by Jamie Magee
He squeezed her tight once more, even kissed her brow before she rose and smiled down at him. “I’m going to take that compliment to the bank. In our youth Windsome was far more charming than me.”
He stared for a minute, trying to track the conversation.
“You’re fine. It’s there. You just have to get past this haze,” she said. The knowledge was in him and it was his, he just had to wake up a bit more.
“Zale,” he said, looking up and trying to see over the side of the boat.
“He can’t get here. He was following us but he’s gone now.”
Cashton moved his head side to side in an exhausted sway. “He tried to take me.”
“What?”
“He was there, on the other side of the gate. Tried telling me you sent him.”
“Are you sure?”
Cashton swallowed and nodded. “I had never seen the bloke up close before. But he walked right up to me. Said it had been bad here, that you were trying to get Evanthe, and he was the only one who could come in and get me. He wanted me to go a different way.”
Rage. She hated him, she really did. Zale had no care for anyone beyond himself. Wouldn’t have cared that him taking Cashton out any other way would have trespassed on the barters in place, would have trapped Cashton in there. He would have pulled Cashton to the side, taken the knowledge Windsome gave and never looked back.
“Glad to see I trained you well,” Reveca said with a wink.
Cashton let out an indolent laugh. “I knew the day you didn’t come for me would be the day we’d be bunk mates in the Veil. Only death would stop you.” He winked. “I keep a clean house. You weren’t there when I left so I knew he was full of shite.”
“He wants to know where Mr. Black is, wants to take care of this and resume our cold war.”
“He wanted something,” Cashton agreed. He focused his eyes on the night sky above him. “I don’t know. I hit him, went through the crowd when the gate opened. That’s all I got.”
“Give it a few minutes,” Reveca said, moving to run her fingers through his hair in that same motherly way she had been all night.
“Talk me through it,” Cashton said as laid there.
This was the part when the boys always told him tall tales of what happened while he was gone. Where they tried to see how much of it they could get Cashton to believe before they couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.
“Thrash is the proud father of a bouncing baby boy.”
Cashton looked to her, the smirk telling her she could do better than that, should at least start with something he could believe. “I’m serious. Six three, one ninety maybe—big boy but still growing.”
Cashton started to laugh then.
“Yeah, well, when you come back around and figure out that’s the truth, we’ll see how hard you laugh,” she said, nudging him.
“All right, what else?”
“I’m wanted for murder, was pulled in for almost two days to be questioned.”
That didn’t get her a laugh.
“No worries. Taking care of it.”
“Do I want to know how?”
“I’ve only killed one wannabe witch so far.”
“Only one,” he said trying not to smile.
“Smelled so bad. You should have seen Echo playing the part of her dealer slash lover. I can still smell his ass from here and I bet he’s had more than one shower since.”
Cashton moved his head side to side. “King?” he asked respectfully.
“What about King?”
“Still an ass?”
“In his own way…no fighting, you hear me?”
Cashton almost smiled. “I don’t want to fight him. Do you want to hear something weird?” he asked, reaching his hand up and letting his fingers glide through the tips of her hair. This was his high phase, he’d be in a good mood nice and calm, more so than usual, for a few days. It was this mood that always made him muse about random things he’d never say aloud, like the absurdity of watching a box of other people’s lives all day.
“What? ” Reveca asked sweetly.
“I wanted to thank him.”
Reveca furrowed her brow.
“Yeah, I know. He wanted to kill me for the hell of it and I had this urge to tell him thank you…” He looked up at her with a languid stare. “I wonder why. You think I know why?”
“Maybe,” she said with a relaxed smile. “I think you have mutual associations.”
All at once Cashton sat up, his eyes wide. Then he gripped the side of his head and leaned forward on his knees.
“Bloody hell,” he growled.
“Hurt?” Reveca asked, moving her hand across his back.
“He’s a First. He’s one of them,” Cashton said, breathing in.
“Was,” Reveca whispered to him.
Cashton didn’t stop squinting his eyes closed or holding his head, not for a long moment, then he looked to his side at her as he strained to ease his breath. “Was?”
“Cashton, I need to make something very clear to you. Even if he was still standing with darkness…I’d never let you destroy him.”
His stare rapidly searched her, wondering why she did not see the obvious—she and King were one in the same. “I could never destroy you.”
She could only hope that was his truth, that when he came out of his haze, he’d believe the same.
Chapter Three
Brotherhood. It’s the one element Talon and Reveca had always instilled in those they led. It was what Talon had told her kept men alive. He told her you couldn’t quell aggression, the tempers—they’re going to fight. They’re going to test their limits. But all of that stops the moment an enemy approaches. The moment one of them falls, any fight, any disagreement vanishes and the unit becomes one, defending their own no matter the cost.
That’s what Talon was counting on with this tiff between Cashton and King. He wanted to pull them together under that brotherhood, wanted them to learn to fight back to back, not the contrary.
Reveca agreed, but this was a battleground Talon had never fought on, and Reveca knew that. This was a battle where you couldn’t always see your enemies. This was a battle where you could not carry your dead home and choose to let them go or bring them back. It was a final battle which would be fought in the heavens.
