by Jamie Magee
Talon barely glanced at the bag before he made his way to Reveca, before he slowly gathered her in his arms and breathed her in. “I hate these runs,” he said against her neck. And he did.
At first she’d let Talon come, felt safer with him there, but him being that close to death, her knowing that only a few words were holding his immortality in place made her a coward. Her paranoia that death would swallow him whole without warning forced her to make up every excuse in the book for him to stay behind. Lately, it was that he was needed at the Boneyard, needed to guide the Sons through any upsets that could spring up at any moment, much like the raid the night before.
“The flood of souls keeps us all far away from the pull of death,” she assured as she squeezed him against her.
She looked back. “Did you see your gift?”
Talon let a low chuckle out as he reached to let his fingertips trace across her cheekbone. “My woman, witch by day, gator trainer by night.”
“You’re not going to like this, boss,” Judge said as he stood over the bag, which Thrash had unzipped.
Talon looked over his shoulder then made his way to his throne.
Most of the scripts were repackaged. Cellophane had been wrapped around the bulk meds, but they were still ruined.
“Are those that had hands on that still with us?” Reveca asked sliding into a chair. She was tired and she hated that she smelled like the river.
Talon was looking over the meds nice and slow. His dark stare moved to Thrash. There was something in that stare that Reveca couldn’t read, but that was nothing new. Thrash and Talon had been side by side since birth. Every war they had ever fought was together, both immortal and mortal. They could often say a thousand words with one hard stare like that.
If Reveca really wanted to know she’d ask, and in most cases, Talon just told her they had seen something coming, then went through a long combat story that Reveca could care less about.
“Well?” Reveca asked again.
“Only a few are left. When we shut down the clinic we let everyone go that had worked on the shipments which were short, but we had just brought on a few more medical people. We moved them instead and haven’t had a shortage since.”
“Which means you either scared them or let go of who could have helped Holden,” Reveca said, getting a nod of agreement from Steele, Echo, and Thames.
“We’ll have to look into it,” Talon said with an unreadable stoic expression.
“This is going to tick you off,” Thrash said reaching in and pulling out the bags that were nothing more than black water now, ones that had horns stamped on them.
“They have a death wish, don’t they,” Talon said letting his sharp stare lift up to the boys around the table.
“No doubt asking for attention,” Judge agreed.
Talon reached in the pocket of his kut and pulled out the bag the crows had brought back.
The thing about asking nature to help you is that often they don’t know how to, or can’t, be tender. The part of the bag where the stamp should be had been ripped by the crow’s beak. If the gators had not completed their part, the Sons would have no idea who was dealing at this point.
“Zale told me this drug was popular at his home,” Reveca said. “That is a long way from the Devil’s Den, and though they’re a fierce mortal gang, they barely have connections across the states, down south. Have they made allies we don’t know about?”
Knight shook his head. “I would’ve seen that somehow. I’d know if any one of them left on the regular, so would our lawmen buddies.”
“Then they were approached,” Talon said. “Someone knew of our issues with them, knew we had severed their business, and had knowledge of how to make this drug.”
“Do we really think that old mortal fuck was brave or smart enough to do that?” Thames asked.
“Doesn’t make much sense to me,” Reveca said. “Why would he go to the police or whomever and try to take down Jamison BellaRose then turn and partner with a gang?”
“Money. The man wanted money,” Knight said. “He began as a mythologist, but a closed-minded one who tried to disprove old myths. He even taught a course along those lines for a time. Somehow he got ticked at Jamison. Seems like his first plot was to sell him to some government scientist, to test him. He even went so far as to call him a national threat. They laughed him off. He tried to accuse Jamison’s establishments of selling hexes and such. Basically, he accused them of fraud, and he was laughed off again. That was years ago and now this. He could have found a way to sell his knowledge or exploit it.”
“He was no scientist though. He could just read spells. It takes someone with some kind of scientific knowledge or training to cook this,” Talon said.
“Once you have the recipe it doesn’t,” Reveca said. “From that point, he just needed fools to make it and sell it—and if he managed to get people to do that then he was basically hiring hunters to seek out immortals. They were doing so to make the drugs, he was doing so to gain power, to throw it back into the face of all those who’d laughed at him.”
“Contacts overseas?” Judge questioned.
“I’m sure. There aren’t many myths to disprove in this young land.” She glanced at Knight. “If you can back track everywhere he traveled over the last decade or so, we might be able to figure out who his partners are.”
“And until we figure that out we are stuck cleaning up the result,” Talon said. He glanced at Reveca. “We need a few days between this raid and when we go and take that house down. I still want eyes on it at all times. If they look like they’re moving anyone or anything then we go, deal with lawmen afterward.”
Everyone in the room knew that was the only choice they had, but they were not happy about it. Thames and Echo had told them that sweat shops had better conditions than what they saw when they shifted and did their recon.
“What about Evanthe?” Thrash asked. Thrash would never admit it aloud but the idea that she was missing was ripping him up inside, causing that inner beast to be quiet less and less.
