Pyromancist Read online

  “For someone who practically grew up with her–in a town where everyone knows everyone–you don’t know much about her, do you?”

  Josselin clenched his teeth. “I did a thorough background check. She’s clean. No funny business. A fucking straight line. What else do you want me to say?”

  “I was hoping for something more personal, like what her character is like. What was she like at school?”

  Josselin regarded Cain, his eyes burning into his leader’s. “Why are you so interested in her, Cain? You’ve never come out on any mission. Why did you come here?”

  Cain ignored his questions. “You said you tasted her blood.”

  “Yes. She’s clean.”

  “No magic? No potential for ancient arts?”

  “I told you. No.”

  “Interesting, considering what you said about her mother.”

  “Cain, I don’t like where this is going. When we came out here, it was to investigate a paranormal crime. Why do I get the feeling that this is about something totally different?”

  “Oh, I think for you it is about something totally different. Did you really come out here to investigate a crime?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Cain smiled indulgently. He didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “You’re not asking who attacked you.”

  Josselin crossed his arms. “I was hoping you would tell me.”

  There was a short hesitation, and then Cain said, “The game has changed.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “It has started.”

  “What has started?”

  “The evil that’s been dormant for the past four centuries is about to be re-awakened. We’re facing the beginning of the second Dark Age, and it’s our job to prevent it.”

  “Fuck, Cain, you sound like a horror movie.”

  “There’s a dark force on this plain, and it has started to harvest power. It’s worse than anything we’ve ever dealt with. I don’t know who’s behind it, but whoever he is, he has disciples reaping art. His followers are hunting people with the ancient skills of forgotten magic. By killing them, he can steal their talents, adding them to his own, growing his power, provided that his victims’ hearts have gone to the dark side. One of his greatest followers, a man named Lupien, rumored to be his second-in-command, is said to be a very powerful pyromancist. No one has heard or seen a trace of Lupien for nearly thirty years.”

  Josselin had an uneasy feeling. “And you think he’s here?”

  “I can feel him, Josselin. I sense his presence.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before I embarked on this mission?”

  “I just got the intel yesterday.”

  Cain had informants and spies everywhere. Josselin didn’t envy them their positions. He’d much rather face a fight head-on, tackle evil with his bare hands, than play psychological games and live a lie.

  “If you feel his presence, then it’s most probable that this Lupien, or whoever he works for, was responsible for this morning’s attack.”

  “Yes. It’s a possibility we have to face.”

  “If Lupien wants Clelia alive, it means we’re on the right track. We’re onto something. Clelia’s clean. She’s not a firestarter. And I have my doubts about the old man, Erwan, even if all physical evidence points to him. If Lupien wants her alive, it can only be for the same reason that we want her, to use her as bait to bring Erwan into the open. That can only mean that Erwan is the one who’ll lead us to the truth, to our firestarter.”

  “Any chance of finding Erwan on our own, without using the girl?”

  “The team’s on it. We’re using all the technology at our disposal, but Erwan has a lot playing in his favor. He grew up here. He knows the woods, the islands, and the sea like the back of his hand. There are a million places to hide. The fishermen said he left on a trawler for a few months. Mayor confirmed the story. Only, we’ve had the trawler intercepted. There’s no one by the name of Erwan d’Ambois on board, and no one fitting his description. I’m willing to bet my life that the captain is lying through his teeth, saying he took the old man aboard but left him in Port Navalo. Erwan made it up. He couldn’t have gone far. He’s too old, too weak. He’s here. He’s watching, waiting. Sooner or later, he’s going to know we’ve got his granddaughter. Then we’ll learn the truth.” Josselin studied Cain. “What do you know about this Lupien?”

  “All I know is that he’s a European male.”

  “We don’t even know the cause of these fires yet. It may still have a logical explanation.”

  Cain chuckled. “No. My intuition is never wrong. This is a pyromancist’s work. We may have a new firestarter in Larmor, or an old one looking for a new one. Do you get what I’m saying?”

