by Jamie Magee
Space, too much space, filled the air around them. Even though she was only a few feet before him, she might as well have been on the other side of the earth. Day by day it only became worse.
For the better part of the year after Reveca changed him, Scorpio played a double game, earning Talon’s trust and protecting and appeasing his woman the best he could.
In your darkest hour, more times than not, it is something that you would’ve dismissed as insufficient that becomes a lifeline. For Scorpio, it was the faint smiles he would see on Toril’s flawless lips, or the sound of her voice. Every now and again he’d feel her soul brush against his, but it would never sink in as his vim begged her to.
It was a long while before Scorpio told Toril that he was sure Talon was not lost but protected.
“Mortals have trailed us, as well as enemies old and new. But not once have I sensed Revelin. He’s not in my dreams, not in the eyes of nature. He is nowhere.” Scorpio stepped closer to Toril, reaching out for her, even the slightest touch on her shoulder would have been a dare neither of them was ready to take. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. This witch is powerful.”
“Selfish,” Toril said in a broken tone he had never heard her use before.
“Either way, she fancies Talon.” Possessive was more like it. “She’s done something to stop Revelin. We have to understand what it is.”
Toril argued the other side. “Revelin’s senses are not blind they are present. Do you not see him in the witch? Do you not feel the link?”
Scorpio’s words were slow and tender as they reached Toril. “She loves Talon but grieves for another. She knows of gods but never speaks or calls on them. The link you sense is hatred. I vow to you this female will perish before she lets Revelin take another from her.”
“So will I...” Toril swore.
It took some time, but Toril began to have hope Talon, the real, powerful, magical being, was salvageable. She demanded to meet Talon. She had to sense for herself that he was still one of them. Connected, a rhythm of life that was a force to be reckoned with once awakened.
The night would’ve been flawless, ended in peace if Reveca had just stayed away a moment longer. Instead, she attacked like the enemy Toril swore she was. Scorpio was sure Toril had slain Reveca, and because she had, Revelin would descend at any moment and battle them all.
For years after, Toril and Scorpio argued about that night. Toril believed Revelin would’ve descended too, she all but begged him to. Not because of some witch dying, but because Revelin was the witch. There was no convincing her otherwise.
As the decades cruised by, Talon was content to let Scorpio ‘roam,’ as he called it. He assumed Scorpio was coming to terms with his transformation. When really Scorpio was balancing out two sides of his life. Hunting for more in his Throng, studying the lore on what was to come, or even why it was occurring, and as always, hoping for the blessed presence of Toril.
There was no worse agony than sensing all you want just at your side and not having the ability to even graze your skin across hers, it was a pain he had made friends with. What he could not come to terms with was her blocking him from her thoughts and soul.
Toril broke the record in every history that there could be when it came to abstaining for the sake of punishment.
“Possessed by a witch or not, I’m still an empath, and I feel your pain. You’ve cursed us both with your lack of trust,” he scorned as each year made him colder, harder.
Paranoia set in with the pair of them. Their dreams gave each the reason to feel cheated. It was natural to feel the rush of others in their Throng just as it was to feel the bad. Images would come in flashes, flesh against flesh, panting, sweating. Rarely, if ever, there was a face or place clearly seen in the dreams, but it was enough to give way to doubt. For either of them to assume they were not dreaming of distant Throng members getting off but the temporary lovers that had replaced them.
“You accuse me of consorting with every female on the planet. I dream too, female. How do I know you are not filling your nights with another? All in the name of punishment for something that was not my fault!”
“Not your fault?” her temper was so pronounced that the wind swirled around them calling the storm between them to life. “You let that witch seduce you!”
“You are as mad as your mother!” Scorpio shouted, knowing his words stung. Though Toril never doubted a single warning her mother had ever said, the thought of turning into her in any way was the one true threat she feared.
“Am I? Maybe this is why she told us to never touch? Maybe she knew that you were a weak man. In the heat of a battle to save your own, a blond whore caught your eye, and you just laid down and let her have her way with you for days!”
“It was not like that, and you know it! It’s nearly impossible to soul visit and move your body at once. I was galloping on a horse for hours!”
“You’re fucking immortal,” Toril raged.
“Everything and everyone has their limits.”
“And yours is a curvy blond who is so insecure she has to bind males to her.”
They didn’t argue—they had one fight over and over. No matter what disagreement was on the table within seconds, it would shift to what Toril called the root of their turmoil—the control he gave to another woman.
Anger and jealousy flooded the emotions between them until Toril’s life was suspended, stolen, and he did what she always accused him of wanting to do. He became a Son. Scorpio buried himself so deeply in the life that there were times who he truly was felt like a dream.
Until lately.
One by one, dormant senses had awakened over the last few years. There were times when they were stronger than others, like a power grid coming back online they would soar to life only to flicker away.
Scorpio’s senses were not as strong as they had been when Reveca first grazed his life, but he was well on his way back. Staying at the Boneyard for the last bit had all but flipped a switch deep inside of him.
