Shadowbound (The Dark Arts Book 1)

BOOK: Shadowbound (The Dark Arts Book 1)
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SHADOWBOUND
THE DARK ARTS SERIES
BEC MCMASTER
LOCHABER PRESS PTY. LTD.

Contents

Copyright
Also by Bec McMaster
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE DARK ARTS WORLD...
COMING SOON
Bloodhound Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments
About the Author
ALSO AVAILABLE:

Shadowbound: A Dark Arts Novel

Copyright © 2016 by Bec McMaster

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Edited by: Hot Tree Editing

Print formatting by: Cover Me Darling

Cover Art (c) Damonza.com

 

Created with
Vellum

ALSO BY BEC MCMASTER

LONDON STEAMPUNK SERIES

Kiss Of Steel

Heart Of Iron

My Lady Quicksilver

Forged By Desire

Of Silk And Steam

Novellas in same series:

Tarnished Knight

The Curious Case Of The Clockwork Menace

DARK ARTS SERIES

Shadowbound

Bloodbound (Late 2016)

BURNED LANDS SERIES

Nobody's Hero (May 2016)

OTHER

The Many Lives Of Hadley Monroe

For Byron, for being my very own soul-mate.

CHAPTER 1

'
S
orcery is a vile practice. The work of the Devil. And we shall not rest until those devil-worshipping practitioners who reside in society are driven to repent—or driven out of our fair city of London.'

-
G
RANT
M
ARTIN
, Chief of the Vigilance Against Sorcery Committee

L
ONDON
, 1894

"
COME
NOW, my lady, it's not safe."

Miss Ianthe Martin pressed the delicate handkerchief to her nose as she looked around the cell. Steel bars cut the gloom, delivering stark stripes across the stone floors. A shadow curled up beneath the barred windows, light striking the plain buff breeches covering his knees, and the bare soles of his feet. Large feet with carefully delineated toes. She stared at them, as her vision slowly adjusted to the gloom, remembering the feel of those bare feet against hers, once, shockingly long ago.

The prisoner looked up slowly, through the dark curtain of brown hair that surrounded his face. Dangerous, topaz eyes the color of molten gold watched her coldly, beneath harshly slanted brows. They flickered to her right, as if taking in the attendant who escorted her, then back again. Like a cat lashing its tail.

Secured, yes. Chained and beaten down. But instinct stirred, a smoky hot shiver low in her stomach. The long-subdued, primal part of her recognized danger when she saw it. "How long has he been kept in such solitary confines?"

"Ma'am." The attendant coughed reproachfully. No doubt he thought this completely beyond the pale.

Ianthe took a step closer as the attendant cleared his throat. His silence rattled her temper. "Damn you, how long?"

"Three months in solitary, ma'am."

And another nine before that, locked in with the writhing sprawl of humanity in the other corridors. New Bethlem Hospital—or Bedlam to most—had more than earned its reputation. Home to the criminally insane, the mad, and the Devilish Lord Rathbourne. The press had named him all three.

"Rathbourne?" One hesitant step into the cell. "Do you know who I am?"

There was a pentagram carved into the stone floors. New, from the look of the chisel marks. No doubt inspired by her father's work, and his precious committee. Though the Order of the Dawn Star that she belonged to served its Queen and country, there were always citizens superstitious enough, or too foolish, to understand what sorcery was.

"Rathbourne?" She hesitated, then added, "Lucien?"

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