“And why the hell would I want that?” Scarlett hissed. “That fucking book has done nothing but destroy my family. I hope it’s burning in the deepest pits of hell. That’s where it belongs. The book of the heavens? What a joke. It’s pages are soaked with blood, mine… my mothers. I will not have my daughter’s blood spilled for it.”

  “You have no choice, Scarlett,” Mara said firmly. “You can’t ignore it, it’s a part of you. You’re the only one who can find it. You may not want to but it’s the only way to stop Azariel and Thomas, the only way to guarantee your daughter’s safety.”

  Scarlet shook her head fiercely in silent denial.

  “Look, I’ve told you the truth,” Mara says wearily. “What you choose to do with that information is up to you. I am truly sorry to have caused you more pain, but I made a promise to your mother.”

  “What promise?”

  Mara stared at Scarlett for a long moment before leaning over to her nightstand and opening the drawer. She retrieved an old letter, curling at the edges and discoloured with age. Running her hand over it reverently she silently handed it to Scarlett.

  “What’s this?” Scarlett asked as she turned over the letter in her hand. It was still sealed and had just one word scrawled on the front in a familiar hand.

  Scarlett

  “It’s a letter from your mother,” Mara says sadly. “It was the last thing she gave me before she took the book and ran. At the time I was baffled, and I didn’t understand why she was giving me a letter for her unborn child. It was only a long time after that I finally understood.”

  “What do you mean?” Scarlett whispered.

  “She always knew she was going to be captured, she knew what Thomas and Azariel where going to do. She didn’t just run to protect the book, she ran to protect you. She ran… to make sure you were born.”

  4

  Elias stood at the edge of the cliff staring out across the black waters of the lake. There was not a single cloud in the vastness above him and the moon, cold and pale, stared back at him mockingly. Any other time he might have appreciated the clear, crisp air and the beauty of the night.

  But not tonight.

  His insides roiled and twisted into something dark and ugly, his mind a torrid maelstrom of confusion and rage. He wanted to lash out in pain, he wanted to tear down the uncaring sky and boil the gently lapping waters, which even now seemed to mock him. His fingertips twitched and he felt the raw power as it churned through him, his skin prickling and the tiny hairs on his forearms rising as his magic pumped through his veins.

  He could do it… it would be so easy to let it loose, let the whole world burn and writhe, maybe then it could understand a fraction of his torment.

  He drew in a very slow and deliberate breath, his muscles locking, his body taut. It was only centuries of iron clad control that kept him from unleashing the kind of magic that would have made Armageddon look like a church fair.

  His gaze flickered to the pinprick of light in the far distance, across the dark waters of the lake. Olivia and Theo were home.

  His brow unconsciously folded, he shouldn’t have left as abruptly as he did after they’d returned from London. He should go and see them, but he knew he was not good company right now. Not when all he could think about was the devastating news his brother, Theo, had unwittingly dealt him.

  Eve was alive.

  Or so Theo seemed convinced. Elias wasn’t so sure. He closed his eyes painfully as the images slammed into his mind. He’d held her in his arms that fateful night in Oświęcim, felt her back saturated with blood from the bullet fired from a Nazi pistol.

  He swallowed hard and shook his head, as if he could somehow shake the image from his mind. He had been so certain she was dead, he’d felt her heart falter, seen the light leave her eyes. He’d spent decades trying to learn to live without her and failing miserably.

  What if Theo was right…

  The insidious thought pounded in his head relentlessly. What if it was true and she’d somehow survived? It was unthinkable because that would mean…

  He drew in a shaky breath.

  That would mean… he’d abandoned her, he’d left her at the mercy of Faraday and the Veritas for nearly seventy-five years. Even if he found her, if he got her back, would she even be the same woman he’d loved? Was he destined to find her, only to lose her all over again?

  Turning his back on the cold beauty of the lake, he headed toward the Boatman, the grand old art deco hotel he’d purchased and renovated. It was huge and extravagant, and some might’ve found it lonely to live in such a huge property, but he didn’t mind. In fact, right now, he welcomed it. He needed the solitude.

