by Cecy Robson
A slight breeze skims my cheek. It’s all I feel of Gemini before he and his twin take point between the Grandmaster vamp and the most lethal witch in the Americas.
Chapter Nineteen
“Enough,” Gemini snaps. The force of his growls crumble the remainder of the fireplace. “Johnny Fate is our enemy. Do not misplace your anger on each other.”
“I know who the enemy is,” Uri spits.
“Then shut up,” Gemini fires back.
I don’t remember moving. I’m just there at Gemini’s side, my hands aching with how much magic surges through my core, demanding I protect my mate.
Gemini’s and Uri’s breathing are so pronounced, their chests heave in and out. No one exists except for them, even those rushing to defend their chosen sides.
“Master,” Misha says. “A word, if you will.”
Misha doesn’t wait for a response. He pushes from the one wall that was somewhat spared from the anarchy. I’m not sure how long he was there. Misha only allows you to see him when and if he wants.
His voice is just above a whisper. No matter, it’s sufficient. So is the way he faces off with Uri. “I ask that you stand down.”
The potent force Misha issues with his request strikes like a gavel. He’s not asking. He’s imposing his rule.
To treat his creator as such, especially in front of witnesses and especially leaders of the mystical world, Misha is openly demonstrating his dominance over Uri. If Uri didn’t know Misha was the superior being, he knows now.
Uri relaxes slowly, fighting to maintain his equanimity. “The more I hear, the more I dismiss these stories as nonsense and lies,” he says to Gemini.
He addresses Gemini solely to remind our audience of his position by attempting to demean someone he presumes inferior.
Holy shitballs. Does that ever piss me off.
“Are you calling my mate a liar?” Gemini asks, his voice crisp as frost.
I slam my fists on my hips. “Yeah. You callin’ me a liar?”
Uri waves his arms dramatically. “A Fate can’t invade such supposed power.”
Another jab at Genevieve. Another insult she can’t leave unanswered. The yellow stone in her talisman shimmers as she advances. “I grow tired of you, old man.”
“I may be old,” Uri snarls. “But with age comes wisdom, and I am right.”
“No, you’re very much mistaken, Uri,” Destiny replies, her voice calm. “A Fate can do almost anything with the right kind of help.”
The supernaturals bent on throwing down mere moments ago ease away as Destiny trails in. The tentacles of her dress sag along the floor, sweeping through the mounds of debris and body fluid. She’s no longer using her magic to elevate the limbs of her dress. She’s smart enough to preserve her energy for what’s to come.
Tye shadows her closely. He’s not fully healed, but he is better and ready to act against anyone who edges too close.
Destiny’s skin is the color of peach stone. She’s better than she was but remains far from well. “Take the time to feel your surroundings, dear Uri,” she says. Her standard light voice is heavy with the grief and acridity caging the once majestic room. She smiles sadly, regarding me, and Emme and Shayna, who hurry to stand on either side of me. “You too, my beloved Wird sisters and most cherished Misha. See beyond Fate to what lies beneath.”
I’m not certain why she groups us with Misha, and I don’t sense what I think she wants me to. Yet something is here, beyond the mourning and rampage, there’s a sense of wrongness that jabs my insides and makes me sick.
“No,” Misha rasps. Disgust and dread flash across his face.
“No what?” I ask.
Destiny, already weak, smiles softly. “You sense it, Taran,” she states. “Allow yourself to know it.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her than I don’t know jack. Magic in so many waves remains a mystery. Still, Destiny is counting on me to know. I dive deep within my soul, searching and asking Sparky for help. It takes a long moment. At first, all I feel is the full attention of the room. Everyone is watching and waiting for me to understand. I start thinking I’ll have to meditate or some shit. But when it hits me, all I want to do is scream.
My eyes widen, and my right arm jerks violently. I feel it. Malice, sin, pain—
“Shapeshifters,” I say.
I clasp my hands over my mouth, trying to take the word back. Emme and Shayna don’t swear like, ever. Celia does on occasion. I make it up for all of them now. Son of a bitch. Of course. Shapeshifters are virtually unstoppable. It’s why Johnny chose to side with them instead of the vampires or witches. He fears dying more than anything and wants to live no matter the price. Even if it means his soul.
