by Jamie Magee
She could see the men in the truck slouched over. The van was what was on fire, the back half of it anyway. There was a man outside of it yelling into a phone.
Reveca made her way down the highway, to her Boneyard, parked her bike, and strolled in. Those at the club, outside, were all looking down the highway, all hearing distant sounds of sirens marching their way.
When she reached the front porch of her house, King was leaning there. “That truck looks familiar.”
“You think?” she asked trying not to grin. “I have a girl’s life to save. If you think you can not kill Cashton, and want to use that healing power, for the karma of it at least, then follow.”
When she reached the top of the stairs, he was there. King, leaning against the wall. “I’m not a healer.”
Reveca sucked in a deep breath. “What are you?” He said nothing. “What did that power do to you?” Silence accompanied by a cold stare. Reveca stepped closer, angled her neck back to meet that gaze. “When they took you from the dead clutches of my hands, what did they do to you?”
His eyes narrowed; anger engulfed them.
“Didn’t know that part? Wondering how a dead woman, or rather a woman turned immortal, had the child you think I did?” She stepped closer. Only let an inch separate them. “I didn’t. That was Saige. Saige carrying her lover’s, Lorecan’s, child. I was in a fucking prison called The Edge.”
The fury stayed in his eyes, maybe even grew.
“Right,” she said as she passed him by. When she opened the door mystery girl was just about to start one of her reenactments, was moaning and thrashing about. Reveca reached her side right as her stomach jutted forward.
“Hold her!” she said to Shade and Cashton.
Each took an arm. Reveca sat astride her chest and took the leaves Jamison had given her and packed them in the girl’s mouth, forced her to swallow as she whispered sacred words across her lips.
The girl started to shake violently, so much so that Shade tried to pull Reveca off her, but Cashton tackled him, having to use all his force to slam Shade against the wall. He managed to hold him there until reinforcements came. Talon and Echo both charged into the room.
Shade was cussing, they all were. The girl was bucking. It was all Reveca could do to keep her energy where it needed to be.
Finally, all at once, she felt this girl claim life. Immortality. Her body settled. Almost exactly at the same time Shade shut up, ceased fighting.
“You all right?” Talon asked Reveca. She was still astride the girl but daring to ease back.
“Yeah.”
“We rode like hell all the way here. You scared the fuck out of me.”
“It was a set up,” she said still keeping her eyes on the girl. “They have more than a few girls—more like fifty. The dime store witches they’ve taken are with them, and so are whatever mad scientist they have mixing blood back and forth. They’re not around Fly, they’re at Gaither. The plan was to lure you to Fly then -boom.”
“How do you know that?” Talon asked in his deep voice which was a mix of anger and fear, a fear only she would recognize. The only fear she had ever known Talon to have was existing in a world she wasn’t in. Which is where his protective side came from.
Reveca reached for the water on the nightstand and tried to coax the girl into swallowing a bit.
“The truck from last night came back. We had a chat.”
Echo busted out laughing. “You? I knew it! You flung that truck at the lawmen, didn’t you!”
Reveca lifted a shoulder. “I was told to shoot first,” she said with wink aimed at Talon.
Right then the girl started to come around.
Talon, Echo, and Reveca were to the right of the bed, Shade and Cashton to the left. When mystery girl’s eyes fluttered open they went to the foot of the bed. “King,” she rasped.
Everyone looked to the doorway; there King was staring curiously into the room at this girl that was doing her best to smile. “You’re real. I knew you were…” And with that she drifted into a sleep.
“She’s fine,” Reveca said to the room. “Before dawn she’ll be out of this bed, fully immortal.”
Shade wasn’t fine, not at all. He charged out of the room, ensuring he slammed into King as he did so.
“You know her?” Talon asked King.
King met Reveca’s stare then turned to leave without a word.
Talon looked down at Reveca. “I thought you said Jamison gave you swipe.”
“I did. It doesn’t take it all, just takes her back before whatever trauma she endured.”
“How in the hell does she know King?”
“I don’t know,” Reveca said under breath, feeling that burn of jealously rise in her.
“You fuck this girl?” Echo asked Cashton.
Cashton made a face clearly saying Echo had lost it.
Echo shrugged. “You fucked somebody that boy’s into. Both of you were dead and nobody knows where the fuck this girl came from. Just sayin.” Echo patted Cashton on the shoulder. “It’s all good now, though. Shade and King will fight for a bit, give you time to figure out when you pissed in his cheerios.” He lifted his brow. “Bonus. King won’t hit you and I win the bet!” And with that he left, laughing. Cashton followed, looking for air no doubt.
“That’s all we need,” Talon said. “Shade is too young to be looking at this girl like this.”
“Age doesn’t have damn thing to do with it,” Reveca said as she busied herself cleaning the girl up.
Her priority right then was to get into this girl’s mind. Find out what GranDee was doing with her, and how in the hell she knew King. Right then though, even with the jealousy, with the pending wars and unanswered questions, she felt gratitude.
