by Jamie Magee
Then he remembered the Boneyard, how everything he wanted was right there before him, how he struggled from one point to the other, from seeing her as a dying soul’s last request to believing that with her he could fight anything—and win. And even if he didn’t at least they had the ride.
“You’re in on this. You?” King said in a tone that was dripping with disbelief as another car went by and honked.
Dagen just stared at him, pain in his eyes.
King’s energy assaulted Dagen, pushed him back a few feet.
“Chill the fuck out,” Dagen said as he defended himself.
“That’s what you have to say?” King yelled.
Dagen clenched his jaw. “You’ve been through enough, man.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means that she let the fuck go, that with or without me she’d do the same. She wants you to fight this war, win it.”
He knew it! All this time he knew it. And there was not a shred of disbelief in his mind that Dagen was right; this was Reveca—the warrior sacrifice mind of hers.
She fooled him, seduced him, and set him free. And made it to where she would have to live with the pain. Which infuriated him.
It was so easy for her?
He found a way to blame Revelin for this, too. He had forced King to let his woman go, half of his fucking soul. And when he did, when all that time passed, Reveca had no choice but to become who she was. A hard woman, a scorned one, one who trusted few especially herself.
She thought she was a curse upon King, that she was keeping him from his fate. She was his fucking fate. He knew that now. Not a doubt in his mind.
“How is that fucking news?” King bit out. Reveca wanted him to fight, fucking fine. Then she was going to fight with him, his way.
“I don’t know, King,” Dagen said as his reflected the pain of that statement. “Some witch told her to do it.”
“Which witch?” King demanded. If it was Jamison or Saige they’d never see the light of another day. Zale? He was already a dead fucker. King was going to make sure of it.
There were too many people, miles, and circumstances between him and his woman, and he was going to rectify that. Even if it meant him unleashing his wrath and taking down all those that had twisted the truth about them. Even if he had to break down every wall Reveca Beauregard had put around her soul to protect her. He was done playing games.
“I don’t fucking know, but I’m guessing it was one in the Veil. She was fierce as hell denying she had you before she went in there, and when she came back she came to me with this.”
Dagen looked over King slowly, wondering what kind of deal Reveca had made with whomever—if that deal was the reason that Revelin had grazed by them, over and over, and not seen them. Surely by now Revelin had sent more than one thought to take King down and shred his soul, and yet it hadn’t happened. King grew stronger by the minute.
Something happened. Dagen knew as much. King was still the most powerful dark Escort in Revelin’s line, but he felt different, his energy wasn’t the same. He felt different and he was blind to their God. That said something right there. “She knows something. She’s protecting you, and she has vowed me to do the same.”
King stared at him with fury coursing through him.
“It wasn’t easy on her, King. It was downright brutal. That’s how I know she had a rock solid reason.”
The Firebird vanished then. King had sent it back to the garage it was in before.
“What the hell?” Dagen said. “Let’s just win this damn war and then you can move on. Hiding away with her is not going to get us anywhere.”
“You think I was fucking hiding?” King asked, charging him.
“No, I think you were surrendering to protect that coven, to protect all of us and then you saw Reveca. Then you started to plot and found a reason to fight. I don’t know what the fuck happened after that.” He reached for King as he saw him start to fade. “Where the fuck are you going? Will you just think for a second? You’re going to lose her forever if you go back. We’ve got this now. You’re different now. I know you are.”
“I’m not fucking going back. I’m going to the Veil.”
“For what?” Dagen demanded with an angrily furrowed brow.
“To find the fucking witch that twisted Reveca.”
“Do you have any idea how many witches there are in the Veil, King? Seriously, listen to yourself.”
A sardonic grin came to him. “There is only one that is an original. Only one that was best fucking friends with Reveca at one time. I saw her there right when I died. She knew exactly where I was.”
Before Dagen could tell him how stupid his idea was, King was gone and he had no choice but to follow him.
***
Mortals are predicable. In their short lives not many strive to travel as many unknown roads as possible. No, they’d weather their way down one path, and once they figured that one out they’d go back to it over and over and over. Which is why it was so easy for Reveca to plot her way through this dynamic set up that she had been planning since the moment Judge told her what he saw in Blackwater’s mind the night he showed up on her doorstep accusing her Club of an involvement in Newberry’s murder.
From the outside looking in it all seemed random, out of control, and maybe in the slightest degree it was. But that was only because instead of going over every single detail with the boys right before it went down, Reveca went to Crass then didn’t tell them of the added risk before them. Instead, she endured a night that was full of both heaven and hell.
Cashton, though he didn’t know it, was always planned to be present. It was Talon’s idea to have him there. Their only hold back was not knowing if the boy had the will to kill within him.
Thrash? That wasn’t planned. He was supposed to be with the others, altering evidence. Ultimately getting Talon, Reveca, and Cashton out of the hell they were in; at the very least he was to be their ride home.
The truck traveled for well over an hour, closer to two, but Reveca was sure the last part of the trip was the driver making sure he didn’t have a tail on him.