“Those things weren’t shifters,” Uri barks out, his voice bordering on hysterical. “There are rules! They can’t just take the form of whatever creature they dream up. The creature must have at one point existed.”
My voice hollows as I feel the color drain from my face. “Johnny can create anything he wants,” I remind him. The entire room gives me more attention than I could ever ask for. “His tattoos come to life, and his singing voice can mesmerize and manipulate—”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Uri yells, cutting me off.
The remaining windows splinter when Gemini snarls, “Disrespect my mate one more time, and you need not worry about Fate,” he warns Uri.
Uri’s eyes morph red with rage. “Master,” Misha tells him. “To survive this night, you must listen.” Misha is plenty pissed, too, but it’s not directed at Gemini. My head pounds from stress. Misha may actually turn on Uri.
I continue, speaking fast yet steady, drawing attention back on me before shit goes down that we’re not ready for. “Johnny can cut into his skin and draw whatever he wants. It doesn’t have to be anything real, so shifter rules and limits don’t apply to him. It’s not unreasonable to believe he created every Nyte who attacked us.”
Ileana struts in naked and not giving two perky nips about it. “Impossible. Fate does not carry such virtue to produce such numbers.” Her Russian accent is lovely in all the ugly. “If these Nytes are markings from his skin, with all we killed, he should be dead or close to it.” She tilts her head as if thinking things through. “Yet you claim he not only continues his wrath but that the shifters accompany him as well?”
“The shifters aren’t here,” I correct. Sparky twitches, agreeing with me.
“I feel them, precious one,” Ileana says. She smiles as if pleased with herself. “All of us excellent beings do.”
Shayna inches closer, mumbling low. “I feel them too, T.”
“I get that you feel them, Shayna, but it’s not actually them,” I insist. I hold up my hands when Ileana grins. It’s a brilliant smile and condescending as all get out. “Their magic is here, or a part of their magic, but they’re not. Not yet.”
“You’re right.” Gemini crosses his arms and nods. “Not in the true physical sense.”
He senses their essence as I do.
Tye gathers Destiny into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “Tell us what else comes to you, Taran,” she says. She covers her mouth, yawning. “You were the closest to him. If anyone will know more of what’s happening, it’s you.” She blinks her heavy lids at Misha. “And your friends.”
Destiny closes her eyes, appearing to collapse against Tye. “She’s resting,” he explains, stopping us when we attempt to reach her. He cuddles her, the knowledge that he almost lost her reflecting heavily in eyes. “Just…keep going. She can still hear you, and we need to figure this shit out.”
Great. Now everyone is looking at me. I take a moment to wonder how things are getting suckingly worse. But then I continue forward. Onward and upward, I suppose.
The feel of Johnny returns to me, as does the sense of the shifters. I close my eyes as a vision clouds my mind. It’s odd. It’s not like any vision I’ve experienced in the past, those where I’m dropped in the middle of a ni
ghtmarish scenario that I can’t wake from.
From above, as if I’m flying, I see two rivers running parallel. They don’t flow in the same direction as I’d expect, but rather, opposite. I try to adjust my position to see where they end and if they ever join farther down. From what I can tell, they continue independently.
“Johnny isn’t a shifter,” I say, interpreting what I feel. I peer closer when the vision reappears. It’s not as clear, yet I see enough. The rivers continue to run opposite each other, but now they’re slightly wider than before. It won’t be long before they join. I groan when reality smacks me hard on the ass once I figure it out. “But he’s close to becoming one.”
“How can you possibly know?” Uri asks.
I motion to my arm, not bothering to mention my past experience with visions. “I guess she’s showing me.”
That’s not a lie. My old magic and new magic are still trying to figure it all out. Personally, I like Sparky’s visions over the freaky ones I receive that usually involve death and mayhem. I ponder what I saw further, picking apart what I felt. “I think it’s why Johnny’s magic felt familiar yet, in a way, alien. It’s morphing into something preeminent.”