  He reached the entrance and felt the ground ripple with magic beneath his feet, the wards protecting the property were nowhere near as powerful and complex as Olivia’s at the lake house but his packed quite a punch.

  The ornate front doors swung open without him even lifting a hand and as he passed through, they slammed shut behind him abruptly, mirroring his mood. He stalked across the polished floor, his shoes clicking quietly against the diamond shaped tiles, echoing in the stillness. He didn’t bother with the lights, he knew exactly where he was going.

  He’d almost reached the heavy walnut paneled door when a quiet voice called his name. He hesitated, trying to decide whether or not to just pretend he hadn’t heard.

  Finally he let out a resigned sigh and turned to find Katherine in her robe and silk pajamas, standing in the corridor watching him. She was still a beautiful woman despite her advancing years and white hair. She introduced herself to his acquaintances as his housekeeper and assistant, but the truth about their relationship was far deeper and more complex.

  “Elias,” she spoke softly, as she studied his face and his posture. “What is it?”

  For a second he considered not telling her the truth, but he’d never lied to her, and he wasn’t about to start now. Besides, if he even attempted it, she’d know, that was one of the curses of living with an empath. A fact that had amused him as much as frustrated him over the long years they’d known each other.

  He watched her silently, the truth would hurt her, he knew it. She’d loved Eve as much as he had, albeit in a different way, but it was still love.

  He drew in a deep breath. “Eve is still alive.”

  Katherine’s eyes widened as she blinked in shock, her lips parted with a gasp as her hand covered her mouth, shaking her head as if in denial.

  “No…” she whispered in shock. “No, it can’t be true… we saw…”

  “What we thought we saw,” Elias replied quietly.

  “But…” She broke off helplessly. “Where has she been all this time?”

  Elias closed his eyes painfully, alarming her even more.

  “Elias?” she demanded, her voice a little firmer. “What are you not telling me?”

  He drew in a slow breath. “Faraday has her.”

  Katherine stared at him, eyes wide. “All this time?” she whispered in horror.

  He nodded numbly.

  “Dear God,” she breathed, her eyes closing briefly, much as Elias’s had, and when she opened them, they filled with desperate tears.

  “God?” Elias scoffed bitterly. “Don’t talk to me about God, as far as I’m concerned, he can go straight to hell.”

  “Elias!” Katherine gasped.

  “I’m done playing by his rules,” he replied bitterly. “Where has it got me? I was brought back from the dead with no explanation or reason. I can’t die but he takes my wife and my daughter from me so I only wish I could. Now, you tell me, what possible reason could he have for torturing me like this? What did I do to deserve this? Is it because of Salem? I’ve paid for my sins, over and over again, in blood, in flesh… in pain. When is it enough? When?”

  She flinched at his sharp tone, her eyes filled with helpless compassion for what he was suffering, but she had no answers for him, no comfort to offer. If what he said was true and Eve was indeed alive and even worse that she’d been at the mercy of Jonathan Faraday for the better part of seven decades, her mind and her soul could be damaged beyond all hope or recognition. But even so, they couldn’t leave her there, not now that they knew. They owed her that much.

  “We have to find her,” she replied urgently, her heart pounding.

  “And how exactly do you propose we do that?” he snapped. “I’ve spent the last hundred and fifty years chasing down Faraday and the Veritas, and there’s a reason I haven’t been able to bring them down. They’re ghosts, a whisper in the darkness. They move quickly and they move often. By the time we’ve tracked them, they’ve once again burrowed deeper. You don’t find the Veritas unless they want you to. Even the Nox have failed. In all this time, there has never been so much as a hint, even a whiff of a rumor that Eve was still alive, much less any clue as to where he’s keeping her. I could spend the next seventy years tearing the world apart brick by brick and still not find her. So, tell me, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

  Katherine covered her mouth trying to stop the sob as it burst loose.

