Read Online Shadowbound (The Dark Arts Book 1) by Bec McMaster - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bec McMaster
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strident toward the end, and Rathbourne's brow arched as if he noticed.
What if I have to give her the Blade in order to get my daughter back?
"One relic in hand," Lady Eberhardt mused. "Did the vision mean that she already has one in hand and the Blade would make two? Or that the Blade is in her hand and she needs to find the other two?"
"I don't think she would have the Blade yet," Ianthe replied quickly. "It's barely been twelve hours. Whoever stole it would have to lie low for a while, and there was no sign of anyone leaving the estate in a hurry."
"So we might presume she has one in hand, with the Blade soon to join it," Rathbourne murmured. "Which means that whoever holds the final Relic Infernal is in danger."
Lady Eberhardt met his stare. "Perhaps."
A second later, a ripple of chimes flooded through the house, growing more intense in noise and stridency. Lady Eberhardt's head cocked, her face paling.
"What was that?" Ianthe asked.
"Is that a tripped ward?" Rathbourne added.
"Yes," Lady Eberhardt erupted out of the chair, twitching aside the curtains at the window. "Someone is on the property. Or some thing . Either it is sorcerous in nature, or created of sorcery, and it doesn't intend to knock."
Ianthe rose. Her heart started to beat a little faster in response to the wary flash of the whites of Lady Eberhardt's eyes. Lady Eberhardt was eccentric, but fiercely invulnerable. She'd hunted a demon singlehandedly over the course of a year, or so it was told, so why would she be frightened now? "But why would they attack us?"
"Because," Lady Eberhardt met her gaze, " I am the protector of the third relic—I am the guardian of the Chalice."
CHAPTER 5
' S orcerous constructs are creatures of power with no autonomy, no will of their own, animated by a Word of Power, and their master's will. But beware , for all of them hunger for life, and if they slip your control they will try to drink it from your veins.'
- S IR J USTIN D E F INO , Sorcerer Royal and Master of Constructs
THEREWAS a pregnant pause as that knowledge sank in.
"Bloody hell," Lucien swore. What a rotten coincidence. And dreadful timing. He strode toward the window to see what had tripped the wards. "Where is the Chalice now?"
There was nothing outside, just the faint drift of fog through the gorgeous rose gardens out back. Tendrils of it crept this way and that toward the house, as if slowly hunting for something.
"Hidden—" Lady Eberhardt turned and rang the bell pull "—and protected."
"Your house is well warded, I presume." Miss Martin tried for reason.
"As was Drake's."
"Do these still work?" Lucien demanded, striding to the cabinet where Lady Eberhardt's hunting pistols remained.
Both women shot him a surprised look, then Lady Eberhardt nodded. Lucien armed himself, priming a pair of pistols and slinging a couple of rounds into his pocket.
By that time, both women were halfway through the door. Lucien cursed under his breath, then hurried after them.
"Allow me to go first," he said, catching Miss Martin by the wrist. "I'm the one with the shield bracelet."
Those blue eyes widened; then she gestured him into the lead. Her skirts swished behind him as they took the stairs. Lady Eberhardt strode ahead, drawing a blade across her widened palm. Blood welled in a neat gash, and she curled her fingers into a fist and then flung them wide, spraying droplets all across the entrance. Blood spattered on the glass in the door and the gleaming marble tiles, and the second each droplet hit, Lucien could feel a prickling along his nerves.
"Arise!"
The door rattled in its casement, as did the windows, as if the house slowly awoke to Lady Eberhardt's cry. Long dormant protection spells sprang to life, shimmering in brilliant gossamer spell veils along each window and doorway that he could see. Lady Eberhardt must have spent months weaving them into the surface of the house. He could barely see for the cascade shimmer of spell craft, a piercing
What if I have to give her the Blade in order to get my daughter back?
"One relic in hand," Lady Eberhardt mused. "Did the vision mean that she already has one in hand and the Blade would make two? Or that the Blade is in her hand and she needs to find the other two?"
"I don't think she would have the Blade yet," Ianthe replied quickly. "It's barely been twelve hours. Whoever stole it would have to lie low for a while, and there was no sign of anyone leaving the estate in a hurry."
"So we might presume she has one in hand, with the Blade soon to join it," Rathbourne murmured. "Which means that whoever holds the final Relic Infernal is in danger."
Lady Eberhardt met his stare. "Perhaps."
A second later, a ripple of chimes flooded through the house, growing more intense in noise and stridency. Lady Eberhardt's head cocked, her face paling.
"What was that?" Ianthe asked.
"Is that a tripped ward?" Rathbourne added.
"Yes," Lady Eberhardt erupted out of the chair, twitching aside the curtains at the window. "Someone is on the property. Or some thing . Either it is sorcerous in nature, or created of sorcery, and it doesn't intend to knock."
Ianthe rose. Her heart started to beat a little faster in response to the wary flash of the whites of Lady Eberhardt's eyes. Lady Eberhardt was eccentric, but fiercely invulnerable. She'd hunted a demon singlehandedly over the course of a year, or so it was told, so why would she be frightened now? "But why would they attack us?"
"Because," Lady Eberhardt met her gaze, " I am the protector of the third relic—I am the guardian of the Chalice."
CHAPTER 5
' S orcerous constructs are creatures of power with no autonomy, no will of their own, animated by a Word of Power, and their master's will. But beware , for all of them hunger for life, and if they slip your control they will try to drink it from your veins.'
- S IR J USTIN D E F INO , Sorcerer Royal and Master of Constructs
THEREWAS a pregnant pause as that knowledge sank in.
"Bloody hell," Lucien swore. What a rotten coincidence. And dreadful timing. He strode toward the window to see what had tripped the wards. "Where is the Chalice now?"
There was nothing outside, just the faint drift of fog through the gorgeous rose gardens out back. Tendrils of it crept this way and that toward the house, as if slowly hunting for something.
"Hidden—" Lady Eberhardt turned and rang the bell pull "—and protected."
"Your house is well warded, I presume." Miss Martin tried for reason.
"As was Drake's."
"Do these still work?" Lucien demanded, striding to the cabinet where Lady Eberhardt's hunting pistols remained.
Both women shot him a surprised look, then Lady Eberhardt nodded. Lucien armed himself, priming a pair of pistols and slinging a couple of rounds into his pocket.
By that time, both women were halfway through the door. Lucien cursed under his breath, then hurried after them.
"Allow me to go first," he said, catching Miss Martin by the wrist. "I'm the one with the shield bracelet."
Those blue eyes widened; then she gestured him into the lead. Her skirts swished behind him as they took the stairs. Lady Eberhardt strode ahead, drawing a blade across her widened palm. Blood welled in a neat gash, and she curled her fingers into a fist and then flung them wide, spraying droplets all across the entrance. Blood spattered on the glass in the door and the gleaming marble tiles, and the second each droplet hit, Lucien could feel a prickling along his nerves.
"Arise!"
The door rattled in its casement, as did the windows, as if the house slowly awoke to Lady Eberhardt's cry. Long dormant protection spells sprang to life, shimmering in brilliant gossamer spell veils along each window and doorway that he could see. Lady Eberhardt must have spent months weaving them into the surface of the house. He could barely see for the cascade shimmer of spell craft, a piercing
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