by Jamie Magee
“She tell you why?” Judge asked, halfway wondering if Adair was toying with the wrong magic and that was why Talley was back.
He doubted it, he really did. Adair didn’t say much about her craft when they were together, but she said enough to make him realize when she figured out he was immortal, she might not be all that cool with it. Not if she realized it wasn’t white, positive thinking magic that brought him back, but quite the opposite.
“I’m telling you all I do is fight with her. I only get groceries in her loft by breaking in and leaving them there when she’s gone.”
“She still remembers the night the way I set it up?” Thames asked. He knew she shouldn’t. He always went above and beyond what he was asked to do, that was his own personal code, but that night, he botched the blocks he put up on purpose.
They were weak enough that a trauma could open them up; frail enough for dreams to reach them, and most assuredly time would wash them away. He did that for Judge’s benefit, even though he’d never see it that way.
Thames had never seen such a fierce, innocent devotion in any soul before he lurked in Adair’s mind. Judge was throwing away a life line and Thames wanted to make sure he could get it back when they finished their war.
Even when the war went cold, Judge still held his ground, didn’t want Adair anywhere near them until Zale was dead and gone. The last thing he wanted to do was become possessed and strike Adair.
Beyond that Thames knew Adair needed her mind intact. She was gifted, his toying with it hindered her power. He wasn’t an expert on witches but he knew they needed peace within to strive in their craft. No peace was going to come to Adair until she acknowledged and got over what happen that fatal night.
“No,” Rush admitted. “She stares at her scars, even the ones she covered up with tattoos. She never really settled in the loft we set up, didn’t add anything to it, told me it felt wrong for the longest time. She questions me about everything. Paranoid. Always armed, even when she sleeps.” He narrowed his stare. “If you wake her up she’ll say a spell before she ever opens her eyes.”
“What spell?” Talon asked, sure that he had heard them all at this point in his life.
“A protection one, I think. I don’t know all the words.”
Right then Thames repeated what he heard Adair say the night before, and Rush nodded to say that was the one.
“Fuck,” Judge said, adjusting himself in his seat. “She knew this was going to happen.”
“How could she know my brother was going to crawl out of the grave?” Rush asked as calmly as he could.
Judge moved his head to the side, not wanting to meet anyone’s stare just then. He was sure he had royally fucked up in more ways than one.
If Adair was anyone else, Judge would have looked in her mind and seen all her paths before Thames blocked her memories. He couldn’t do that with her—blindly they imprisoned her mind.
“Obviously, she knew that she needed to protect herself,” Judge said.
“Yeah, well, where the fuck is he?” Rush asked. “Is there not an expiration date on hexes? How does the spell Zale laid down still have merit?”
The best news Rush had gotten since Tally’s death was a few weeks back when Thrash called him and told him Blackwater was no more, and from the looks of things so was Zale.
Knight sat up in his chair and leaned in closer to his screen, his eyes flying across what he was reading. “I don’t know where he is but I think I just found Miah.”
Rush popped his brow up. “Meaning he’s not in his grave either. What they fuck are y’all up to ‘round here?”
“What’s going on?” Talon asked in a deep, drained voice.
“I’ve been tracking Akan—he was at an out of the way bar last night with some guys from Devil’s Den—it didn’t end well.”
All of the Sons went ridged. Akan was a Rouge, one that was as mean and twisted as they came. He was a shifter, it was easy for him to blend in with known enemies of the Sons—to corrupt them even more and poise them for a strike that would have a sizeable impact.
The Sons already knew after their run on Gaither, after Zale vanishing, Akan was bound to surface. So far he had kept a hundred mile radius from the Boneyard—honoring a cease-fire agreement put in place years before.
“I got the security footage—looks like the law is in route. The owner just now reported it,” Knight said as what was on his screen flashed on the wall at the end of the table.
“No way,” Rush said as he stared at the image that was undeniable.
“Fix that,” Talon said.
“On it,” Knight said as his fingertips raced across his screen deleting all media evidence. “There were only two witnesses there that were not part of the Devil’s Den—sending their names and addresses to your phones,” he said with a glance to Thames and Echo.
“Oh shit,” Knight said as he clicked and the screen changed once more. “This is fucked.” After a few clicks the haze and ripples on the screen were cleared away. And once it was they saw Miah stroll right into the pub—up to Akan. They fought hard and fast enough that those who tried to defend Akan ended up either dead or unconscious—it was hard to tell which one on the screen.
At one point Akan’s body went lax and the second it did—he appeared in chains attached to Miah. That didn’t last long as he fought and pulled and the chain broke. Seconds after it did, life came back into Akan’s body. Akan looked right at Miah, a stare that seemed to say a million words, then Miah vanished.
What was even more unnerving was there was already a broken chain attached to Miah and it didn’t take much imagination to wonder who was once there: Talley. It seemed as though Miah was a pro at fighting the enemy at hand, but sucked at trapping them.
“Chains?” Talon asked, looking at the image and knowing this shit was beyond twisted. Akan was an immortal, it wasn’t easy to lay one of those down without a spell—so he wasn’t shocked that Miah, as a haunt, didn’t get very far with his attempt.
