Queens Rise: Immortal Brotherhood (Edge Book 6)

by Jamie Magee

  Adair looked to King for help, wanting him to command her to do more, something, anything—and he did nothing.

  “All Voyagers study time in great detail for ages. They weigh the elements, muse and debate the time they would change and why, for when Kairos comes for them, they will be prepared. So they are aware and ready to impact the fates of countless souls. You have not.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “So when this wind comes, it will carry you to where your thoughts are, the change you want to impact. It cares not if the time is right or wrong, only that you thought to be there.” She stared at Adair before continuing. “You can not save those children. No one returns from the light. You can not undo the curse upon Chalice, for on the night in question, he had been cursed to the point where his spirit was broken.”

  “Then what can I do?” Adair bit out. “I can’t change that night, and I can’t even remember the night Finley and Talley died. It sounds to me like this Kairos will do nothing but steal time I do not have.”

  “I will leave you to debate your ponderings.” She stepped forward. “You will feel the wind in your core, a warm hum—it will fill your soul and rob your breath, but you must not worry about taking in air or the sensations of life. You have to focus on your points of time. Three points will be given to you. Your time there will be but moments.” She turned to leave but halted and glanced over her shoulder. “This is your temple and yours alone, for you are the youngest and need the power the most.” She winked. “The book you stole from me, I would wager the words are readable by now.”

  As Jade walked away, Adair glanced all around the room then to King. “What do I do? Judge is going to kill Chalice and send him to hell itself, and I can’t stop it—I can’t even help myself, or Talley.”

  “Would speaking to Chalice put you at peace?” King asked after a long moment.

  “Yeah, if you mean ‘at peace’ as in six feet under—tipping off an enemy of his demise? Do you have no fear?”

  King smirked and glanced away. “I fear for the Sons, not of them.”

  “I—I—I.” She couldn’t find a direction. She didn’t know what to do.

  King stepped forward and gently grasped her hand, and then they appeared in the dark swamp.

  The sun was rising, just barely kissing the horizon with its light. The scene was by far not the most eerie place Adair had seen across the night, but, still, the air felt heavy, thick with darkness, something twisted and perverse. Her glance traced the horizon, and just behind her, she saw a high chain link fence, and behind it were trailers or what were once trailers. The evil she felt was coming from there. She sensed old, dark magic, forbidden—but at the same time she sensed a modern edge, something twisted into what was once condemned to pull power from it.

  Unconsciously, she leaned closer to King.

  “The guard sleeps,” he whispered to her, nodding carefully upward to a tree.

  It took her a moment, but finally she saw the man dressed in camouflage with a sawed-off shotgun across his body and a fifth of whisky between his legs.

  “There,” King said, turning Adair to face the horizon the early gray light that was growing stronger. Now, hues of yellows and purples could be seen.

  Kneeling between the clamoring darkness and the waking dawn, there was a man knelt in prayer, all alone.

  “This isn’t making it any easier,” Adair whispered. Her senses, whatever they may be, had always allowed her to gauge people at a glance. When she looked into their eyes, she found she was rarely wrong about her first impression. His back was to her, his body was low, but Adair sensed despair, she sensed devotion. And, above all, she felt bravery. He would need that courage before the next dawn.

  “He is a man who believes himself to be weak,” King said quietly.

  “You don’t agree?”

  “Do you?” he asked, looking down at her.

  “The spells he fought were strong enough to take down the Lords themselves, rumored to be strong enough to curse Gods. You know it’s bad magic if evil deems it dangerous.”

  Adair flinched, knowing at this very moment those spells were coursing through Talley—he’d endured them for days on end.

  King’s eyes glinted with agreement, then he looked forward. When Adair followed his gaze, she saw Chalice, now standing, peering in their direction. The image was so haunting she drew in a sharp breath and leaned to the side, brushing her arm against King’s, ensuring herself he was still present.

  The standoff, the few seconds, felt like an eternity to Adair.

  Then, Chalice appeared before them, jarring her back, and to her surprise—he went to his knees and began to weep.

  Wordlessly, Adair looked to King for help, but he offered none, only a nod telling her to give Chalice her attention.

  Shaking, Adair lowered herself. Chalice bowed lower, refusing to hold his head above hers.

  Adair put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Her gut was roiling, sweat was breaking out across her brow. This man had done unthinkable things. Whether it was his will or not, his hands had murdered innocents. His face was the last those souls saw on this earth.

  “Thank you,” he said with a gasp and then looked up at her. “You took them.”

  “Who?”

  “To the light, you took them. You’re an angel, like him,” he responded, looking up at King. “A true angel.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are, your scent is the same, and you took them to the light. I saw you.”

  “You need to listen to me,” Adair said, pausing to even the tone of her voice. “I know it was not your evil. I know you fought it—”

  “But I have a debt to pay,” Chalice interrupted.

  Adair’s gaze erratically searched his. “You feel this is fair?” Adair asked.

  “I crave it.”

  “Why? It will not undo the past.”

  He met her stare, his eyes stained red from his tears. “It will change the future.”