She’d brought this girl back. She should be long gone ten times over and Reveca had brought her back. That was a gift. One the universe let her deliver. That and of course her night was made the second she saw that truck crash.
“Even if you only have a second to be happy each day, one second to feel a rush, you take it, because it’s not promised to come again. That’s where the power is, love. It’s in exalting moments, no doubt there.”
The words from her past echoed in her mind as she let herself bask in the victory she had.
Whatever battles tomorrow brought, she’d be ready for them.
Episode Three
Chapter One
Time. It has a way of settling your aggressions. In some cases it teaches you to think before you speak. In others, you develop a habit of not giving a damn what you say—or do. Talon had always lingered somewhere in between.
In his mortal days he did nothing but raise hell. He never thought before he spoke. That notion forced him to learn to fight at a young age, simply because not many liked to hear what he had to say. The first of his immortal days were more of the same.
Even today, he was quick to strike first and ask questions later, at least when it came to those he cared about: Reveca, his MC. At the same time, because of his Club, he learned to pick his battles, or at the very least carefully plot his way through the war he was eager to engage in.
His cool nature coupled with his appearance was what some said made him the most lethal of all the Sons. He could smile with the best of them, never let you know he was onto you, then strike the lethal blow without warning.
One thing that Talon had never done well was bend to the will of others. He knew, though, that the only way to command an empire was to learn to do just that, marginally, of course. You always needed someone with just a bit more power or influence than you to edge you higher.
However, in his opinion Reveca bent far too easily for her family, for the coven that turned their back on her when she tried to build a life of her own.
Saying goodbye, she could never handle that. And as long as she had existed she’d been force to do so over and over. People came into her life and they left. As long as it wasn’t a final goodbye she could handle it for
the most part, at least as far as Talon knew she could.
Not being able to handle that final goodbye is the reason he was an immortal today. She’d brought him back. To this day he could still remember that pull. He remembered the cold grip of death opposing her, seeing all that he’d done wrong in life.
The only thing in his life that had any trace of good to it was Reveca. She was no damsel in distress. He’d never saved her from the woes of life, but she made him see life differently. She gave purpose to all that he was fighting against.
When she first began to pull him back, he hesitated. He knew it was her fear of being alone, her hatred of saying goodbye that was spilling her tears, that what they had was raw, deep and powerful, yet not complete.
He found himself hovering over his body, watching her cry, watching her pull all the power she could to one source. Through the words of the spell that were whispering across her lips he heard her say, ‘not again,’ over and over.
Two words. They’ve haunted him since that day, since the moment when he could not watch her fall apart any longer and gave in to the pull of her magic, told death to get its fucking hands off of him, he wasn’t done.
He never regretted giving in, not even when the days became endless and sour, when he and Reveca had enough of each other. When every word they said was a dagger aimed at the heart. When loyalty held them in place, where once passion had.
He never regretted when all those that he knew, was born with, moved into death, not when he and Reveca found themselves in hell on earth time and time again.
End game. He didn’t really have one of those. In the beginning they were fighting for change, fighting to help the voiceless ones. They were the dark guardian angels. But the world kept growing, the foul darkness did. Greed, power—they were the mistresses the world seduced, curled up to each night.
Being crystal clear on how humanity was aimed squarely at demise would surely make any soul want to surrender, let go. That didn’t happen with Talon. Or Reveca. No, they began to choose their battles, made differences in small circles, would watch those groups grow and then move on. They’d move on long before anyone ever had the chance to realize they were not aging. They’d move on before they had to say goodbye to souls they’d brought into their fold, ones they knew would never chose the immortal life, that would let go when their moment came.
With each move, though, their immortal circle grew. Simply because, inevitably, a warrior that had fought at their side would fall, he’d fall and because Reveca could not bear the pain, she’d bring him back. Even if she wasn’t close to him even if it was only Talon that would have to carry the loss, she couldn’t handle it.
Talon was against coming to New Orleans. He never cared for the region. The roads were not open enough, or long enough for his comfort. It was Reveca’s choice to settle there. She’d told him it was because of the spirits, said that crossing from reality into her Edge was simpler there, didn’t drain her.
Talon knew better.
There was something about the river, the swamp…the way she would stand at the bank and stare down at the lilies.
Every once in a while he’d push her to let him in, ask her about her past. The closest she came to letting him in, the reason he agreed to settle in that swampland, was when she said it reminded her of home, a world that she’d lost long ago.
The story Talon knew was that the dimension the Dominarum Coven was in grew dark, began to collapse. Jamison, Saige, and even Reveca pulled their power together and found a passage to the world they were in now. They started over.
He’d asked Reveca to tell him about her home, anything about her life before she became the fierce woman he knew her to be, but she’d shut down. Those shut downs would lead to their breaks apart.
The last time, when she came back, she told him that her deepest fear was that she had destroyed that world. That her reckless magic had changed the energy, let more evil in…she told him thinking of home and knowing that she could never see it again was too much. That if he wanted to know about it, to ask Saige.
