by Jamie Magee
Sven let him be, then approached Windsome with as much respectable calm as he could manage. Adoringly, Windsome smiled up at him, finding him all the more delicious with his new job title and recent knight in shining armor action he had displayed.
“Is it too late?” he asked.
Windsome glanced to the spot on the floor Sven had fallen to as Reveca’s body lashed through a gruesome death. Her one arched brow simply said, ‘you tell me.’
“You don’t know, do you,” he surmised.
“What is there to know? You see my friend it is a great honor to come from the bloodline of a coven with far reaching vision. Even the lowest of us can find a degree of royal regard among others.” Her smile was drenched in seduction, “The catch is no one can see their end. It is to be written by the soul in question.”
“I’m not asking you to see your end,” Sven retorted. He could feel King crumbling behind him. Gods did not weep in misery when broken, they destroyed. It was Sven’s job to stop the misery. To be the sanity.
“Oh but you are, my generation is woven quite tightly together. It baffled the elders and promised their end at the same time.”
“What was the end you saw, how far did you go?”
She laughed. “Oh dear, we’ve been in the dark for years now.”
“Impossible.” King snapped still lost in his stare that was latched on to Reveca’s body.
“What?” Windsome said. “Are you thinking the advice I have given you and others makes me a liar?”
King slinging his stare in her direction then back to Reveca was his simple answer.
“No fool spends their entire purse when they know the well is due to dry up. We hold our knowledge as gifts.”
“As pieces to a puzzle, we could all solve if we work together,” Sven argued.
Windsome swayed her head in mock dismay. “So naive. No one works together. We are broken. We will remain broken until Throngs arise.”
“That is it, isn’t it,” King said so coldly Windsome had to force herself not to shiver. “You and your almighty coven are missing your Gods, so much you are willing to sacrifice anything to allow them to rise.”
“Spoken like a truly whipped son of a bitch,” Windsome spat. “How dare you,” she said when King’s glare met hers. “The pair of you are a match for sure. So certain the world is out to get you, that you are just, and blameless in all your actions. Quick to blame any soul beyond your own for the burdens you rest there.”
“Insulting a soul in judgment,” King seethed. “How far you have fallen, Windsome. For whom have you given your dignity up for? The withering old man Donalt has become? Are you bitter you were cheering for the wrong team?”
“Bold words for a male with a lifeless being for a mate!” Monroe reached to calm Windsome, but she raged on. “Have you ever stopped to think we love who we love for reasons not even we understand? Have you thought perhaps desires are not exactly as selfish as we’d like to think they are? I had nothing to do with today, neither did Monroe. You saw fit to snatch her and bring her here. Why? Was it because you possessed a nugget of information about her being? Did you not use this tool to get what you wanted at the moment?” She looked smugly up at King. “You are no different than the rest of us. You got what you wanted from us. We’ll be leaving now.”
“And who are you to say what I wanted?” King said grasping her arm stopping her from vanishing from the world he now ruled.
“I am a witch who pays attention. Unlike your Queen, I rather admired the Throngs. I adored the stories of them. I knew who the son was who escaped a doom. I knew where he landed. Such knowledge made it easy to see where his bonds reached out.”
“You knew, but you told known one.”
“It was my place to tell you Dagen was not who either of you pretended he was? Why should I point out your flaws, it would be rather rude of me to do so, would it not?”
“Do not play with me, female.”
“You knew,” She spat. “Why else would you take my daughter from her sleeping bed? You had a plan lurking somewhere in the depths of your mind. At worst, you would discover the fate whispered about you was false and you could live out your days as a rebel loving a witch who dug the bad boys. At best, you’d sever your friend, stopping him from breaking his loyalty to you by default and justify your power at the same time.”
Windsome tore her arm from King’s grip. “And what has happened now, King? You granted Dagen his request, for better or worse. Put this delicious male in a position he is not ready for nor trained to handle, all the while sure Reveca would stretch and yawn her way back to a wakeful state. What would she do then, King? Look up at you adoringly and say ‘oh dear, I was naughty once more wasn’t I? It’s dreadful when I do such things. Thank the Creator you were here to give me a safe place to fall. Care for a good tubing? I’m feeling a bit peevish and all. Rev me up, darling.”
Windsome’s impression of Reveca may have lacked authenticity, but the absence of such only pointed out the absurdity of King’s expectations.
She eyed King with the dare all the witches in her coven carried. “You didn’t expect death to swallow her whole. You thought you had time to knock, or rather fuck, some sense into her. The jokes on you, we don’t always have the control we like to think we do. It is not always our call to draw first blood. Sometimes karma deals the bad guys an ace too. You’re looking for a place to lay blame when you know it should lie with Reveca.”
King steadied his breath. “Witch, tell me what you know.”
“I’ll be damned. I already gave you a golden nugget. You were willing to leave her be, willing to stay in the role Revelin stuck you in. Ignore your throne. I was the one who got you where you are now, and I don’t see an ounce of gratitude in your eyes.”
“You want me to be grateful for this agony I feel now?”
Windsome sneered. “Most would yearn to love so deeply.”
“Not if they knew the end,” he snapped.