Right now that seemed distant and for all Reveca knew it would be generations to come before it occurred, but she had no doubt it would.
Back to back. She was going to take that advice from Talon, his strategies had keep them all safe and strong over the ages. But she was going to teach them to do it on another plane. One way or another she was going to grow their bond here, and when the time came when Cashton was free from the Veil, when King was free from Crass, King’s armies, the ones Dagen assured her would only grow stronger, would rise. Back to back they would destroy the God that took everything from Reveca.
That God made a mistake; he left her alive, aware. Allowed her to hold the pain she felt deep inside. At the same time pain pushed her to build the life she has now, the weapon, and patience she needed to strike. To own revenge.
Cashton’s comment about not destroying her was a testimony he already felt indebted to this Club. He knew hurting any one of them would be a strike against her. It would be a slap in the face to the one who’d sacrificed so much for the freedom he did have.
Cashton broke his stare with Reveca and looked down at his wrist, hissed, and cussed as he squeezed the one the energy was in.
“Let me see it,” Reveca said, thinking she didn’t get all the energy out.
He jerked away rolled on his side. “Bloody fucking hell,” he bellowed with a groan.
“Cashton!” she said, trying to turn him. When he wouldn’t give in she overpowered him with her energy and made him lay on his back as she sat astride his chest and pulled his arm to her.
“Oh shit,” she breathed.
Cashton had stopped cussing but his chest was breathing in nic
e and deep, as if he had just ran a marathon. “Never a good thing for a witch to say whilst looking you over, eh,” he said, slipping back into his high.
Now on his wrist was a brand. A tattoo of sorts. It was the coven’s symbol, the oak tree which meant strength, love, and luck, the sun and the moon. In most cases it wouldn’t have bothered Reveca, it would just further prove he’d had a good conference with Windsome. But this one, the text in the oak, it was death, imprisonment. It was delivered vengeance.
“Cashton, you’re going to get real clear real fast and tell me what she said to you. Did you agree to wear this or did she place it upon you?”
Reveca wasn’t sure which she would want him to say. Either way this was bad. If this brand was seen in the Veil they’d know he’d crossed paths with a witch and that path didn’t fare well. It would make his life hell on that side. The dead would fear him, and when people fear something their first action is to try and destroy it.
The mark was shimmering. Reveca moved her finger across it. It wasn’t on the skin, it was under it, like the one on his back. It started to fade into his flesh. Reveca called on fire and let it glow over him.
Cashton jolted back but she squeezed him with her thighs, holding him in place. With fire she could see the mark, see it waving under his skin.
What the hell are you trying to tell me, Windsome? Reveca thought to herself. She’d branded him but then hid it. What was the purpose in that?
“Cashton, are you in debt to her? Did you ask her for more than I told you to?” she asked, letting the fire go out and dropping his arm.
His eyes were hooded as he looked up at her and pressed his lips together then swayed his head. High. High as hell.
“Focus for me.”
He smiled. “I see you.”
Reveca was short on patience at that point. “I’m going to do something, okay?”
He didn’t say anything.
She placed her hands on his chest and squeezed her legs around his waist then pushed a jolt of energy into him, one that she wanted to stimulate the hell out of him. In effect, it was like throwing a drunk in an ice cold bath.
Cashton lifted his back, moaned, even reached his hands for her thighs to brace himself. Then all at once his eyes opened wider. The blue wasn’t overtaking his dark canvasses anymore. He was squarely focused on her.
He took inventory of their position, her astride him, her hands on his chest, and his squeezing her thighs.
“Talon is not watching this is he?” Cashton asked with a boyish lift of his brow.
Reveca nearly laughed. She shook her head no. He wasn’t watching. King was, though. She’d felt his stare on her, at least in her direction, long before they arrived.
“Clear now?” Reveca asked.
“Zale’s a dick.”
“We got passed that part,” she said with a nod. “What did Windsome say?”
Cashton stared up at her. “My sista. She said I would see her again,” Cashton said as his eyes all but watered. “Mum, too.”
“And your dad,” Reveca promised.
Cashton furrowed his brow. “She said I had him already.”
“Had him?”
“I don’t know,” Cashton admitted. “Charlie told me not to worry about it.”
“Charlie, your Escort friend in the Veil?” Reveca clarified.
Cashton looked right at her. “I’m not buying that he is one, but yeah. He was the one that helped me find her. Not easy. I didn’t see her until hours before I left.”
“I’m sure she was hiding from you. She doesn’t like to be found.”
“Charlie searched for her. Your energy was so bright in my arm, and it only got brighter. I couldn’t hide it. Even if it was covered in layers and layers, the pain on my face was revealing. Charlie told me he would handle it. I thought I was going to fail then she arrived with him.” He looked up at her. “So young.”
Reveca nodded. Windsome was only twenty-four when she became an immortal, and she barely looked that age. She was smaller than Reveca and Evanthe. At times she used that to her advantage, used feigned innocence to attract her enemies to her so they approached with their defenses down.