Evanthe had helped him the most with his balance as an immortal. There were hardly any words between them, even after all this time, but each time she came near the Boneyard she’d see him, and say, “My warrior friend, you look as if you need some tea.” And she’d set a thermos before him, would let her delicate hand run down his broad arms which were sleeved with tattoos. Her touch would always make Thrash tingle in the oddest way. Then she’d leave. That tea, it calmed that beast in Thrash, settled his thoughts, allowed him to focus on other enhanced elements, grasp who he was.
“Zale may be a bastard, but if he gives a damn about anyone it’s his twin. I’m sure he has more leads than we do.” Reveca met Thrash’s stare. “She’s fierce. I honestly think, even with whatever spells they have at their fingertips, they could not hold her unless she allowed them to. She’s trying to stop this from within. I’m sure of it.”
“Zale is not going to share shit with us, that’s why we have to make this run as sharp and clean as possible,” Talon said as he looked at Thames and Judge. “You two need to make sure you’re ready. You’re going to have to dive into a lot of fucked up minds nice and fast and get whatever knowledge you can.”
They both nodded in agreement.
Talon grabbed a box of meds and tossed them in the fire behind him. He was going to destroy the evidence nice and slow, stare at those flames and seek the answers he couldn’t understand now.
“I’m going to clean up and check on my witchling,” Reveca said as she stood. The other guys were starting to mull over what was known of this war and Reveca could not bear to hear the same facts over and over, not when their hands were tied for the next few days.
The fog was still hauntingly thick as Reveca made her way back to her home, the remaining evidence of the hours of rain from the night before. With each step she took she thanked the nature that had protected her and her own once more. When she felt the wind brush across
her shoulder and kiss her face she grinned.
This was her faith. Not some Gods she’d never see, not myths that were coming to life more and more each day, not a dark or light power that could not be explained. But the Earth.
Mother Nature was her religion. It was where all power, all things that deserved to be worshiped, existed in Reveca Beauregard’s mind.
As she showered, rinsed the thick aroma of the river and the clinging humidity from her body, she thought over her night, everything that Cashton had said, how it mirrored so closely to what she knew as a child.
It was terrifying to sense a faith you had let go of consume your life, to have every sign point to its truth.
Reveca slid a short silk robe over her moist body. She wasn’t ready for the restrictions of clothes just yet. Her hair was down, gently dried with a towel, and slowly curling in the long waves it was known to stay in as it tried to dry further in the humid air.
That hum, it greeted her before she ever reached her shower. Even though it infuriated her, it also gave her a welcome calm. Allowed her mind to keep mulling over all that she knew, allowed her to keep searching for a reason her sister had sent her to death to retrieve two different boys, ones that could not be any more different. She had to wonder if that played into her other hells or if it was unrelated, simply occurring simultaneously.
Slowly she opened her door and padded down the long hall to Gwinn’s room.
She knocked softly before she entered, and when she opened the door slightly she saw Gwinn, wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the wide windowsill, staring out at the thick fog that had not lifted, only grown darker as the day moved on.
“Are you okay?” Reveca asked when she reached her side. She let her hand run across Gwinn’s head as if she were a lost child. She looked so weak, like she did those first few days after she finally awoke. Not figuring out how to care for this girl was driving Reveca mad. It had never been this hard to get anyone to latch on to this new life.
“They’re back,” Gwinn said.
Reveca followed her gaze, through the fog that no mortal could see through, and she saw rather small fishing boats with lawmen in them, searching the bank as well as they could in the current conditions.
“They’re looking for something the gators took from them last night. They’ll give up soon enough.”
Reveca sat down on the windowsill beside Gwinn, nearly smiled before she spoke. “This is going to sound like irony coming from me, but in most cases, one should not freak out about the boys in blue. They’re meant to keep you safe.”
“They keep you safe?” Gwinn asked.
“I keep me safe. Look, there’re bad eggs in every crowd. The Sons seem to attract those at times. But for every bad one there are ten good ones. The entire force is not corrupt, only a few, and eventually karma has its say.”
Gwinn kept her stare on the distant boats.
“But I have a feeling that you came across some bad eggs with blue and red lights. You want to tell me about that?”
Gwinn bit her lip before she spoke. “I don’t really remember…it was just panic. Then that headache. Nothing had ever hurt that bad before.”
“Did it give you any visions, any memories, even little flashes?”
“Too many to understand. I don’t even know if was the lights, or just the idea that cops were here.”
“It’s not something that came from foster care, some memory about being moved from home to home?”
“That was sad, not scary, not like I felt last night.”
Reveca let silence linger for a moment.
“King helped calm you down?”
Gwinn smiled slightly. “He’s familiar. Something about him is. I don’t know what it is but he just…I feel saved around him.”
“Like faith saved, redeemed?”
She shook her head. “Saved, out of danger, like no one can hurt me.” Her eyes met Reveca’s. “I feel that way around others here, too. It’s different with King though, almost fatherly. I don’t know how to explain it. He just understands without me having to explain.”
