The Betrayer (Crossing Realms Series Book 3)
Page 1
Table of Contents
THE BETRAYER
Acknowledgments
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
Epilogue
THE BETRAYER
Crossing Realms Series Book 3
REBECCA E. NEELY
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
THE BETRAYER
Copyright©2019
REBECCA E. NEELY
Cover Design by Wren Taylor
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN: 978-1-68291-843-2
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This one’s for you, Megan.
Thanks for being amazing in every way.
Acknowledgments
Without the fantastic people in my life, I could not do what I do. Thank you, Mom, Meg, and Chuck, for your unflagging support and enthusiasm.
Readers, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You rock. I’m deeply touched and humbled that you’re enjoying my stories. It’s truly a gift to watch an idea come to fruition and share it with you.
Wren Taylor, thank you for the awesome cover.
A special thank you to Joan, for sharing info about rat rods with me.
My deepest gratitude to my editor, Char Chaffin. Without your encouragement and all-seeing eyes, I would be lost. You are amazing. Thank you for your time, patience, and generosity.
Chapter 1
Jordan.
A.k.a. Dreadlocks.
Curtis Geary regarded the Betrayer, pale and prone on the floor of the pre-fab office where Dev Geary and Meda Gabriel had created—and Abel had stolen—Similitude only hours ago. The other Betrayer—Abel had addressed him as Kemp—must’ve cut her loose from the chair. Her hair snarled around her shoulders in blond clumps. Her body’s rainbow of bruises, along with the shreds of duct tape on her wrists and ankles glared at him, accusing.
She was dead.
Harvesting her energy had killed her. That was on the clan now, to live with.
As was the fact they’d lost their only means of discovering a way to restore Betrayers’ deadly Similitude to Vitality—the clan’s lifeblood.
“Why would the Betrayers leave her here?” Zane asked quietly.
A sick feeling settled in Curtis’ gut. “I have no idea. I’m guessing they’ll be back for her.” He couldn’t do anything about the stolen stone, but maybe he could do something for her. Killing went against Keepers’ DNA. So did abandoning the dead like garbage. Not for the first time, Curtis wondered what was happening to him. To the clan.
If they didn’t come for Dreadlocks, Curtis promised himself he would get a message to the Watchers. They had someone on the inside now, so to speak. Dev. His throat tightened. He wouldn’t permit himself to mourn, yet again, the man he called brother. The clan would never leave one of its own behind, alive or dead. It wasn’t their way, he reminded himself, wanting badly to believe it after all he’d seen and heard—and done—in the last few days.
“Agreed,” Zane said, his bulk filling the doorway. “Keep your Flint handy. I’ll guard the warehouse. Do your thing.”
Consequences. Loping through the warehouse, laptop in hand, his Vans silent on the concrete, the word resounded in Curtis’ brain. For what his clan had done and was about to do. Every action had an equal and opposite reaction.
How would that irrefutable fact affect his clan?
He didn’t know. And he couldn’t dwell on the fear they would surely find out, soon.
Choking down the nerves that’d plagued him since he’d made the choice to help guard the warehouse days ago, he quickened his pace. Currently, he had a window of opportunity. Dev had bolstered the network by crossing realms. Thanks to Dev and Meda, the Keepers had a weapon: Flint, an ‘anti-Vitality’ stone enabling them to battle the Similitude. Zane, the clan leader from Chicago and a badass in his own right, stood watch. Both he and Zane were fully restored, even after the Betrayers’ attack last night.
It was still dangerous to remain outside the network. They were at war. The Second Rebellion. Myriad unknowns loomed on the horizon. But he’d been part of the team guarding the warehouse, hadn’t he? Even protected some humans during the worst of the riots. Despite the circumstances, Curtis nodded in grim satisfaction. Being on the front lines had been a far cry from the Compulsions he usually carried out, or working anonymously from a laptop, but he’d navigated it fine. He and Zane would handle whatever arose. They had to.
Everything that’d happened, in a matter of days, had turned the human realm into a living, breathing horror for humans and Keepers, who were as close to human as they could get. There was no comfort zone anymore, for any of them.
Curtis held the stones around his neck, silently reassuring himself. At the back of the warehouse, he flung aside the stack of pallets. Time was short, but he’d use this opportunity to learn all he could about the mysterious tunnels leading into the warehouse. Stripped of the Similitude Dev and Meda had created, the clan needed every advantage they could get.
