the room while Sebastian watches with amusement. He’s sitting next to the mahogany table, bound to one of the chairs with rope. The table is covered in piles of guns, tinned food and medical supplies salvaged from the arsenal and laboratory downstairs. On the antique rug next to the table is a smashed oil lantern. A large hole has been scorched into the fabric.
Acelot strolls over to the rug and nudges it with his foot. “I’m pretty certain this didn’t have so many holes in it when we left.”
Marcel dramatically rolls his eyes. At fifteen, the Bastet boy is only two years younger than me, but he acts like he’s twelve sometimes. He’s immaculately dressed in a crimson frock coat, black pants and knee-high patent leather boots, like he’s attending a state dinner. The fact that we’re on the run from the Sentry, and are keeping one of their head Trackers as hostage, doesn’t seem to have registered with him at all.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Marcel says huffily. “I was getting supplies, and when I got back, the rug was on fire. I don’t know how it happened.”
I can guess. I glare at Sebastian, who smirks back at me. Blond stubble covers his normally clean-shaven head and face, partially obscuring the rose tattoo above his left ear. It was a rash decision to bring him with us, but at least this way I know where he is at all times. I snatch a look at the broken lantern on the rug. He must’ve knocked it off the table somehow. I presume he hoped it would cause a big enough fire to force Marcel to untie him, so they could evacuate the building.
“Could I talk to you outside, Marc?” Acelot says, nodding toward the hallway.
Marcel sighs and follows Acelot out of the room while I check Sebastian’s binds. Acelot’s voice drifts through the open doorway.
“You weren’t supposed to leave Sebastian unattended,” he says. “What would’ve happened if he’d gotten loose? He could have killed you.”
“I was just trying to help!” Marcel replies. “God, I can’t win with you.
‘Do this, Marc.’ ‘Don’t do that.’
You’re worse than Dad.”
“Hey! I’m doing my best,” Acelot says. “Maybe if you did what I said for once, I wouldn’t have to keep nagging you.”
“I don’t have to do
anything
you say,” Marcel replies. “I’m not a sniveling kiss-ass like Elijah.”
“Don’t you dare talk about him like that,” Acelot growls.
“Why do you always take his side?” Marcel says.
Back in our room, Sebastian laughs.
“Such
drama,
” he sneers. I yank the ropes around his wrists, and his green eyes flash with anger. “Watch it, nipper.”
“Do you want me to gag you too?” I snap.
He glances down at the binds around his wrists and smiles coldy. “You know, Natalie used to like it when I tied her up like this. She’d make these tiny little moans when I—”
I punch Sebastian in the face. His head snaps back, and blood spurts out of his split lip. He shakes his head, bringing himself back to his senses, then laughs.
“Touched a nerve?” he says, licking the blood off his lip.
I turn away, annoyed at myself for letting him get under my skin. I know Natalie never slept with Sebastian, which is why the jerk cheated on her, but they
did
date each other for a year. The thought makes my skin crawl.
Marcel storms into the room and slumps down on one of the chairs next to the table. Acelot follows a moment later. His eyes flick toward Sebastian, whose bruised lip has started to swell, and he raises an amused brow.
“Now, now, Ash,” Acelot mocks. “What did we say about beating up our prisoner?”
“That it’s a good thing, and I should do it constantly?” I reply.
Sebastian scowls. Acelot chuckles and takes a seat beside Marcel.
“Sorry about the rug,” Marcel mutters.
Acelot ruffles his brother’s hair and Marcel playfully swats his hand away, friends again. The brothers help me make an inventory of the supplies. There’s enough to keep us going until we
Acelot strolls over to the rug and nudges it with his foot. “I’m pretty certain this didn’t have so many holes in it when we left.”
Marcel dramatically rolls his eyes. At fifteen, the Bastet boy is only two years younger than me, but he acts like he’s twelve sometimes. He’s immaculately dressed in a crimson frock coat, black pants and knee-high patent leather boots, like he’s attending a state dinner. The fact that we’re on the run from the Sentry, and are keeping one of their head Trackers as hostage, doesn’t seem to have registered with him at all.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Marcel says huffily. “I was getting supplies, and when I got back, the rug was on fire. I don’t know how it happened.”
I can guess. I glare at Sebastian, who smirks back at me. Blond stubble covers his normally clean-shaven head and face, partially obscuring the rose tattoo above his left ear. It was a rash decision to bring him with us, but at least this way I know where he is at all times. I snatch a look at the broken lantern on the rug. He must’ve knocked it off the table somehow. I presume he hoped it would cause a big enough fire to force Marcel to untie him, so they could evacuate the building.
“Could I talk to you outside, Marc?” Acelot says, nodding toward the hallway.
Marcel sighs and follows Acelot out of the room while I check Sebastian’s binds. Acelot’s voice drifts through the open doorway.
“You weren’t supposed to leave Sebastian unattended,” he says. “What would’ve happened if he’d gotten loose? He could have killed you.”
“I was just trying to help!” Marcel replies. “God, I can’t win with you.
‘Do this, Marc.’ ‘Don’t do that.’
You’re worse than Dad.”
“Hey! I’m doing my best,” Acelot says. “Maybe if you did what I said for once, I wouldn’t have to keep nagging you.”
“I don’t have to do
anything
you say,” Marcel replies. “I’m not a sniveling kiss-ass like Elijah.”
“Don’t you dare talk about him like that,” Acelot growls.
“Why do you always take his side?” Marcel says.
Back in our room, Sebastian laughs.
“Such
drama,
” he sneers. I yank the ropes around his wrists, and his green eyes flash with anger. “Watch it, nipper.”
“Do you want me to gag you too?” I snap.
He glances down at the binds around his wrists and smiles coldy. “You know, Natalie used to like it when I tied her up like this. She’d make these tiny little moans when I—”
I punch Sebastian in the face. His head snaps back, and blood spurts out of his split lip. He shakes his head, bringing himself back to his senses, then laughs.
“Touched a nerve?” he says, licking the blood off his lip.
I turn away, annoyed at myself for letting him get under my skin. I know Natalie never slept with Sebastian, which is why the jerk cheated on her, but they
did
date each other for a year. The thought makes my skin crawl.
Marcel storms into the room and slumps down on one of the chairs next to the table. Acelot follows a moment later. His eyes flick toward Sebastian, whose bruised lip has started to swell, and he raises an amused brow.
“Now, now, Ash,” Acelot mocks. “What did we say about beating up our prisoner?”
“That it’s a good thing, and I should do it constantly?” I reply.
Sebastian scowls. Acelot chuckles and takes a seat beside Marcel.
“Sorry about the rug,” Marcel mutters.
Acelot ruffles his brother’s hair and Marcel playfully swats his hand away, friends again. The brothers help me make an inventory of the supplies. There’s enough to keep us going until we
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