Bind the Soul (Steel & Stone Book 2)

  Leaning back in her seat, she admitted her secret relief. With Miysis beside her until she reached the Consulate, she was safe from a second kidnapping attempt by Raum. Once inside the Consulate, she would be safe. Even if Raum was willing to break into the Consulate, it would defeat the secret part of the “secretly kidnap the Consul’s daughter” plot. Samael never did anything publicly despicable that could tarnish his reputation.

  Raum’s attack had frightened her. Raum frightened her. If Miysis hadn’t essentially been stalking her—which she would have been way madder about if he hadn’t saved her in the process—she would have been a prisoner far from her father’s, or anyone else’s, reach.

  All her life, Piper had done everything she could to prove she was as good as a normal haemon. She didn’t have magic, but she was stronger and tougher and smarter than her peers. She was used to taking care of herself. She’d defeated daemons in one-on-one combat. After all the fights she’d come out of while on the run with the Sahar, she’d been feeling pretty confident.

  Raum had shown her how big a fool she was.

  If those five daemons had been trying to kill her, she’d be dead. If even one of them had been trying to kill her, she’d be dead. Raum had kidnapped her with laughable ease. His spell had rendered her helpless in two seconds flat. She’d been defenseless.

  Magic was a nearly limitless tool. Used in the heat of combat, it was limited to simple expulsions of force, heat, or electricity. With the leisure to prep, a skilled magician could manipulate forces in far more complex ways—like restraining someone with invisible bonds, magically locking a door, or creating a light source made from heatless fire. But magic went beyond natural forces.

  Raum had used some kind of spell to cloud her mind, leaving her physically incapable of moving. She’d seen Ash use a spell to put a man to sleep. Magic was imagination and mental alchemy put together. Embedded spells like the dampening collar stifling Miysis’s magic took months to make, with layers of spells woven into the metal over and over. Especially talented daemons could weave magic like that on the fly; that’s how Ash broke his dampening collars. Magic was a mystery to her. All she knew was that it was physically draining, took boatloads of concentration, and required a heck of a lot of knowledge for anything beyond the basics.

  Being defeated so completely by magic made her feel chillingly vulnerable. Her only slight, twisted comfort was in knowing that having magic wouldn’t have saved her from Raum. No haemon could magically compete with a draconian.

  She couldn’t let go of the idea her mother had suggested—the possibility of unlocking half her magic. She had it somewhere deep inside her, sealed out of reach. If part of it were freed . . .

  Brooding silently, Piper was surprised when the car came to a gentle stop. The Consulate glowed welcomingly under the dark sky. Huh. That was fast.

  Miysis pushed open his door. “6:45, sharp,” he said.

  She followed him out of the car as Lyre roared up on his motorcycle. Damn, he looked good.

  She quickly turned back to Miysis. “I’ll be ready. Just get me on that damn list.”

  He smiled easily. “Don’t worry. I never disappoint a lady.”

  She nodded politely, gritting her teeth. Was Miysis flirting with her too? She needed an “I don’t date daemons” button.

  “Neither do I,” Lyre added suggestively, confirming her interpretation of Miysis’s remark. The incubus purposefully brushed against her as he passed. She sighed. A bright red button. In the shape of a stop sign.

  Ever the gentlemen, Miysis escorted her to the front door. Not to be outdone, Lyre walked on her other side. She tried to ignore the coming-home-after-a-date feeling, which was made even weirder by having a guy on either side. She was dressed all wrong though, seeing as she’d never been on a date where a glittery sequined top was appropriate. Not that she’d been on many dates.

  She stopped abruptly in front of the door. Panic whooshed through her belly as she realized the flaw in her gala plans. A huge flaw.

  She spun to face Miysis, eyes wide. “What will I wear?” she gasped.

  The gala was the most prestigious event of the year. Even the doormen wore silk and diamond cufflinks. They were daemon security guards and the diamonds were lodestones, but still. Diamonds!

