Heart's Price (MxM)

Chapter 61

"Aengus, this is insane," Mathilda says. Her voice is surprisingly even and calm, given that she's chained to a circle of dark magic with her bound hands clamped to the side of her bloodied head. It appears that Aengus, in persuading Penelope, relieved her of an ear—a double injury, given her obsession with beauty. "What do you hope to gain?"

"Everything," Aengus replies carelessly.

He's walking a slow circumambulation around the outside of the ritual seal, consulting his book and sprinkling some sort of scented water or oil as he goes.

" I understand it, now—the ritual's call for 'the life of a child,' that is. The first time I thought it meant a literal sacrifice. The second time, Ainach took advantage of it to bring himself into corporeal form. This time, it is I who shall take it—all that potential life, potential energy—and by it, I shall be restored. Why should I wish to die, after all, when I may, instead, be revitalized?"

"It's still insane," August argues glumly. He seems resigned to whatever Aengus intends for him, his chained hands held limply in his lap where he sits slumped over in his place. "I mean, he is a man... isn't he?" He casts a curious glance at Julian, who glares back.

"One's ability to bear children does not determine whether one is a man, woman, or otherwise," Freya states defiantly. "But yeah, Juju's a man—a Fae man, who's been bitten by a werewolf, and who's also a leannán sídhe. The usual rules don't apply to him."

August's expression registers surprised disgust, and Dane joins Julian's glare.

"It's a moot point, regardless," Dane growls, turning on Aengus. "We've only just, uh, 'decided.' There's no kid for you to take, either way."

"That's the beauty of it, though," Aengus replies, coming to kneel in front of Julian. "All I need is the potential that there could be—the raw promise of creation, the little star of life-energy, burning at the heart of you." He sets his fingertips to the center of Julian's chest and smiles. "This is what I will take, and instead of fueling a new life, it will restore mine."

Julian makes a stifled noise of rage and struggles with the chain locking him in place. He's the only one beside me with a gag stuffed in his mouth, though while it seems my silence is to prevent the sound of my voice from rousing Ambrose's consciousness, Julian's is likely the result of him having annoyed Aengus into smothering him—if previous experience is anything to go by.

"Ach, well," Aengus sighs, patting Julian's cheek and then getting to his feet, "don't fret. If you all cooperate, there's no reason for anyone to get hurt, and I'm sure you'll have, er...other chances, I imagine."

Pulling something from his pocket—some strange instrument like a small sextant, but with more than the usual doohickeys and thingamabobs sticking off it—he holds it aloft and peers through it at the moon.

"Nearly time," he announces, striding to his own place at the head of the star. "Ambrose—the final relic, if you will."

Ambrose, who has so far stood without moving, now stirs and shifts his eyes towards me. I'd tucked the paintbrush in the waistband of my trousers after Shanti gave it to me, and I can tell by the way it's poking me in the hip that it's still there.

He approaches, silver moonlight shining on his pale, exposed skin, and lowers himself to one knee in front of me. The scent coming off him his familiar, warm and comforting, but the expression of his features is not. It's hot with passion, cold with self-interest—the look of a man who sees what he wants and takes it, consequences be damned. As I seem to be listed among the things he wants, it makes me shiver with dread to remember the few other times I'd had a glimpse of Ainach's sharp edges beneath Ambrose's gentleness.