One of the greatest lessons he had learned in his existence was that a weapon never presents itself until it is needed. Knowing this, Scorpio watched, listened, and took in all the signs the universe was giving him, even though he had no clue how to read them.
Talon, Adair, and the other assholes who liked to perch in every high spot they could find had Scorpio ready for the war of wars.
The name of the game was self-preservation. It always had been. Tainted or not by Reveca Beauregard’s magic, Talon and Scorpio were from the same Throng. When Talon wavered, Scorpio felt it. Worse than that, all those including the one female he cared about felt it. Just the idea of Toril feeling the agony of one of their own dying flipped every rage switch Scorpio had.
Talon could not go down. It was as simple as that. His end may devastate the Sons, bring an end to a Dynasty, true. But it would surely slaughter the last existing Throng and the hope of another.
This bullshit with Ambrosia claiming Talon was his right along side the Voyagers making a rare appearance was a bad sign. Someone was muddying the waters, attempting to cast confusion. And because they were confused, good people turned on each other while the asshole behind it all ducked out the back door.
There was only one way to save Talon from being sucked in by a seriously confused fire goddess—Toril.
Toril had been lulled into a deep magical sleep by Scorpio’s magic for so long. He still felt the ache of putting her there as real as if it happened today.
The last century she was awake, Toril not only cut Scorpio off from her but him from the others in the Throng. Even though she blamed Reveca’s magic, Scorpio knew it was her visiting the others and warning them that he was tainted that kept them all away. He had not a single image or voice to call on, much less a clue on where they could be, or if they even still existed.
In theory, Scorpio could dig deep and find a way to either possess Talon or have the one heart to heart he tried to have in the past and then magical
ly they could connect to others lost in their Throng. But it was a weak theory. Theories are just that. A possibility. And for God’s sake, this was Talon of all people. The most close-minded fuck out there.
Scorpio needed something solid. He needed Toril, a female so powerful that she could awaken all the dormant senses in him and Talon. A female who could call on the Throng to come like the lethal force it was meant to be.
It was his only choice. Fate had tied Scorpio’s hands and given him no choice. Right? Fuck if he knew.
He’d argued with himself as he drove from New Orleans to Savannah then across the country to sacred land in North Washington.
Was he using his fucked situation as an excuse to have Toril again? It was possible. Scorpio never knew what he was doing or why he was doing it when it came to Toril. Was he ready for her vengeance? No, not at all. He was out of practice and way too comfortable with the notion that all he cared about was tucked away safe from all evil. At least, as safe as he could make it.
Worse yet, over the years Scorpio developed a distant respect for Reveca. Under it all, she was just a girl trying to make a stand. Reveca truly believed in balance. Beyond her, there were the Sons, men who had seen a thousand hells at his side. It was more than respect with them. It was something that could not be explained. Brotherhood. They’d never forgive him when Toril made good on her promise to end Reveca, a vow they were oblivious to. Or were.
For all Scorpio knew, by now they were all searching the country for him at Reveca’s command. Respect or not, Reveca and Scorpio both knew this day was comin’.
Scorpio reached his final mile.
There wasn’t a single season he had not come here. He had to let his senses flood with Toril, to let his soul be enveloped by the only thing that had ever made sense in his senseless life. If he went any longer than a season away from the sensation of her, he was useless to the men he was charged with leading.
Countless visits and this was the first time that he arrived with the key to her prison. Hiding it on the opposite side of the country had served its purpose, and given him time to think before he acted on the emotions that had always commanded him.
He parked his bike just inside the forest he had once hunted as a boy. Warily, he loaded his pockets with everything he would need; a vile, a locket, and the courage to go through with this. For long seconds, he stared down at his Harley, a symbol of the responsibilities he had now, the ones he had no choice but to betray.
With a heavy heart, he ran his hand down the body he modified with his hands, then offered a gentle pat. The sorrow for the bike, a symbol of his life as a Son, was short lived as he felt the wilderness calling his name, for the peace he knew as a young man. Creeping through soundlessly, not as a hunter, but as a part of nature itself eased his spirit and took him back to the life he had before Toril, when he thought he was still mortal.
Then it was simple; hunt, love a good woman, fill her womb, and live in peace giving thanks for every sunrise you were given.
Each step he took moved him closer to the point of no return, and like any man walking down death row with each step his mind cycled back through his life, through his greatest and weakest moments.
None as richly as the time he spent entwined with Toril. Nothing was ever simple with them, beyond that he simply loved her. Even her temper and paranoid, closed mind. Hell, maybe he loved those parts of her the most.
The last look she gave him, filled with astonished pain would be forever ingrained in his mind. Scorpio knew there would be no forgiveness for him. He wasn’t after such a rare comity. He was after peace of mind. Getting it meant unleashing her and finally fighting a battle that had called his name since his first breath.
The forest grew thicker and darker, and even though he wasn’t making a sound, all of nature stilled and watched the predator in their midst. They were much the same when he brought Toril’s body here.
It was at sea when their last fight and her last breath was taken. Sailing home to the only roots he’d ever known in this dimension was the only thing that made any sense to him then and now.
