by Jamie Magee
Reveca drew her brows together. Scorpio was one of many who’d asked Judge to venture away from the home base of the Boneyard. Up until a few decades ago, Talon would allow it, temporarily. Then all at once he decided to never budge on the topic. He wanted Judge at home, in the core of it all.
Reveca asked Talon why more than once, worried Judge had predicted a fate she was unaware of, but Talon distracted her each and every time.
Now that she and Talon were not together, it was becoming far too easy for Reveca to look back and realize how many times she turned her head from matters she’d rather not know about, how many times she left questions unspoken.
“You told me you were at peace with staying here,” she said quietly. Distracted or not, she always made sure her boys were happy. The fastest way to create a Rouge was to make a good immortal feel imprisoned—make them feel as if they had no voice.
“I was, I am.” He paused. “I’m just pissed there’s another obstacle to overcome now—too much flying around in this shit storm as it is.”
Meaning Adair had yet another reason to never let him back in. The living and the dead are against us, Dove.
“You’d tell me if you sensed something off about Miriam, though.”
“No, I’d kill her,” he said, as if he were discussing the weather. Might do it anyway.
“Right…”
“What’s your deal with her, is that a witch thing—territorial?”
“No, that’s a Reveca thing. I’ve never trusted a ginger. She challenged a claim.” Reveca crossed her arms. “Not only that, she practiced magic on my turf against my own people.”
Judge looked down at her in question. He had to wonder why Reveca had an issue with redheads, it was hitting too close to home with the wicked vision he’d had about Talon.
“Thames said he was going to watch her,” he finally said.
“He has. I don’t think his gaze has left her direction for long—he still can’t see anything covert in her mind.”
“She might just be a twisted bitch. One Jade wants you to slaughter, obviously.”
“Which is the only reason I haven’t walked her over the border yet.”
After a long gaze up at him, she patted his chest then walked away.
A few moments later, Scorpio stopped his pacing and leaned in the doorway, passing a glare up to Dagen before meeting Judge’s waiting gaze.
“I take it you pushed the vote back again,” he grated.
Judge shifted his gaze over him. “You challenging my claim?”
“You have a claim? The witch seemed right pissed at you.”
Judge’s leer was as cold as he felt just then. “Tell me now so I can add you to the list of shit I have to handle.”
Scorpio shook his head, daring to laugh quietly. “I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for you because all hell is breaking loose. Step aside. Again. Because you have business to handle and don’t need to lose a friend on top of the rest, especially a friend who will gladly hold Chalice down as you cut that religious fuck’s head off.”
As Judge stared at him he remembered the night he found his family slaughtered. He remembered how Scorpio was right at his side, held him together as shock nearly brought him to his knees. How he vowed Judge’s family would be avenged, and swore to Judge it wasn’t his fault. “I don’t need you to hold him down.”
Scorpio shifted his gaze over Judge. “Any debt I owe you I paid in full when I came to you five years ago about Adair.”
“After you all but fucked her.”
In a flash Scorpio was nose to nose with him. “And who were you balls deep in when I was doing that? Some road whore whose face you can’t even remember?”
“Your point?”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Been called worse.”
“Did you even bother to read my mind? See what she said to me?”
A million times. “I saw it.”
“I don’t think you did—because you’re still in my fucking grill.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Her,” he said, with nod to Adair. “Every time your name was mentioned, the idea of you—her heart rate picked up, her breath caught, her fist tightened.” He narrowed his gaze. “The aroma of outright want for your ass slammed into the room.”
Judge took a step back, made it look as if he were only glaring at Dagen who’d nearly laughed at the commentary, his way of punctuating his agreement with Scorpio. Which made Judge feel like the butt of a joke, the last one to see the obvious.
“Look,” Scorpio said, drawing Judge’s attention back to him. “I’m fucking immortal, I got nothin’ but time. I dig Adair, and no matter how this spins, she’s going to be in my life.” Before Judge could charge him he said, “At the very least as a friend.” He nodded toward Judge. “I keep my friends’ best interests in play at all times. I’m going to protect her. Even if I have to protect her from your reckless ass.”
“Me?” Judge raged in a near silent hiss.
“She’s strong enough to deal with her fucked up past—she’s not a coward. You are.”
Judge’s energy fiercely flared out at Scorpio. He almost managed to sway Scorpio off his feet.
Instead of raging, Scorpio laughed. “It’s good to desire something, Judge—hell, it puts the living in life, chasing it, lusting for it—but it’s better to own it.” He lifted his chin. “You always get more than you ask for…you just have to fucking ask in the first place. Believe you’re worthy enough for your dreams.” He stepped back. “You are.”
Judge shifted his gaze from him, not caring for the fact Dagen was no longer relaxed on the rafters but dangling his legs down, leaning forward as Adair moved in her sleep—Judge was sure he had one of the best views in the room, and it scorched him knowing he did.
“You were supposed to be a dick about this shit,” he said to Scorpio.
“Why? You need a fight? If you want to kick some ass we have both Cages occupied.”
When Judge didn’t say a word, kept his stare locked on Dagen, Scorpio went on.
