by Scott, Helen
“Why are you here?”
“Julian knew you were coming to Westbrook. He told me to call him when you arrived. I did.”
Rage swirled inside me at that, and I realized Julian and Sylvester were working together. To Raven, I barked, “See if she’s telling the truth.”
Lily gasped as Raven walked into her mind, and the way her mouth dropped open in a silent scream, I figured he wasn’t being kind as he meandered through her memories. Marcella released a muffled gasp, and I turned around to see her and watched as Cade slumped into the sofa with her still nestled into his arms.
She didn’t move away, instead clung to him for the comfort I should be giving her considering I’d hurt her by bringing Lily inside. But what else she expected me to do, I wasn’t sure. Where nemeses were concerned, however, I knew full well that one should never expect a rational response.
I wasn’t on Lily’s side. I was on the side of figuring out how to save our asses.
If Lily was speaking the truth, the Reapers were on their way, and I had to figure they wanted Marcella or Sylvester, and neither option boded well for us.
“Her fear for the Reapers is genuine, and she wasn’t aware that Julian had set Sylvester onto us,” Raven rasped, his skin pale. I saw there were beads of sweat on his forehead and wondered at them. He’d never seemed pained before when he’d walked through someone’s mind, but he looked like he was in agony now. When he settled next to Cade on the couch, his hands coming up to cup Marcella’s slender legs on his lap, I knew he’d chosen to sit down before he’d fallen down.
What was wrong with him? He’d hardly been working out prior to Marcella leaving her father in the spare room.
When I turned to Lily, I saw that she’d hunched over, and her shoulders were rounded in a slump.
“You hurt her,” Barclay commented, edging closer to her, sniffing as he went.
“Yes.”
I cut Raven a look. “Why?”
“Didn’t have a choice.”
“Because she fought your search?”
Raven shook his head. “When Marcella was with Sylvester, she drew from my powers.” My mate tensed at his side. “I don’t know why, but it messed with my head.”
“I’m sorry,” Marcella murmured. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Raven patted her leg. “You hurt the ones you love,” he mocked, but she surprised him by grabbing his hand and entwining his fingers with hers.
“That’s true,” she whispered, and when Raven caught her gaze, his pale skin turned pinker.
The declaration might have been silent, but even I knew it for what it was. Her telling him she loved him.
I tried not to be jealous about that, but naturally, I failed. Instead of staring at the two of them as they both tried to process whatever the hell was wrong with them after Marcella had walked through Sylvester’s mind, I turned back to Lily who was still unconscious.
“Dammit, how are we supposed to question her now?” I moved forward, grabbed her shoulder, and shook her. At that exact moment, the door exploded inward, sending shards of wood flying through the air like projectile missiles.
All of us, save for Lily, jumped backward in surprise. She remained hunched over as a biker stepped into the cabin. Marcella gasped when he waved his arm forward and then mockingly bowed at me. “Enforcer, what a pleasure it is to see you.”
“The pleasure isn’t mine, Henrick,” I ground out, easily recognizing the bastard. “What are you doing here?” I cast a glance around the room and wasn’t surprised to see that the brothers were all frozen in time. Marcella too.
“I’ve come for the girl, of course.” Henrick bowed his head. “And her scumbag father.”
“I thought you made it a point not to work with people you dislike,” I jibed.
“Times are hard,” he retorted. “Plus, I never liked the Malectos. If I could fuck with their distribution channels, you should have known I always would.”
I grunted at that. The Malectos were the line who’d created Kronos, the drug that slowed time for ancient pursangs, which had become the latest party drug in the clubs for humans. “Sylvester works for you?” I hazarded a guess.
Henrick grinned at me. “Yes. Of course. Better to send in the cub than the daddy bear when the cub will have most pissing in terror.” He stepped deeper inside, drawing three other Reapers with him.