He descended into the bowels of the earth as he had only hours ago, the damp, dank atmosphere enveloping him and sealing him off from the outside world. His pulse quickened. Under normal circumstances, he’d know immediately if a Betrayer was near, courtesy of proximity and the power of the Vitality. Now, with the proliferation of Similitude, he figured his chances were fifty-fifty at best. Balanced on the last rung of the ladder, he jumped the remainin
g few feet, landing on an uneven surface of concrete and dirt.
From some far-off location, a trace of ambient light reached him. He heard nothing. Moist air, tinged with the scent of earth, filled his nostrils.
Like being buried alive.
Aiming a flashlight in front of him, he examined the tunnels, branching out in three directions. A quick inspection revealed layers of the earth, dark rich soil, thick clay, solid rock. It was evident, as he followed one tunnel several hundred feet, it’d been recently expanded. Quickly, Curtis snapped pictures and recorded measurements, then followed suit with the other tunnels.
The brood had been busy.
Returning to the ladder, he gripped the bottom rung and hoisted himself up and out, relieved to once more be above ground. He’d gotten the lay of the land. In-depth exploration would wait for another day, when the others could join him.
Sitting on the floor of the warehouse, his fingers flew over his laptop’s keyboard. He spent precious minutes accessing city blueprints, courtesy of his set of technical skills. For another fifteen, he plugged in data, modeled scenarios and finally, sent the results to Nick.
Rubbing grainy eyes, Curtis closed his laptop and rose. A more detailed analysis of the data would have to wait until they returned to the network. Outside, clouds the color of steel crowded the sky, swallowing what remained of the new day’s rosy palette. He’d raised more questions and found few answers.
How had the clan been unaware of the existence of these tunnels? There could be dozens more like them.
Clearly, a systematic expansion was underway. Had been, for who knew how long? Like snakes, possibilities writhed in his mind. If that was the case . . .
“Zane,” he called. His fellow Keeper swiveled his head in his direction, ever alert. Curtis jogged the rest of the way to the office. “Let’s go. I’m going to grab the rest of the supplies from in here and we’ll take off.”
Inside the prefab office, he scrutinized the woman on the floor.
Jordan.
The Betrayer, he corrected.
Was he hallucinating?
Hadn’t she been closer to the desk before?
Kneeling, he laid a tentative hand on her forearm.
Her eyelids fluttered open. “Please don’t hurt me,” she croaked.
Jerking away, he stared in disbelief.
So help me, she looks like a baby bird fallen from its nest.
Frail and helpless, filth streaked her cheeks, her clothes, the matted clumps of her hair. She stank as though she hadn’t bathed for days. But her eyes were as clear and blue as a summer sky.
She’s alive.
Harvesting her dark energy to create the Similitude hadn’t killed her. Damn near, though. To drain her with the Vitality now would go against every shred of decency he possessed as a Keeper.
Conflicted, he dragged fingers over his mouth. “Your own brood left you for dead.”
Eyeing him warily, she lifted a shaking hand, as if to shield herself.
“It’s my brood who wants me dead,” she rasped.
~ ~ ~
“We are witnessing the start of the second Rebellion.” From behind his desk in the fallout shelter, Abel nodded in turn at Macen, Ramsey, and Kemp. “We stand together to mobilize our broods. Lead them. And mourn those we’ve lost.”
Fury at losing the opportunity to cross realms—by seconds and through circumstances beyond his control—couldn’t guide their actions. He glowered. He’d come close to wrecking the Chevy during the onslaught of the storm. And barely made it out of the Keepers’ network intact.
Turning, his gaze rested on the heavy sheet of plastic on the far wall.
Remember, Betrayers are masters of opportunity.
He forced himself to focus, strategize.
Discipline would win the day.
Finally, he’d rid his brood of the mongrel.
Unbidden, a shiver streaked up his spine. Angry at himself, Abel cast out his fears like demons. From his pocket, he withdrew the Similitude the Keepers had created, and he’d stolen.
He was in control. The proof, he held in his hand. The fact the clan still possessed Haenus’ Similitude stone, chafed. But they would overcome. In the meantime, perhaps the Keepers had given them exactly what they needed.
Palming the Similitude, Abel stared into its glossy depths. “We must begin testing immediately to see if it matches the performance of ours.”
Leaning forward in his chair, he eyed Ramsey and Macen, holding the Similitude out, as if for inspection. “Who wants it first?”
