Queens Rise: Immortal Brotherhood (Edge Book 6)

by Jamie Magee

  “I read it,” Bastion said with a wry grin. “Maybe I read it a bit deeper, and in all truth, it didn’t make sense until King vanished and you were all focused on the mortal world—then he came back, and you didn’t know how to treat him, but he was even more confident.” He shrugged. “You were one of her deeds, but I’m pretty sure she would have done the same either way, because she is a romantic at heart.” He ducked his head moved it to the side as if in playful thought. “And she knows how big of an asshole Escorts can be if under a false idea.”

  Bastion stepped forward. “She also, in a dark dimension, known as Esterious, allowed Shade here into Donalt’s palace way back when. Led him to his disguise and ensured Shade was there to protect the very two souls who would rise to slay her Donalt.”

  He ticked his head to the side. “She gave Gwinn a pass in to the lead sorcerer’s tower. His enchanted pools allowed her to send a message,” he relayed, glancing to Cashton, “via dream to someone who needed to come to this dark universe—in plenty of time to escape the traps that would snare him no matter how he much he planned to avoid them.”

  Reveca felt Cashton rock back on his heels and unconsciously reached her hand out to squeeze his arm and steady him.

  Gwinn was dumfounded, and Shade was ready to attack—whom was yet to be determined.

  “So,” Bastion said. “She had orchestrated the fall of more than her own lover. And she began her journey long ago.”

  The sick feeling Reveca had been fighting slammed into her throat. Betrayed.

  All this time she had been fighting mortal wars, and building this family. Grieving. And she could have been doing as Windsome had—plotting to save a lover. It was a wrong turn she could not un-take.

  “And you’re here now for what? To gloat? Is my misery that King is going to be slain—and the evil you bedded will not—part of your reward?”

  Windsome’s haunting stare remained undaunted; at best, one might say there was forgiveness there.

  Bastion cleared his throat. “Um, I think she is here because awareness has come.”

  Reveca shot her watery stare to him.

  “By now, Adair is on her way to understanding her conception was…odd, yeah I’m just going come out and say it.” Bastion waved his hand between Gwinn and Shade. “And these two lovebirds must have had a milestone too, because they can both see her.” When Shade flinched toward Bastion, Reveca clasped his arm with her other hand.

  It may have looked like she was holding her boys back, but she was pretty sure they were holding her up.

  “Voyagers. It’s time to come to terms with the reality.” Bastion glanced to Shade. “One of the fieriest is in your claws now…” He ticked his head back to Gwinn. “And the slyest.”

  When Gwinn’s troubled gaze locked on Shade’s, it was like hearing a truth that you had to deny, but could not.

  “I’m a Son. First generation Vampire.” Shade stated hoarsely.

  Bastion grinned. “And Gwinn is a Dark Angel slash witch—overachievers, that’s what the pair of you are,” he said with a sarcastic wink.

  Windsome glided forward and bowed to Reveca. The bow was as elegant as any Queen would want but did not fit the conversation or the topic at hand. Yet Reveca knew there was hidden message there, too.

  When Windsome rose, there were three grimoires stacked on the floor.

  Then she vanished.

  The room stood frozen—each and every soul was speechless, Reveca more so than most. Her mind was searching for every answer her anger could have hidden from her.

  Then she realized what she walked into and turned to her side.

  Looking in his eyes, she carefully disarmed Shade, then handing the sacred weapon to Cashton.

  Her eyes rapidly searched Shade’s. Now that he wasn’t in a battle stance, they were both blue and lavender. The blue was a ring on the outside. And the purple was so intense and varying in shades that the illusion of them spinning ever so slowly was present.

  When Reveca looked into his gaze, she didn’t see the Son who was the silent, vengeful, first generation vampire—who had single handedly taken down the vilest of the Devils Den assholes, not leaving a trace as how he had done so. She didn’t see the Son he became the moment Gwinn arrived, how the vices he had were stripped from him by his own will.