“I got it deleted,” Knight said. “Sending a virus through the system now, but we have issues I can’t handle.”
“Like?” Talon asked.
“Like this deal with Adair last night is on the news now. I shut it down but it’s all over the place again. I don’t know if I can track it all,” he said as an image of Talley was put on the screen, wearing his kut, jeans, and nothing else. He had just broken through the storefront window. The image was poor. Unless you knew Talley you’d never know it was him—the guy was too dirty, and the downfall of rain was thick.
“Where did that come from?” Talon asked.
“Someone on the streets outside of Adair’s last night. They didn’t turn it in to the law, they posted it on YouTube. Ironically, they’re joking that it must have been a full moon—and the wolf man was out and about.” Knight cussed as his fingers flew across the keys. “Okay, Judge, you’re not in this, but there are still witnesses out there saying they saw you—with a dog—leaving the scene. You guys have to shut this up,” Knight said with a glance to Thames and Echo who had already stood. Steele did too. He was going to have to drive the van to wherever they needed to be. The two of them would be too wiped to drive after they shifted, and the bikes stuck out around lawmen.
“How can these mortals see dead people?” Judge asked, looking for some way to grasp all of this. Every mortal on that screen saw Miah—fought him.
No one even tried to answer his question. Ghosts were one ordeal the Sons had never faced off with.
“Roll out,” Talon said to the boys. “Haze what they saw, no details on the descriptions left in anyone’s mind—on both cases.”
“You want me to leave the idea of it?” Thrash asked, not exactly sure what he was asked to do. He was always told to take out and push in, not take part of a memory.
“I don’t know what Reveca is cooking up in there. Just leave it vague. It’s already too big to make it vanish.” Talon glanced at Knight. “Stay on top of this—I don’t want the l
aw up our ass again.”
After Steele, Thames, and Echo left Rush asked, “Has anyone been to the graveyard?”
They each looked at him like that was the last thing they’d thought of.
“I’d sure as fuck like to know if something crawled out of a grave, or if this is a ghost or some other fucked deal. We burned him, but he’s wearing the shit we put with him.”
“Had the same gun, too,” Judge said.
“Head out,” Talon told the two of them.
“What about the lawman?” Judge asked.
“He didn’t tell you to wait, so fuck him. He wants to talk to you he can do it on your time, not his.” Talon glanced at Thrash. “Call Cartier, tell him we don’t know shit but be on guard.”
Knight left to go to his room where he had far faster computers. Once the others left too Thrash stared for a long hard minute at Talon. “You look like shit,” he said, finally.
“Thanks.”
“You need a woman, something.”
“I don’t have time to figure that out,” Talon said, and meant it. Thrash had years of figuring out control, how to hold a mortal woman and not kill her. It had been a long while since Talon had been with one; he doubted he’d have any control, not after the fast he’d been on for weeks.
“We got some Black we jacked from Devil’s Den. You want to give some to Amber?”
Talon’s stare was so sharp and dark that one would think it could kill a man. “No.”
“Then ride out to some of the other chapters, find a female immortal—find another witch.”
“None of them are going to risk it, even if Reveca and I flat out told everyone we were over.”
“You gotta figure out something. It’s not hard, man. You just gotta go slow, not too deep. You need a release.”
Talon’s strength was only half his problem. The fire in him was most of it, and he didn’t know how to put his flaming bird back in its cage. “I need Zen then I’ll figure it out,” he said, just to blow Thrash off.
“You ever going to tell me why? Why you hurt her like that?” Thrash asked, doing his best to mask his rage with the situation.
“Because she’s the only woman I ever gave a damn about.”
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
“Go. Figure out where the fuck Talley is, move Adair home to the Boneyard before this gets worse. We gotta figure out how to track Talley. Adair is our best lead,” Talon said as he closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to his glory days, when he had it all…
Chapter Two
King and Dagen were perched on the wide beams inside of Evanthe’s home. From where they were, in the shadows, they could see across the way into the sitting room Reveca had Gwinn, the lawman, and the new girl, Adair, placed.
King was leaning against the stone wall, his long legs stretched out. Dagen wasn’t far from him, sitting much the same way only he was focused on the bag of beef jerky in his hand and not the conversation in the distance.
Every other bite he would look down then signal for the pup below to perform a trick to get a taste. Mystic had just rolled over three times and was now laying on her back with her hind legs spread as if she were playing dead. The second Dagen dropped the piece of jerky she leaped up and caught it. Dagan was more than amused with her antics. The next time he let a piece drop he guided it with his energy stopping it just out of her reach then zigzagged it in the air, causing Mystic to agilely dart from one side to the other, finally barking in protest.
“Stop teasing her,” King said in a low tone when he saw everyone in the distant room look across the floor to see what the fuss was. No one but Reveca noticed King above. She playfully narrowed her eyes at him, then went back to speaking to Mathis.
So far the interview had been smooth. Adair had said the door slammed open, Mystic attacked, the man shot her client and went for her, and she wasn’t sure if she fired or not. She told Mathis it was a haze and all she remembered about the man was that he was huge and filthy.
