Sebastian

Chapter Thirteen

The moment he opened the back door and stepped into his kitchen, Sebastian felt uneasy. He put a hand back to stop Lynnea, then stood still, listening. A rhythmic plink…plink coming from somewhere inside the cottage, but that was an ordinary sound. It was the feral muskiness that troubled him. Not a bad smell. Alluring in its own way. Seductive, even. But not familiar. Not something that belonged in his home.

Moving warily, he went to the small table, found the box of matches, and lit the oil lamp.

Nothing in the kitchen looked out of place, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that things had been lifted and put back almost where he’d left them.

He put a finger to his lips, then crooked that finger to tell Lynnea to come in. When she reached him, he cupped a hand around the back of her head and brought his mouth close to her ear.

“I think someone’s been in the cottage. I have to look around. If I tell you to run, you get out of here, go back up the path. Focus on reaching Nadia. Nothing but Nadia. Understand me?” He waited until she nodded before he stepped back, his lips brushing against her cheek as he moved away from her.

After taking the biggest kitchen knife from the wood block, he moved into the living area.

Plink…plink.

The lamp in the kitchen didn’t offer much light, but it was enough for him to make out the shapes of the furniture. Pausing at the table in front of the couch, he lit another lamp.

Nothing there that shouldn’t be there.

With the lamp in one hand and the knife in the other, he approached the bedroom, not sure he’d be able to hear anything over the pounding of his heart.

Nothing looked out of place there, either, except…

The bed was neatly made—exactly as Lynnea had left it before they’d headed out to the Landscapers’ School. But the bedroom reeked of that muskiness, and there was an indentation in the middle of the bed, like someone had lain there.

Staring at it, he had the oddest sensation, as if something inside him recognized the intruder. Something that came from instinct, from blood and bone, not the intellect.

One thing he knew with absolute certainty: He didn’t want Lynnea anywhere near that bed.

Plink…plink.

He followed the sound into the bathroom, watched the water drops fall into the sink. After a long moment, he set the lamp down and turned the faucet to stop the drip.

The little stove that heated the water tank was cold, as it should be, and nothing was out of place. And yet…

We can’t stay here. The cottage was less than a mile from the streets that made up the Den. Distant enough to give him the separation he’d needed but still an easy walk. Now the isolation weighed on him. They were alone out here, too far away from help of any kind.

Maybe he would have risked himself and stayed here, but he wouldn’t risk Lynnea.

Coming out of the bedroom, he saw Lynnea standing in the doorway between the living area and the kitchen. She was trembling, but she held a knife in one hand.

“What is it?” she whispered.

He shook his head and checked the other downstairs room, then climbed the stairs to check the empty rooms on the second floor. Bedrooms, but he hadn’t needed the space, so he’d done nothing with the rooms except sweep the floors and wash the windows twice a year.

Hurrying back down the stairs, he said, “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” He paused. “But we can’t stay here.”

“Do you have a carry basket? I can put the food Nadia gave us in that, and you can use the travel bag she loaned us for your clothes.”

“There’s a basket in one of the bottom cupboards. I’ll—” As he looked at the wall, the pain in his chest was so fierce he struggled to breathe.

His framed sketches. If he had to give up the cottage and never come back, it would hurt. He would miss it, and the home he’d made here, but the sketches were a part of him.

“You have to take them with you,” Lynnea said.

Her words were a balm and yet scraped his heart raw. “Can’t. We’ve already got all we can carry.”

“You can’t leave them here, not knowing what might happen to them.”

“We can’t carry them!”

She got a look on her face that reminded him of bull demons at their most stubborn.

“We’re taking them.”

His heart was bleeding already, and that stubborn look combined with that prissy tone of voice made him want to scream.

She huffed. “Don’t you have a handcart?”

“No, I don’t have a handcart,” he replied in a nasty imitation of her tone.

“Then how do you haul wood for the fires or take care of chores?”

“There’s the—” He stopped. Thought. “There’s a wheeled barrow in the shed out back.” One wheel and long handles. They could load it up, and he could pull it behind him.

“Fine,” Lynnea said. “You get the barrow, and I’ll find something to wrap the sketches in.”