“Did you tell him that? Ask him about it?”
She shook her head, blushed. “I’m sure he’s going to avoid me for awhile. I cried. A lot. On his shoulder last night.”
“You’re all right, right now?”
Gwinn nodded right as there was a tap at the door and then it opened. It was Shade. The expression on his face when he saw Reveca mocked a child who had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In his hand were two steaming mugs.
Reveca patted Gwinn’s leg then stood. As she passed Shade she let her hand run down his arm.
Once in the hallway, she stood frozen with fear. She knew she needed to talk to King, that she was avoiding it, but the way he made her feel, the vast unknown that clung to him, the threat of what that would do to her life was near paralyzing.
She looked to the stairs, the ones that led to the third floor, where his room was, and made herself move that way.
Judge, Knight, and Steele also had rooms on this floor, but their rooms were open. They were clearly still in Church helping the others prepare for a perfect run.
The door that led to King’s room was just slightly ajar. It took all the will in the world but she pushed her way in. To her amazement, the aged door didn’t creak and announce her arrival.
Common sense, that sense that told her she didn’t need to give the wrong impression to anyone inside or outside of this room, had her leave the door as ajar as she had found it.
It was a large room, but there wasn’t much in it beyond a king-size bed that centered it and a few chairs. The double doors leading up to the third story balcony were open.
Framed in the center of the doorway was King. His shirt was off, and his jeans were hanging just so around his lean hips. His back was to her, arms were braced on the rail, and his head was low as if he were in deep thought.
Reveca stared for a moment. His skin was so pure, not one tattoo stretched across the taut muscles of his arms or his back. It was so different from what she was used to around the Sons.
She watched him breathe in, the muscles in his back tense.
Reveca made it to the doorway; silently they stayed like that for a moment, his back to her front, several feet between them.
“Where have you been, what did they do to you?” Reveca asked so quietly that she wasn’t sure she said it at all.
King had been on that porch all through the night, in that one position. He was tracking Reveca, her energy as she moved farther away, then found her way home.
He wasn’t sure how he was doing that, he wasn’t sure about a lot of things. And when he felt her approach him, come into his lair, he started to tell himself to calm down, to choose his words and actions carefully, to be gentle, but then the truth hit him—he wasn’t as powerful as he once was, he didn’t have to tell himself to be careful any longer.
Her direct question sliced right through him. His reaction came before thought had a chance to register.
One moment Reveca was standing in the doorway on trembling limbs, then the very next, a surge of energy encased her and she found herself in the room, against the wall, King’s massive body before hers, his forehead against hers, arms pinning hers to the side.
“I’m not him…not anymore,” He said in a deep husky voice. He slowly unclasped his hands that had her pinned against the wall, then reached for her face. He leisurely let his hands cascade all the way down her neck past her shoulders. That robe of hers never stood a chance. It fell open all on its own, baring her nude body.
A hiss left his lips and desire filled his half-mast eyes.
The second Reveca felt his hands rush across her chest she let out a shocked breath. The hum was so deep, and it shot right to her core.
King’s breaths were steady but hot against her face. Slowly, he let his hands glide down her sides and she would be damned if there was anything she could do to stop him.
He wa
sn’t overpowering her, it was the fact that her mind, body, and soul didn’t want to be anywhere else but here, in front of him. Every part of her was humming. That sharp emotion of exaltation was claiming her. It was like coming home, an indescribable sensation you felt when you had been away for so long. Past and present colliding…when you realized how much had really changed.
Right as his hands reached her hips, as his thumbs dared to dance across the part of her body that was all but begging him to engage, his lips fell against hers, framed them just so. Then he spoke, teasing the flesh of hers as he did. “I want to be, but I’m not,” he said as his hands rose and moved across her once more, as his lips melded briefly with hers. Just as she glided her tongue against his, felt the scorching heat of him, inhaled him and arched her chest forward unable to hold herself back from the pull between them, he let out a hiss. The next thing she knew he was across the room, sitting on the edge the bed, his head down, and she was against the wall, open, bare to him and hating herself because she didn’t want him to stop.
It took her a second, but she pulled her robe closed, tied the knot of the belt as tight as she could around her. She stared at him, the invisible weight that seemed to hang heavy on his broad shoulders which were sculpted sharply with thick muscle.
“Who are you then?”
Slowly he looked up at her. His eyes which were like diamonds glinted, and that glint was malice. His jaw clinched and his upper lip nearly twitched before he spoke. “Evil.”
The word sent a chill down her spine, simply because she knew it was more than a word to souls like her and King. It was real.
“I’ve brushed up against evil, and you are not that. Who took you that dawn, how did you come back—how did you see Saige with Lorecan and think that was me?”
King didn’t answer for a long moment, his mind whirling in every direction. In all truth, before he landed in the custody of Crass, before that death opened him wide up, he didn’t know a Reveca. He didn’t know of a death on a battlefield in another dimension.
