She was lying on her side, facing the wall. She didn’t make a sound when he dropped the bags and approached the bed. She wasn’t sleeping. From the way her ribs didn’t expand, she was holding her breath. He trailed his gaze from her cut feet to the fresh bruises on her pale arms. Those had to be from when he tackled her to the floor. The skin around her wrists was inflamed, a tell-tale sign she’d struggled in her constraints. If only there was another way.

He made quick work of unlocking the handcuffs. “I told you not to pull.”

Keeping her eyes closed, she refused to acknowledge him.

“Come,” he said, pulling her into a sitting position. “Do you need the bathroom?”

When she didn’t answer, he put her on her feet and moved her in that direction. After pushing her inside, he closed the door behind her for privacy. He waited a good few minutes before he knocked, got the silence he expected, and opened the door. She sat on the closed lid of the toilet with a closed-off expression.

“I brought food,” he said. “You need to eat.”

She didn’t move, not that her defiance surprised him. Taking her shoulders, he guided her back to the room and made her sit on the bed where she stayed quietly while he unpacked sandwiches and bottles of water on the desk.