“This is true, but sometimes, the situation can get out of hand. I think we can officially state that this situation is out of hand.”
“Never out of the Fates’ hand,” Theo clarified. “Ours? Yes. Theirs? No. Everything happens for a reason, Rafe. We’d be foolish to think otherwise.
“Why else would they have taken her there?”
“I don’t know, Theo, maybe because that’s where their hideout is?”
“They were going to hide her with distance and time, weren’t they?” Mikkel murmured slowly, his scowl darkening as he realized the ramifications of that. “But why? Theo can bend time to his will too. What’s the advantage of that?”
“There is no advantage. That’s why they’ve slipped up.”
“How do you figure that one out?”
“Because it’s too uncanny.”
“You’re reaching.” Rafe studied him with narrowed eyes.
Theo shrugged. “Maybe, but don’t you think it’s strange that of all the places, in all the damn world, Thalia is currently in a city all three of us have been to?”
Rafe shook his head. “No. I don’t. It’s Sin City, Theo. Sin City. Lots of people visit there. That’s the whole point of it.”
Theo’s jaw bled white as he glowered at Rafe. “Carry on looking through her eyes. What do you see?”
Disconnecting from his conversation with Theo, Rafe sullenly traveled down the path that was his and Thalia’s alone.
Well, at least he thought it was theirs.
Was it their child’s too?
Before he could worry about that, Thalia murmured, Everywhere looks old.
He couldn’t disagree. Yeah. It does, he admitted. The cars here were what he considered vintage now, and the buildings—their façades were stylized for another era. Does it feel like the seventies to you?
I guess, she murmured, before she let out a shriek. On the brink of freaking out as the view ahead of him rocked from side to side like a capsizing boat, she straightened herself out again.
I can’t be back in time, can I? she asked quietly, disbelievingly.
And who could blame her?
Caelus, this was beyond surreal.
Do you think you could land and ask someone for the date?
I don’t know. The wings… Doesn’t Theo hide them with glamor?
Maybe the child could help.
I don’t know how to talk to a fetus, Rafe, she grumbled drily, but he could sense she was amused rather than annoyed.
No, I guess not, he said on a soft breath. I’ve been to Vegas twice. Back when I was eighteen, and then, a few years ago on a conference.
Does it look like either of those times?
Yeah, like when I was eighteen.
You mean I’m back in the seventies?
I think so. I recognize that Ford Zodiac. My dad had one—considered it a classic car. I hated it. It had leather seats and I always wanted to puke when we drove in it. He loved that damn thing.
She snorted. Good memories.
The best, he retorted drily, even as he wanted to cringe.
Those memories weren’t good. And they weren’t of his family, were they?
They were his surrogate family, but they’d never loved him. His mother had loved his kitchen and had, in her own way, been proud of him, he guessed. But nothing like she’d been with his supposed sisters.
Though many things were starting to make sense, it was too much of a headache to really think about now.
Back when he was eighteen, he’d been relieved as hell to get out of the house, to finally get out from under his father’s roof. He’d attended college and then medical school on a scholarship, and had used the money he’d saved through high school to come here with his girlfriend at the time.
It had been a long trip, but he’d loved her, and they’d wanted to say goodbye to each other in style.
That summer had been one of the best in his pre-Thalia life.
No. It’s definitely the seventies, or at least, the early eighties, he told her as Circus Circus came into view. He recognized the Big Top, which had looked the same when he’d been there.
I wonder why they brought me here, she murmured, not asking a question, more making a statement of puzzlement.
Theo thinks it’s because of Mikkel.
Why would it have anything to do with him?
When I said you were in Las Vegas, he told us he’d been raised there.
She fell quiet at that. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?
Not you too, he scoffed.
If you’d seen what I’d seen today, Raphael Santiago, you wouldn’t be mocking things you don’t understand! He felt her shiver, saw the way her view altered as her body shuddered with the memory.
She needed her mates. Rafe got back to the subject at hand: We need to pinpoint a time. If we’re to come and get you, we need to know when exactly.
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right? she asked warily.
He frowned. Huh?
Do you think if I went up to someone, with my wings out and in a toga, they’d think it was fancy dress?
He thought about that, thought about the simpler times of the seventies, and had to murmur, I reckon so. But that kind of costume is about ten thousand times better than what was available at the time. You’ll attract a lot of stares.
Her view shuddered as she obviously began to decelerate. I can deal with stares, so long as they don’t call the cops on me.
Where are you stopping?
See that wedding hall in the distance?
The drive-through? He grimaced.
Yeah. I’m going to ask Elvis what year it is.
Despite himself, he had to laugh. Watch out, it might be the real one.
A girl can dream, she said wryly, and it cheered him to hear the good spirits in her voice.
After what she’d been through today… he couldn’t begin to understand. If it had been as horrifying as what he’d endured in her absence, then he was grateful she was dealing with the situation with all the ebullience he associated with her.
She was strong, his mate, and dammit to hell, she’d need to be.
Whatever was going on, they were knee deep in it.
****
Thalia
Elvis says it’s 1983. August fourth.