  Elias sighed and reined in the anger and frustration as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the frail older woman.

  “I’m sorry, Kit,” he muttered, holding her gently as he swayed, stroking her soft white hair comfortingly. “It’s not your fault. You don’t deserve my temper.”

  “I feel so helpless.” She pulled back slightly and sniffed, staring up into his dark eyes. “I can’t bear the thought of her being at the mercy of that son of a bitch.”

  “Me either,” Elias murmured, as he stroked her cheek affectionately. “Don’t worry yourself, Kit. I will do whatever it takes to get her back, I’m just…” He shook his head. “I’m not good company tonight, go back to bed.” He released her and stepped back. “I need time to think.”

  She didn’t say anything else, she simply watched helplessly as he turned and disappeared into his study, shutting the door firmly behind him, leaving her with no other choice then to turn and head back up the stairs to her room.

  Elias stalked across the room, the lights flickering on without him so much as lifting a finger to a switch. He rounded his big heavy oak desk, opening the glossy cabinet behind. He reached in and lifted a bottle of rich, dark liquid. A fifty-year-old bottle of Black Bowmore 1964. He poured himself a generous glass and lifted it to his lips.

  He barely registered the rich scent of orange peel and black cherry, and he should have sipped the silky taste of mango, passionfruit and acacia honey interwoven with chocolate expresso, and he definitely should have savoured the nuance of spices and black truffle.

  But he didn’t.

  He raised his glass and threw it down his throat like it was a ten-dollar bottle of gut rot. It was almost criminal, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to get as drunk as possible, as quickly as possible. After all, he’d earned it. Although he’d continued to drink over the centuries, it was always in moderation, he’d learned not to let it control him. He hadn’t been roaring drunk since the night the gentle giant of a man, Ulysses Brown, had hauled his drunk ass out of the freezing snow on Limehouse Street and taken him to his doss house to sober up.

  Ironically, just before he’d met Eve for the first time.

  He screwed his eyes shut at the sudden and sharp wave of pain as it washed over him. He was just reaching for the bottle again when a quiet and familiar voice spoke behind him.

  “Elias…” Davis spoke, his hushed tone lending itself to the stillness of the room. “I’m sorry… about Eve. Not being able to be with the one you love is the worst kind of torture.”

  Elias stared at him contemplatively before pouring him a drink and passing it over. “You sound as if you have some experience with that.”

  “Nothing like what you’re going through that’s for damn sure.” Davis shook his head as he took a sip and sighed in approval. “Bowmore?”

  Elias huffed lightly and slowly paced the length of the study, past the shiny tan colored leather couch and side table before stopping in front of the curved window, staring out into the dark choppy waters of the lake.

  “Where is Eve now?” Davis asked as he lowered himself into a deep armchair, wincing as his body protested.

  Elias sighed, he grasped the bottle by the neck and crossed the room, sliding onto the couch, the stiff leather creaked loudly, as he set the bottle on a small table inlaid with mother of pearl and ebony geometric shapes. “Honestly, I have no idea,” he replied as he lifted his glass to his lips, pausing and staring into the glass before taking another sip. “Faraday has her.”

  “Shit.” Davis exhaled loudly.

  Elias rubbed his eyes in frustration. “Yes, well, I don’t want to talk about Eve anymore tonight.” Refilling his glass he sat back and studied Davis, taking in the weariness in his face. The tense way he held his body as if in pain. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll live,” Davis chuckled mirthlessly. “I’ve had worse… I expected worse going into a war zone.”

  “Did you find it?” Elias rolled his glass between his fingers.

  Davis leaned down, grunting slightly as his ribs protested. Unzipping his backpack, he rooted around until he found a small item wrapped in coarse, dusty fabric and bound with twine.

  “Right where you said it would be.” He handed it over as Elias set his glass down.

  Elias turned it over in his hands slowly, feeling the weight of it. He tugged the frayed end of the twine, unraveling it carefully. As he unrolled the musty smelling fabric, a short, squat statuette was revealed. It had a round belly and large protruding nostrils.