  “You know where you’re going?”

  “I gave the Voyager my blood.”

  “Who?”

  “The one who watched me for days on end. I could see the purple of his eyes behind his glasses.”

  Shade, Adair thought. Gwinn had told Adair all Shade and she had seen apart and together.

  “How did you know this was going to happen? What do you know?”

  Chalice lowered his head and swayed it back and forth. “I know beyond this, there are darker times, and I have asked to be a servant.”

  “And who answered you?”

  “You.”

  Adair shook her head in denial.

  “I will be victorious for you.” He jerked his head to the side, hearing something that drew him to his feet. “You must go.”

  Adair felt King’s grip, and the next thing she saw was her room.

  “He’s insane,” Adair said with shudder.

  Chalice truly thought he knew her. There was no way that was possible. Even when she watched him commit his sins, he never looked her way, never gave notice—Adair knew he didn’t because she had stared him down, willing him to break the curse on him.

  She rubbed her hands across her face, trying to force herself to focus, to clear her head, but flinched with the smell of swamp—an odor that had never bothered her until she swallowed gallons of the murky water while fighting for her life an hour before. She was still soaked, still reeked, and shivered with the very thought.

  “A tested soul,” King agreed.

  “Who is going to hell.”

  King shrugged, taking a seat in the chair by the bed. “I understand Tisk did well there.”

  Adair shook her head, not giving a damn about the whore she could barely remember.

  “Clean up, get warm. We have spells to go through.”

  “I’m fast, but I’m not that fast. I can’t think,” Adair responded as she felt her breath becoming short.

  King was before her in one beat of her heart. His hand rested
on hers, and as it did, she felt a calm ease into her, an empowerment. Slow and steady.

  “You know, Jade is a peculiar soul,” he stated once her breath was steady again and the caginess in her gaze had begun to abate.

  “Interesting way of putting it.”

  He grinned. “I mean she is so skilled at being a Voyager, she doesn’t bother to suggest or ask for something to occur, she moves circumstances or provokes things to bring them forth.”

  Adair lifted a brow in question.

  “When she struck you with her spell, the one that was to make it impossible for you to believe in the supernatural, she was aware we were present.” King narrowed his stare on Adair and grinned. “Dagen even said to her, ‘if you step any closer, it will not be me you face, but King himself.’ She grinned, bowed, and stepped forward. She bated us.”

  His gaze moved over her. “At first, I just wanted to counter the spell, leave you as you were, but her spell was so final, I had to push. Once I fought her, she amended her spell mid-play, making it so comprehending difficult text would be a challenge for you—I had no choice but to override her on those points as well.”

  “You did what?”

  “Have you attempted to read any of the text here?”

  “No, only at my loft and from a book I was taught from.”

  “Was it simplistic?”

  “I guess? Wait. Are you calling Jade a rock star because she forced you to pump me up with knowledge?”

  “Actually, I just opened you up to universal knowledge. Anyone could tap into it with the right mind power, but yes I am. Watch the woman work, and you will see what I mean. She provokes, with purpose.”

  “Making her unreliable.”

  “Making her a true teacher. Get cleaned up, it’s far from the point you need to give up.”

  Adair nodded dismissively then turned to gather her things. In the bathroom, she carefully unloaded her pockets and found the watch and ring of Talon’s she had buried. As she held them in her hand, she thought back to the little girl she was when she found them. All of her coping skills, the stories she told herself to fill her empty heart.

  For a moment, she wished she could go back and tell the little girl her father was a king, and her prince would find her, but then she realized it would be a cruel thing to do, for now, at twenty-five, she was going to lose them as quickly as she found them.

  And then her eyes flicked to the mirror, meeting her own gaze as an idea came to her—an absurd idea, one that was terrifying, twisted and made her feel low and crooked, but then again—these were desperate times.

  Chapter Three

  “I don’t like this,” Reveca uttered as she fisted her hands and fought the urge to bite her nails, a show of nervous weakness in her mindset, one she fought day in and day out. Especially when she was plotting battle plans. Keeping to her pace between King and Talon was her vice at the moment.

  She knew when she returned before dawn with King this day would try her, she knew Brosia was unpredictable and there was no telling what had occurred with her, or what it meant for the plots and plans they had set forward.

  The last thing she expected was for Brosia to take Adair to the night Judge’s family died, of all nights—that one. She was outraged, long before she figured out why. Now Reveca wasn’t outraged, she was downright vengeful.

  And she had no target. Zale was a nothing right now, air—untouchable.

  She and the boys had spent hours in Church, debating the timing of all of this, and none of it looked good.

  Taking down Latour would cause a backlash. Small or large, one would come. And whatever it was would put the lawmen squarely up the Club’s ass. Mathis may have turned his head with the murder of Adair’s client, but he only had so much power and no lawmen, crooked or straight, was going to let a war go down on their streets and not expect either a cut or justice.

  Some mortal was going to die, some building would burn, some epic upset would cause the Club to prance around and act mortal and innocent was on the horizon.