Right then Mathis was asking her about her clients, who the perp could have been looking for.
King was more than intrigued with Adair, just as much as he was with Gwinn when he first met her, and for good reason. He knew Adair was an Escort. Her vim had played out her history before his very eyes at first sight, leaving him near breathless.
When Escorts are in their own realm, or even the vast open spaces of reality, they perceive everything differently. Time has no merit, and in most cases they never notice the details of the human faces around them. They notice vim—their food source—the addiction that never allows them to feel satisfied, a craving that constantly leaves them wanting more.
In the halo of auras around a soul, Escorts could perceive emotions the souls were feeling currently, recently, and the ones they were on track to feel shortly. Doing so helped Escorts manipulate the souls into the direction they needed them to go.
“Explain Gwinn to me again,” King said in a low tone.
Over the last few weeks Dagen had been slowly telling King exactly what the Helco Faction had been up to in the five years King was with Crass.
Only a few in the Faction knew King was out and he wanted to keep it that way for now. He had too much to figure out and from all accounts Dagen had been a stellar leader.
Dagen let another piece of jerky drop to Mystic then glanced to the girls below. He hesitated for a second because just like King what he saw mesmerized him.
Soul links connect families of souls, those that are born, over and over, and are meant to meet in life. The links were nothing more than tiny glimmers that floated between the souls—the flickers were all shades, dark, gray, glowing, and bright. They moved along a current of emotion symbolic of how close the souls were.
They were seeing those now, a soul link between Adair and Gwinn, one that was also flowing to Reveca. The same link was reaching out to King and Dagen. Connecting them all. Something that was beyond unprecedented.
“I found her by looking for you,” Dagen said after a moment.
“Doesn’t make any sense.”
Escorts are created when the sovereign sends his or her energy out; it then collides with a soul in transition. After birth in human form, after the innocence is lost, the sovereign will reach out in dreams to the infant Escort and once again give them the option to rise. Very few deny the call.
Only sovereigns can create new Escorts.
In the past when King was trying to take down Revelin, his first notion was to take the infant souls before Revelin called them, give them another option, and most assuredly more risk, for Revelin still had the power to strike them down with one thought.
The scent of Revelin’s line was always the same: ivory, crisp. When King left Revelin his scent altered, along with those that followed him, immediately. Within the ivory there was a floral scent, one of nature, earth.
Most in the Helco Faction took it as an omen that it was meant for them to break away. King never encouraged or claimed the thought, but the Faction saw King as a risen sovereign, assumed he would overtake Revelin’s reign, make history.
The thing was, the stolen Escorts still had Revelin’s scent. King never had a chance to understand why. Back then he was too busy trying to break the curse, manage the souls he did have who’d followed him.
Most who left that fateful day with King resembled him, not Revelin. That too was odd, each Escort has strong similarities to their sovereign, but King never did, as well as Dagen. In most cases it was easy for strangers to mistake one for the other. It was only the dominance in their energy that defined them among Escorts.
What King knew of his race of souls, right alongside everything Windsome had told King when he went to the Veil, had him questioning all.
“One of the guys came to me and said they sensed you, that it was strong but they couldn’t see you anywhere. So I checked it out,” Dagen said, floating another treat down to Mystic. “It was all over Gwinn. I watched her for a few days, t
rying to figure out what the hell you were up to, then I saw her in a fight and stepped in.”
“The man in the suit.”
“Yeah. Gwinn said he was one of the doctors her state sent her to as a kid. He was tracking her on her way to work, tried pulling her in his car before she made it there. I had no choice but to stop the fucker. Bastard called the law on her, which made her totally freak. I had to get her away from all of that.”
“And you brought her here,” King said, letting his stare linger on Gwinn’s innocent features, which in no way resembled his.
Dagan popped his stare up to King. “She took one look at me and said your name. I questioned her for days in a hotel room as we hid out. She kept saying you were in her dreams. All the shit she said she could do sounded pretty witchy to me, so I asked Jamison if any of it made sense to him. He told me where to take her.” He glanced over at Gwinn. “He put some spell over her, one that made her all but invisible to anyone but who Jamison had working with her.”
“Not Adair?”
Dagen shrugged. “There was some Jade woman there. She told Jamison she had it covered. I don’t know who they didn’t want to see her or why—I assumed it was some witch deal.”
“And you didn’t check back?”
“I didn’t make it a point to, but I saw her a time or two. I knew she was safe with Jamison.”
King shot a hard glare in his direction.
Dagan lifted his hands in protest. “What were the chances of her getting kidnapped again, much less shot?”
“We protect our own, particularly the young.”
Dagen elevated Mystic with his energy up to where he was and quietly chuckled when she licked his face, then he adjusted her on his lap. “You gonna tell me what that witch in the Veil said to you?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“The hell I am. You’re pissed at me for not protecting that girl like she was a newborn Escort. Last I checked, you didn’t create Escorts.” Dagen lifted a brow. “And she has no connection to Revelin. You want to explain that, or why her buddy there is much the same?”
