by Laney McMann
“Where is Heru?” Cole yelled.
“I …” Jimmy didn’t seem able to form words.
“Right here.” Heru strode down the sidewalk, travel cloak billowing, his face and hands covered in blood. Jaw clenched, the way he eyed Cole sent a shock down Kade’s spine worse than seeing the Shadows had produced. “We’re running. Straight to the villa. Now.”
Cole didn’t argue or ask, only grabbed Kade’s hand and took off like a shot down the road. Kade was quick on his heels, her pretty shoes ditched in the grass behind her.
Breaths racing, they weaved down cobbled streets, Jimmy bringing up the tail end, and Heru leading with more speed than she thought a Primori could have, but he still couldn’t have outrun Cole. His wake was purple ahead of them. He careened around buildings, down narrow roads, and crossed the river over a bridge, before coming to an abrupt stop.
He put an ebony finger over his lips, and motioned them to ease back against the wall only a few yards away from the front door of the villa. Shadows assembled in the road like soldiers.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” a man’s voice shouted with a tone of delight, and Cole’s entire stature stiffened like a board beside Kade, and a choked breath escaped his lungs like a stifled cry.
“Do not move,” Heru whispered. “Do you understand?”
Cole didn’t seem to hear him—his face was white, void of all his normal golden color, light eyes wide with shock, and possibly fear.
“I will be more than pleased to flush you out,” the man yelled. “The game of hide and seek is boring me. You cannot run any longer.”
The voice was slightly familiar, Kade thought, like she’d heard it somewhere before. She stared at Cole. He had plastered himself against the brick wall they were concealed by. She’d never seen him so … paralyzed. “Who is that?”
He shook his head much too quickly than what was normal, and his breaths were erratic, hitched and strangled. Kade was afraid he might pass out.
“Cole?” She squeezed his hand. It was clammy and cold to the touch. His forehead was drenched in sweat, and he didn’t answer or look at her.
“Do not move, Cole,” Heru repeated, staring in the direction the voice came from. “It will be all right. It will.”
Cole didn’t respond, and Kade realized he was trembling.
“I have several safeguards in place,” the man called. “I would rather not be forced to use them, but I will if I must.”
No one moved or spoke.
“My forces are in place as we speak.”
“Do not rise to the bait,” Heru said. “When I say go, we shift.” He eyed Kade. “You, too. Shift and fly. Hard and fast to the Leygate here in Venice. This is not a fight we will win. We fly.”
Kade nodded, but Cole was motionless—chalk white.
“The Brotherhood will be hit,” the man shouted.
Cole’s eyes closed, and he let out a small cry, jaw muscles working like a steel trap, and tilted his head toward the sky.
“An Alpha protects his own,” the man said. “Lots of young ones at the Brotherhood who are counting on you.”
“On three,” Heru said. “Fly straight up. As fast as you can.”
“Plumb is there, too,” the voice shouted. “I believe the Eldership is questioning her. Elder Cato.”
Cole released Kade’s hand and stepped out of the shadows away from the brick wall, coming to a proud stance in the center of the road, arms crossed over his chest.
Heru cursed under his breath.
Chapter 32
Cole’s gaze shifted around the street in the dark, searching for the source of the voice. He looked toward the old, two-story stone buildings on either side of him, the slight moon overhead, and the Shadows now moving into a slow circular formation around him and his companions. He wondered for a second if his eyes were playing tricks on him—if the remnants of the drug fog was messing with his vision and his thoughts—possibly his hearing—if that’s all his panic had been, because his shocked stare could not have just gone from his uncle, standing against the brick wall next to Kade, then to Jimmy, and then to his …
“Dad.” All feeling left his body, and he stood in the middle of the road, numb. A wave of nausea rolled through him, his knees went weak, and he thought he might fall. Kade’s hands were around his waist—he’d had no idea she’d even moved—and he felt the warmth of them, the slight pressure of her small fingers against his skin, and was thankful for it in a way he couldn’t describe. She grounded him like no one else ever had with the slightest touch.