The air leaves the room, despite how I tried to relay the information in a casual tone. Yeah… Not everyone had figured that little tidbit out.
“If it’s alien, as you describe, then he must already be as you fear,” Uri states, gnashing his fangs.
“No,” Gemini states, backing me up. “If Fate was already a shifter, he would have presented himself just to rub it in our faces.”
“And he wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble of sending his Nytes ahead of time,” I add. I start pacing, needing to move, but think better of it when I see what appears to be a kneecap blocking my path.
“Johnny has spent a lot of time and energy ironing out the details of his plan,” I remind everyone. “He wouldn’t need these numbers as a shifter. As a Fate and a shifter, he’d only need himself.”
“Agreed,” Misha says. “He’d also need to demonstrate his worth alone.”
“Perhaps,” Ileana muses. “But how do you explain such a shifter presence and the Fate’s increase in magic?” She wraps her arms around Misha, lowering her lashes. She’s asking him for sex, needing to satiate the adrenaline she experienced in battle.
Misha turns from her focus, his brilliant mind contemplating something, not that he appears eager to share.
“What is it, Misha?” Emme asks.
Of all people, it’s Gemini and me he focuses on. “My belief is he’s drinking the blood of his new masters. That’s why we feel their presence. Magic runs thick through their blood.”
“Shifter blood?” I clarify. At his nod, I shake my head. “All he’s doing is drinking poison.”
“It’s poison to us, Taran,” Gemini adds. He places his arm around me, feeling protective. “Not to someone with magic a Fate possesses.”
Ileana cozies up further to Misha, her taut nipple trailing lightly over his muscular arm. C’mon, can’t this wait? We’re right here.
Again, Misha ignores her, speaking only to us. “Fates are rare entities, a higher and more advanced form of witch. If anyone can tolerate shifter blood, it’s a Fate.”
I swallow hard. “If that’s true, it’ll nourish him and maintain his strength and abilities despite the damage we inflict.”
Gemini is seconds from raging. Somehow, he keeps it together. “Shifter blood will help nourish him. But while he has the shifters, we have Destiny. It’s still possible to harm him.”
I glance at Destiny, who still appears well into dreamland. “But can we kill him?” I ask.
“As long as he’s tolerating the blood, not yet,” Misha states.
Emme looks close to tears. Like the rest of us, she’s well past exhaustion. Yet there’s no time for rest. Not now.
“Johnny drinking shifter blood is still not as bad as becoming a shifter himself,” I stress. “Look at how many people he allowed to die at his concert. If he had already sworn his allegiance to the shifters back then, he could have easily dedicated their deaths to their deity.” My focus travels to the carnage permeating through the manor like fresh coats of paint. “Tonight, he added the elite of the mystical world to his body count.”
“Mother of all gods,” Uri snarls. He kicks the kneecap on the ground. “If he succeeds, he’ll be unstoppable.”
The impact of what we’re facing silences everyone. I don’t want to be right about someone I once pitied and called a friend. It’s wickedly wrong. It’s also genius.
Why wouldn’t Johnny gobble down shifter blood if it will help him? Why wouldn’t he take the next step into shifterhood? His new buddies likely seduced him with thoughts of immortality and magic unlike the world has ever seen and played on his fears of being harmed. Like Uri deduced, who could take on a Fate with the diadem of a shifter? Not a were. Not a vamp. Not…holy shit. Could Johnny be the new evil that’s rising? The one Celia’s baby is supposed to save the world from?
I jump when Gemini punches his hand. “All right,” he says. “We know who and what we’re facing. Let’s form teams and search the ground for Fate. This ends now.”
“No,” Destiny says. She yawns and stretches, having woken apparently from one hell of a nap.
We wait for her to say more. She doesn’t, returning to her quirky demeanor now that she’s had some rest. She bats at a bloodstain on her googly eye dot monstrosity as if it will magically wipe off.
I exchange glances with Gemini and about half of the supernaturals around us.
“Da fuck?” a vampire asks through his still exposed fangs.