Tucking her wings close to her back as unease prickled through her, she ducked into the restroom, well aware that the many folk watching her had been gaping at her wings. Pretending they were a costume had only had them gaping harder and touching her feathers, exclaiming over how real they looked.
Thalia couldn’t really blame them. Even in her time, people would have gaped at wings this realistic, and back in 1983, when the height of FX achievement was Chewbacca and the Death Star? Yeah, her wings looked like what they were—magic in pure form.
Not even the excitement of their upcoming nuptials had switched the focus from some of the visitors of Candlelight Wedding Chapel. One bride had been gaping at Thalia’s wings even as her soon-to-be spouse had been dragging her down the aisle!
Rafe? Are you there?
Thalia wasn’t too ashamed to admit that she was barely holding things together. If the day hadn’t been bad enough, now she was in a different era.
She’d had to deal with a conversation with the weirdest in-laws in existence—a King and Queen of the Fae who’d, once upon a time, had sex right before her eyes. She’d been betrayed and kidnapped. Had to deal with the Devil himself, discovered she was pregnant, then, she’d been lugged around, had come to the decision she’d prefer to die than deal with what Morningstar wanted for her unborn child and had leapt off a damn cliff to escape the clutches of the Devil’s henchmen.
If that wasn’t enough, she’d grown fucking wings, and had been transported back in time!
Although, she guessed that the transporting had happened somewhere before the being lugged around part, still, it was a lot to handle.
And being hustled into a lab to be
cut up and experimented on by the government wasn’t how she fancied ending the shittiest twenty-four hours in the history of the universe… and from the way the chapel’s clientele had been eying her, she’d felt pretty fucking close to being exposed.
Rubbing her temples to dispel the tension headache gathering there like a hurricane over the Atlantic, she realized then that there was no pain on the channel where she and Rafe communicated. The thought brightened her mood some, as speaking with him telepathically usually gave her a whopper of a headache, but it also had her asking why. Was it because of the baby?
Thalia gnawed her bottom lip even as she shoved the toilet seat down and sat on it. Elbows on her knees, she slouched over to ease the ache in her lower back—wings were fucking heavy when you weren’t used to them; a realization that triggered some relief. The baby would have healed the ache if she was capable of healing her mother’s discomfort, wouldn’t she?
Relieved, she murmured again, Rafe?
Where the hell was he?
“We’re here, Thalia.”
Her eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Not in her head but in real life—her ears had a tiny little orgasm.
She rushed to the rickety door, pulled it open and eyed her three mates who were standing in the tiny ‘ladies’ restroom that came complete with avocado tiles, and fixtures and fittings that were museum quality because they were authentic.
Immediately, her eyes welled, because, fuck, even kickass bitches had to sob after a day like hers, right?
She hovered there for a split second, then when Rafe opened his arms, she flung herself into them with such force he staggered back into Mikkel, who, being Mikkel, held them both up. She closed her eyes as she burrowed into Rafe’s chest, loving how Theo approached from behind and pressed his chest to her back so she was in a cocoon of her mates’ making.
Shuddering as she realized she was safe, she whispered, “How did you get here?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mikkel grumbled.
“He puked,” Rafe informed her cheerily. “Twice.”
“I did not.”
Rafe snorted. “What did you throw up then?”
Her lips curved in a wide grin. “It’s okay, Mikkel. You don’t always have to be the big, tough guy around me.”
He huffed. “I didn’t puke.”
“He did,” Rafe jibed, even as he ran his nose down the side of her face. When he did that, she scented it. And froze.
“Why do you smell of blood?” Her nostrils flared and inside, everything tensed in distress. “Have you been hurt?”
He stilled, then sighed. “Another time, Thalia. We need to get you out of here.”
She blinked. “Huh? You can’t say that.”
“Can’t he? We’re in a public restroom, Thalia. You have wings, and now’s not the time to get into deep conversations…” Mikkel grunted. “Well, you had wings.”
She peered up at him, saw he was peering down at her, and then she processed what he said… her back did feel lighter. It was like taking your bra off after an endless day—the relief was intense. “Theo?” she asked, her voice quivering but she didn’t bother to turn around.
He hushed her as he pressed his face into her shoulder. “I’m sorry, my sweetling. I had no idea Magda was…”
But Thalia wasn’t worried about Magda. Whatever kind of punishment Theo wanted to conjure up to make his AydLegios pay, it would never be as bad as what Morningstar had bestowed upon her.
And Magda had helped him. What the hell did the bastard do to his enemies?
“Don’t worry, Theo. I’m fine.”
He stiffened. “I failed to protect you.”
“Now’s not the time to get as he-man as Mikkel, honey,” she said drily. “I just want to know what you did with the wings?”
“Glamored them,” he retorted dismissively.
“So, they’re still there?”
“Why?” he asked, his tone somewhat cautious now. “Do you want to keep them?”
“When you’ve taught me how to use them, yes,” she replied, equally as cautious. And she wasn’t sure why.
It was like walking around cracks in the pavement.
“Okay.”
She murmured, “You’re not going to feel guilty about this for the rest of our lives, are you? I really can’t cope with that.”
