by Morgan Wylie
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mather watched as Rylen held the stone in his hand, studying it. “This won’t kill you, right?” Rylen raised his eyes with an irritated gaze. Mather’s hands flew up in mock defense. “Just asking, Mai was concerned.”
“For Mai, I will enact a protection spell before I proceed. How’s that? I would hate for you to have to put up with the jabs from the guys if I died on your watch.” Rylen smirked and said a few words in an ancient language, moving his fingers in a manner that could be confused with a type of sign language to any who didn’t know ASL. “Done.”
“For your information, I wasn’t concerned about it in the least,” Mather started, “but Mai will be glad.”
“Right, glad I could help.” Rylen’s face was a reflection of sardonic amusement. He kicked his feet back up over the arm of the chair as he swung his body sideways in the throne. He studied the red stone in his hand more carefully.
Mather watched as Rylen closed his eyes, enclosed the stone in his hand, and whispered a few words. Mather had once asked Rylen what the words he spoke were, but it was something Rylen learned during his magical beginnings, and it couldn’t be learned by a non-magic user—even then, some of the witches said that Rylen’s magic was unique being both a shifter and a warlock.
Rylen’s eyes suddenly they shot open. Were he staring any harder, he would have split the rock in half with the intensity. The crease on his nose between his eyes was pinched as far as it could be.
“What…” Mather started to say then remembered he should remain quiet for Rylen’s concentration.
“I see something,” Rylen replied with a hushed voice.
“It’s ok to talk during this?” Mather asked.
“For now, it seems.”
“What do you see?”
“Alana’s father talking to someone,” Rylen explained and then instantly stiffened and hissed at the rock, “Eli.”
Mather knew Eli had been betrothed to Alana and wasn’t exactly the picture of the doting husband—more like a ladder-climber using Alana to get into the position to supersede Arturo, her father, in his position of leadership. Little did Eli know, however, that Arturo was actually immortal and his position would never become available unless he needed it to be for appearance’s sake. Then again, they were all pretty sure that now they knew the Fairfax Alliance used magic, Arturo could take on any appearance he wished, making not changing over time easier.
“Can you hear them?”
“No, I can read some of their words but they aren’t facing each other. They seem to be disagreeing on something. Eli’s pissed,” Rylen explained, now more smug than angry.
“She’s my daughter,” Rylen spoke slowly as he interpreted what the images said. “She can remain in the cell… but taken care of… not a prisoner… protect her.” Rylen paused and squished his eyes even more, reading what he could. “Eli is not happy, but he submitted then stormed off. Arturo is shaking his head and his eyes even look a little sad,” he narrated. “Serves you right, old bastard, for discarding your daughter and treating her like shit.”
“Is that it, then? How does that help us?” Mather questioned. He stood, conflicted, with one hand in a front pocket and the other running over his head to grip at the back of his neck as his head tipped to the ceiling in frustration.
“No…” Rylen held out the word, stalling as something was happening but not yet understanding what it was. He inhaled sharply as if punched in the gut. “Simmon.”
“Your brother?”
“He’s now talking with Arturo.”
Mather couldn’t fathom the pain of losing a brother so many years ago only to find out he was alive and that he not only had his own magic but also worked for your enemy.
“Can you tell—”
Rylen interrupted him. “He looked at me. At least it felt like he looked at me.” Rylen had to shake his head, confused. “And now I can hear them.”
“Did you do something different?”
“I don’t think it was me. Maybe Simmon’s magic can sense me because we’re brothers?” Rylen pondered. “I wonder what he’s up to.”
“What are they discussing?” Mather asked as Enock slipped into the room, casually strolling to where he stood, not saying a word but tuning into the atmosphere.
“Arturo and Simmon,” Rylen clarified for Enock’s benefit, “are discussing something about a meetup. They don’t say with whom, except for saying her. What are the chances that their her is the same as our her?”