  She saw the fallen warrior.

  The boy drenched in fever, lying across a striped bed with Evanthe chanting constant magic over him, protecting him from the pull of death, the point of no return.

  Reveca almost rescinded. She felt something familiar in his energy, a familiar pain, absence, heartbreak—she knew the boy had left a love behind, and if he was anything like her, he’d just as soon die rather than find his loved ones across time.

  Evanthe pleaded as if Shade were a son of her own.

  Reveca had watched him through his transition at a distance. Evanthe and GranDee did their best to conjure where he had come from. “Too far,” was what they both said each time they sought to pull the essence of his things—the time or space was too great to understand. Time and space would have to move forward first.

  Reveca could have left him there. Evanthe was content to watch over him; she said she saw him coming. GranDee found joy in complaining about his upkeep.

  But Reveca couldn’t. Each day she’d leave him, she would go home feeling empty, until one day Talon demanded to know why she had wilted.

  She had sworn to Talon she would never pull back again without knowing the soul, without knowing for sure they would bring no harm, so she was not eager to say that she had given in to a member of her coven and granted this life.

  But she looked him in the eye and said, “A Son has made me wilt because he is mine, and you will not accept him.”

  To her surprise his response was. “Is he weak?” A shake of her head. “A coward?” Another shake. “Lack loyalty?”

  “He had a loyal heart. I think it’s broken.”

  Talon stood and reached for her hand. “Take me to him.”

  She refused to move.

  A slow grin came to him. “When you wilt, we lose wars, Vec. Take me to him, and if he is as you say, he will be one of us. I vow it.”

  Watching Shade fight Talon and prove himself without warning was one of the proudest moments in Reveca’s existence. And day by day, even though he was a mystery—even to himself—he found his home.

  Right now she felt his anguish. She felt worlds colliding in him. Who he was, who he became, and who he was set to be. Pride, Reveca had so much of it for him.

  Her hand swayed against his cheek. “I told you, one day, you’d know. One day, what was taken would be restored.”

  He barely trembled under her touch, but Reveca sensed it. “We’re going to be fine. You’re going to be. Put her before all, and you will never fail. The Creator mirrors our fate with all that is precious.”

  Shade tensed, wanting away from this moment, from the explosion of emotions inside of him.

  “Let it go. Whatever it was. Let it go. She’s fine. You are,” Reveca soothed, swaying her thumb across his cheek.

  He offered a shallow nod that was more like him bowing his head.

  He reached his arm out, and Gwinn was there instantly. Reveca stepped back to give them room.

  It was a passage of hands. She’d watched over him all this time waiting for this moment, only she didn’t know so until now.

  Shade wrapped his arms around Gwinn holding her to the point of suffocation. He kept seeing them fall, their blood pooling together. The hopeless feeling he had fulfilled his duty, but lost his life for it. And the weak promise—his witch had seen the end, and they would find each other once more.

  Then without warning, the cool-as-ever, relaxed Bastion turned stiff as a board. Everyone sensed his fear as if it were knives stabbed into their backs.

  Then there she was, looking as real as the rest of them. Evanthe.

  Shade pulled Gwinn behind him. He had nothing but honor and respect for
Evanthe, but right then, he could barely trust his own eyes.

  “You’re free,” Bastion said wide-eyed, struck still by his emotions.

  “I’m not,” Evanthe said gravely. She pulled Bastion to her, having to reach up to brush her hand across his check. “You will be your father’s son now. For every bad, there is a good. That is our good.”

  “Evanthe,” Reveca said stealing her attention. She’d noticed her form, though apparently solid to Bastion’s touch, was flickering. “How do I get you out? For Creator’s sake, why did you go into the pages!”

  Just as dominant as Reveca, Evanthe turned to face her. “What else should I have done? They were going to use my son and experiment. Or worse. The damn fools had almost mastered the drug.”

  “Maybe if you told me you had a son, or hell, told his father, he would have been guarded the night you were attacked.”