The stone in the mountainside was grown over now with moss and random vines. No one would ever have the slightest clue what stood behind the hidden doorway.
He stared at it for hour upon hour asking himself how sure he was. When he thought that she was within reach, that if he allowed himself to draw in a breath he would inhale her sweet scent in, he felt foolish for debating for as long as he had.
Scorpio’s immortal strength made easy work of edging the stone to the side, once behind it he pulled it closed. In the darkness, he listened to sounds on each side of it, for miles and miles he stretched his senses searching for a mortal, or immortal, that could have dared to trail him.
Nothing.
In the darkness, he turned and moved to the next rock blocking the path twenty or so feet from the first. There were three in all between him and Toril—the number of divinity. Before he reached Toril, there would be five, including the boulders, passages he must cross—the number of the amendment.
Once the next boulder was set aside, he could hear the water in the distance clearly. The earthy smell was pronounced but not overpowering enough to shelter her scent. It had been a long while since he had could take her in so easily. A high vibrated through him stirring aggression and passion that had stilled long ago. Scorpio knew then he was not wrong. His queen had felt all that was happening with Talon, her powers were fighting to come to the surface. He’d even wager that if he had talked himself out of coming here, she would have risen on her own in time.
After the third boulder was lifted and set quietly down he stilled again, feeling his senses crackle, stretch, and awaken even more. It hadn’t felt this raw since the first time he had taken his wife, and his being was possessed by a power he could not explain.
The point of no return had arrived. He’d never let himself go further than this. Each season he would sit here and take in the rush she always gave him. Then he would gaze on her with his mind’s eye and study every feature of her body and soul. He knew if he were ever at her side in the flesh he’d be too drunk on the power between them to stop himself from freeing her.
Again, he weighed his choices. He forced himself to feel the consequences before they ever had a reason to exist. Tensing his body, he nodded to the darkness. A spark manifested before him then drifted forward catching the wick of a candle, then the next and the next, steps later a roaring river below him could be seen. To the people who had taken him in long ago, it wasn’t water, but spirits, the lives of ancestors traveling from the spirit world to the one he was in.
Crossing them was suicide, a quest that would deliver you straight to eternal damnation. One step on the stone ledge that would lead him from one side to the other told him how slick it was. Scorpio’s instincts told him to manifest himself on the other side, but he held back. His roots taught him it is the journey that sways favor to or from you. You must be worthy of the prize at hand.
Inch by inch he hugged the wall and stared down at what a bigger part of him still believed were spirits. It didn’t surprise him one bit when the river roared and splashed up. He clinched his calm and moved on as he held all the blessed moments between him and Toril in his mind’s eye.
His boot slipped, but his hands bit into the wall until the point blood was drawn. The rush of chance thudded through him as his soul pumped and heated ready to defend him in any way. He found his balance and breath before his instinct would have forced him to use his powers to emerge on the other side.
Once the fear was conquered, he pushed on, imagining fewer spirits below him with each glide of his body against the slick rock. When the ledge grew thicker and his feet found the shelf he was after all along, he looked down. Even though the cavern was dark, the waters below glowed and as they did he could have sworn he saw the face of the girl who was once his wife floating by holding a child in each arm. Pain and betrayal were not in her dark eyes. Instea
d, her shy smile and gentle nod released him to face the life that was always his. Our sunset came long ago, warrior...the words whispered around him and filled him with emotions he had buried deep.
Scorpio might never have been in love with his young wife, but he loved her as his wife. Few would have been brave enough to face what he put her through behind closed doors. Thousands of years and just now this chapter of his life was closed. He’d feared this, facing a past full of loss and the confusion of boyhood. It was a mistake to do so. He clearly realized when the power of release flooded through him. Chains he never knew he carried fell away.
Scorpio dropped his head and squinted his eyes closed and thanked the gods he chose to ignore for landing him with good people, a foundation that quieted his spirit each time the madness of it all threatened to pull him into a pit of madness.
Scorpio bowed to the waters below then slowly turned and walked into the darkness. Once more a spark came from him at his command. This time it was not a wayward candle or two that inflamed but a burst of fire that ignited the vines along the walls. Hisses and cries were heard all around them, and then as predicted by cause and effect, snakes began to rain down from the walls and ceiling above him.
Immortal or not, one bite would render him useless, subject to the pain for days to come. A hundred bites? A thousand? Fucking thinking about that shit was a road he was not going down.
He drew in the power the spirit waters had left him with and boldly walked the narrow path before him. The graze of the snake bodies on his skin was enough to make him cringe, but he didn’t dare. The slightest scent of fear, the wrong move, the wrong anything could give them all a place to aim their frantic escape from death.
The walk was all of eight feet, it might as well have been around the world, twice. Once he was at the edge of the room, he turned and watched the majesty of fire consume the room and everything in it. Again, he bowed to the sacrifice and not only thanked it for safe passage, but for serving as a guardian over his lover.
In one swift motion, he pushed a boulder in place to trap the fire and snakes behind him.