  “No.”

  “If there is a dormant pyromancist in your village, the only way for Lupien to awaken that person’s art would be by practicing it, severely and fiercely.”

  “You’re saying it’s possible that Lupien is starting fires to draw out whoever the firestarter is whose power he wants to steal?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Then my mission has changed. You’re no longer asking me to find out who is destroying the village. You’re asking me to catch a firestarter. Are you’re asking me to go on a witch hunt for Lupien, or for his victim?”

  Cain smiled coldly. “Preferably both.”

  “If Clelia leads us to Erwan, will you let her go?”

  “The girl is a pawn,” Cain said, his voice carrying a warning.

  “So you want Lupien destroyed. And once you get your dormant pyromancist, are you planning on saving him, or eliminating him?”

  “Our enemy is growing stronger by the day. He’s recruiting. I can’t allow him to take more power.”

  “You’re asking me to kill a possibly innocent dormant firestarter.”

  “We have to eliminate him before Lupien gets his hands on him. It seems the only one who holds the answers is Erwan. We need to get to the old man no matter how you have to use the girl. She’s the strongest weapon we’ve got.”

  Josselin lifted his barriers, trying to shield his emotions. He had been right to hide Clelia. He wasn’t wrong about Cain’s intentions. He would be unscrupulous in using her as bait. An overwhelming desire to protect Clelia made him say, “She’s an innocent.”

  “Life is not always fair, Josselin. Remember your training when emotions cloud your heart.”

  Josselin pursed his lips. She was his. He wouldn’t let her go. The strange thought came to his mind from nowhere, the words a whisper in his ears. Too late to filter it from Cain. He saw comprehension in his commander’s eyes. He was in a hell of a predicament, torn between an unjustifiable protectiveness for his witch, and a loyalty to the organization to which he had pledged his life. He stared at Cain as the confusion grew in him.

  “She’s an innocent,” Josselin said again, the statement sounding more than a plea.

  “Bring her in, Josselin.”

  “Let me bring in Erwan d’Ambois my way.” Josselin looked at Cain intensely. “I’ve never asked for anything. I’ve given you my soul and my life to use for your cause without asking questions. Just let me do this.”

  Cain wrapped his fist around the diamond the size of a golf ball on his cane. “You’re like a brother to me, Josselin. Don’t screw this up.”

  Josselin knew what Cain was saying. He had a special affection for Josselin, stronger than what he felt for any of the others. Josselin’s capacity to lead had won him the position in his team, but an unspoken bond had secured a concrete connection between him and Cain. However, Cain was dedicated to the greater good of their mission, and he wouldn’t hesitate, not blink an eye, if he had to eliminate Josselin.

  Josselin’s muscles tensed further. “I will do what’s right.”

  Cain gave him another knowing smile. “That’s a word that doesn’t exist in your vocabulary, Josselin.”

  “Strangely, it’s just found its way i
n.”

  * * * *

  Josselin left the yacht with Cain’s grant of another couple of days to secure Erwan. After that, he had to hand Clelia over and let Cain do it his way. If Cain had to tie her to a tree in the middle of the woods to bring out the wolves, he would, and Josselin had to find the old man before that happened. It was only a matter of time before they’d sniff him out. He just prayed to whatever gods existed that he’d be the one to do it. If Erwan got hurt, Clelia would never forgive him, and she’d be lost to him. Again, that foreign claim. That urge to make her his. To bind her to him. He shook his head. The job and the town were getting to him. The past was too much. Last night he was ready to give up, to take his life, to put an end to the suffering. Today, he knew he had to stay alive to fight for her. Was he finally going even crazier than what he already was? By God, yes. He was a lunatic stalking his home territory, and he only prayed to hold the madness at bay for long enough to free an innocent witch.