His disrespect earns him a slap upside the head from Misha. Shayna steps toward Destiny and over the vamp’s unconscious body. “I’m sorry, dude,” Shayna says. “Did you just say no?”
“Mm-hmm.” Destiny fluffs her hair. As if that’s going fix all the lopsided plumage.
We wait for her to say more. We wait some more. When she doesn’t, Tye gives his beloved a small nudge. “Hey, Des. Maybe you might want share why we shouldn’t hunt and kill Fate.”
Destiny drops her hands away, appearing sad. “Fuzzy Toes, I never said Johnny mustn’t be obliterated. My brother’s time has come. I only mean searching the grounds will do us no good.”
“Why?” I ask.
Destiny shrugs. “Because he’s in the house.”
My jaw drops as uproar ensues. Gemini bends into a crouch, his hands out. Like the rest of us, he scans the area, expecting Johnny to pop on out and kill us all.
That’s when Uri loses what remains of his mind. “He’s in the house?”
Destiny’s feathers bounce as she nods. “Oh, yes. I feel him everywhere and with everything.”
Emme gasps, her hands shaking as she prepares to strike. “This can’t be happening,” she says.
I feel her fear and understand what’s happening long before Destiny explains. “He must be here in order to use the spells against us.”
“Which is another reason he’s using the disorientation spell,” I add. “We can’t kill him if we can’t find him.”
“And are you prepared to do as much?” Uri asks me. “We would not be here if you did your job last time.”
He’s right, not that I’m about to admit it. I smile. “I know my job, and I do it well.” Mostly. “Unlike you, who only fights when others are watching.”
A wave of ire consumes him, despite how low he keeps his voice. “You dare insult me?”
I poke my head around Gemini’s back since he jumped in front of me, ready to take on Uri and whatever shit he was ready to do to me. “I do, and I’m not done,” I say.
Uri may have helped kill a few beings that attacked, but only because he was challenged, and others were watching. From time to time, the elite have to prove their excellence or risk losing everything. Yes, he’s upset about the loss of his dates. Yet under other circumstances, he would have taken his dates and edged away, watching othe
rs fight for him and, if it came down to it, used his precious boy toys as human shields if it meant getting away.
I walk around Gemini. “You usually let those you think are lesser than you do the dirty work.” I step forward, so does Gemini, so do my sisters, until only feet separate us, and more vamps who appear to defend their Grandmaster. “Are you ready to fight for real, Uri? Or will you hang back and spare your pompous and saggy ass?”
In truth, I could fling a rock against Uri’s ass and it would bounce back and knock me out. But Uri is a petty little diva, and that diva doesn’t appreciate shade directed at his looks.
Uri smiles with all the sunshine of Great White shark and laughs, that’s right, laughs at me and all the awesome insults I flung his way. “My ass will remain as safe as always. Good luck with what will remain of yours.”
He walks away. A small army of vamps marches after him without hesitation, except for Misha and his keep. The Catholic schoolgirls wring their hands, scared yet staying put. As the master of their master, Uri can claim them as his and force them to abandon Misha.
Uri stops beneath what remains of the exit. “My son,” he tells Misha. “Make a choice and make the right one.”
“I do, Master,” Misha replies. “It’s why I choose to stay with Celia.”
What resembles any sense of calm abandons the room. Oh, shit.
I’m not surprised Misha is choosing to stay with Celia. What does shock the hell out of me is his highly public pledge to side with Celia and the weres.
A few witches excuse themselves, as do more than a couple of weres who seem to have misplaced their packs. I don’t fault them in the least. There’s a whole lot of ugly about to go down.
There are all sorts of rules in the supernatural world. Nice ones, that keep those who are part of it from being beheaded without a trial or having their arms ripped off just so the offended can slap you across the face with your own severed limbs. Hierarchy is deeply respected. It goes for weres and witches, and especially vampires.
No matter how much money Aric possesses from belonging to a family with generations of pureblood weres, or the royal lineage and funds Genevieve can brag about, they will never match the amount master vampires have accumulated.
