by Jamie Magee
Stolen Son
Copyright © 2015 Jamie Magee
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the right to resell, distribute, print or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload this book to a file sharing program. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
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EDGE SERIES READING ORDER
Alphas Rise
Dark Lure
Sacred Betrayal
Risen Lovers
Fall of Kings
Queens Rise
Stolen Son
COMBINED WEB OF HEARTS AND SOULS READING ORDER:
Insight
Embody
Image
Whispers of the Damned
Witness
Vital
Vindicate
Synergy
Enflame
Redefined
Rivulet
Imperial
Blakeshire
Derive
Emanate
Exaltation*
Disavow
The Witches
Revolt
Scorched Souls
*If you are a fan of Adult Paranormal Edge can be read with the Web of Hearts, before of after Exaltation--the stories share the same characters.
INSIGHT READING ORDER:
Insight
Embody
Image
Vital
Vindicate
Enflame
Rivulet
Imperial
Blakeshire (Drake's Story)
Emanate
Exaltation
Disavow
SEE READING ORDER:
Whispers of the Damned
Witness of a Broken Heart
Synergy of Souls
Redefined Love Affair
Derive (Aden's Beginning)
A Lovers Revolt
Scorched Souls
True friends stab you in the front.
Oscar Wilde
For those who think the wait for bliss to arrive will never end...it always does!
Season Three
Episode One
Chapter One
An enemy. An ally. November Scorpio was both. So many secrets...
November Scorpio’s secrets were dark, warped, and encompassed soul-ripping degrees of his life that he loathed. He’d held on to them for so long there were times when he forgot his true self. There were times when he had no choice but to forget.
To be eternal is a maddening curse. At least it is when the wheels of time between him and his only desire crawled by taunting the agony they left inside of the ever growing cold, empty, nothing to lose, soul he had become.
The wind itself promised change was coming like a driving rain. All things, even fucked up things, must end. It had been centuries since anyone had noticed Scorpio had the slightest tinge of resentment within him. Most presumed his easy smile and sultry stare were clear-cut labels of the delicious alpha package he was. His alpha shell that he let everyone see was meant to be obvious. His knowing stare was by far not an act—he knew too much. He always had. Which meant others knew what he wanted them to know, nothing more.
Reveca once told him. “You walk gracefully on a fine line between evil and blessedness.” She lifted her chin, trying to seem even more confident in his presence. “You must know I will perish before I let evil overcome.”
He believed her. He also knew that if there was a threat Reveca Beauregard could not destroy in all the dimensions and realms she had crossed, it was him—he was the biggest secret of her existence.
And yes, she would perish. Reveca had to die. There was no other way for the universe at large to have a hope of surviving the Rapture without her demise. It was a truth November Scorpio had known since before he ever saw the gray eyes of the witch gawking curiously at him. Reveca had lived up to the threat she was said to be, and then some.
***
Nearly four weeks ago, the Boneyard welcomed the Queen of the Voyagers— a mere infant and heir of Judge and Adair’s fated love affair— home. On the same night, evil was released into the realm of Gaia once more.
Scorpio, unlike the rest of the Boneyard, was sober as the day was long and far from the Boneyard when all hell broke loose. With his Harley between his legs he’d aimed down a dark highway, dead set on reaching Savannah before the sun rose. It was a task he could easily muster. The power in him could volt him, bike and all, miles forward in a blink of an eye. As pumped as he was, he could’ve manifested his entire being to where he wanted to be. But the name of the game had always been to conserve, to hide. Always fucking hiding.
Scorpio had made it to Georgia in under three hours. He’d already thought to slow down and take the time to let all he had seen in the Sons last battle settle before he made any rash moves.
How doomed was Talon, really? How could Ambrosia be stopped? And more importantly, how many fucking times had the Voyagers fucked with him, and he never had a clue. This entire last bout with Adair— her going back and changing a past that still felt like yesterday to him had his mind twisting. Something about the process, the tingle he felt rush down his spine, a ripple effect that felt like someone resetting his mindset, had him focusing on the part of his life he had effectively ignored for the longest.
His childhood.
Before his mind could take him back, Scorpio sensed evil splicing through the air. To his senses, it felt like an explosion, a nuclear bomb filled with even more nasties that penetrated the air. His expression was cast with doom as he glanced over his shoulder to the south.
States away and he still knew Akan was free once more. Akan, the one everyone was fooled into thinking was a piss-ant, spineless, seedy, shifter. Scorpio was sure he was more. Far more.
Scorpio called every number he had as he rushed back across state lines, one voicemail after another picked up. By the time he reached the Boneyard, Akan’s cell was empty, and Jade was long gone. Scorpio tore off into the night following Akan’s scent and something far darker— Akan’s sick intent.