  * * * *

  Josselin walked faster as he got closer to the house of his childhood. She was alone, frightened. He could feel her fear as he approached. It wrapped around him like a cloak. It had grown dark. He had stayed away too long, but it couldn’t be helped. His expert eyes were trained on the environment, ensuring that he hadn’t been followed, although the special device he carried in his pocket would have alarmed him, as the sensors he had implanted on all the windows and doors would have warned him if someone had tried to break in.

  He paused on the dark steps of the porch to inhale the energy of the house. It was as tainted as he was. The old memories assaulted him anew, whipping around him like the ivy tentacles that strangled the walls. It was the one safe place that no one would dare to come, but then a frightening thought entered his mind. Only evil would not be repulsed by this place. Only evil would search out this birth ground of the devil, and he had an angel tied up inside as bait.

  Yes, his plan wasn’t so ingenious, but it was the only one he had. He didn’t know if it was evil or good that would come for her first, his own or Lupien’s people. But he had no doubt someone would come. It was inevitable. He knew it with a new surety he had never felt before. He didn’t admit it to Cain, but in his gut, he felt the truth of the words his boss had uttered. It had started. It was a pebble in the pond, and the waves had to follow. He flinched at the thoughts that rooted in his mind, as if a magic seed had been sown many years ago, only to sprout now, after years of watering had matured it for this moment. He tasted the memory of Clelia’s blood on his pallet as he unlocked and secured the door behind him and hastened up the stairs.

  He had left the lights on for her when he left. Before he entered the room, he heard her sobs. It drew him like the call of a siren. He dropped the bags in the hallway and rushed inside. She was turned to the wall, drawn into herself, her dark hair covering her face. Josselin rushed to her side and knelt beside the bed. He unlocked the handcuffs and lowered her arms. He massaged her wrists, anger flaring inside of him when he saw the raw skin.

  He clicked his tongue. “I told you not to struggle, witch.”

  She refused to look at him. She tried to keep her tears in, but he could see them shaking her body.

  “Come,” he said, pulling her into a sitting position. “Do you need the bathroom?”

  She didn’t answer, so he put her on her feet and moved her in that direction, closing the door behind her for privacy. He waited a good few minutes before he knocked, got the silence he expected, and opened the door. She sat on the closed lid of the toilet, her head hung low, in his clothes that were so big he could fold them around her like a blanket. A renewed sense of protection overwhelmed and confused him.

  “I brought food,” he said. “You need to eat.”

  She didn’t move, and that didn’t surprise him either. He took her shoulders and guided her back to the room, making her sit on the bed while he went back into the hallway and collected the bags. He unpacked sandwiches and bottles of water onto the desk and left the bag with her clothes on her bed.

  “I fetched some of your own things,” he said. “You can dress later. It’ll make you feel better.”

  He reached for a sandwich and held it to her, but she shook her head. “How are my animals?”

  The small zoo had surprised Josselin. The dogs had stalked, would have attacked, if he hadn’t had the power to stare them down.

  “Your wolves almost ripped me apart,” he said, chuckling.

  She lifted her head quickly. “Are they all right?”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t harm them. I merely showed them who their new alpha is.”

  “They’re my family,” she said, and he understood.

  “Where did you find such a pack of vicious wolves?”

  “They’re not wolves, they’re hybrids. Their mother was shot by hunters. I found them as I was taking a shortcut to work one day. I had to take them, or they would have died.”

  “You take a lot of helpless beings in, don’t you?” She didn’t reply, so he said, “I’m just glad you had protection roaming the woods. I’m sure they would have kept any potential Iwigs at bay.”

  Clelia flushed a very bright red. “You remember,” she said, sounding horrified.

  Her embarrassment puzzled him. “You rather hoped I wouldn’t?”

  “I didn’t spy on you,” she said, and then he understood, in a way that almost gladdened his heart. Almost. He wouldn’t let it bloom into joy. Never would he take happiness from her interest in him. He was too dark, too twisted, too ruined.

  “Those girls meant nothing,” he said, nevertheless. Why he said it, he didn’t know. It was just something he needed to say.

  “Then you used them,” she said, sounding sad.