When it finally parked after moving down a gravel lane, and the door opened, it didn’t shock Reveca one bit to see members of the Devil’s Den there. That didn’t mean that she didn’t cower a bit, that both Thrash and Talon didn’t buck up like they were determined to go down with a fight and not strapped to a truck.
They had to make those asses think they were in control for just a bit longer.
Four of them climbed into the truck and unhooked the restraints then pulled Reveca and the others out.
Back in the day, when Reveca was managing the Rouges in the city, she needed a place to cage them as she got the information she needed. The Sons were at war with another mortal gang back then, ones that Blackwater was trying to keep at bay. He’d pull weaker members of them to this place, into Reveca’s cages, and interrogate them, break them down until they confessed to crimes they hadn’t committed.
The place was a mill at one time, but long ago it was abandoned. Reveca owned the property. From the outside it look like a dump that was barely standing. Inside it was a different story. Cells with thick iron bars were along one side and a table was on the other. Then there was a spot that had a chair with straps on it. The floor around the chair was stained with blood from those that had sat there before.
Even though large fans were blowing it was hot, hot and loud.
Talon and Thrash were placed in their own cells, Reveca was handcuffed to the table, and Cashton was put in the chair of torture.
All but one of the Devil’s Den men left. And the one that stayed had some kind of medical bag with him that he sat at Cashton’s feet.
“How you doing there, Reveca?” Blackwater asked with a smug grin.
“Fucking peachy.”
“Are you?” He grinned. “I’m sure you remember your mother as some sweet lady that ran with a rough crowd. However, she
did have a dark side.”
“Don’t we all?”
“This is her place.”
“Sure.”
“I’m not going to argue with you. That’s the truth. And she also paid me to make sure those I brought here were singing the right tune when they left, that is if they left.” Blackwater lifted his chin and looked down at her. “Why did you want this Cashton kid here?”
“Because he’s fucking guilty. Where’s the paper I need to write my statement on?”
Blackwater let a sick laugh roll out as he took off his jacket. “No statements yet. No, when they figure out that all of you are gone, after they move through all the chaos of your people being arrested and the missing paperwork, they’re going to hunt you and when they find you you’re going to tell them you kidnapped me.” He grinned. “Then I’m going to tell them that thanks to my skills and years of experience, I was able to talk all of you down, saved my life and got a confession.” He paused. “That’s one scenario. The other is they find me beaten and all of you dead and I call it self defense.”
He looked at Cashton. “I don’t care for your witchy ways, Miss Beauregard. It’s ungodly, and I have a suspicion that this boy right here, that you wanted with you, may play with the devil.”
“This from a man that is working with the Devil’s Den,” Reveca said, shaking her head.
“I should be working for the Sons, and if I was, none of this would have happened. Not one moment of it. But you stopped that, so this is all on you.” He narrowed his eyes. “You figured that part out already though, right? That GranDee’s murder is on you, no matter if you pulled the trigger or not.”
Rage was all over Reveca’s face.
Blackwater walked toward Cashton who was pulling against his restraints. “I had the pleasure of meeting a witch or two over the course of my time with the Devil’s Den. I understand your power comes from the mind, that it takes focus.”
Reveca was staring at the needle that was aimed at Cashton. She’d already given him the nod to use whatever force he needed to defend himself, but he was struggling to do so, and from where she was she couldn’t understand why.
“That being said, I should make sure this witch loses his focus.” And with that the Devil’s Den member went to jab a needle in Cashton’s arm. Reveca’s energy soared across the room to stop it at the same time Thrash and Talon cursed from their cages.
There was a problem.
One Reveca couldn’t understand. She’d hit a wall. There was some kind of wall of energy around Cashton that she couldn’t get through.
Wide-eyed she watched as Cashton pulled in a deep breath then went lax, really lax.
“What the fuck did you give him?” Reveca shouted.
“Relax, not the good stuff, but enough morphine to keep him nice and zoned out. Alive for now until I can figure out how to use him.”
They left the needle in Cashton’s arm, a bag attached to the tube that was feeding into him. Just to show that he was powerless and would be, the Devil’s Den man before him let Cashton go and he slipped to the ground like a rag doll.
No medicine should have an effect on Cashton, not really. And not for more than a few seconds or so. Something else was fucking with him and had to do with whoever was holding him in place.
This was not part of the plan. Not even close.
Thunder clapped and then the wind blew.
“You doing that?” Blackwater asked with a laugh. “Trying to scare me.”
Reveca didn’t answer. She was too focused on what could not be seen, the shield of energy that was around Cashton and the dark energy she felt hover closer.
Her eyes met Talon’s. He felt it, too. He could smell them—Rouges—a lot of them closing in as if they smelled blood.
They were being opposed. Reveca sensed her coven close. She sensed her sister, Jamison, other originals, but the numbers were insane. There was war going on outside and this fuck Blackwater thought they were going to sit here and talk about the mortal bullshit he had stirred up.