  Miysis tilted his head. “I guess—”

  The front door swung open, flooding the front step with light. Piper looked around in surprise—and the blood drained from her face.

  Her father stood in the threshold.

  The light behind him cast sharp shadows over most of his face but there was no mistaking the fury hardening every line of his body. His glower took in her outfit with cutting precision, lingering on the bloody cuts from her collision with the cubicle. His glare then slid to Lyre and increased another ten degrees in unrestrained rage.

  The incubus leaped back. “Um,” he croaked. “Sir.”

  With an apologetic glance at Piper, he turned and rabbited down the steps to his bike.

  Quinn turned his fury to Miysis. The Ra daemon stood his ground, meeting Quinn’s glower with cool indifference. He nodded calmly before walking away.

  Piper didn’t move as Lyre’s bike rumbled to life and took off. A moment later, a car door slammed and the sound of gravel crunching under tires receded into the darkness. She licked her lips and tried to pretend she wasn’t almost as frightened of her father as she was of Raum. How could she have forgotten she’d snuck out? What was wrong with her, walking straight up to the front door?

  Quinn said nothing. He stepped aside, holding the door open, the command clear.

  Shoulders slumped and steps dragging, she slunk into the Consulate. Parental hell was about to be unleashed. Lectures and shouting and punishments were coming. But what really hurt was the overpowering urge to throw herself into her father’s arms and cry out the terror of Raum’s attack, and knowing she would never do it.

  CHAPTER 5

  “PIPER?”

  She gripped the sponge tighter and dug it into the stubborn stain. Brown, soapy foam oozed between her fingers.

  “Piper?”

  Teeth gritted, she scrubbed harder, ignoring her uncle’s calls from somewhere upstairs. If she had to clean every damn toilet in the Consulate, she damn well wanted to get it over with. Interruptions were not welcome.

  “Piper!”

  “What?” She launched to her feet, throwing the sponge into the toilet bowl. Scuzzy water splattered the floor. Every daemon guest room had an adjacent bathroom, hotel style. That meant more toilets than she had bras—and she had a lot of bras.

  Calder’s shout came from the top of the stairs. “Quinn wants to see you. Get your butt up here.”

  She scowled at his tone. He was furious with her too. Last night, her father and uncle had noticed her absence shortly after she’d left and had spent the night worrying. Even if she’d remembered to sneak in through the back, it wouldn’t have mattered. But getting caught in the company of two daemons Quinn especially didn’t want her around had only made things worse. She would be scrubbing toilets for a long time.

  She’d hoped their tempers would cool by morning but it was two in the afternoon with no signs of forgiveness on the horizon. Quinn was especially furious about Lyre. According to Lyre, Quinn had told the incubus in no uncertain terms to stay away from the Consulate when Piper was present—the same threat he’d given Miysis. In Quinn’s mind, Lyre was an extension of the trouble that was Ash. Miysis was a different kind of trouble, but one Quinn was equally determined to keep away from Piper.

  She washed her hands. She’d handled Miysis fine, hadn’t she? He was extremely civilized for a daemon. Very aristocratic and proper. She had no idea what Quinn’s problem was. Her bigger concern was how she would get ready for the gala without Quinn or Calder noticing, especially when she was supposed to be doing chores nonstop for the next decade or two. It was too much to hope that they wouldn’t notice her locked in her bathroom for two or three hours straight
.

  She mulled over the problem as she stomped her way up the stairs. Quinn was waiting for her exactly where she’d expected: in his office. At his desk. The same place he sat when discussing business, coordinating all the Consulates under his authority, or handing out discipline to subordinates and rule-breakers. The work/family distinction was lost on her father.

  Without a word, she thumped down in the seat across from him and waited. They shared a long look full of challenges and stubbornness. The white bandages wrapped across his face made him look vulnerable. The stony look in his one visible eye trumped that illusion.

  He cleared his throat. “Your uncle and I have had some discussions over the last few days regarding the events of the past six weeks. Concerning last night in particular, we agree some decisions need to be made in regards to your future.”