  Evanthe scowled. “No one could have stopped that whore. Zale wanted her to get to me, meaning she would, and she could.” Evanthe lifted her chin. “Then you send her to Crass! What were thinking?”

  Reveca’s expression grew lethal. “I was thinking she was on his fucking list and the bitch who fucked Talon—hell was fitting.”

  “How’d that work out for you?” Evanthe asked with a sharp lift to her brow.

  “Are we going to do this? Fight? Do you not have some almighty message to give me? A clue of how I’m to save you? Or are you going to tell me why you kept Bastion a secret? Or here is a brilliant question, where the fuck is your brother?”

  “My spell will be broken once the words lose their power—which means those who know them must be stripped of the knowledge.”

  “Sure. Simple enough.” Reveca glared allowing her sarcasm to sink in. “Do you know what decade it is! Every-fucking-body is walking around with a computer strapped to them!”

  “It’s not the idiots I’m worried about, it’s the fucking bitches with big mouths like the one you put on Crass’ lap.”

  “You know what,” Reveca snapped, stepping up to her. “It was your brother who started this shit and his name at the top of the fucking list—you want to clue me in to what rock he is hiding under!”

  Something caused Evanthe to flicker all the more.

  “Look.” Evanthe said gripping her arm. “Windsome could only give me a small space. This is it. Listen to me. There is a snake at your feet. The wicked are good—it’s the intent not the action. Stop h—”

  And then her voice was gone, she was fading all the more. In a frantic move, she rushed around the library throwing books down, some at Reveca’s feet, others at her sons, and even at Gwinn’s.

  Before she faded completely, she grasped a box and flung it open. Her frenzied moves mimicked a diver who needed air but was intent on his task. She rushed the contents to Bastion. One item, a necklace, she put on him, the other, she cupped in his hand. She nodded once when she saw a question in his eyes, then she reached for him.

  She faded in his arms.

  Gwinn rushed to comfort Bastion.

  Reveca paced furiously, digesting the never ending night and all the secrets it held.

  “A snake among us,” Reveca pondered out loud as she felt her blood run cold.

  “We have many guests,” Cashton pointed out, acknowledging Miriam, the comings and goings of Jade, and a few of King’s men who had been about. Not to mention, the Boneyard was full of riders from everywhere—seeking protection.

  “She said it as if I knew already,” Reveca said, searching Bastion’s eyes as she paced by him. She was regretful, shamed she had spent her time arguing with her, time Evanthe could have used to keep them all safe.

  “Then you do,” Bastion asserted, his voice thick and absent of his familiar banter.

  “We saw Mia,” Shade told Reveca, some degree of calm was coming to him.

  Reveca jerked her head in his direction.

  “At the house, he was there. He gave me the swords, or raised them from water, at least. He told me he was weary, him and his charge, and if he failed, more would come.” He squinted his eyes. “He recognized me, called me of his blood, a—a Voyager.”

  Reveca’s stare met Cashton’s briefly then moved back to Shade’s.

  “Who else knows this?”

  “This room,” Shade said.

  “When did it happen?”

  “Hours before. Vec, there were spirits in the river floating by—we followed them, and we landed far too close to where Finley died.”

  “I see,” she said in a ghost of a whisper.

  She was not a fan of how any of this was lining up.

  At all.

  Chapter Two

  Adair could still remember the first time she had seen Talon. It was one of those memories that would tug at your heart and whispered, ‘you’ll never forget this.’

  It was just after lunch. She was walking down the hall; her head was down, as it often was, but this time, she had good reason. She was staring at brand new shoes that were not hers, but she was told they were. The day before, she had gone home with her teacher.

  Even though her teacher and the principal promised Adair her grandmother would not be upset with her, Adair was sure the new shoes on her feet and the dress she had on would be burned the moment she saw her grandmother again.

  She was trying to commit them to memory, the feel of them, the color. And she was wondering if maybe her teacher would keep them safe at her house if she asked nicely. Then, all at once, she heard the girls around her whisper and the boys’ prideful admiration. She slowly looked up, and at the end of the hall, there he was.