“There you go again, assuming anyone knows the end!”
King paused, making an effort to shove his anger down so he could think through this madness. “You may think I chose Monroe to come here for selfish reasons, but you are false.”
“Am I? What benefit has come to her? Do you think she needed your little ceremony to flex her powers, to hail her spiritual creators? If you did, you are far behind the times my dear, King.”
“She asked to be here.”
Windsome glanced to Monroe. “She has not crossed your path, I would’ve known.”
“She came in dreams.”
Windsome held a defensive expression but never once let on this ability of Monroe’s was new to her. “She doesn’t know what she knows.”
“She is here for a reason.”
Windsome chucked her chin toward Sven, “She is done with her task.”
King dropped his stare from Windsome to Monroe. “Is this true?”
Monroe was far from entwined in the argument at hand, her dark gaze was on Reveca, maybe even deeper. “No one can help her.”
King’s shoulders deflated at the sound of Monroe’s innocent voice.
“Her mindset and actions now state the path of her judgment,” Monroe went on to say. “The darkest parts of her have to be conquered. She must choose to survive.”
“Then she’s alive,” King said moving to Reveca’s side.
“No,” Monroe’s one word chilled the room.
King dropped his head. “She is not asunder I would’ve have felt it.”
“You feel how far she is,” Monroe said simply.
“Help me find her,” King whispered humbly.
“Do you understand it is her who must choose, no one can talk her into feeling the way she should.”
“I do. I understand no one deserves to die alone. I understand the choices that have landed her where she is are the result of my actions.”
“She wasn’t alone,” Monroe said with an arched brow. Asullen expression fell upon he
r face, the expression of a sage ruler, not a girl a step away from womanhood.
King braced himself before he asked, “Who was there.”
“Talon held her.”
“He held her,” King raged.
Monroe was unbothered by his tone. “He defended her the only way he knew how and found an end you will find if you approach with the same mindset.”
King stepped forward and leered down. “I do not want her to die alone,” every word was pointed and rich with emotion.
“She has died.”
King bit his lip begging silently for some degree of control. “I do not want her to stand in judgment alone.”
“She is not yet there.”
“Monroe,” he said bleakly. “I need to be with her right now. I don’t care where it is or what is to come.”
“Not if it is where I think it is,” Windsome spouted.
King shifted his attention to her. “Is this a nugget of yours, witch.”
“It’s common sense. I know she’s not in the Veil, I would’ve been told a thousand times over it that was the truth. The only other place to sustain a dreamlike state real enough for her physical body to bleed would be The Realm. You going there is suicide. Whatever chance Reveca may or may not have will be lost when Revelin strikes you.”
“Now you have a worry for my life span? Does our failure not mean your male gets to keep his throne?”
“Your failure doesn’t have shit to do with me and my own. We deal in fear, you my friend, are supposed to be all about the good times.”
“The rise is linked, you know that. One falls...”
“I don’t believe in such things, not the way it has been told. Few things are instant in life, even less in death. Where the Gods lurk, all appears to happen at once, yet it doesn’t. Time turns, choices are made and let’s not forget no one knows the playbook, the Creator is in charge.”
“And what does helping me get you?”
“Not shit.”
“So why tell me not to go to the Realm?”
“Did it cross your mind that I have known Reveca longer than you? Do you care I was there through all the shit you missed when you were fucking your way through a universe of girls all in the name of having a good meal of vim? I have my stake in this Rapture, true. But I also fear the same karma Reveca was taught to fear and seek the same balance she preached. If she’s got a shot, why should I let you throw it away on a suicide mission?”
“You’d rather us all die slowly?”
“You think I care how you die? Do you not get that dying is the same as living? It happens. It’s not an end. It’s just a future you can not see, much less fathom.”
“Then you go to her, you help her,” King said, desperate to find a solution.
“She’s not there,” Monroe said in a weary tone.
All eyes moved to her.
“Her execution is in progress.”
“What?” the room said at once.
Monroe searched over Reveca’s body. “Someone is holding the spell in place. They have stalled the ending. Until they move, she’s in the swamp. She’s home.”
“I would know if she was,” King strained to say.
“You would not know her this way. Neptune has clouded it all. The mix of dark and light magic, it’s all shrouded what is real and what is not.”
“I need you to explain this to me,” Sven said coming closer to the little witch, he knew King was not comprehending anything and only wanted a direction to go in. What happened when he reached there was a far greater concern to Sven.
“She’s there, but she is not,” Monroe said. “Her coven searched, they can sense her but not see her. They hunt as well. The enemy cannot leave. He lurks in the same stand of time as Reveca.” Monroe narrowed her eyes. “The judgment can not begin until this ends.”
“Then her actions are not complete,” Sven said reaching back to his understanding of how beings like Reveca met a true death. “What she does now will be judged as well. It could change the course of her end.”
“What can she do in a swamp with an enemy that will make her look like sunshine and roses?” Windsome said not impressed by any of this. If anything, she was jealous. Leave it to Reveca to find a second chance after the final bell had rung. Mercy had always flown close to the likes of Reveca, clearly.
“I can’t say,” Monroe offered tenderly.
