by Jamie Magee
Gwinn took her hand again, led her through the space between the buildings then to a hidden courtyard. It was there that Adair was assaulted with another sharp pain in her head.
She saw Mystic, just a pup, playing in the courtyard, and she saw the biker, the dark blond God—Judge—with her. “What the hell,” Adair breathed, reaching to touch her lips. She glanced over her shoulder, frantically trying to see if Talley had tracked them and manage the new memories all at once.
The heat alone, the adrenaline, was making her dizzy as hell.
“That’s what I thought. Come on,” Gwinn said, pulling her again to climb a set of stairs.
“You can’t just break in,” Adair argued as she saw Gwinn turning the knob that was surely locked. “We gotta get back.”
“It’s for rent, see?” Gwinn said, nodding so Adair would look at the sign that had a realtor’s number on it and not realize that Gwinn had just broken the lock with her immortal strength. Gwinn was sure Talley wasn’t far behind, but she had confidence that the pair of them could trap him, end this. To do so they needed privacy.
When the door flew open all of Adair’s senses went on high alert. She could smell Finley’s perfume in the thick heat of the loft which gave the impression that it had been untouched for years.
With wide eyes Adair took a step in. Seeing this loft not only matched the one she saw in her vision, not only felt like home, but also had the earmarks of a tragedy. Broken furniture, all covered in layers of dust, was scattered across the floor.
Memories of Talley and Finley slammed into her. She remembered them there.
“Home?” Gwinn asked.
Adair strolled forward under the spell of confusion, not sure what had happened to her or her family, feeling all the emotions she hated the most—those emotions and the heat of the room were birthing a head spinning dizzy sensation.
All at once Adair snapped into reality and dove across the floor, finding a loose board. When she pulled it up, she found what she knew was there—Finley’s book of Shadows, the one she had taught Adair out of.
“Gwinn, something bad happened,” Adair said, pulling her discovery to her chest, feeling tears well. Most of them were of fury and confusion, but under it all she was hurt. She had always felt alone and was good with it. It fit her personality. But right then, she truly felt alone, like an outcast.
Gwinn slowly went to her side, took the book from her arms and placed it in Adair’s cross body bag. “Listen to me,” Gwinn said, looking into her emerald eyes. “You are more powerful than you could ever know—I feel that about you. I always have. Right now I don’t understand this any more than you do, but I do know everyone at the Boneyard is going to help protect you.” She let her eyes fill with grief. “We’re going to fix this, Adair—I swear to you.”
Fury dominated all the emotions Adair was feeling. She leaned back. “No one, no matter the circumstance, has the right to jack with anyone’s mind—whoever did this is going to be at the mercy of my wrath.”
Before Gwinn could counter, the door flew open—it was Talley.
The ferocity in his eyes, the cold evil Adair sensed on him, brought back even more memories. “It’s you,” he growled as he prowled forward.
Adair eased back, pushing Gwinn behind her, but Gwinn was ready for this—she had thrown up a powerful wall of energy blocking Talley. He was strong though, it wouldn’t hold long.
Adair went to speak the same spell but before the words left her lips, the grimy man she had spotted before rushed in the room and pulled a gun on them—not Talley.
He moved his gun between Gwinn and Adair then focused the gun on Gwinn and glared at Adair. “You whore witch. Take the barrier down—you let him take what’s his or I’ll kill her.”
“What the fuck do you want?” Adair asked in a cold tone, only briefly shifting her stare from Talley to the man.
“Now, now that is no way to speak if you are to be the mother of a God,” the man said with a leer as Talley roared forward.
Adair looked deep in Talley’s eyes. She saw a struggle there. She saw the silver fighting the golden eyes she had always known. She saw what was still Talley begging for death, fighting to hold back. She wanted to give him that but she would be damned if he died with a devil in him.
Instead, she whispered the words that were his agony and watched him fall to his knees.