She went into the kitchen, then came out with the lamp and marched into the bedroom.

“Don’t use the linens on the bed,” Sebastian said.

The look she gave him was sharp enough to strip off several layers of skin.

“Daylight,” he muttered as he stomped out to the shed. Women were definitely easier to deal with when sex was all you wanted to give and take.

By the time he pulled the barrow out of the shed and returned to the cottage, she’d already taken the sketches off the wall and wrapped them in a sheet. The package looked bulky to him, but he wasn’t about to say anything that would add to her snit, so he unpacked the food from the travel bag Nadia had given him and went into the bedroom to pack up whatever clothes he could fit into the bag.

Returning to the kitchen with the bag, he discovered she’d packed the food into the carry basket along with his perk-pot, grinder, two mugs, and the bag of koffea beans.

“The barrow’s not that big,” he grumbled.

She just sniffed.

The weight of the basket surprised a grunt out of him as he lifted it off the table, which made him grateful he wasn’t going to have to carry the thing all the way to the Den.

Not that he would tell her that.

It took some shifting, but he got the travel bag, the carry basket, and Lynnea’s pack into the barrow. Which left the sketches to balance precariously on top of the pile.

Lynnea came to the kitchen door, her arms wrapped tightly around the bulky package.

“Here,” he said, reaching for the package, “I’ll—”

“No!” She twisted her body, blocking his attempt to take the sketches. “They could get damaged in the barrow. I’ll carry them.”

“Don’t be foolish,” he snapped, reaching for the package again.

“No! I’ll. Carry. Them.”

“Suit yourself. But don’t start whining when your arms are aching.”

Her lower lip quivered, and he thought she was going to give in. Then she stiffened up and gave him another of those skin-scraping looks.

Why couldn’t she be a rabbit again for a little while? “Could you at least get out of the way so I can extinguish the lamps?”

He waited until she stood beside the barrow before he went into the kitchen. He snuffed out the lamps, then stood in the dark.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered. “If we’re both still standing when this fight is done, I’ll come back.”

Then he walked out of the cottage, locked the door, lifted the barrow’s handles, and began trudging down the dirt road toward the Den with Lynnea walking beside him.

By the time she saw the lights of the Den, Lynnea’s arms were aching. The framed sketches would have been awkward enough to carry over any distance, but the other things she’d wrapped in the sheet made the package bulky in a way that defied any attempt to shift her arms to another position.

But she refused to let Sebastian see any hint of her discomfort. He’d argue to leave the bundle behind, maybe promising to come back for it after they got settled into his room at the bordello. Maybe he would have gone back for the bundle, and maybe it would have been there when he did go back, but she wasn’t about to trust something so important to “maybe.”

Did he think she hadn’t seen how much the thought of leaving the sketches had hurt him? They were more than pencil markings on paper. He would have been leaving a piece of his heart behind—and he might never have gotten it back.

So she kept her chin up, ignored the looks Sebastian kept giving her, and repeated over and over, I am a tigress.

Until that day when Pa had tried to force her to do the sex thing, she had never disobeyed an order. Wouldn’t have dared disobey an order. Now here she was defying Sebastian, a man who made her feel things that were both wonderful and scary, because she knew in her heart that she was right.

Funny how something inside a person could change in so short a time.

A moment after they reached the Den’s main street, someone shouted, “Sebastian!” And there was Teaser, loping toward them, looking happy and relieved—until he saw her. Then he skidded to a stop.

“I’ll meet you at Philo’s as soon as I have Lynnea settled in our room,” Sebastian said.

Teaser glanced at her. “But…I thought—”

“Things changed,” Sebastian snapped.

Something flickered across Teaser’s face—uneasiness? doubt?—but was gone before she could put a name to that feeling.

“Right,” Teaser said. “You got your room key?”

Sebastian nodded. “But there’s an extra key at the desk.”

“I took that one.” Teaser shrugged, as if it meant nothing. “Been keeping the door of my room locked. Yours, too. If you need to put anything into the chiller, you can get into my room through the bathroom.”

Sebastian gave Teaser a long look, then nodded again.

After giving her a hesitant smile, Teaser headed down the street.