They weren’t Originals. Just three Stained by the scent of them, who had joined the Reapers at some point. I knew Gabe had to be somewhere in the vicinity, though. He was an Original, but he stayed among the shadows. He had to be here because only he’d have the power to freeze everyone in the room except for me—his presence told me the Reapers had known what they were walking into.
The Reapers had found their means of causing havoc across the nation as a Motorcycle Club. Because of who the Originals were, most Enforcers, myself included, let them have free reign. Just as we did with the Cavalry. There was no point in trying to corral Ancients. They did whatever the fuck they wanted, and damn the consequences, which we always had to clear up.
It was one of the reasons I preferred to avoid them, but it wasn’t always possible when they sought you out. As the Enforcer for the Maximus line, unfortunately, both the Reapers and the Cavalry often called upon me for favors. It didn’t matter that they always repaid them. The work was often beneath me, and I didn’t like getting my hands dirty anymore.
This wasn’t the Dark Ages, after all. I’d grown up since then.
“Did you fund a laboratory headed by a Maximus squire’s daughter?”
Henrick bared his teeth at me. “So what if I did?”
Fuck.
At least that meant we had our answers. I should have known these fuckwits were involved.
“You have to stop with the Kronos shit,” I told Henrick. Sometimes the Originals were open to listening, but sometimes, they weren’t. Didn’t mean I couldn’t try though.
“And why would I do a silly thing like that?”
“Because you’re bringing us to the humans’ attention.”
Henrick shrugged. “Probably about time they figured out they’re the sheep walking with more wolves around them than they could imagine.” His heavy boots thudded against the wooden floorboards as he approached Cade, who was still holding Marcella in his arms.
Just as he stepped closer, he paused, and his head whipped to the side where he saw Lily slumped over in the armchair. There was fire in his eyes as he drifted his gaze over her, then darted a look at me. “She yours?”
“She’s LeFauvre,” I sneered. “What do you think?”
“Why’s she here?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie.
He squinted at me, and I knew he was reading me. Just like with the Cavalry, it was impossible to discern what he truly was. I figured the Ancients were like Salsangs. Capable of calling on the Makers’ powers, but I knew I’d never truly learn what they were. They weren’t about to tell someone like me. Even as powerful as I was in my world, to the Reapers and the Cavalry, I was a pissant worker bee.
“Take her to the cage,” Henrick rasped out the order to his minions.
My nostrils flared in anger. “I’m questioning her.”
“The time for questions is over.” He stabbed a finger in the air at me. “You’re getting involved in shit that has nothing to do with you, Maximus.”
One of his bikers stomped over to Lily and he hauled her over his shoulder in one easy move.
Even so, it had Henrick snarling, “Be careful with her.”
There was such a lethal promise in his words that the biker flinched. “Yes, Boss.”
It was almost laughable how he walked back toward the door. Where before he’d stomped, now he practically shuffled his feet like a ballet dancer.
“What do you want with her?” I questioned, uneasy about leaving a young pursang to the likes of the Reapers. It didn’t matter that she was a Sixth in training, didn’t matter that she
was of the LeFauvre line, no young woman deserved to be tossed into the Reapers’ undiscerning care.
“She’ll be looked after,” was all Henrick said.
“That’s very reassuring,” I snarled, then felt my pursang surge to the surface when he took a step toward Marcella. “Get away from her, Henrick. She’s mine.”
That had the Original tilting his head to the side. “Your mate?”
I dipped my chin. “Yes. Leave her alone.”
He reached up and tugged on a strand of her hair that lay on Cade’s bicep. “She scents of you,” he mused.
“Of course she does. I told you. She’s mine.”
“So why does she scent of them all, as well?”
“It’s a complicated situation,” I snapped, not exactly wanting to get into the relationship dynamics with a man I didn’t consider an enemy, but neither was he a friend.
“Complicated or just bullshit you’re spewing to distract me?” Henrick clucked his tongue. “Get the father.”