The grimy man started to yell and curse over Talley’s roars. Adair acted as if she were bowing to the ground as he demanded that she did at gunpoint, but she was only going for her gun which was strapped to her leg.
Gwinn was repeating the same words Adair had said but only more powerfully. A rush of wind picked up in the room. Her energy was squeezing Talley.
The second he roared then vanished, Adair stood with her gun aimed at the grimy man.
“You stupid bitch,” he bellowed. “Your whore ass is not going to stop this, even if I have to warm your ass up for him,” he said as is free hand reached to unbuckle his pants and he charged forward.
Adair fired.
What happened next was a blur.
A boy appeared out of nowhere, caught the bullet then punched the man, knocking him out instantly. He leaned down and disarmed him, and searched for more weapons.
The pain in Adair’s head flamed once more as she took in this young warrior, his dark hair, ice eyes, his chiseled features.
“You. You were in my dreams.”
Adair was sure she was losing her mind, that her life could not get any more twisted at this point. It was all she could do to focus, to not flinch at every stray sound or movement.
Dagen looked up at the girls, dared to grin, and shook his head in dismissal.
Adair aimed her gun at him.
“It’s Dagen!” Gwinn wailed. “Good guy.”
Adair looked from Dagen to Gwinn. “What the hell is going on?” Across one day she had seen the dead rise and now this, a man that could appear out of thin air and catch bullets.
“You dreamed of King. I did, too. Dagen just looks like him. You’re fine, you’re safe,” Gwinn said, rushing her hands over Adair’s shoulders, trying to stop shock from setting in so she could reason with Adair, get her back to the Boneyard safe and sound. It took all Gwinn had to hold Talley back and she could easily see he was building a tolerance up to the spell Adair had used to ward him off three times over.
“You saved him,” Adair said, swaying her gun at the unconscious man.
Dagen grinned. “You want to kill him, fine by me, but let’s not do it here, eh?”
His voice, the sound of it, his energy, something about him was calming Adair down. Her entire life she’d had dreams of a boy that looked like him, ones that gave her peace. They were the strongest when she lived with her grandmother, and right after Finley died. Now they only came every so often. There was no room for her to dream of him now. Her nights were filled with another life where Judge had a starring role, right alongside the brown Victorian home she’d seen today, among other things…
The dreams of this boy were not seductive. They didn’t leave her searching for some soul mate, they left her comforted, gave her a sense of family and protection. They encouraged her to grasp her senses which her grandmother had called demonic.
The only one who knew of those dreams was Finley, and what she said about them terrified Adair.
“It’s a call to greatness, Adair, no matter what anyone—I mean anyone—says. It’s a call to greatness and you will rise. Do not fear what is born into you, embrace it.”
Right then Adair was afraid, but more than anything she was determined.
If this was some angel, some greater power, then she was going to use him to redeem Talley. She saw Talley’s soul, deep in the stare of the dead man that had attacked her twice over now.
She had to set him free.
Every single gut instinct she had was telling her to trust this man before her now. That same gut told her he was going to open her mind; he was going to un-bl
ind her to the ignorance that had hindered her all these years.
Redemption—she was going to own it. Whoever had caged her in ignorance, hurt her family—they were going to pay.
That was a promise she made to herself as she lowered her gun. She was standing at the threshold of a new beginning and was prepared to cross it with an open mind.
Edge Season Two
Episode Three
Chapter One
Adair Vallet had exceeded her level of weirdness for the day, the week, more than likely her life. She approached every unknown with a reasonable amount of fear and an open mind. This deal though, having a dead man rise and attack you, not once but twice, then seeing a man appear out of nowhere and stop a bullet—it was all a bit much.
Adair had her gun lowered, but she refused to put it away, even though she was pretty damn sure no bullets would stop this Dagen guy. He most assuredly had some wicked magic in his back pocket—and she wasn’t so sure all of it was white magic.