“She returned your debt, and requested another,” Cashton said. His eyes searched the stars above him, like he was watching the conversation once again.
Reveca glanced at Cashton’s arm, wondering if she had read that brand wrong. She was sure she hadn’t.
“Her sons.”
“Her what?” Reveca said, snapping out of her thoughts.
Cashton nodded. “Sons. They’ve been taken deep within The Realm. She’s searching for them and when she finds them, she wants you to care for them.”
“Children,” Reveca gasped, even glancing to the bank. She hadn’t been to The Realm in ages, the dream plane. Too much dark energy, but both King and River had mentioned it.
Reveca would pull out all the stops for one of her own. These children were the next generation of her coven, they were a legacy. Her mind was rushing through what she could do; call Jamison, ask King, call River and have her send Dagen to her. Something, anything.
“Not infants. In their twenties I think. They’re having a tiff with their father. One wants to be with him, the other doesn’t want his brother to go. Windsome wants them both out.”
“She needs help finding them?”
Cashton moved his head side to side. “She said when she sends them to open the door.”
“I would do that anyway. How is that a debt?”
Cashton looked up at her, his eyes still a bit glassy. “They’re Escorts.”
“What!” Reveca said with wide eyes. What the fuck was up with the new trend witches hooking up with dark angels?
“Still having issues with that faith, eh?”
“Trust me, I’ve come a long way.”
Cashton grinned, nearly laughed. “That’s what she said.”
“Why would they need my protection? I’ve felt the power of Escorts. And how in the hell did she bear children in the Veil?”
“You want the birds and the bees talk?” Cashton asked.
Reveca slapped his chest then moved beside him. “Holy shit, this entire coven has lost their minds. Did everyone get baby fever at the same fucking time or what?”
Cashton wasn’t tracking her words. He had already forgotten what she said about Thrash and wasn’t really focusing on the idea that his girl, Jamison’s daughter, was near the same age as those boys.
“I don’t know the story, I just know she filled the debt she had and asked for another.”
“She told you of your home, your purpose. How to get out of the Veil.”
Cashton sat up and dropped his head for a second then lifted it and looked to Reveca. “She said the Queen of the Veil must rise first.”
Reveca’s insides were trembling. She knew the story. As a girl it was her favorite. The queen of the dead would rise, with her lover who was a Phoenix at her side. They would bring back the supernatural, she would restore all immortals, end grief in the ones who could never forget.
Though Reveca had disregarded her sister’s faith, turned her back on the prophecies of her coven, she often thought of that story. At one time she even questioned if it was her. Her lover was, in part, a Phoenix, and she rose the supernatural. That was as far as the similarities went in the story, though. Nothing else matched Reveca’s path, so that too, drifted into the box, in Reveca’s soul, where she stored all she could not believe any longer.
What she did know was a goddess was to rise and take out the sovereign of grief. Not the same God who wronged Reveca and her own.
There are times in life when you don’t know what to hope for, when you know no matter the outcome someone will be hurt, when you realize there is no fair option to be had. This was one of those.
She wanted Cashton free, had always wanted that for him. But when the day came, King’s life would be at its very end, for all the new sovereigns would be rising.
�
�She’s the only one who can break this. Windsome said no spell within or out would do. She seemed shocked you had managed to get me the freedom I have.”
Reveca lifted her brow, taking in the compliment. It wasn’t easy. And for a while she was sure all of the steps she had taken to do so were the catalyst that sent her into her funk. Pulling Cashton out was the last victory she’d had, and that was years ago. Since then, she had begun a slow slip into mortality where she was just tired.
“No doubt the day will come if she spoke of it,” she said, reaching for Cashton’s hand, squeezing it as she laced her fingers through it.
Cashton was quiet for a second then spoke. “She said several of the living were reaching into the depths of death, trying to pull power. Apparently they are aggravating the Lords of Death, and the vengeance you wanted would be given by them in time.”
Reveca cursed under her breath. She didn’t have time to wait for that to occur. In Windsome’s world time was, is, an illusion. In her time it could be generations down the road. By then there was no telling what damage this drug could do in the mortal world. It meant that all of that time Evanthe would reside within the pages.
She knew neither Thrash nor Bastion could handle that.
“She said one of you that reaches the depths will rise and ease your worries away, and one will bring forth joy, exaltation would follow.”
“One that reaches the depths,” Reveca repeated.
That was the issues with aged witches, they spoke with rhythmic words, and they did so because one is not to ever tell another of their fate, only aid. If you understood the words then you were ready.
Reveca didn’t understand shit, at least what she did understand she didn’t want to believe.
The only one in the coven Reveca knew of that could reach the depths of darkness and not bat an eye, and that would do so, would be Zale.
For all Reveca knew Windsome was saying Zale would be the one to stop the hell they were in, stop the drug, the growing epidemic of Rouges. Reveca didn’t want to hear that, didn’t want to have to work at his side to clean his mess.
“That upsets you?” Cashton asked. He was confused because when Windsome gave him the information, the glint in her eyes was full of pride, as if she had waited endlessly for the day and now it was near.