Both shot out a hand. Ramsey slapped Macen’s aside. “I’ll take it.”
Abel laughed at Macen’s snarl. Healthy competition was exactly what they needed to enhance the brood.
To that end . . . Abel flicked a glance in Kemp’s direction. Noting his hunched posture, he stifled a grin. By killing Jordan, Kemp had risen to the challenge. And invoked within him a crisis of conscience. Until he was destroyed, body and soul, Abel would ensure more ‘opportunities’ for Kemp. Weakness would not be tolerated in any brood member.
Including himself.
Ramsey tipped her shades down and surveyed the others shrewdly. “What do you have in mind?” she purred.
Savoring the moment, Abel cranked the Victrola and positioned the needle with practiced moves, appreciating the machine’s simplicity and reliability. A saxophone’s rousing notes filled the space. Propping a booted foot on the trapdoor beneath his desk, he tapped in time to the music.
And outlined his plan.
Chapter 2
Áine strode through the fields sloping toward Mount Verdant. The warm winds roared in her ears, and the grasses reaching her waist flailed against her thighs and the forces of nature. An impossibly intricate pattern of white-blond braids, illuminated by moonlight, crowned her head, cascading around her shoulders. She raised her hands to the swirling clouds, the sleeves of her white robe fluttering, her long, slender fingers outstretched imploringly, mirroring her graceful limbs.
Hands joined, Laird and Eden waited in the distance at the north end of the Vitality quarry. Their silvery eyes reflected the light, same as hers. She knew their thoughts, as she did the chain of Watchers who existed in their realm. She had been sent to restore the Watchers’ Triad. She would do so with honor, and in memory of the one who had come before her.
Mataeus.
She inhaled sharply. And she would fight with every skill bestowed her. Unlike Eden, she had no mate. Even as part of the Triad, she remained alone, the way she preferred.
Suddenly, Áine stood next to them, the fluidity of her movements melding effortlessly with her energy, enabling her to cross the distance between them in seconds.
The night sky’s stars cast their glow over the beauteous, jagged terrain of Vitality stone, its green glittering like a royal’s finest jewels. Nearly one hundred years ago, a war had been fought to control it.
Another had just begun.
“They will never stop fighting. For this.” Áine clasped her hands together. Despite her will and wisdom, in concert with Laird and Eden’s, with those of all Watchers and Keepers, there would be losses. “More of our own will die. But we will not retreat. We will continue to channel the Compulsions to our Keepers, even in these troubled times. Even though the Similitude may prevent their full impact or stop us completely. We must fight and continue to guard the humans. We must try.”
Eden’s voice quietly carried the weight of the human realm to which they dedicated themselves. “Yes, the humans need us. And we cannot stop the losses. There are difficult days ahead.”
“As we speak, the mists threaten our realm like wolves. Hungry. Relentless. There is only one solution. We have acquired knowledge. Experience. The clan is strong. As we are three, so shall they
be.”
Clouds passed over the moon, dulling the night and casting the three Watchers in shadows.
Laird spoke softly. “You expect much. You are bold. And young.”
“Yes. I have lived only ninety-eight years in this realm.” Reverently, she nodded at her elder. “Bold, I believe, is precisely what this realm needs.” She paused. “But are they ready?”
Laird’s beard fluttered in the breeze, and he smoothed its length several times before answering. “Not nearly.”
“Unprepared is sometimes the best way,” Eden observed. “One is restless. Unsure. It will cause him great pain and conflict. The other, I fear, may be broken, but they are our greatest hope. Maybe our only hope. Once again, we call upon the light. And the darkness,” she whispered.
Laird stroked Eden’s cheek. “I believe this opportunity has chosen them. And it is the greatest risk we have undertaken thus far.”
“It has been so long.” Eden’s voice trembled. “I fear it may be too late.”
“The others will share what they have learned.” Áine paced, the ground rocky beneath her feet.
“Yet you remain troubled. So are we.”
“You know, as do I, secrets have been kept,” Áine replied. “Perhaps for too long. When they are revealed, there very well may be a radical shift of power. Until then, we must protect our own. No matter the cost. We channel. Now.”
The winds stilled in the Watchers’ realm. Eden, Laird, and Áine joined hands, summoning strength from their chain and one another. And harnessed the energy of the elements.
Fire, air, water, and earth clashed. Converged.
The quarry glowed, a blinding cataclysmic green that, for several precious moments, eviscerated the darkness.
Chapter 3