  “The temple?” Elias glanced up at Davis.

  “Mostly caved in, about twenty feet down. It was lucky that the altar section was still intact, although sealed behind layers of collapsed stone.” Davis leaned back in his chair, breathing tiredly as he sipped his single malt.

  “This is incredible.” Elias stared at the ugly little statuette, turning it over in his hands. “Look at the markings, 104BC at least. Do you have any idea how long we’ve been searching for this?”

  “I hope it’s worth it,” Davis muttered, as his head dropped back against the chair in exhaustion. “I almost ended up in a Syrian prison… and a building fell on me.”

  Elias’s mouth curved as he lifted the priceless artefact and smashed it down on the antique side table, shattering the inlaid mother of pearl design, and cracked the statue apart like an egg.

  Davis stared at him, blinking slowly. “It’s a good job Roni’s not here, or we’d be resuscitating her right now,” he said dryly.

  Elias smiled as he allowed chunks of the statue to crumble to the floor. The statue was hollow and tucked neatly into the bottom half was a rolled-up fragment of what looked like a piece of parchment.

  Elias discarded the rest of the statue carelessly as if it wasn’t a priceless artefact nearly two and a half thousand years old. His gaze intent, he unraveled the parchment and scanned it briefly before standing up abruptly.

  “Come.” He stalked out of the room briskly.

  “A please wouldn’t go amiss,” Davis grumbled, as he pushed himself stiffly to his feet and grabbed his backpack, following Elias from the room.

  Although Elias was nowhere to be seen, Davis had been in his house enough times to know where he’d find him, not that you could call the Boatman a house.

  He headed toward the ballroom, or at least what used to be the ballroom. The gigantic space was filled with rows upon rows of book stacks reaching as high as the tall ceilings and fitted with ladders. The shelves were filled with every type of book imaginable. Some so ancient they looked as if they would disintegrate if you so much as breathed on them. There were scrolls and parchments and manuscripts dating back to the fall of Alexandria, that came from Cleopatra’s lost library.

  In addition to the books and ancient manuscripts were glass display cases containing all sorts of treasures of antiquity including a great many magical objects the Veritas would love to get their hands on.

  He found Elias up a ladder fumbling at the very top of a bookshelf amidst a cloud of dust and cobwebs.

  “I can’t believe how quickly these things get dusty.” Elias coughed, as he tucked a box under his arm and climbed back down.

  “It’s the nature of books,” Davis murmured, as Elias set the box down on an enormous round table, it was heaven hewn oak, carved with intricate designs and what looked like several names if you cared to look closely enough.

  The box itself was fairly innocuous, cardboard archive box but even from this distance Davis could feel the pulse of power from it. It was riddled with protective wards and enchantments and as he idly watched Elias reach inside it, he wondered what would happen if he tried to touch it. However, given how much punishment his body had already taken, he’d leave that particular experiment for another day.

  Elias retrieved a large rectangular item wrapped in inky black velvet, laying it out carefully on the table as he unwrapped the thick material. It was almost a disappointment to see the contents. A jumbled mess of parchments, all damaged and torn with parts missing and beneath them a handful of complete pages bound together.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Davis breathed heavily, his eyes widening.

  “It depends”—Elias’s mouth curved as he glanced up—“on what you think it is.”

  “The song of purgatory,” Davis whispered.

  “Then you’d be right.” Elias turned back to the mess of damaged pages. “This is Purgatorio… at least some of it. They certainly were thorough when they dismantled it and sent the pieces to the very edges of the world to hide.”

  “But how?”

  “It’s taken me over a hundred years just to assemble this much of it,” Elias muttered as he leafed carefully through the pages.

  “The song of purgatory.” Davis shook his head lightly. “I thought it would be more… impressive.”

  “Don’t let it fool you,” Elias chuckled. “It’s very damaged, but there is still more power in these pages than you can possibly imagine.”

 

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