“Your Club wants war on the Devil’s Den, something that will distract them from Talon and Reveca’s split.” At Judge’s glance he said. “Yeah, I picked up on that, doubt many have missed it, but that’s their business—they still run this shit whether they’re fucking or not. No asshole who can zap around at will and catch bullets is going to stop ‘dat.”
Judge knew Dagen could hear every word Scorpio was saying but he never gave the slightest expression he did or even cared.
“Your Club wants war, your woman wants Talley laid to rest—and all you can think about is slicing Chalice into a million pieces.” Judge’s body tensed but he made no denial. “The only break from your plotted revenge is when you think of Adair, and when you do, you think to yourself, a man who could get off on the idea of outright murder—sadist slaughter—to obtain revenge is not good enough for her. You think you’ll stain her.”
Judge met his gaze then, wondering if this was obvious to the others, or, like always, Scorpio simply sensed darkness more than most—the crave of rage.
“Tell me, then,” Scorpio said, in a quiet tone. “What do you think she’d do to avenge her family? You think she’s going to place Talley to rest and go back to reading cards? Or do you think she’ll seek vengeance on every move that went into play in taking her family from her.”
“Zale’s dead.”
“Is he? I sure as hell didn’t see it happen.” Before Judge could state what he saw occur when he looked into the minds of the others, Scorpio cut him off. “Even if he was, he wasn’t alone—hell, I bet our witchling would take out every soul Zale held counsel with. She’d be ruthless until all the twisted witches and Rouges in this outfit met their maker.”
“She’s mortal,” Judge said, cutting Scorpio’s prediction in half.
“Now she is. She’s also a witch so powerful she can’t even comprehend it right now.”
Scorp
io fell silent for a moment, watching Dagen’s strange, sudden interest in Adair. “You both seek vengeance, and together you might have a shot in hell at reaching it.”
All at once Dagen appeared at Adair’s side, a breath from her lips.
This fucker wants to die…
That instant, both Scorpio and Judge were at his side.
Chapter Four
Scorpio went for a lethal hold, reaching his lean, but hard as iron arms around Dagen’s neck. But when he went to make contact he couldn’t—there was a barrier of energy blocking him.
Judge knew it would be there from the last time he’d faced off with Dagen so he didn’t bother to try. He’d kept a distance—he was watching for a weakness, a peek into Dagen’s mind that might tell him of one.
“What the fuck, man,” Scorpio said as he raged forward, failing to make contact once more.
Dagen lifted his hand, pointed his finger as if to tell Scorpio to be quiet so he could hear. After a few tense seconds he put some space between himself and Adair, but not much—he was still acting as if he was reading words from the energy all around her.
“Blocking energy without a thought,” Scorpio said, almost to himself as if he were starting to understand Dagen. “Can vanish from sight…”
In an exhausted tone Judge spoke over Scorpio who Dagen was ignoring. “You listen to me. I don’t care what you are, but I know I don’t have room on my calendar to kill you.” He pulled his strong shoulders back. “Back away before I make you catch every bullet on me. No doubt the noise will attract your boss man, mine too—then we can just get this rumble outta the way for good.”
Scorpio stepped back as his gaze drifted over Adair who was moving in her sleep, adjusting her legs.
Unconsciously, he just barely let his tongue trace his bottom lip, something he always did when he pulled from the vampire side of him and tasted emotions.
He took an even bigger step back as if he knew he needed the distance which earned him a half smirk from Dagen before he stood straight up and met Judge’s glare.
“She’s coming out of the haze,” Dagen said.
Scorpio nodded, almost miserably, to agree.
Judge drew his brows together in question as he appraised Scorpio. More often than not, Scorpio had ridiculed Judge for cutting his vamp side off. He’d told Judge he was sure he could see deeper, further, and maybe even forward if Judge only embraced all of who he was.
But Judge had seen what Shade fought, others like him who straight up only had that one paranormal trait. And Judge knew there was no more room in his head, no way he could sanely harbor the memories and experiences of those he’d feed from.
Judge leaned his head back, shifted his glare back to Dagen. “And you know that how? She’s moved like this for days.”
“He can see it,” Scorpio said. After one slow glide of his tongue across his lip he spoke. “A fucking mortal could taste this shit.”
“Can you?” Judge asked blankly, finally feeling the exhaustion of the emotions that had entrapped him for days.
“No…the taste is enough, brother, trust me.”
Judge questioned him with a furrow of his brow, but Scorpio never had a chance to answer.
Right then a surge of energy waved into the room, producing King.
“And you can call your boss with a thought,” Scorpio said, just before vaguely pursing his lips.
If Judge hadn’t found himself in instant defense mode he might have taken a second to look into Scorpio’s mind, watch him piece together whatever he was musing, sensing about King and Dagen.
Watching his mind work, how he seemed to find solutions from the most random influences, had fascinated Judge more than once before. Scorpio hadn’t lived much longer than Judge, but very early on, he broke away on his own adventures. He absorbed the knowledge of every culture—he explored mysticism to its deepest level.
For all Judge knew, he’d just cracked the code, figured out what King and Dagen were.