Cole’s questioning, alarmed stare focused on Heru, whose gaze returned an apologetic look, and back to Spurius, who stood a few yards away—short light brown hair, light eyes, dressed in dark pants and a leather jacket zipped up his throat, blood smeared across the side of his unshaven face. He grinned. Cole’s brow dripped with sweat, his breathing ricocheted everywhere. Am I hallucinating? He seriously didn’t know.
“Colson, it looks you’re having a good time,” his dad said, gesturing to his tuxedo. “I thought you might be happy to see me.”
Cole’s gaze tracked to Heru again and back to his father whose arms were held out, beckoning Cole to come forward for a hug. Cole didn’t move, couldn’t have even if he’d wanted to. The only thing keeping him upright at that moment was Kade.
“You died,” he choked, staring in utter disbelief, sick to his stomach. “You died.” His voice cracked and every cell in his body was fighting not to come undone and shatter him into pieces where he stood. “I … we had a funeral, and I …” Nothing else was coming to mind to say, only a raucous cacophony of nonsensical words crashing together in his brain. Is this real? He reached blindly for Kade who gripped his hand. Real.
“Cole—” Heru started. “I’m sorry. The Patrirachae—”
“What?” Cole went cold, void of all warmth, as if his veins had frozen over, and he truly thought he might fall down. He heard Kade’s intake of breath behind him, felt her forehead press between his shoulder blades as she squeezed him tighter.
“No one ever thinks to look inside the casket,” his father said with a shrug. “I’m sorry you suffered. But I’m fine as you see.” He held his arms out again.
“Fine? You’re fine?” Cole screamed it, and Kade flinched. Her hands squeezed him tighter. Heru shifted his position away from the wall, closer to Cole—face still bloody, his arms loose at his sides as if readying himself for anything Cole might do.
“Colson,” Spurius said. “Son. I see your temper hasn’t waned at all since we last saw one another. Has your grandfather not continued with your training in my absence?”
Cole was having a hard time spinning sentences together. The boy who played with words like toys suddenly forgot how to use any of them. Latin words were stringing with French and English and Italian—none of them making any sense.
“I see that he hasn’t,” his father said. “There is no need to try to produce the words to explain. I see your brain working overtime just by looking at you. It is quite clear your anger issues have run amok.”
“Anger issues?” Cole seethed. “My anger issues? Heru, explain what’s going on.”
His uncle sighed. “This was not my intention—for you to know this, Cole.” He stared at his nephew with pain in his brilliant blue eyes. “I tried to shield you from it.”
“Shield me from what?”
“Our ancient uncle here,” Spurius said, “believes I am the Patriarchae.” He smiled without warmth.
“Are you?” Cole forced the words out, finally registering that he was indeed seeing Shadows everywhere. This was no hallucination.
Spurius’ jaw dropped. “You would doubt me?” His tone was incredulous.
Cole tried to steady his racing pulse, the blood speeding too fast through his veins, and stared at his father. “Yes.” He swallowed hard. If it had been three years earlier, when Cole had been fifteen, he never would have the courage to say the word to his father out loud.
>
A flicker of anger crossed Spurius’ expression. A sign Cole knew too well.
The man’s expression shifted just as quickly, and he tilted his head, glancing behind Cole with lazy eyes. The edge of his mouth lifted. “And you must be Kadence. My son’s true love. I have heard all about you.”
“Don’t,” Cole took a step forward, visibly shaking now, “talk to her.” The words ground from between his teeth with obvious effort. “Don’t.”
His father’s incredulous stare returned, gray-blue eyes narrowed, his lips morphing into a cruel smirk as his eyes shifted to Cole’s face. “I’m sorry, son. I am trying to remain patient. I know this must be a shock for you, seeing me like this, but I do not allow you to speak to me in that manner. We have been over this several times. I give the order. You follow the order. Respect.”
“Respect,” Cole said with obvious effort, moving to stand directly in front of Kade again—to feel the heat of her, to ground him— “is earned, not given.”
“Respect,” his father said, in a calm, controlled manner, although Cole could see the vein at the side of his neck starting to bulge, “is given to me at all times, in ALL CIRCUMSTANCES!” His face flushed red with rage. Scars down the left side of his face and neck glowed white in contrast.