  Slow trepidation built up in her stomach. “What decisions?”

  “I spoke to Mr. Young this morning.”

  The name meant nothing to her. “Who?”

  “He’s the Dean of Westwood.”

  She stared blankly.

  “Westwood Academy,” he clarified.

  “Wait . . . you mean that private school for rich kids in Arlington?”

  He nodded.

  She squeezed her hands together between her knees. “Arlington is three hours away.”

  He nodded again. “After recent events, I think it would be best if you finished the semester at Westwood.”

  “But . . .” How would she get to school and back when it wasn’t even in the same city?

  “The residences at Westwood are extremely generous,” Quinn continued brusquely. “You should be quite comfortable. Mr. Young and I have arranged everything. Calder will drive you on Monday morning. You’ll have the day to unpack and settle in before starting classes on Tuesday.”

  Her whole body went cold. She said nothing.

  “Westwood has far more elective options than your current school, as well as a variety of extracurricular activities. The classes will be more advanced, but I’m sure you’ll catch up.”

  “But . . .” The word came out in a croak. “Westwood Academy is a humans-only school. I can’t go there.” Her current school was a community college that welcomed humans and haemons alike. Human-only schools had completely different attitudes toward haemons—mainly, that they were freaks not to be welcomed under any circumstances.

  Quinn cleared his throat. “Mr. Young and I discussed your particular circumstances. He’s perfectly happy to make an exception for you.”

  She gripped the seat of the chair so hard her fingers ached. “I can’t go to a human school.”

  “Mr. Young is—”

  “I can’t go to a human school,” she repeated, louder. “I’m a haemon. I don’t belong there.”

  “Piperel, you—”

  “I’m a haemon! You can’t send me to a human school.”

  “After the events surrounding the Sahar, I think—”

  “You think? What the hell do you know? You’re not the one who protected the Sahar for days. And maybe you forgot, but you’re the one who gave it to me.”

  “Piperel!” He gave her a silencing glare.

  She glared back. The logistical differences between a human/haemon school and a humans-only school were minor, but for her, it was the difference between two distinct lives: one she wanted more than anything, and the other her worst nightmare. A human-only school was the first step toward a human-only life.

  Quinn cleared his throat. “Considering the threats to your life and your inability to protect yourself, I think the wisest choice at this time is to remove you from the Consulate until the furor settles. You know why I’ve kept you out of school these last weeks.”

  Of course she knew. Some daemons thought she had an idea of where the Sahar was, and her current school had no security to speak of. Westwood Academy, on the other hand, boasted the kind of topnotch security for its privileged students that outsiders told stories about—like the rumor that the school had professional snipers who picked off anyone dumb enough to wander the grounds at night.

  She sucked in a deep breath, fighting for calm. “What about my apprenticeship? I can’t abandon it for three months. Is there a Consulate in Arlington I can transfer to as well?”

  Quinn shuffled some papers on his desk. “We can look at your apprenticeship when you return.”

  Ice trickled through her. “What do you mean ‘look at my apprenticeship’?”

  “We don’t need to get into that now—”

  “Father—”

  “Piperel, there’s no need to get worked up—”

  “No need?” Her voice shot up an octave. “You’re thinking of cancelling my apprenticeship, aren’t you?”

  He folded his hands on the desktop. “I won’t deny I’ve been considering it since—”

  “How can you even think that?” she cried, so horrified she could barely speak. “You can’t do this to me!”

  “Piper—”

  “This is all I’ve ever wanted to do. How can you take that away from me?”

  “You—”

  “All that stuff with the Stone—I survived it, didn’t I? I handled it. Why are you trying to ship me off to a human boarding school? You can’t do that!”

  “Piper!” he barked. “Calm down.”

  “Calm?” She shot to her feet. “I won’t calm down while you’re trying to ruin my life. You can’t punish me for saving the stupid Sahar. I protected it. I found out about the Gaians. I rescued Uncle Calder. I—”

  “Sit down.”