  Talon is a massive man, but to an underfed, malnourished girl, he was a giant, a giant prince. It was the one and only time she had ever seen him in slacks and a blazer.

  His shoulders were broad, and his body strong and lean. His face was smooth and his simple smile revealed the whitest teeth.

  He didn’t look like a biker but a shrewd business man.

  Finley and Talley were with him, each dressed in the same manor. Adair could still remember how beautiful Finley was, young and strong, like a princess standing in the afternoon sun. Talley’s arm was around her, his chin slanted to meet her temple.

  It was hard for Adair to read them, but she saw a mix of sadness and relief in their gazes.

  Talon and Talley both held out their hands giving high fives to the boys as they passed to go into the classroom, each whispering they knew what famous people they were.

  When Adair’s teacher asked her to stay in the hall, when the principal and others she didn’t know came around the corner, Adair felt sick to her stomach. Adair was led into an empty classroom and sat at the front desk. Very carefully the principle and the counselor with her told Adair her grandmother had passed away. The details of what else they said was lost on Adair, their voices seemed a million miles away. She was scared, and she was relived.

  “Do you know these people, Adair? Are you comfortable going with them?” Adair’s teacher’s voice drifted slowly into her mind.

  Adair didn’t. There was nothing about the people standing just off to the side that she recognized. Nothing beyond a feeling that kept pulling her to look in their direction. Her grandmother had punished her to the point where she feared even the slightest lie would damn her to hell, so even though she wanted to lie and lie easily her fear was suspending her words—clouding her thoughts.

  Adair’s troubled, youthful eyes flickered over Finley then Talley, hoping there was something she could honestly say she recognized.

  It wasn’t until she looked at Talon and he somewhat casually slid his hands in his pockets. The move divided his jacket and revealed a knife on his belt. The emblem on the hilt—it all but flashed in Adair’s face.

  “My father,” she said in a quiet voice. She didn’t notice Talon tense then let out a breath. “They know him. This is family,” Adair said looking back to her teacher.

  It was haze after that point. Adair and Finley stayed in their own hotel room f
or two weeks. Each day, she took Adair to school and picked her up, and every dinner, Talon and Talley were there, slowly pulling her out of her shell.

  Then they brought her home. The hell of her past was dead and gone, forgotten until now.

  Adair didn’t have to look down to the courtyard to know Talon was one of the riders who’d just thundered up the alley. She would swear she could feel him. What she didn’t know was what was going to happen now.

  If he’d deny it all. If he’d be mad because she’d spelled him, or tried to—and daughter or not, Adair would be subject to the laws of the Club. Or the long shot scenario, he’d hold his arms out and be the prince she had always imagined her father to be.

  Judge’s tense attitude didn’t help Adair face this at all. This was the last thing he needed right now—a reason to lose the only foundation he’d always known over a girl.

  Talon’s footsteps were like cannons just outside the door. He didn’t knock. He opened it, and his power spilled into the room, so much so that even Judge was taken back a bit. Adair had to wonder if her spell was to thank for his restoration, but she had her doubts. The man never let go.

  Thrash never entered, he simply loomed in the doorway, as if to say there was no escape. He offered one nod to Judge. “Phone broke?”

  Judge chose not answer, instead his stare landed on Talon.

  He was looming close; his expression was unreadable as his gaze searched Adair. “Leave us.”

  “No.”

  Most assuredly unaccustomed to hearing such a word directed his way, Talon’s gaze shot him. “Are you defying me now?”

  Judge gripped Adair closer, ensuring his body was before hers. “Would you expect anything less from me?” Judge leered. “Would it not insult you to know the man you chose for her cowered?”

  Thrash smirked and shook his head, hiding the proud glint in his gaze.

  Talon set his hands on his hips, dragged his bottom lip across his teeth as if in thought, then barely let a painful grin twitch on his lips. “Yes.”