To the immortals at the Boneyard, Scorpio was known to have vamp tendencies— his empath senses gave him the ability to taste emotions, even see where those emotions would lead a person. He was a proud Phoenix— rumored to be one of the select immortals who would never perish, only to be born again and again— and preferred his abilities as a Phoenix over his vamp skills. Each of his known immortal skills were accurate, but they were not the ones he was born with.
Scorpio’s bloodline and vim stretched back as far as the gods. Everything the Sons assumed Scorpio could do was not even a third of his true power. If anything, Reveca had flooded him with a toxic vim, a mo
ve that weakened what was natural and forced the unnatural.
No matter how tainted he may have been, in the heat of any battle, when there was a threat to who he was or who he deemed precious, the true power in him surfaced and drove Scorpio’s instinct straight to the path of victory.
There was no winning the both mental and soul-ripping personal battle he was in. At best it could be contained for now, dealt with at a time and place when Scorpio had who and what he needed to get the job done.
Scorpio sensed Akan shift, and then he would shift again, and then again. Each time Akan shifted it took the raw scent Scorpio was latched on to and washed it down even further. Akan had been around a long time, longer than Scorpio was sure he was aware of. It was obvious because the slick fuck knew how to evade anyone tracking his ass. Most Sons say you never catch him unless he wants you to. It was all the more reason he should’ve been dealt with long before tonight if you asked Scorpio. No one did. All Sons marched to Reveca’s war rules of balance.
The fucker didn’t go far, only to the streets of the Quarter. He might as well have been a million miles away. Akan blended well with all the paranormal beings lurking about, which must have been the point. If Akan had run to any other city, he would’ve stuck out like the beaming lighthouse beacon searching on a moonless night.
Scorpio went to the street looking for his prey, and one by one drunk bastards shoved him away having no idea what beast they were shoving. By the time Scorpio heard the roar of Harleys come looking for the same asshat, it was too late. Akan was somewhere in plain site, plotting a doom that only one primordial could stop. Him.
Fate had sucker punched November Scorpio a time or two. Standing in the center of Bourbon Street now, on the seventh night of his search for Akan, as he finally locked on to Akan’s scent once more, he’d never felt any other essence pierce him so deeply.
There are a thousand fears in any given soul, but the fear that every secret you’ve protected is about to be revealed is the worst. It’s the kind of fear that sinks into your gut, drains your power, and sets you on a course to collide with mind-bending anxiety. A drenching tornado of thoughts descends upon you and all say one thing: you have no idea what’s coming next.
Losing his power, finding courtship with anxiety, were not issues for Scorpio. He’d experienced too many ‘oh shit’ moments to panic at first blush. Not having a clue what to do next was a new feeling he planned to slaughter directly.
Scorpio tore down a seedy back alley like a hound hooked on a trail, soul after soul the familiar salty edge of evil could be found. He stopped short and sucked in a ragged breath. Indecision struck him. Hands down Scorpio was a trained killer. A male who would follow any order until it was accomplished. Nevertheless, like all warriors he had a weakness, a point of distraction that would do him in and take him off course every single fucking time.
He could not handle the weak in peril, more than anything he could not handle knowing children or women were in danger. For a soul as old as him near every mortal was a child at this point. Which is why he could not ignore the broken cries of a girl struggling for her life.
Two choices, two different evils, two directions. Always fucking two! Chase the fuck or kill the other fuck.
After a growl of frustration Scorpio exploded forward then took a sharp left. At the first parked car he found he pulled the door from its hinges, and then ripped the fat bastard out of the back seat.
“Who the fuck?” the grimy fool spat. Blood was running from his lip and the corner of his eye. The muffled, panicked screams from the gagged girl in the backseat might as well have been shouted from a bullhorn when it came to the sound slamming into Scorpio’s senses.
In the back of his mind he was thanking the Creator that the girl was a fighter, but in the forefront of his mind he was blaming the son of a bitch before him for every single fucking problem he had. Because of him the real prey, the real threat was lost to Scorpio now, all because he had morals and shit. Because of this fuck choosing to rape and kill on Scorpio’s path, Scorpio would be forced to play cards he’d rather forget he had.
Even though the asshole was double the size of Scorpio in width, there was nothing his weak, misguided punches could do to register any degree of pain.
“What are you gonna do, fucker?” Scorpio glared him down, as he did he took in more than he wanted to about all this man had done. “Lucky number thirteen, eh?”
Thirteen girls, thirteen lives taken and destroyed with no specific reason beyond evil intentions and twisted desires.
Scorpio’s grip tightened on the man. “Go to fucking hell.” The fire within him charged forward in a volt of vim, something no mortal would ever notice. To the naked eye, the man only jarred back like a Taser had struck his heart. However, up close he could see the hot flames glowing, slowly burning him alive. It was beautiful in a dark way.