I watched with gritted teeth as another brother headed through the door toward the kitchen—without instruction. More confirmation that Gabe was behind the recon. My nails turned into claws as I fought my pursang’s desire to attack the enemies within and without this cabin.
But there was no use in fighting. No use unless I wanted this to end in a bloodbath. That didn’t stop the other half of me from wanting to slit the Ancient’s throat for even daring to touch a single strand of my mate’s hair.
Henrick inhaled deeply. “I can scent your pursang, Darius.” He tutted. “Your control has gone to the pisser, hasn’t it?”
I gritted my teeth. “She’s mine. How would you feel if your woman had been approached by a Reaper?”
I wasn’t sure why that affected him, but it did. He raised both hands and took two steps back. Not far enough away, but it was adequate to calm my pursang a little. There was a mocking curve to his lips that put me on edge, but it wasn’t like I wasn’t already on the precipice of attacking him anyway. Maker, one wrong move and…
I released a shaky breath. My hands were tied. If I attacked and he killed me, that was it. Goodbye, Marcella.
Shakily, I pressed myself back against the wall beside the fireplace. Digging my palms into the roughly-hewn logs, I rasped, “Why are you here?”
“To take back my property,” Henrick said simply, and when Sylvester appeared in the room, staggering thanks to the beating we’d given him earlier, I felt my pursang burst free as he shot me a smug smile at being freed.
The bastard didn’t stop there, though. Before I could even blink, he was in Marcella’s face, his hand raised. The second his palm connected with her face, I had him by the throat. I shook him. Rattling him in my palm like he was a fucking tambourine and I was making a song.
“Darius!” I heard Henrick yell, but it came from a distance. My pursang was in charge as I shook Sylvester so fucking hard back and forth, so damn quickly that the blood vessels in his eyes burst. The second I scented blood, I dove for his throat and tore it out. The second I felt the tang in my mouth, I spat it out. Tainted. I shoved him to the ground, watching as he connected with the wall. It creaked, and I knew the force I’d flung him with had just weakened one of the cabin’s supporting walls.
Fuck.
“What’s wrong with him?” I hurled at Henrick, spitting more of his blood out.
“Kronos,” Henrick replied. “Best way to keep them loyal is to get them hooked to your product.”
The Original stepped away from the male who was bleeding out on the rug and headed over to me. I tensed when he put a hand on my shoulder, but he caught my eye and I stared at him directly. Any other man would have asked for an explanation, but Henrick was no regular male.
I felt him slip into my mind, felt his touch as he riffled through my memories, and cringed as he discarded what disinterested him and hyper-focused on what did. The latter made my brain feel like it was burning. His interest was white-hot, and it took all I had not to cry out in pain.
“You’re involved with the Sires?” he grated after a few seconds. “We knew they were awake but—”
“We don’t know what the fuck we are,” I replied, my voice just as husky. “They’re treating us like lapdogs at the moment.”
“That’s how they roll,” Henrick replied bitterly, as he turned to shoot Marcella a glance. “She’s a Descendant?”
I tensed. “You hurt her and I’ll—”
“What?” he mocked. “Attack me?” He cocked a brow at me. “We both know how that would go down.”
Grunting, I dropped my eyes. I hated when the Reapers and the Cavalry invaded my life. I was used to being top dog, used to doing whatever the fuck I wanted whenever I wanted. These bastards always reminded me of what it was like to be a peon.
To them, I was at the bottom of the ladder. It didn’t matter that in my world, I was on the top rung; to them I was just a pawn. A pawn with good contacts, but a foot soldier in the battle nonetheless.
“Gabriel?” Henrick called out to the open door. “Release the daughter.”
A sharp scream escaped Marcella at his words, and I rushed over to her, dragging her from Cade’s still-frozen arms and hauling her into my own.
“What’s wrong with her?” I yelled at him, as she carried on screaming, her hands coming up to cover her face, to clutch at her head as though the pain inside was more than she could bear until she passed out in my arms, her body slumping and turning heavy in my grasp.