She moved her head once to the side to tell Talon no, not to attack then. She didn’t have what she needed for her spell yet, and if him or Thrash let their aggression get the best of them this was all over. All the planning and the revenge would go up in smoke.
She wasn’t giving up until she had no choice.
It was supposed to be easy. Get Blackwater to fall into his old habits and pull them here. Let Reveca do her thing, but the Rouges were never part of that plan. Cashton being passed out was never part of the plan.
They had been played. Reveca knew they had been.
Reveca kept looking back to Cashton. His eyes were glassed over and he couldn’t focus. With her vim she was trying to move the needle away, wondering if it would help. Or if there something else in the tube that was helping the energy around him keep him docile. But going against the energy around him would take more of her power, the power she had to have to send the souls to Crass.
“You have never been this quiet before, Miss Beauregard,” Blackwater said, sitting at the table next to her. “Are you finally realizing you’re in over your head?”
She looked right at him with a furrowed brow. “I’m realizing that you’ve been a bad boy, partnering with souls that are best left alone.”
He laughed and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“When you’re up against a witch it’s best just to find another one, one with more power.”
Reveca nearly laughed because she knew what witches he was around and they were not more powerful than her. Not even fucking close.
“You have made me work for this case,” Blackwater said. “Nothing went right. The raid, our limits were shortened at the last minute so I couldn’t find the evidence I needed to put you where you are now. I had no choice but to look the other way as girl after girl was dying all in the name of framing you. You’d think that you would have come forward just to stop all that nonsense. That you would have realized you were in over your head.” He sat back as sweat pouring from him, and he unbuttoned his shirt. “Then you wanted to play nice with another lawman. I had eyes on Mathis and knew when they saw him leave that church you always go off to following a tow truck, that you had given him more than that bike. You gave him Holden’s gun, and you gave him the twenty-two as well.”
He grunted. “I took a chance and ran the prints, thought maybe you were dumb enough to touch the gun and cover up prints of the one that was in charge of that weapon.” He shook his head and laughed. “When I saw the boy’s prints fire up, I knew I had you. There was no way you were going to let him get in the middle of this.”
Reveca tilted her head. “The person in charge of the weapon? You mean the person that you called in a panic when you arrived at Newberry’s to see Holden next to a dead body holding a scared girl? The one that helped you cover all this up and put the idea in your head that framing us for your dead cook might save your life?”
She had shocked him. She could see it in his eyes. But he never gave an expression. “Is that how you think it went down? You don’t think I’m brilliant enough to come up with framing you? Someone who wronged me?”
She shook her head no. “I don’t think you have the balls to do so. I think someone convinced you that was the only way.”
He leaned forward. “See now, shit like that I’m going to help you forget. I’m going to make sure that if you do walk out of here, that the only thing you have to say about me is how awesome a lawman I am.”
The thunder clapped again and the wind picked up. The doors blew open, and on the breeze specific herbs flew in.
Blackwater was so busy yelling at the men outside for not being able to keep the door closed that he didn’t notice two land in Reveca’s hand, or that one went to Talon’s and then one rested beside Cashton’s body.
“Cash,” Thrash said in a harsh whisper, using his energy to nudge the wall around him.
Cashton’s eyes strained to focus. He reached to pull the needle out, b
ut it looked like doing so took all the power he had. His arm fell flat on the ground so if Blackwater thought to look back at him he might not notice that part. Cashton’s eyes were so glazed. He looked at Talon and mouthed the word: Zale.
Talon’s stare shot to Reveca in question. She didn’t have an answer. Cashton couldn’t rub two words together much less a spell.
They could get out of there and fight the Rouges they felt closing in and they could fight Zale if he had the balls to show up, but they weren’t getting souls to Crass without Cashton.
“Come to me,” Thrash said to Reveca.
“Shut the fuck up,” Blackwater said, walking back in and aiming his gun at Thrash.
Reveca stared at Thrash for a second. She was running through so many scenarios in her mind right then that it took her a second to understand what he was saying. How out of place his words were.
She lifted her brow in question. Thrash sucked at magic, and she meant that in the kindest way. But he had no finesse, whatsoever. He could not calm himself enough to use it, and quite frankly she was sure it scared him.
She reached for her wrist and let her hands encircle the cuffs making it look like she was uncomfortable, but Thrash got the message. He looked to Cashton, the bracelet that Reveca had made for him to wear by the river the other day.
Every one of them had something with essence on it which was needed for the spell. Jewelry that blended too well to be seen as a weapon.
Reveca glanced at Talon then Thrash then she let her fingers count. They couldn’t see each other so she had to coordinate them, tell them when to strike the energy field at once, and take what Cashton had.
As out of it as Cashton was, he still knew what was going on. He had pulled the bracelet from his wrist and the leaf that came his way and had it at the edge of the energy field around him.
All at once Talon and Thrash pushed and broke the field just enough for Thrash to bring what he needed to him.
It may have seemed like a victory but Reveca wasn’t so sure. She didn’t know if Thrash could do it. What she did know is that whoever had put the energy field around Cashton now knew it had been breached.