“When does this pause end,” Sven pushed.
Monroe slanted her head in quiet thought. “When Neptune sets it will clear the haze of illusion...it could end before if those holding the spell in place choose to let go.”
“Choose or grow weak,” Sven asked pointedly.
“Either.”
“If I go to the swamps will I see her, sense her?” King asked.
Monroe looked down at the beads she had been making as this day had unfolded, her quiet thoughts whispered words that called forth protection and vision and as she did her hands glowed with a soft light. When she opened her eyes once more, the room had its rapt attention on her.
Monroe soundlessly stepped forward and reached the beads toward King. His intent was to snatch them and vanish, but Monroe held them and his hand with all her power. “You approach her as you are. If you tell her the state of her body,” Monroe said with a slight gesture to Reveca’s form floating in the room. “You grant her a new reality. She must come to terms with the one she is in.”
King furrowed his brow in question.
“For Creator sake,” Windsome said. “You die in sleep you die. You think Reveca doesn’t know that? Do you think she doesn’t have a clue that when she reaches judgment, she has some serious karma to reason with? Why else would she openly hunt for a Throng, of all things? If she figures out the gig is up, no matter how stubborn she is, she will believe there is no hope. She will cling to you and cry until Neptune sets.”
The absent look on King’s face easily stated he was fine with such and end, which meant he was planning to follow her one way or another. How fucking sweet. Not. “You lazy asshole,” Windsome spouted. “You are half the problem. You accepted defeat. You don’t care if it’s noble or poetic, just that you will not have to face the very real shit that your long streak as a high as shit Escort allowed you to ignore.”
No denial came from King.
“She has to come to her own terms. You want to help, then be there as she faces it. Be who you are supposed to be. If you cannot handle this woman how can you rule for eons to come? If she cannot handle her shit how can she be entrusted to handle others?” Windsome squared her shoulders. “It’s time to let go of the bullshit, the mortal world shit. It’s time to face what has been ignored.”
“Are you done?” King asked.
“I’m not, but you sure look like an ass who would like me to be.”
“I need to go to her.”
“Do you? Or are you more worried that she called out to you and you didn’t answer, Talon did,” Windsome had hit low and meant to, it was best for him to get right with his emotions here than in a warped-out spell side by side with whatever mood Reveca was currently in.
“Which is it?” Windsome pushed.
“At least someone was there,” King growled.
Windsome ticked her head toward Monroe. “If she manages to get you a VIP pass into this party that has already started, you better not fuck it up.”
“And who are you rooting for,” King said lifting his lip into a snarl.
“I don’t have to justify myself to you. I’ve already told you Reveca is dear to me, even if I was after her blood she would be,” Her expression softened. “I feel the pain of my coven from here. Whatever happens, we will all bear this together. I’d rather not spend the next bit of the Rapture moping about.”
King took his time gazing into the witch’s eyes before he offered her a shallow nod. He passed one long glance to Sven, rich with orders and direction, none of which Sven liked judging by the look on his face, then King turned to Monroe.
&n
bsp; “Thank you, thank you for all you have done today. Thank you for all that you will do in this Rapture,” he said in his most sincere tone.
The entire room gleamed as he spoke his words, the hum in the air made it was very clear to King they were being watched and closely just then by Vade and Glory.
King bowed out of respect, and once he did, Monroe placed her hand on his head. Instantly he smelled the swamp, felt the humidity of the night drenching the air...
Chapter Two
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Thrash growled as he strode into the part of the palace he had claimed as his own. The space was closer to an apartment than a room; fuck, make that a house. It had nine rooms once you passed the grand double doorway that led into the elegant parlor room. Seven were bedrooms, each with a separate bath. One of the bedrooms was a mind-bending master bedroom. Thrash counted the parlor that connected to a small kitchen and dining nook one room (even though it was bigger than his cabin at the Boneyard), then there was a second parlor, a woman’s parlor in his mind, simply because his female loved the written word, in any way she could find it.
Possessively, Thrash glanced to the doorway to the left that would lead to the room with wall to wall books, a smaller stone fireplace, and lush chairs that were far better than the beds Thrash had found himself in over the years. The door was ajar just the way he left it, the low lamps, and the whisper of music was also the same. No one had been there to change it. Was he expecting someone? Thrash was always expecting someone or something, everything worth living in his life had happened to him in a blink of an eye, not there one second, rocking his world the next, and gone the very next.
Such things had a way of putting a guy like Thrash on edge, the cool all knowing sly edge where he thought if he set enough little inconsistencies around his personal space, one day they’d change without his touch. One day...she’d come back.
With a grunt, he glanced to the immense wall that had a seamlessly balanced fireplace, fifteen feet long and just as high, beautifully laid stonework accent the fire that never seemed to go out.
There was plenty of room to host multiple guests behind the doors Thrash had blindly walked to and called home with little thought as to why, but that didn’t mean Thrash was up for such a thing. He had a good mind to keep stepping his way to the balcony. The idea of staring out at nothing soured the option. Going to the master bedroom was something he had avoided on purpose. He avoided all beds, anything that even looked like it would give him a comfortable Zen. There was too much heartache waiting on him there.