That was one of many statements that drew a line in the sand. One where she dared him to cross and he refused. He refused because he didn’t want anyone telling him anything about his woman. Especially her twin, who hated every fiber in his soul.
Saige told him once he was there to comfort her sister for the time being and nothing more. Flat out made him feel like some fucking chew toy.
Jamison and Talon had a better relationship, but only marginally. Even though the man had an evident amount of power emanating off of him, he never boasted about that, was downright cordial in most cases. He was the one that in some way convinced Talon that settling in New Orleans, so close to members of Reveca’s past, was best for not only her but for Talon, too.
He did that the way Jamison negotiated every alliance in his life, with a cool stare and a calm smile. He’d laid out the benefits, right alongside the restrictions, and of course tempted vices.
Being close to other immortal souls had its benefits, no doubt. At the very least in your day-to-day life you didn’t feel like you were watching the same movie over and over. Other immortals had seen the course of time, so they were slow to let their emotions control them, slow to fall into a meaningless rut, repeat mistakes that generation after generation had before them, all the while thinking they were far different from those that bore them.
And of course, unlike lurking with mortal souls, that day that you would have to let them go, that they’d move into death, all but never came. At the same time, grudges lasted longer. All that BS about say what you mean because tomorrow is never promised vaguely registered with immortals; not at all, really.
Jamison had told Talon that the energy in the land around the Boneyard, the energy around every home the coven members had, was rich, that it literally mirrored Reveca’s birthplace which would give her power, allow her to control the Edge with ease, allow her to bring back souls far easier, if she continued to do so.
He told Talon that in that land any oddity he or the Club let slip could easily be explained away or at the very least the mortal souls were superstitious enough not to question what they saw.
All of that was awesome for Reveca. But it didn’t do a damn thing for Talon, and sure as hell didn’t do shit for his boys. Each of them were warriors at some point in time, born and bred to fight. Each of them were not satisfied unless they had an enemy, had a battle that would stop bullshit assholes that were hurting others with their small minds and greedy hands.
Jamison’s solution to that? The Club. It was his idea that Talon organize his followers in the public eye. The Club allowed them to help the community they were in in more ways than one. It also allowed them to blend within that world. It fed their desire for camaraderie; it gave them a place to air their aggressions. Allowed them to connect to their primal nature where they openly claimed what was theirs. A place where the only choice you had was to be strong, where you told your fear—and any trace of weakness—to go to hell.
This life promised them a fight that would never end or grow tiresome.
And that fight indeed was never-ending. The moment waters would still among the mortal battles, when the others that opposed the Sons would fall apart, or rebuild, even shift hands, the immortal battles would escalate. The Sons would take that time to revisit old grudges.
Rarely had both worlds been full of action at once. That was changing now. A somewhat innocent intent to get medicine to families that could not afford them had started a war. A war with corporations, a war with other gangs—ones that did their best to find and seize the narcotics that the Sons were taking off the streets.
The immortal souls that had left Reveca and Talon’s inner circle had now branched out, not only figuring out how to create other immortals but being dead set on becoming the next evolution of mankind.
All of that was enough to keep Talon nice and busy. Then a lone wolf turned his back on the Club in a way that they never i
magined he would. Then GranDee died, murdered. Then Saige sent her sister, his woman, to the depths of death to bring back another soul.
From the second Talon laid eyes on King something didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t like how tense Reveca was in that boat as they docked. He didn’t like how Reveca refused to look at King. That was a red flag for Talon. In most cases Reveca was extremely protective of those she brought back, would hover until she knew they had their balance.
King’s clarity, that too, bothered Talon. He shouldn’t be very clear on anything at this point. No, he should be a slave to his senses, wanting to see, hear, taste…touch everything as if it were for the first time. Every sensation he loved before he should be entranced by now.
Then that girl. When she woke up days ago she said his name, acted as if he were some God she was told existed but had never seen.
Since that night Reveca had kept her distance from everyone but that girl.
It had been days since Talon touched her, days since he had a conversation with her that lasted more than a moment. It was downright pissing him off. Reveca was a drug to him and knew it. And just like any other addiction he knew when he wasn’t getting his daily dose. He could feel the aggression building within, the patience he had fading. He could feel a lot of things he’d rather not.
The worst part was he’d been here before. With Zale.
The other night, when he and Reveca had made up from their almost fight, she mentioned his name aloud for the first time in a long while. Before that he was just a Rogue. He was the ‘leader of the Rogue’s,’ but that night she named him.
To an outsider it would seem as if she was mentioning him simply to point out how out of hand the Rogue’s had become, how now the Sons had no choice but to fight and defend them equally. But to Talon, it meant something else. It meant Reveca’s mind was recalling the first time she strayed from their bond. She said he was a mistake which only led Talon to wonder what other mistakes her mind was tempting her to make.
Zale was a member of the Dominarum Coven, one of the originals. Zale had a knack for keeping himself alive and well for far longer than he should have been able to. Then gravity started to weigh on his body, though he looked young and prime on the outside, inside he was shutting down. He had to die to live.