“What are you?” Adair asked as she steadied her breath. She had read about powerful witches, ones that could invade the mind, control elements with a thought, but she never imagined she’d come face to face with one. Then again, a voice deep inside told her the word witch didn’t seem to fit this boy at all—he was too otherworldly. Power, raw commanding supremacy flowed from him. Damn.
Dagen glanced to Gwinn. He wasn’t entirely sure what Gwinn knew of his kind. King had said he’d been selective with his explanation, basically told Gwinn how to feed, and it would be best to keep the details of what she was close to her. King was like that with everything, though. He never said much but you always understood more than his words.
“He’s an Escort,” Gwinn said, with her hands still raised in a peaceful gesture. She knew Adair was a bit trigger-happy. If the girl so much as heard an odd sound her gun was out and aimed, prepared to fire.
Adair lifted a brow as a sinful sneer dared to emerge.
“Not that kind,” Dagen said in his deep, calm voice. His signature half smirk was in place.
Adair pursed her lips. Her sex life might be less than heart racing—as interesting as a public broadcast—but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how to fantasize. She also knew how to use her sexuality to get what she wanted—and had before—without disgrace. Using it to get information out of him was fine by her.
“Shame,” Adair said as her haunting green eyes moved down Dagen’s dominant warrior build.
Dagen somewhat blushed, grinned and shifted his stare between Gwinn and Adair. “Um…”
“What? You’re taken?” Adair taunted. “Or are witches not your cup of tea?”
Dagen furrowed his brow in amusement, not sure how to respond. He knew as far as the Sons were concerned Adair was taken, and well, if he wanted a woman he had his own little witchling to keep him occupied.
Gwinn slightly shook her head ‘no,’ trying to tell Dagen he had already displayed a bit too much paranormal in front of Adair. Telling her the Sons had pretty much stated she belonged to Judge might not be a winning idea.
Gwinn never got the entire story, but she’d heard the Sons arguing with Judge and from the sounds of things Judge had the final say. With the MC that meant he had a claim on Adair. Gwinn wasn’t sure what a Son needed to make a claim but doubted it was much. Shade had just stood up and said she was his in the middle of a panic attack of hers. Gwinn still had her doubts that he meant to, but that was another story.
The thing was, as far as Gwinn could remember, Adair had never mentioned a Judge, and Gwinn surely hadn’t met Judge before the Boneyard. Not only that, but Gwinn was having a hard time seeing Adair with anyone. She was too independent, just as much as Reveca, if not more so in some areas. Adair was used to being alone, in small circles, and she was good with it because most times she was deep in her thoughts, gauging her senses.
“What kind of Escort are you, then?” Adair asked, gripping her gun tighter but not raising it.
She needed to figure out what his stake in all this was, if he was here to help her or hinder her. If it was the latter, she was bailing on this situation. She was going to find a place to chill and go through Finley’s old spell book—at this point she knew her mind was moving too fast, and to find any answer, to understand anything, she needed rest—quiet.
“Think dark angel on the straight and narrow once more,” Gwinn said, eyeing Adair’s gun, how her knuckles were white. Gwinn knew she could disarm her, stop her from firing again and drawing attention to them, but the chances that Adair would have a come apart or worse pull a weapon from somewhere else were more than fair. It always blew Gwinn’s mind in the past, how Adair could wear next to nothing and still conceal more than one weapon.
Dagen nodded once, agreeing with Gwinn’s explanation.
“And who he is to you?” Adair asked, swaying her gun in the direction of the man who was still out cold but was starting to moan. The man had treated Talley like some caged beast—and had threatened to rape Adair.
“Nobody.”
Adair eyed him apprehensively. “But you saved his life.”
“I saved you a headache,” Dagen said, narrowing his eyes on Adair. Him catching the bullet as closely as he did from the time she fired helped to muffle the noise, at least by half. The loud jazz music just a street over had surely covered the remainder of the sound, or so Dagen hoped. If it didn’t then he was going to have grab both these girls and this man and vanish if someone came to investigate. So far he sensed no one even bothering to seriously question anything they had heard.