She and Sebastian followed at a slower pace. Now that she was almost to a place where she could set it down, the bundle weighed more with each step.

When they reached the bordello, Sebastian shouldered the pack, then opened the front door for her before hefting the travel bag and carry basket.

The man behind the desk just watched them as they crossed the lobby and started climbing the stairs.

“Don’t you usually lock your doors?” Lynnea asked as she watched Sebastian fish the key out of his pocket and turn the lock.

“For privacy, but not to keep someone out when I’m not here.”

As soon as he pushed the door open, she hurried to the bed and, with a quiet groan, set down her bundle. Then she turned to face him, hoping her smile looked genuine.

He just stood in the doorway, staring at her. Then he brought their bags and baskets far enough into the room to close the door.

“You have to talk to Teaser and Philo,” she said, becoming more and more nervous about the way his green eyes stared at her. “If you just tell me what a chiller is so I don’t go looking at things I shouldn’t, I can get things put away here.” Especially the things she didn’t want him to find just yet.

He walked up to the bed and, firmly but gently, pushed her aside.

“Sebastian.”

He unwrapped the sheet…and said nothing. Her heart pounded as he brushed his fingers over a wooden box and the leather carry case that held the sketching paper.

He opened the box, then closed it again.

“My cousins gave me this box a few years ago. Charcoals and leaded pencils in different weights. Aunt Nadia gave me the colored chalks.” His fingers brushed the leather case. “Can’t get this kind of paper in the Den. Not even on the black market. Aunt Nadia or Lee used to get it for me from one of the big cities, but there’s no telling if that place is within reach anymore.”

He looked at her, and in his eyes she saw the struggle to hold back a flood of emotion. Even the trickle that was breaking through the dam of self-control left her breathless.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He brushed his lips over her forehead, over her cheek, over her lips. “Thank you.”

Something was happening here. More than a sexual wanting. Something that made her afraid…and made her feel as if she could fly.

“You have to talk to Philo and Teaser,” she said.

He rested his forehead against hers. “Yes.”

“Before you go, could you…”

He raised his head. His eyes were full of heat, hunger. Something more.

“…show me what the chiller is?”

Sebastian pulled out a chair at one of Philo’s indoor tables. Since the indoor room wasn’t used except in bad weather, they had the place to themselves.

Teaser came around the small bar at the back of the room, carrying a bottle of whiskey and glasses. “Philo will be along in a minute. Just has to finish up the last order.”

While Teaser poured the whiskey, Sebastian thought about Lynnea arguing with him to bring his sketches, carrying his art supplies in secret. Carrying his heart.

And all he’d done was made it harder for her by being difficult.

“How do you apologize to a woman for being stupid?” Sebastian muttered.

“Great sex?” Teaser replied with a cocky grin—which changed into something close to panic. “Not sex. Box of sweets. That’s better. Much better. Or flowers. If you can find any.”

Daylight, Sebastian thought, he’s like a boy who’s just realized his mother has done the same things he’s trying to get his sweetheart to do. What is it about Lynnea that brings that out in him?

Philo came through the swinging door that led into the kitchen, sparing the two incubi from saying anything more about the woman getting settled in Sebastian’s room.

“Last customer served,” Philo said, setting down a tray that held a basket of Phallic Delights and a bowl of melted cheese. “Not that there have been many customers today. Didn’t do much cooking, so there’s not much left, but I can make you a cold beef sandwich.”

“Not for me, thanks,” Sebastian replied, “but I’ll take something back to the room for Lynnea.”

Philo bobbled the tray, almost knocking over the whiskey bottle. “But…I thought you were taking her to the Landscapers’ School.”

Sebastian knocked back his whiskey. The room was warm and stuffy, but he needed the liquor’s heat. “The school is gone.”

This was why he’d wanted to talk to them in private, but it was hard to tell them what he’d seen at the school, and reliving those minutes when he and Lynnea were running for their lives put a chill down his spine even whiskey couldn’t thaw.

Philo left the table long enough to fetch another glass. After pouring a generous measure for himself, he refilled Sebastian’s and Teaser’s glasses. “So the Bridge is going to cut us off from the rest of Ephemera.”

Sebastian nodded. “From everything except the other landscapes Belladonna holds.”