  She choked back her fury and dropped into her seat. Her hands shook. She balled them into fists.

  “Where were you last night, Piper?” Quinn asked.

  She glared at him. “That has nothing to do with this.”

  “Doesn’t it?” he asked coolly. He took the paper he’d been reading when she’d entered his office and detached a photo from the page. Face expressionless, he slid it across the desk toward her. She cautiously picked it up and turned it over.

  Her stomach plunged toward the floor.

  It was a blurry shot of a quasi boxing ring. Two huge TVs and a game show wheel filled the space behind the ring. Several rows of spectators’ heads and waving arms obscured the shot, but the two people in the ring were painfully clear.

  A girl was pinned against the corner post by a shirtless man, his muscles gleaming with a sheen of perspiration. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her hands fisted in his hair. Blood was smeared over her bare arms. The man gripped a handful of her auburn hair in one hand while his other was somewhere behind her.

  Piper stared, trying hard to breathe. In the photo, her mouth was plastered against Ash’s. There was little doubt that her tongue was in his mouth.

  She still remembered exactly how he’d tasted.

  Panic ballooned inside her. Where had Quinn gotten this? Who had taken it? She swallowed hard. Her face was in profile and half covered by a mask. Ash’s face was mostly hidden, tilted away from the camera as he kissed her. He wasn’t recognizable, especially with his hair darkened to black.

  She looked at her father. “That isn’t—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Piperel,” he interrupted. “Your expression was all the proof I needed.”

  She snapped her mouth shut on a curse. “I was going to say, that isn’t what it looks like.”

  “So you weren’t participating in highly illegal daemon fights beneath the Styx nightclub? And you weren’t, for no reason I can fathom, exchanging saliva with that daemon?”

  “I didn’t have a choice because—”

  “Now do you want to tell me where you were last night?”

  “I—”

  “Reeking of alcohol and covered in scrapes and bruises. I don’t know what you were thinking.”

  “I—”

  “Your uncle and I always knew that daemons would have a poor influence on a teenage girl, but we thought we’d raised you to make better decis
ions. We made it absolutely clear: intimacy with daemons is unacceptable for Consuls—or Apprentice Consuls.” He sighed. “You obviously aren’t ready to cope with their influence, so—”

  “It’s not like that,” she burst out. “I only fought at the Styx because the club owner had information on the Gaians’ whereabouts. I thought you were their prisoner. I was trying to save you! Are you punishing me for trying to save you?”

  He closed his eye for a moment, then picked up the sheet of paper. “This letter came with the photo. It demands I remove five dangerous daemons from the Consulate’s blacklist. If I refuse, the sender will circulate the photo to all the Consulates under my jurisdiction.”

  “They’re blackmailing you?” she whispered.

  “I will, of course, refuse. In a week, this photo will be in the hands of Consuls all across the country. I’m sure you’re aware of how that will reflect on me, particularly after the scandal surrounding the lost Sahar.”

  Horrified, she couldn’t speak. The photo alone wasn’t enough to lose Quinn his position, but on top of everything with the Stone?

  “I was trying to save you,” she mumbled.

  He laid the paper down and picked up a nearby folder. “When the semester is over, we will review your apprenticeship. Until then, you will attend Westwood Academy. Calder will drive you on Monday morning.”

  He flipped the folder open and glanced up as though he were surprised to see her still sitting there. “You have today and tomorrow to pack, so don’t waste any time.”

  She clenched her hand around the photo. With deliberate care, she rose to her feet and stepped around the chair. She stopped. Looked at the photo again. Remembered how strong she’d felt after beating the three daemon fighters. How she’d even managed to knock Ash off his feet. How proud she’d been of her skills.

  Now she felt sick with shame. She felt like an embarrassing bit of garbage shoved in a bag and dumped on the curb to be taken away before the neighbors noticed.

  She took a deep breath and said flatly, “I’ll be in my room packing. I’d prefer to be left alone for the rest of the evening while I . . . get my things.”