When the man went lax, Scorpio dropped him. Then leaned in to grab the flailing girl. His touch was different with her—softer, the way a woman should be handled. On contact she stilled, a sigh blew through her gag as she felt the gentle throb of his vim as it skirted around her. Keeping one hand on her, he reached to remove the gag, and then pushed her hair out of her eyes so he could land his stare perfectly in place.
At one time he hated this gift, how it taught him the terrible lesson about how weak a mind was, and how strong. One sway in either direction promised defeat or victory.
He stilled himself, took in everything his perceptions could grasp, then spoke deep and low. “You wanted to go out tonight, but you were not feeling well. On your way home from the pharmacy you were mugged, but you fought like a champ. The asshat took off, leaving you and all your things behind. Now you know it’s time to leave this parish, make amends with your momma. Go back to school. This is your wake-up call.” He leaned closer. “Fearing failure is pointless now that you know how quick it can end,” he said, taking in her young innocence, and hating that he envied it. “Go. Don’t fucking look back.”
The girl fell back when he released her, after a slow blink she looked up at him, then shoved by him in a rush to be on her way. She would’ve tripped over the body on the ground if he had not caught her and lifted her with zero effort. When her feet hit the ground again she did as he told her to do, and ran.
Standing there Scorpio could feel every eye that had landed on him, every witness that was trying to understand what they saw. A surge of energy churned in Scorpio’s center, and then expelled like a deadly wave. He muttered, “Go fuck yourselves—you didn’t see shit,” as he stormed forward hoping to catch the scent that his morals had stopped him from chasing.
Before he reached the end of the alley, he heard his witnesses doing exactly as has he told them. He swayed his head in deadening dismay. So easily controlled.
No amount of life, no amount of battles or victories could ever help him understand the mortals he hid among. Blind fools are what they were, fools who revere what will perish and ignore what is everlasting, then question why they are so troubled.
There was a time when he tried to help, tried to teach mortals he found worthy what they should already sense. He was long over the notion about a century before he ever crossed Reveca Beauregard for the first time. The mortals lived and died too quickly compared to what seemed like moments to the existence Scorpio had.
Death would be easier; at least Scorpio assumed it would be, he hadn’t been given the honor of such a day. At times, rarely, he envied the break that death brought, the reset mortals had. Often he’d come across the same souls in another form, a new life.
When he watched those souls play the victim, not understanding why they were fighting the demons that haunted their life in one form or another, it took all the restraint he possessed to not grasp their shoulders and shake some sense into them. The thing is, the demons never get a timeout, they never forget the wars started by the souls much less care that the war was now forgotten. Souls will pay their due, live their karma, one wa
y or another.
For this reason, on most days Scorpio had little envy of mortals and their deaths. He’d told himself that if he were mortal, he’d still know what was right and wrong. He’d listen to his inner voice and not fall for the foolish entitlement the latest stock of mortals were sporting.
He’d never know for sure, and that was fine by him.
***
By dusk on the next day, Scorpio found himself in Church. His coveted position was on the opposite end of the table from Talon. They were the only two presidents in attendance. Others from the Pentacle Sons’ chapters were set to come, but both Reveca and Talon had ordered they stay put.
It was all about appearances with the pair of them. A fucked mortal habit, overdue to be outgrown!
Both would tell anyone in their closed circle their actions were for the safety and honor of others. “We give our people no reason to fear with our silence. We give our enemies no reason to celebrate.”
There was truth in their reasoning, Scorpio supposed. Just as much truth as there was deceit. Perception is the name of the game. It always has been, and it always will be in Gaia, a world cursed. Cursed to rely on perspective, to never know the truth in another.
In their defense, Reveca and Talon needed to save face just as much as they needed to protect. Their battlefield had always been richly focused in a mortal world. One of Scorpio’s eldest friends had once said, “Mortals are as simple as cattle—create the direction you want them to move, apply guidelines, and they do as you say.”
Mortals were far from simple, but it was easy enough to toy with their perception and guide them along. A piece in the game of life meant to be played, and played well.
Scorpio could still hear bikers both mortal and immortal celebrating the last victory of the Sons. To them, the measly shifter that had been set free was trivial, a loss that would be found with little effort and only give them more reason to celebrate once they did.
Even the Sons in the room, the original members of Reveca’s family, had not grasped the depth of the loss from this war. Judge’s mind was with his family. He was here to protect and do his part but the source of his power, all his emotion, was with them, about them, for them. Rush and Talley, despite their fierce placid expressions, were both milling in a state of ecstasy. Rush’s brother was returned to him, he felt whole once more. Talley had fought a battle that would and should break most, and came out with his family and honor. Win.
