The Outcast (Summoner #4)(25)

“It’s not what you’ve done, but what you are. In more ways than one.” Charles plucked a patch of hair from Anansi and stroked it along Arcturus’s bare arm. It raised a welt of red as it stung the skin, as if he were being stroked by a nettle. “Commoners should not be summoners. It upsets the natural order of things. Any commoner planning a revolt against the ruling classes knows they are doomed to failure. But throw common summoners into the mix and suddenly our spellcraft and demons aren’t so intimidating anymore. That alone should be enough reason to kill you. But it’s not the only one.”

“Enlighten me, then,” Arcturus said, gritting his teeth as the pain in his arm began to throb. He didn’t want to think how much it would hurt if a hair found its way into his eye.

“Do you remember how a firstborn child of a summoner will always inherit the same gift?” Charles asked, allowing the Arach’s bristles to fall to the ground.

“I do,” Arcturus grunted.

“Well, a summoner can have several firstborn children with different partners, as long as it is the first child of that partner. So a man might father several firstborn children with various women. As long as one parent is a summoner and one has never had a child before, the offspring will inherit the gift.”

“I understand; get on with it,” Arcturus snarled, redoubling his efforts with the dirk. The blade scraped along his skin painfully, but he didn’t care. He had only a few more minutes to make his escape.

“So eager to die, Arcturus?” Charles laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll hear the whole story before you’ve breathed your last.”

Arcturus wondered what he would do when his arms were free. Would there be time to release Sacharissa, or would he have to kill the Arach first? Sacharissa was quiet now, as if she could sense what he planned to do. Another thread parted, and Arcturus felt like he could tear himself free if given enough time. But he needed it to be fast.

“I see it!” Rook shouted from behind. “Not long now!”

“All right, looks like I’ll have to make this quick,” Charles snarled, taking a handful of Arcturus’s hair and drawing him closer. He took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I don’t like the rumors going around.”

“What rumors? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you see, Arcturus? You grew up in Boreas, the same city my father lives in. Born with the power to summon. Abandoned as a child at an orphanage. You are proof of my father’s infidelity. You are his bastard, and it won’t be long before someone else comes to the same conclusion.”

“N-no…,” Arcturus stammered, his escape forgotten as understanding began to dawn on him. Could it really be true? He pictured the beady-eyed man who had imprisoned him in that cell, without food or water for days. He shuddered with horror. Not him. Anyone but him.

“Your mother was nothing but a common courtesan, who whelped you and abandoned you for the state to raise. If only she had left you out in the cold to die. But no matter. I will take your life instead, before Obadiah has time to find out where you came from.”

Sacharissa was struggling now, grunting as she strained against her bonds. Her claws scratched on the wood, but all she managed was to shuffle a few inches closer to them.

“You’re my brother?” Arcturus cried. Charles planted his knee in Arcturus’s stomach and began to twist his head. Arcturus felt his spine creak under the pressure, as if Charles was trying to snap his neck.

“Half brother,” Charles hissed in his ear, pointing at the floating globe. “I guess this only makes this half fratricide. Now look. See what fate we have planned for you.”

The portal spun in the air, crackling with energy. Rook had stabbed a leather tie into the pentacle’s edge and was standing just a few feet away from them now. He looked exhausted, yet he was in a sprinter’s crouch, as if ready to run from the room at any moment.

Suddenly, a demon hurtled from out of the portal, gliding out in a flutter of wings. It looked like a large, red-feathered owl with four legs. Arcturus caught a glimpse of round black eyes before it flew over him. A spatter of blood struck his face, and he realized the bird must have attacked the Wendigo with its talons before coming through.

“Will it follow a Strix? Strixes aren’t known for being prey,” Charles wondered out loud as the portal continued to spin.

“If it doesn’t, no matter. We’ll just stick a blade between his ribs and throw him through.” Rook panted, his breathing heavy with effort from keeping the portal open.

“Too risky. Father said it has to look like an accident—that’s the whole point of this. Someone might find his body if they go demon hunting. Not usual this time of year what with the Shrikes, but still a possibility.”

“The Wendigo will dispose of the body,” Rook snarled.

“You’re going to make it look like I tried to capture a Wendigo, alone, and it killed me?” Arcturus said with horror.

“A living demon not connected to a summoner fades back into the ether within a few hours of entering our dimension,” Rook laughed, glancing back at Arcturus. “They’ll never know what killed you, but they’ll have their suspicions.”

Even as he spoke, the Wendigo emerged from the portal in a tumbled clatter of claws and antlers, dripping blood from scratches across its muzzle.