  Reveca’s mind was squarely on the supernatural world at the moment, and rightly so. It outright annoyed her that the Club still had to consider both worlds.

  She had the strangest urge to climb to the highest building and bellow out. “Stop squabbling you fucking idiots we are at war with evil!” But then again, knowing the world she resided in, it would only cause more upset. Greedy fuckers.

  No one in the Club wanted to brace for any backlash when Talley’s issue was not resolved. When Adair was at risk of having to face him. This was either going to happen one way or another—an attack so big that it would take the lawmen forever to figure out who to blame, or one so perfectly orchestrated the Devil’s Den would have no idea they had been hit. Reveca only had enough shifters to make one of those scenarios work well…

  Yesterday, they knew the timing of what would occur first. The trade off or the show down with Talley could go either way depending on what Brosia knew of this rise of the dead, the curse upon Adair.

  If she knew nothing, which Reveca doubted from the gate, they were going to push forward.

  They planned to keep Adair safe from any attack from Talley and ensure the deaths of Latour and Chalice.

  Their deaths meant Talon was safe from the grasp of Crass and Tisk would be returned before she could cause any more trouble.

  And if Ambrosia did know something, which she did—that Talley would be forced to attack soon—they were prepared to push the slaughter of Latour and Chalice back as far as possible so everyone was there to protect Adair.

  Now, it seemed as if they were falling on top of each other.

  Everyone was all but holding their breaths waiting for Adair’s trio to kick in—for all they knew, the changes she would make could change the entire game.

  Reveca saw no other way for this curse to be resolved. She had a million ideas to offer Adair on points of time she should change, and how it very well could impact today, but she couldn’t say a damn word. The magic of the trio was sacred, some lore called it the breath of angels. There was no fooling the power, if the young Voyager was guided in anyway, the test of the first three would never occur. For a true Voyager understands the balance of fate.

  At this point, Reveca was doubting the trio would come at all, and if it did, she outright feared it, for there was no promise the changes would go in their favor. Cause and effect is a tricky little bitch.

  Reveca had feared these epic events were going be too close, but she never imagined they’d all but occur at the same time.

  There was a very good chance Judge would be taking his long awaited vengeance in hand at the very moment his lover was brutally abused.

  His being aware of such was doing nothing but testing the boy’s humanity. Right now, he and Rush were practicing the spell to strip their victims before they were sent to Crass.

  Reveca thought Talon would have put up a fight about not taking down Latour himself, but he didn’t. Reveca was sure it was because he didn’t want to be locked into the event—he needed to be able to go to Adair if someone attacked her at the Boneyard during the slaughter.

  Reveca, King, and Talon were now in the sunroom of her home, debating the elements none of them cared for the others to know. Talon now not only knew of the alliance Reveca had made with Brosia to protect the Helco faction but also that King’s warriors had found a way to grasp obscurity while they grew in numbers. The tiny detail about King and Reveca rising to Gods themselves was kept between them, and of course the kingmaker himself, Dagen. There would be plenty of time for those revelations later. What Talon knew had to be limited if he was going to spend any time with Brosia, he was pissed they told him as much as they had—he did not trust the woman.

  Reveca had sealed the room from sound escaping, but left them visible to subdue any suspicion that they were also discussing their doubt of the success of these plots.

  Talon was leaning back in one of the large wicker chairs, looking ridiculously o
ut of place against the floral pattern all around him.

  Reveca swore the energy she gave him had made him bigger somehow, more commanding. Enough so she only met his eyes when she had to.

  “We are forevermore fucked,” she announced, glancing to King who was perched on the ledge of the window, leaning forward, clearly in deep thought.

  “Careful there, Vec, your positivity crown is shifting a bit,” Talon taunted darkly.

  She flipped him off without even looking in his direction.

  “If this is true, if Zale has not only crossed lords of death, but tricked them—if he has opened the darkest of magic—and kidnapped and tortured Voyagers. We. Are. Fucked.”

  King looked up, meeting her eyes, a scowl in his stare, clearly telling her to stop cursing them with her words. “All Zale cares about is immorality. It is all he would have asked any Voyager to help him find.”

  “And power. He cares about power.”

  King moved his head to the side in denial. “He wants to live forever, and he doesn’t want to answer to anyone. Power is something else all together, it takes people and he only knows how to work one on one.”

  “Someone needs to explain to me what is going to happen to Adair,” Talon stated before Reveca decided to debate King, and she would.

  Reveca looked back him, sympathy in her gaze. “From what Scorpio and Dagen said, it sounds like this a timed spell.”

  “Laymen’s terms, Vec.”

  “It means Zale counted on us killing Talley. It means we never should have—we should have been bigger than our emotions.”

  “And we did. What now?” Talon asked, clearly losing patience.

  “The reason Zale was never able to make the spell work with Chalice was because he was trying to kill a soul he did not save—and he couldn’t, only I could oversee his death—at least his death by sacrifice, because I raised him.” She paused, looking for a way to explain the spell in English, for it was written in a language she had not heard, seen, or read since before she left her home dimension.