“That’s going to cut down on business,” Teaser muttered.

“Business isn’t the problem.” Philo rolled his glass between his hands. “What about us? The folks who live in the Den? Where’s the food going to come from? We can’t grow our own, and if things are going bad in the daylight landscapes, folks there might not be willing to sell their surplus, especially to the likes of us.”

Had Lee considered that when making the decision to break the bridges that connected Glorianna’s landscapes to the rest of Ephemera?

“What about the lektricity?” Philo added. “I have a meat freezer and a big chiller for other kinds of food. If the lektricity goes, we won’t even be able to store up much.”

“We’ll take it a step at a time,” Sebastian said. “First we spread the word to everyone who runs a business in the Den—brothels, taverns, gambling houses, shops. Everyone. If anyone sees a change in the landscape, especially pools of water or that sand, they’re to report it.”

“To you?” Philo asked.

Sebastian hesitated, then nodded. “I promised Lee I’d do what I could to hold the Den.”

The other men shifted uneasily.

“What else?” Teaser asked.

“We need to locate the bridges that connect the Den with other landscapes,” Sebastian said. He knew the location of one, and it worried him. The bridge he and Lynnea had used to cross over to the Den from Nadia’s house had been two boulders set on either side of a woodland trail that ended at the open ground at the back of his cottage. If whatever had been inside his home returned, would it be able to follow that path back to Aunt Nadia’s house? The people who had died in the school were proof enough that Landscapers were as vulnerable as anyone else to the creatures the Eater of the World could bring into a landscape. “And I want to know about any strangers who come into the Den. Especially if they don’t feel…right.”

Philo and Teaser exchanged a glance, but before either could speak, someone knocked frantically on the closed door.

When Philo got up to answer the door, Teaser said, “I’ll get a demon cycle and ride around to locate the bridges. But I’m not going to cross over.”

“We’ll have to eventually to find out what landscapes they connect to,” Sebastian replied. “Especially since Philo’s right. We’re going to need food.”

Philo returned to the table with Mr. Finch trailing behind him.

“Oh,” Mr. Finch said, wringing his hands. “Sebastian. Teaser.” He glanced at Philo. “You’re busy.”

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked, regretting the sharpness in his voice when Mr. Finch flinched and looked ready to bolt.

“I closed my shop,” Mr. Finch said, looking at Philo pleadingly. “I said I had to meet you. Is that all right?”

“That’s fine,” Philo said, “but why did you close your shop?”

Mr. Finch shuddered. “One of them came in, and she made me feel so…strange.”

Sebastian looked at Teaser.

“Two succutits and three incubi strolled into the Den after you and Lynnea left. They’re…different.” Teaser took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Don’t know how to describe it.”

“They smell musky,” Mr. Finch said, his voice trembling. “Like wild animals.”

Sebastian tensed. Musky. Had one or more of these newcomers spent time in his cottage?

“Yeah,” Teaser said. “Saw one of the incubi snare a woman. I spent a little time with her last moon. She’s a hard-edged bitch and not generous in any way. But even from where I was standing, watching him reel her in, I could tell there was something about him that scared her but she just couldn’t resist the lure.”

“What happened?” Sebastian asked.

Teaser shrugged. “Dunno. I saw him trolling again a few hours later, but I didn’t see her.”

“They’ve been asking about you, Sebastian,” Philo said, refilling his glass and handing it to Mr. Finch, who gulped down the whiskey.

“Yes,” Mr. Finch said, gasping. “When is Sebastian coming back? That’s what they ask.”

“Why the interest in me?”

“Dunno,” Teaser replied. “I found one of them rubbing her hands over the door of your room and licking her lips like a cat that’s cornered a particularly tasty bird. She seemed amused when I asked her what she was doing. She said something about wondering if you’d had any interesting dreams. When I went downstairs later, I found the other succubitch trying to persuade the desk clerk to give her the spare key to your room. That’s when I took your spare and mine off the hooks and made sure the doors were always locked.”

Sebastian drained his glass and set it aside. “If you could make those sandwiches, Philo, I’d be grateful.”

Philo nodded, then looked at Mr. Finch. “I’m closing down for a few hours of rest time. I’ve got a spare room if you’d rather not stay at your place alone.”

