Page 57 of Tethered Fates

But when I park outside a two-storey house with a flat roof, and Luc says, “I do understand. It hurts, and sometimes I hate you. But I understand.”

I release the wheel finger by finger.

“Your Golden is sweet as sugar, Luc. But sugar is coarse and has more complexity than people give it credit for. He’ll be okay.” I turn to catch Lucero’s face melt into a small smile.

My brother, what a gooey centre he has.

“Teagan fits you perfectly.”

I smile at him. How could I not? Love makes fools of us all.

“And once this is all said and done, you’ll have him. I know you well, Sen, and if you want something, there is nothing in the world that’ll stop you.”

Maybe these wounds will never heal.

I reach out and clap Luc on the shoulder.

Despite it all, there’s no one else I’d rather call brother than this man and our wayward Rurik. And no Maker I’d rather have than Vidar.

Chapter Twenty - Sen

The front of the house is made of beige brick, with two windows above and a rectangular window below.

The curtains are tightly drawn, with not a flicker of movement or light. The green door is inviting, with two panels of misty glass, a bell-shaped knocker, and a letterbox, giving it the appearance of a smiling face. Too bad the wafting stink of all blood mages—apart from our scentless Elio—does kill the friendly atmosphere.

“Do you think any mages will mind us dropping by?” I ask Luc as we stand at the entrance.

“I’m sure they can accommodate us.” His smooth reply barely hides the sharpness underneath. Emma and Summer have hurt many, but for Lucero, this blood mage mess started with Golden. My brother is many things, but when it comes to his mate, forgiving is not one of them.

Reaching for the silver handle, I twist it down to find it’s locked.

Luc cocks an eyebrow, to which I reply with a nonchalant shrug. “You’d be surprised how many places I get into because someone hasn’t locked the door.”

With one hard push down, I snap the lock.

“And how many people think something so simple could stop me.”

Luc makes a small, amused noise before sobering as the door swings inward, silently revealing a shadowed corridor. The carpet is a boring grey, the walls bare and an unsurprising eggshell-white; if it weren’t for a single strip of yellow light pouring from under the closed door ahead, it would appear no one lived here.

I step ahead of Luc, slowly making my way towards that strip of yellow.

“At least the walls aren’t leaking this time,” Luc says under his breath.

The last time we broke into a blood mage’s house, the foundations became infected with Emma’s demon sickness and decomposed along with her. But Summer promised she’d heal Emma in exchange for the First Blood Mage Tome, a betrayal that nearly had Kai transform into a soulless ghoul.

What happened to Kai was terrible, and the image of Vidar holding his limp body is a memory I won’t easily shake. But it’s Teagan’s rasping screams as Summer rips out his blood that’s branded into my soul, and it’s the reason she will die in agony.

We quickly confirm that the sparse living room is clear before we move towards the strip of yellow, my senses wide—I hear creaks from the house settling. Inhale the swelling scent of decay. Feel the dense air from windows that are rarely, if ever, opened.

Luc and I stop, and while behind the door comes the shifting of feet, the tink-tink of a spoon against a cup and low, muffled music to indicate we aren’t alone—I get the distinct feeling that more are hidden.

Using my speed, I dart into the room—a kitchen—and wrap my fist around the neck of the person with their back to us, headphones on.

Alarmed, the man lets out a choked gasp and drops his cup, it shattering in a shower of cheap white ceramics and the solitary splat of a soggy tea bag.

“Let me go!” the unfamiliar man cries.

Strapped to his thigh is a blood mage spellbook, the leather brown and wrinkled. I rip it away, the belts tearing, and toss it to Luc. Then I slam the mage’s face into the fridge, rattling whatever’s inside.