Free Blood Lies (Dark Brothers of the Light #9) by Janrae Frank Page A

Chinisi? What will Stygean do when he learns her
name is that of his dead mother? "I doubt that she's more
peculiar than my wife, and the lycans get along well with her."
    "I would never call Lady Anksha peculiar."
Cordwainer's bemusement faded into discomfort.
    "Then you have not been listening to her."
Isranon laughed. He had watched her earlier pulling all of the
stitches out of her knitting and growling at it before she rushed
off for another of her daily lessons.
    Geoffry Cordwainer's lips twitched and he
yielded into a chuckle. His wall of formality melted like an early
frost on a warm morning. "Koejelus and Merick have satisfied me as
to your benign nature. I am more interested in your arcane
training. How, precisely, are sa'necari taught their arts?"
    "I wouldn't know. My powers never passed
beyond the level of an adolescent. The turning point is with the
rites. Sa'necari power cannot mature without them. The Dark
Brothers never practiced the Arts Arcane: neither those of the
Light nor those of the Darkness. All that I know of them I learned
through observation and instinct."
    "Observation and instinct will not teach you
to call down the Sunfire Lances. Not even I can do that."
    "Josiah Abelard Stormbird taught me."
Isranon raked his eyes across the ceiling, lost for a moment in his
memories of Josiah.
    "The one they say was Abelard himself
returned?" Cordwainer's eyes narrowed, doubt and suspicion arriving
at mention of the Mage Master.
    "That one. And he was Abelard returned to
his own lineage." Isranon studied Cordwainer's face, wondering what
proof he could offer the mon. "He gave me the Mage Master's
spellbooks and journals."
    The stunned incredulity in Cordwainer's eyes
told Isranon that he had struck a nerve, even before the firemage
spoke. "Can I see them?"
    Isranon nodded and gestured to his
spiritbrother. Nevin rose and returned with a small chest, which he
placed upon the table. Isranon opened the mage-locked chest with a
word of command, lifted out a stack of books and placed them in
front of him. "This is only a small number of them. The rest are
stored."
    "May I?" Cordwainer looked as if his fingers
were itching when he brushed them across the spines. At a nod from
Isranon, he chose a random book and opened it. "It looks genuine.
If so, it's the find of the ages."
    "It is."
    "Can I borrow this one? I will return it
tomorrow. I want to share it with Teague Merishin. She's an expert
on Abelard and should be able to confirm its authenticity."
    The thought of parting with the book, even
for a short time, wrenched at Isranon, but he needed the goodwill
of the three master mages. "Have her return it tomorrow when she
comes for our meeting."
    "I will do that," Cordwainer pledged.
    When Cordwainer had bowed himself out,
Isranon turned to Nevin. "I'm very hungry. Bring me two or three
nibari and make certain I don't take too much from them."
    Nevin departed and Isranon sat alone. Tears
crept into his eyes and slipped down his cheeks. Persuading the
people of the light to follow him always brought pain to his heart.
Since last summer, his appetites had begun to go out of control.
During a battle with imps, Isranon had lost control of himself and
eaten several of them. His stomach soured every time he thought of
it. He had violated everything he believed in and been unable to
stop himself. His appetite for blood had grown until it was nearly
insatiable. Amiri and others had offered many theories about it,
but none of them seemed convincing to him.
    Nevin returned with three nibari. One of
them, a female, knelt between Isranon's legs, crossed her wrists
behind her and tilted her head back to expose her throat. Isranon
allowed his fangs to descend, licked her neck to find a proper
spot, and sank his fangs into her. She sighed in pleasure as his
necromantic gifts triggered her endorphins.
    * * * *
    Stygean haunted the hallways of the manor,
drifting past the door to Isranon's suite and trying not to stare
at it. After