“Thank you, Philo,” Mr. Finch said.

Time crawled while Sebastian waited for Philo. Teaser dug in to the bread and cheese, but the thought of food knotted Sebastian’s stomach. He wouldn’t feel easy enough to eat—or do anything else—until he was back in his room with Lynnea.

As soon as Philo came back with a basket, Sebastian took his leave and strode to the bordello, watching the street, watching the people. Not as many visitors as usual, and all of them moved with hurried purpose, as if they sensed danger but couldn’t locate the source.

When he reached his room, he saw Lynnea standing in the open doorway, looking confused and stubborn…and blurry. As if he couldn’t quite bring her into focus, not when the gorgeous woman standing on the other side of the door turned and smiled at him. But there was something about the succubus’s smile that made his skin crawl—and also made him want to unfurl the power of the incubi and take her.

“Sebastian,” the succubus purred.

The sound of her voice shivered through him, full of hot promises.

She gave Lynnea a scathing look. “Is that the best you can do?”

Anger burned out lust when Lynnea winced at the insult.

“What do you want?” Sebastian snapped.

The succubus’s smile sharpened, became surly and yet malevolent. “I can give you dreams you can’t even imagine.”

He looked her up and down. “I can imagine just fine what kind of dreams I’d get with the likes of you.”

Fury flashed in her eyes. This one wasn’t used to being resisted. She moved, which brought her a little closer to Lynnea.

Sebastian raised his hand, felt the rush and tingle of power flowing through him. Wizard’s power. He didn’t want to call the lightning, not when he still didn’t know how to control it, not with Lynnea standing so close. But the succubus must have sensed the power—or understood she was being threatened in some way. She bared her teeth like a predator who had just discovered its prey wasn’t as helpless as it had thought. Then she backed away.

Sebastian watched her until she was far enough away for him to get into the room and lock the door. Leaning against the door, he waited for his heart to slow to a normal beat.

Lynnea looked uncertain. “It was rude not to let her in, but—”

“No, it was smart.” Sebastian set the basket down. “I’m betting she’s one of the newcomers who showed up recently.”

Lynnea frowned. “She smelled…odd. That’s what made me uncomfortable about letting her in. She smelled…” Her eyes widened. “Like the cottage.”

He nodded. “If it wasn’t her, one of the others had spent some time in the cottage.”

“Why would they enter someone else’s home?”

“I don’t know.” Closing the distance between them, he put his arms around her. Like holding sunlight, he thought, the feel of her cleansing him of the lust the succubus had drawn from him—and filling him with a different kind of lust. Just as hot, but sweeter.

“Don’t wander around the Den without me,” he said.

“I can’t live pinned to your shirttails.”

He eased back enough to look at her. Stubborn rabbit. “Just until I find out where these newcomers came from and what they want. They’re not like the other incubi and succubi, Lynnea. Look, you don’t have to stay pinned to my shirttails, as you put it. You could give Philo a hand or…or spend time with Teaser.” Did she have any idea what it cost him to surrender his prize to another incubus, even temporarily? “Please.”

She studied his face for so long. “All right,” she finally said, but she didn’t stop studying him. “Can you all do that?”

“Do what?”

“Change your face. It was subtle, but I was sure her face didn’t look the same when she was talking to you as it did when I first opened the door.” She shrugged. “Maybe it was a trick of the light.”

“And maybe it wasn’t.” Uneasy again, he stepped back. “There are stories—old stories—about the incubi and succubi, about how they lure men and women by appearing to be a friend or lover.” Hand in hand with those stories were the ones about incubi and succubi providing such intense pleasure the sex was lethal.

“Do you know me?” he demanded suddenly. “Can you feel me?”

“If you’re asking if I could tell the difference between you and someone wearing your face, then, yes, I know you. I would always know you, Sebastian. Even if the face was the same, that other person couldn’t be you.”

He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed that answer until he felt the tension drain out of him. Weary now, he rubbed his hands over his face. “I brought some food. Let’s eat. Then we’ll consider what comes next.”

While they shared the food in companionable silence, Sebastian chewed on one thought: Why were these newcomers so interested in him?