  “Yes. I regret that I did. Sex was a coping mechanism. I was young and ignorant. But I’ve made my peace. I’ve apologized to each and every one of them, albeit a few years late. I’m not proud of what I was.”

  “Meaning you’ve changed?” Now she sounded bitter.

  “In some ways. If you’re referring to sex, I no longer use it as a means of forgetting.”

  “Forgetting your past?”

  “Who I am. What I am.” He studied her, the big, round eyes, the beautiful pout of her lips, the delicate shape of her face. “The question is who are you? Who was your mother, Clelia? Has Erwan ever shared anything about your mother with you that could be connected to the fires?”

  “I need to go home.” Her voice quivered. “I need to take care of my animals.”

  “You know you can’t go home.” When her bottom lip started to tremble and tears brimmed in her eyes, he said, “I’ll feed them. They won’t starve.”

  She looked at her hands, her tears hidden behind her cascade of hair.

  He brushed her hair behind her ear and trailed his thumb over the path of her tears.

  “It must be hard for you not to fear me.”

  Suddenly it was very important for him to know if she saw him as the monster he was.

  Instead of commenting on his statement, she said, “Erwan will never come for me.”

  “Never is a very long time.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m not one of them, of you. You belong here. You’ve always belonged here. Me, I’m just an unfortunate product of rape. I’m not worth coming for.”

  Shock made Josselin’s breath catch, anger made him clench his jaw, and compassion made his throat tight.

  “You mustn’t say that. Your mother had a love affair. The bastard left her, but you must think of their union as something good.”

  “No, Josselin. I’m the bastard. Erwan told me the truth. My father was a rapist. He raped my mother. How she must have hated me all nine months she carried me. Then I went and took her away from Erwan by making her die to give life to me. No, he won’t come back for me.”

  Josselin’s head jerked as if he had received a fist on the jaw. He was engulfed by the enormity of her confession, and wanted to wrap his arms around her, but he also r
ecognized the deceit in her revelation as much as he saw the truth in it. She wanted him to believe that Erwan wouldn’t return for her, but he knew he would. She was worth coming back for.

  “Don’t speak like that. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t choose the nature of your conception or your birth. He will come,” he said, and then he got up and walked to the shuttered window, so as not to come undone for her sake, for her pain, right there at her feet.

  “Eat,” he said with his back to her, and when he didn’t hear her move, he simply sighed and turned away from the window to walk back to the bed. He felt weary from a long night’s drinking, the unwelcome shooting action, and little sleep. His eyelids were heavy. Defying his body’s needs, he knew he should stay awake, guarding, waiting, but he was weak.

  “Do you want to change?” he said, hovering over her.

  She nodded.

  “You have two minutes.”

  She picked up the bag he had packed and dragged it to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. When she came back, she wore white shorts and a T-shirt. She was barefoot, and her hair hung loose around her face. She looked at him, almost as if she was waiting for a cue, and when he nodded toward the bed, she obeyed without argument. His heart clenched when she held her wrists out to him. God knows, he didn’t want to cuff her again, but he could feel his strength slipping and couldn’t risk her escaping if he dozed.

  Before he secured her to the bedpost with the handcuffs, he tied bandages around her wrists. He attended to the cuts on her knees and her feet, disinfecting them and sealing each one with a useless plaster, as if he was caring for a child. Fact was he didn’t know what else to do.

  “How’s your body? Not too badly bruised? Do you need another painkiller?”

  She turned her back on him, as much as the handcuffs allowed her, and he took his place in the chair, watching her in silence.

  Chapter Eight

  Clelia heard Josselin’s breathing change and listened to it for a long time. She turned on the silent bedsprings to watch his sleeping form. The deep lines around his mouth were etched into his face like a marble statue. Even in his subconscious state, his closed eyes looked tortured, moving restlessly. A frown pleated this brow. His long lashes twitched. His lips made sounds but she couldn’t make out the words. Her arms were aching from the restraining position.