Cole didn’t move, only stood tall, proud—predatory as he’d been trained, as his father had trained him. Never cower to anyone. He stared his father directly in the face. “Respect is given to those who have earned it from me,” he said calmly. “I am not twelve years old anymore. You lied to me. You forced me to electrocute myself over and over again. Would you like to see my back?” he smiled without humor. “I thought you were dead,” he spit out. “Grandfather thinks you’re dead—yet here you stand asking me to run into your open arms, while my uncle tells me that you are the Patriarchae we’ve been searching for?” Pain laced his tone. “You’re surrounded by Nefarius.”
Spurius said nothing.
“You knew about Kadence? What she is?” His hand slid down, found her hand, and held tight.
“Your friend was created to use—to own—and then to discard. She has one purpose and nothing more.”
Cole lunged at his dad, telums gripped in both hands. Heru shifted between them. “You touch her,” Cole screamed, Heru forcibly holding him back, “and I will rip you from limb to limb! You taught me that, too, do you remember?”
“You are completely out of control,” his dad yelled, his mouth contorted. “That creature is an Anamolia! Not a girl. She’s a tool, something to use, and you’ve been—”
Heru rounded and punched Spurius dead in the face. His head whipped back, blood spraying from his nose. “Osiris sends his regards,” he said. “I forgot to give ya his message earlier. And if I were ya, I would control yarself before I let Cole loose. Three years is a long time. He’s much stronger than even ya remember now. I would rather he not regret his actions later.”
“I won’t,” Cole seethed, staring at Spurius. “My respect for you is gone now. Everything I felt for you is gone.”
Spurius braced himself, hands on his knees, spitting blood onto the road, and Cole noticed something catch the light on his ring finger. A chill seeped down his spine. “You never did fight fair,” his father eyed Heru, “even when I was a kid. I hated you for that.”
“Don’t blame me for becoming a degenerate son of a bitch.”
“What do you want?” Cole growled, blades still gripped in his hands, knuckles white, keeping his eye on what he now realized, with a mixture of rage and revulsion, was the coiled ring on his father’s hand.
“The girl. Give me the girl, and you are free to go.” He waved his hand in the air, the ring glittering on his finger. “Give me the girl, and the Brotherhood won’t be touched. I’ll pull my arsenal out. I’ll even leave the remainder of the megaliths on St. Michael’s Line alone. The girl can lead me to what I want,” he said.
Cole’s head tilted. “You were the one who attacked the Araneum three years ago.” It wasn’t a question. “An inside man to do the job.” The fact was clear. He felt sick.
His dad smiled, his teeth covered in blood. “A man who had the knowledge needed to carry out the task, yes.”
“But it didn’t work,” Cole said. “You can’t reroute the lines.”
“It was an experiment, really. The Anamolia wasn’t ready.” His dad shrugged. “The explosion went awry.”
“I see that.” Cole gestured to the burns on his father’s face and neck. “People died. You did that.”
“There are always casualties of war.”
“War?” Cole yelled. “Who are you at war with? Your own people?”
“You are my people, son. I am not concerned with anyone else.”
“Grandfather is your people. Heru.” Cole averted his eyes. “Mom died.” It wasn’t a question, he’d always known she hadn’t just disappeared—he’d felt it for years.
“As I said, the explosion went awry. Your mother wasn’t found.”
Cole’s head bowed, trying not to picture any of it. “So, she was a part of this? Your plan … whatever in the hell you’re doing?”
“Ah, ah, temper, Colson. Your mother was at the site with me, as you know, yes.”
“And then what?” He ground the words out, forcing himself to stay calm. He needed answers. “You’re avian like the rest of us—if you’d really wanted to find the Araneum again you could have by now.”
“That’s what the Primordial don’t seem to understand,” he said. “Avian, yes, but we cannot just snap our fingers and be led to the Araneum. There are traps, disguises, snares, everywhere. The Eldership was very calculated in making sure the site couldn’t be found easily.”
“So, why use Kade? Why use my knowledge through her if it can’t be found?”