All at once, Adair stopped moving, and her tense expression settled.
“This what I think it is?” Scorpio asked King.
King took his time moving his gaze from Adair to him, and even longer to consider him. Then he only offered a shallow nod.
“What the fuck?” Judge asked, in the same languid tone as before.
Scorpio almost grinned, but thought better of it. “Most spells have a key, makes sense there’s one on her—King here was face-to-face with a witch who could complete a life slash soul changing spell with only a thought—he had to lock his spell in place, and make sure the key was nowhere near Adair at the time, but destined to return.”
Judge slowly ran the palm of his hand down his face. “I can’t deal, man. Speak English, Spanish, French, Gaelic—hell, speak Latin just speak straight.”
Scorpio stepped back again as if he were in discomfort. Dagen gave more space too.
“I gave it to you straight, bro. I’m out.”
Once Scorpio did leave and Judge heard the lock click in place, his perplexed gaze moved to Dagen then shifted to King.
“I thought you said she was coming about. What fucking key do I have to find?”
Dagen lifted a brow. “You’re the only one who can wake her.”
“What? What are you talking about? Did you pop into the wrong dimension? This isn’t the story of Sleeping fuckin’ Beauty—this is my life.” As fucked as it is.
King nodded to Dagen, and in that moment he vanished.
“You’re going to have to teach me that trick,” Judge hissed.
At first King didn’t respond. He was slowly circling Adair’s bed, looking her over, which only made Judge tense all the more.
He knew if he went any closer he’d draw her into his arms, forget himself, the time between them.
She looked absolutely beautiful as she lay there. Dawn was approaching. The moon was setting, and as is it did it glowed through her balcony windows, the luminosity spilling over her olive skin. The long, dark wavy locks of her hair were haloed around her. The sheet had fallen just below her waist, and the strap of her top was dangling down her shoulder.
“The spell,” King said, breaking his silence, “had several purposes. To say the least, Jade put me in a difficult position.”
“So sorry saving her life was trying to you. Maybe you should teach the rest of us how to zap around then we can handle it, but I guess you’d have to tell me where you came from first for that to happen.”
“You want to learn, ask.”
He answered Judge’s shocked gaze instantly. “You already move at the speed of light from one side of the room to the other—you just have to move faster if you want to, as you say—zap.”
Judge moved his head side-to-side in fake dismay. “Where did you come from?”
“Another dimension, the same one all the original witches of the Dominarum coven came from.”
Judge’s eyes fell to half-mast. “Between the other dimension and here.”
“Death…” He drew in a breath. “I take vows seriously. A man’s word—an immortal man’s word—is priceless. Particularly when spoken to someone you care about. I vowed to Reveca I would not interfere with you, this Club or anyone else when it came to restoring Adair.”
“Restoring her, interesting choice of words.”
“You think?” King asked with a slight lift of his chin. “Do you have an aversion to witches?”
“An aversion? A witch brought me back from death—I think I’m good with ‘em.”
“So you understand them?”
“Do you?”
A half smirk. “Ah, now, a true witch is a mystery that will never be understood.”
“What are you getting at, King?”
He crossed his arms. “Witches, souls like Adair, on the surface they’re calm, to others they may look at ease, but on the inside they’re anything but. Their mind is deep and the perceptions they take in guide them.”
Judge moved his head in a slow, piss
ed shake, not willing to repeat what he’d always said about the choices made when it came to Adair.
“Most times, they have no idea why they’re doing what they’re doing, what their gut is screaming at them to accomplish—but it always clicks into place—an eruption of power comes in the darkest hour, when it’s needed the most. The answers are always in the conflict they endure.”
Judge made no comment. All King was doing was dressing up what others had said to him, what Reveca had said to him.
“What do you know of her history, her heritage?”
At this Judge grinned. Flashes of Adair when they were together came to him, the little witch on the back of his bike, the free spirit who always caused him to look at the world anew. “That’s what you don’t get, King. That’s why it’s going to take you a hellva long time to fit in here until you do.” He stepped closer to King. “We all come here broken. It’s not death and resurrection that binds us to the Pentacle Sons, to our fearless leaders Talon and Reveca Beauregard, our King and Queen—it’s the broken road we traveled to get here. It’s the fact that we never fit the mold of the lives we’re given.” He bit his lip before he spoke on. “We may not have gotten along with the families that bore us, but we loved them still and left them for a place where we could be free—and the moment we did, we set the foundation for our heritage.” His gaze dipped over King. “Adair was an orphan, deceased parents, an insane grandmother. The Sons gave her a family. This is her heritage. I’m her heritage.”
King slowly nodded. “And do you think it’s a fluke of nature that she’s a natural witch?”
Judge did his best to hide the shocked glint in his stare. The term ‘natural witch’ was one Reveca only used sparingly and with the utmost respect. He’d never heard her outright confirm Adair was one…if she had, Judge wasn’t sure he would have made the same choice as he did years ago.
As quickly as his familiar demon of regret surfaced, he pushed it away. Easy to do when his sharp memory showed Talley preparing to thrust into Adair as blood pooled around her.
“Natural, then?” Judge said finally.