A startled gasp fell from Henrick’s lips. “She’s a shadow weaver?”
I cringed deep inside. The last thing I’d wanted the Reapers to know was that.
Maker help me, could this day get any worse?
* * *
Marcella
The pain was more than anything I’d experienced before. It was like my brain was being blended. Like my skull was caving in. The agony overtook everything. My thoughts, my feelings. I didn’t know where I was, who I was with. All I could focus on was this unrelenting pain.
It seemed to last a lifetime. I seemed to endure for an eternity. Until suddenly, I felt it.
The darkness.
It called to me like the lure of a whiskey on a cold night after a long, stressful day.
I could feel it tempting me, drawing me toward it.
It was dark and it should have frightened me, but it didn’t. The darkness was a comfort. It held the promise of nothing. No pain, no feelings. No fear.
But also, it was a blank canvas.
No love. No joy.
But the pain… it was there. Burning at my synapses, making me feel like every cell was caving in. The darkness whispered promises that made me whimper.
It unfurled into the air, wrapping around me like a blanket as I allowed its call to come to me. As I was wrapped within its gentle confines, I could feel my hellcat, the bear, and the eagle moving around in my subconscious. They belonged in the darkness.
Was this where the shadows came from?
The source?
This unrelenting black that cosseted me in its comforting gloom?
Was this my home? The place I’d been seeking ever since I’d been born?
But even as the question popped into my mind, I knew that wasn’t true.
My home was with my mates.
All six of them.
Raven with the face of an angel. Barclay with the soul of a saint. Darius with eyes like black fire. Gideon with tattoos that made my fingers itch to touch them. Cade with moods like a bear. Keiran with the heart of a lion and love as ferocious as the king of the jungle.
I needed them.
More than I needed the darkness.
It would hold me in its grasp, but it wouldn’t consume me. Not like my mates would.
They were going to overtake everything, make me theirs until no part of me would ever be abandoned. I was never going to be alone again. Never had to be, thanks to them.
They were mine, and I was theirs.
Th
ey were my connection to the earth, and that connection mattered more to me than escaping this unrelenting agony.
Just as I came to that conclusion, right ahead of me was a tunnel of light. I shuddered at its brightness, but knew it wasn’t the lure of consciousness. I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but I did. It was the opposite of this unrelieved darkness. The North to the darkness’ South.
What was happening?
Why was I being tugged between the two?
The darkness was bleak but warm, and the light was bright gold but cold.
The two were discordant, confusing me. I wasn’t sure where I belonged. Deep in the black chasm or in the heart of gold.
Both sides called to me in ways I couldn’t describe, but I knew I was too far into the darkness. That I’d allowed it to dampen everything in order to escape the pain in my head.
I called upon the light, begging it to drown out some of the dark, to come and capture me, to bring me to a central point where I was touched by both.
I expected to be dragged back toward the cossetting blackness, but I wasn’t. It allowed me to withdraw, to find a kind of equilibrium that had my shadow animals tussling around in my mind. The sensation of them struggling had me releasing them, letting them burst forth. They stopped fighting, and instead, shuffled around behind me, almost playful now that they were free.
The relief that came from liberating them was immense, but as I did, I felt the call on my soul. A call I’d never had before.
Just as I’d crafted those beasts, the need to create another was there. It appeared in my mind’s eye like a picture I’d seen from youth. As stark in my memories as the Mona Lisa or a Monet picture, something I’d never forget, as though I’d always been waiting to forge this creature.
I called upon the shadows to make the beast as I’d been doing to protect myself since I was small, but this time, the animal wanted to be forged from the light. It confused me, disturbed me. I’d never done that before, but the animal was insistent.
Only the light would do.
I drew upon the memory of its image, using the light as though it were a pencil that I was using to add the tiniest of details to the creature’s form.