“Oh, it can be found. By the right combination of energy forces. You are one of the most powerful Primori to walk this earth, son. Don’t you understand that yet? I have every confidence you can find it, avoiding the snares, and the girl retains the knowledge you’ve siphoned to her. And I have already narrowed the options down. St. Michael Line.” He eyed Heru. “I am not opposed to continuing to hit all the monuments on the Leyline. Eventually, I’ll hit the right one.”
“Without Kade you’re powerless to do anything else,” Cole said. “So, you’d just destroy everything in your path like some kid having a fit who didn’t get their way? This is just petty bullshit to prove a point? Your plan is to use Kade to blow up the Araneum since you can’t do it on your own, kill everyone but the Daemoneum, who I see are your pals now,” he gestured at the Nefarius surrounding them, “and yay, you won?” He threw his hands up. “What are you winning, Dad? Loneliness? Seclusion? Is your goal in life to rule the Mortal Plane? Since when? I don’t get it.”
“My goal in life is to rule all the Planes.”
“All the Daemoneum, you mean? Because destroying the Araneum leaves no one else.”
Spurius’ teeth were still bloody as he grinned. “Since I have the Daemoneum under my control, there is no need to kill everyone. The Primordial will simply fall into line with a bit of death-toll coaxing. And with you beside me, no one will attempt to fight back.”
“What in the hell are you saying?”
“You are the heir.” His eyes glittered with a perverse stare. “No one can overrule you.”
Kade released a breath.
Cole laughed. “You think I’m going to help you? I turned my back on that birthright a long time ago. I have no desire to rule anything.”
“Even though Elder Cato has effectively expelled your great-grandmother from her rightful place as Chancellor of Stella Urbem?” His brows lifted. “Even though the same man Elder Cato has imprisoned your grandfather and has no plan to release him? Even though the same man, who is clearly abusing his newfound authority by successfully removing your family from the positions they were born into, is now questioning all of the Brotherhood kids as to your whereabouts and holding your Lead, Penelope
Plumb, captive? You think he has the Primordial’s best interest at heart? This is only the beginning of his scheme, I can assure you. You know this to be true, otherwise you would have allowed the Anamolia to go to the Celestial Plane. You don’t trust your own government, yet you still have no desire to claim your birthright and rule? In the seat of power, you could resolve everything.”
Cole swallowed hard. “Why in the hell would I make any kind of deal if you’d be destroying however many people you deem necessary by blowing up the Araneum, anyway? You’re better than Elder Cato? You’re talking in circles. Might as well kill us all now and save yourself the time. I’m not handing Kade over. The whole system can go to hell as far as I’m concerned.”
Spurius shook his head in a slow, exaggerated swing. “Colson, has love addled your brain? That’s the problem with love—it makes us unreasonable. We forget the simplest of things when love is involved. Terrible emotion. Your mother was also afflicted by it. So concerned with everyone else, never keeping her focus on the main picture. In time, you will come to understand that love is the curse and power is the savior. Ruling is in your blood. It is your responsibility, and with that responsibility comes clarity of mind.”
Cole didn’t respond. The father he’d known all his life had no clarity of mind. He was insane. It was the only explanation and sadly the most glaringly obvious. If his ranting wasn’t proof enough, the coiled ring on his finger was.
“Speaking of blood, how are you feeling, son?”
“Excuse me?”
“Please, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the changes affecting you now?”
Cole was still, staring, eyes narrowed. His father had been the one who’d written the texts about amalgamations. He’d been the theorist about Anamolia and how they were made. Cole would have been an idiot to think his father wouldn’t know what was happening to him. “I feel fine,” was the only response he gave.
“You feel fine?” His father’s eyes screwed up. “You are a Primori, the finest one the race has seen in millennia. A Primori you will stay. And as a Primori, you will rule with me at your side. I did not plan all of this for years to be thwarted now. Can you not see? With the help of the Anamolia, the Daemoneum will be, and remain, under our control—everyone will be under our control,” he said calmly, “and I will see this through. I did not raise you to be what you are—who you are—to allow this creature to alter your pure blood!”