Adair lifted her free hand to her head, feeling the pain of a migraine coming on. “No, I think you made it worse.”
“What’s wrong?” Gwinn asked, looking up at Adair.
“She’s hungry,” Dagen said as he looked over her vim, which was hovered against her body, completely deflated.
“I am not,” Adair said with a furrow of her brow, thinking this boy had lost his mind if he thought they were all just going to chill at lunch somewhere.
Gwinn’s eyes went wide with shock, knowing what Dagen meant.
Dagen nodded to tell Gwinn yes, as far as he was concerned the Sons could keep all the secrets they had about Adair to themselves. His orders were to pull Adair into the fold of the Helco Faction, which meant he had to teach this girl to feed, so that when she rose, when energy became her only source of nourishment, she would know how. The thing about Gwinn and Adair was it was not as easy as it should be. They didn’t come from backgrounds where they had tasted the rush of exaltation often.
From the looks of things Dagen was positive it had been a hot second since Adair had a good solid boost of the best kind of exaltation—orgasmic—but he wasn’t going there.
He knew Adair was starved enough that any surge of energy, no matter how small, would ease her.
Dagen stepped forward and reached his hand out.
“What?” Adair asked.
“We do it this way and I don’t leave a mark on you, that’d be best.” He meant that him sending a wave of his energy through her with a thought might piss off more than one Son, but Adair didn’t understand.
“Mark me?”
Gwinn was on the right page just then. She had gotten over the shock factor that a mortal could also be an Escort. She had a thousand questions about the topic but they could all wait. “He just wants to hold your hand.”
King had done the same thing to Gwinn when he was trying to help her learn magic. It tickled Gwinn, made her laugh, but once she felt the emotion, the magic she was fighting to understand became all the easier, and her mind cleared for a brief moment.
“You want to disarm me,” Adair accused.
“If I wanted to you would be,” Dagen said, with a hint of humor in his voice.
“Adair please, I know it sounds crazy, but just trust him. When we get back Reveca will explain more, if not King.”
“Who?”
“King, the one in your dreams,” Gwinn explained befor
e realizing that explanation would only make this worse.
Adair swallowed nervously—she was sure she was stuck in some twisted nightmare.
“He’s not haunting you or anything,” Dagen said. “I don’t think he even knows he was in your dreams—it’s just a soul link.”
Adair’s eyes went wide; she had only heard one person say such words—Finley. She had told Adair she had to teach herself to see the flow of energy so she could recognize those links. She said it was vital. You need to know your people, Adair, always.
Adair swayed back. The pain in her head, along with the heat of the room, and the shock of all of this was getting to her.
Dagen was before her in a breath. How fast he moved didn’t help Adair, it made it worse. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to focus. Dagen took her hands and when he did a sigh left her.
She couldn’t really explain the sensation, it was numbing like the feeling just before a buzz sets in. Tension left her body for the briefest of moments and when it did her mind opened wide. A waking dream state took over.
“You are starved,” Dagen said quietly as concern filled his eyes. He wasn’t even trying to give her a rush of vim.
In a brotherly way he reached to touch her face, and Adair leaned into his hand. The headache faded. A peace came over her. Against her will, her eyes closed succinctly, and as they did, all the visions she had seen before—Finley with blood on her brow, the spell book, the words, they started to slow down.
Little Dove…
Those visions may have been moving slow but that didn’t mean they were not still confusing her. She felt alone, out of place. Betrayed. Really betrayed.
***
The text, which came from Reveca’s number, simply said: lock down. To say the least, it had everyone up in arms.
Thames and Echo kept to their task of working through the witnesses who needed to forget what they saw with Adair’s deal, and the ones who witnessed Akan and Miah’s fight the night before. Steele stayed with them as their getaway driver. The others didn’t get a chance to make it all the way to the Graveyard to check Talley’s spot. There was a funeral in progress, blocking the road. Out of respect they waited in the distance.