Mikkel scoffed. “I’ll tell you what I can’t cope with. Your not being able to protect yourself. Where the fuck is your She-Wolf? We need that bitch back. You’d have slaughtered Magda before she’d have gotten her clutches on you if you had her.”
Thalia winced, wishing that were true. “No. I looked into her stupid Fae eyes,” she groused. “It’s instinctive, I can’t help it. Looking anywhere else feels demeaning.”
“I need to teach you a few tricks,” Rafe said drily. “You’re too dominant for your own good.”
She winced again. “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to…”
“Don’t be nuts. Of course you didn’t. I was only half-joking anyway. Around the Fae, you really need to think submissively. Thalia, you might be a badass bitch on Earth, but until you’re stronger and your She-Wolf returns, around Theo’s people…?”
“Your people too,” Mikkel retorted.
“Hardly,” Rafe denied, but his scorn was aimed himself—that hurt her. Her mate already thought too poorly of himself, they didn’t need to up the ante on his self-esteem issues. “I’m some sort of illegitimate spawn of a Dark Fae and their human mate.”
“All Dark Fae started off as Fae as far as I recall from Theo’s messed up info dumps,” Mikkel said snidely, and Rafe cringed.
Sensing a session of bickering brewing, she quickly murmured, “Can we go home now? Please?” She wasn’t even sure if she meant her time or if she meant Heden. Either way, she was past ready to be out of here.
Las Vegas might be cool, but it had never been on her damn bucket list.
“No,” Theo replied, nuzzling his chin against the crown of her head. The sensation that movement triggered left her dazed, so much so she almost didn’t hear his answer. She was swept up in his scent, in his caresses. At that moment, surrounded by them all, she felt warm, protected, and safe. And after feeling so damn alone, and having expected to never see them again, well, this was so much more than she could have imagined.
“Why not?” she asked on a deep sigh, not even having it in her to complain.
“Because we have to go to Mikkel’s home first,” Rafe told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“We do?”
“Yeah,” the voice of the man in question was rougher than she liked. Mikkel was proud, stoic. Too damn much a lot of the time. So to hear that tiny quiver in his voice? It put her on edge.
“Why?”
“Because August 4th 1983 is the day my dad deployed.”
“No fucking way,” she breathed, pulling back so her head tilted against Theo’s chest as she gaped at her mate over Rafe’s shoulder.
“Yes fucking way,” he replied, sounding grim.
“The Fates have mysterious means of aiding us,” Theo murmured, but that didn’t seem to appease Mikkel whose nostrils flared with outrage. “The minute you told Rafe the date, and Mikkel informed us what that date and location meant to him, I knew it to be the sign of our next step.”
“Our next step?” she asked, her tone hesitant.
“Yes. We’ve been coasting, dearling,” Theo informed her, pressing one hand to her hip as, with the other, he reached up to twirl a bright strand of white-gold hair around his fingers. “In Heden, you’ve been learning to use the sword, to cope without your She-Wolf. Now, it’s time to take your rightful place.”
“Rightful place?” she squeaked.
“Once the child is born, you’ll be the Queen of the Fae and the Leader of the North American Pack,” Theo told her, his tone gentle.
“Shit’s about to get real,” Mikkel stated, his words as unsympathetic as could be.
She turned back so she
could glower at him. “You talk to your momma that way?”
He grinned. “Yeah.”
Well, that took the wind out of her sails. Despite herself, she had to laugh. “You’re such a shit.”
“You talk to your daddies that way?”
She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know her eyes were twinkling. “Yeah.”
He winked. “We keep reality in check. Let’s leave the fairy-tale crap to these two.”
Theo snorted, but Rafe rolled his eyes. In his best quelling voice, her Fae mate murmured, “Come, brats, we must go to Mikkel’s home.”
“Why though? What do you expect to learn there?” she asked, even as she, unhappily, allowed them to pull themselves away from her.
When they were separate, she bit her lip, hating that she was feeling a teensy bit needy, yet not really giving a shit about it either. The totally contrasting emotions put her in a head spin, but she figured she’d best get used to it—Lyken females were always psychotic during pregnancy. It was the extra hormones. It messed with their heads.
And wasn’t that something to look forward to?
“I have no idea what we will learn there,” Theo informed her as he grabbed a firm hold of her hand. “I just know that we are here for a reason. We have to be. It’s too uncanny, and I fear, that where we four are concerned, there are no coincidences.”
“Five.”
It was Mikkel who said that, and it was Mikkel who cocked a brow at Theo when the other male frowned. “She’s got a bun in the oven, bro. Baby makes five.”
Theo swallowed. “Indeed.”
Her lips curved at the sudden tension in his frame. Mikkel had, once again, kept shit real. Somehow, she knew they’d need that talent of his in the upcoming days.
3
Mikkel
The house was exactly how he remembered it, and he remembered it well.
They hadn’t been at the one story home for long. His father had paid the rent on the ramshackle property but when he’d died, the money had stopped. Mikkel, looking back, wondered why that was, when there was help for women in his mother’s situation, but as a four-year-old, he hadn’t questioned.
He’d just been terrified over leaving the only home he’d known.
Triumph Page 3