“Black Widow?” Enock tilted his head, not sure if it rang true but also not dismissing the idea as beyond her, either.
“She played us with Mai, why wouldn’t she be pitting us up against the Alliance, too? Still can’t figure out what she gains by any of this, but I’m willing to bet the Lair she’s behind it all,” Rylen practically growled the last part. He had been feeling it for a while, but for the first time, it felt like it was coming together in a piece of clarity, and his brother, of all people, was the one to help him establish it. Certainty flowed through him. Black Widow was against them. Now, to find out why.
“Did they say where or when the meet up is?” Mather pushed Rylen to focus.
“No. Not yet, unless I missed it. I’ll meditate over all of it again later.” Rylen, still focused on the stone, sat up straight and turned forward in his chair. “Simmon just told Arturo not to trust her, that she will turn on them in the end. Arturo’s replying, ‘it wouldn’t be the first time, but what other choice do they have.’ Interesting, so they have a past.” Rylen paused in his narration and simply listened, paying as much attention as he could, hoping beyond all hope that he’d find some clue to tell him where exactly they were keeping Alana. “Arturo is walking away. Simmon looked at me again; this time, I know he did. His eyes are shifting around wherever he is—keeping tabs on guards maybe? He just did it again, and I think he’s nodding for me to follow Arturo. I didn’t know I could follow someone, I thought perhaps the stone was centering on a certain area I focused it on. But, yes, I can follow Arturo.” Again, he remained silent as he watched the scene unfold before him on the small screen that was the largest facet on the irregularly chiseled stone.
“Alana. He just walked into her cell. Surprised to see him—she’s conflicted. There were tears in her eyes, hurt behind those, but she’s also standing her ground and pushing her shoulders back. Good girl, don’t be afraid or back down,” Rylen whispered, encouraging his mate the only way he could right then without possibly further endangering her by speaking into her mind while he was connected to the gem that was clearly not of this world and might still be in tune with Black Widow herself.
“He looks relieved to see her still alive but saddened, too. Yes, he thought she might have already faded out of this life,” he went on to explain.
“Rylen, you don’t have to tell us everything, just what’s important for finding her,” Mather said, being sensitive to Rylen’s privacy with his mate.
Rylen nodded, unable or unwilling to lose the connection with the stone by lifting his eyes to convey his appreciation for the suggestion. Instead, Rylen watched and listened as his mate confronted her father as he walked back into the scene.
Someone he was unable to see but probably Simmon brought in a chair for Arturo to sit on which he did. Alana remained standing a moment longer, ensuring her point, until she, too, sat on the small narrow cot that had been brought in for her.
“Why didn’t you tell me about all this?” she asked her father.
“About the fading?” Arturo asked, clearly stalling. His fingers fidgeted with the shiny filigree topper on his cane that he kept at his side.
“Everything. Yes, the fading and about previous lives, and about the curse, and oh! How about that if I found my soul mate, the curse could be broken and I wouldn’t have to be stuck dying over and over again when I turn twenty-one!” Alana’s voice had risen as she found not only her anger but the courage to challenge her father.
His eyes widened at first, but then slowly, a small smile emerged, and adoration replaced the shock in his eyes. Alana placed her hands stubbornly on her hips, and a frown steeled her face for a showdown.
“Why are you smiling at me?”
“This is how you were as a little girl,” he replied.
“Which time?”
“Every time.” His face grew sad and even pained, possibly even regretful, once more. “How could I tell you that you were going to leave our existence before you even had a chance to live your life fully only to reappear sometime in the near future to try again? Would you have understood? Would you have been able to accept it?”
Alana lost some of the fire that had crept into her soul, though it didn’t leave her completely as she allowed her own sadness to appear. Her shoulders relaxed, and her arms fell to her sides as she studied the man before her. He had done a lot of wrong, for which she couldn’t forgive, but he was still her father, and a piece of her heart still went out to him, longing for him to make it all better and tell her what she should do.
“What do you know of the curse breaking upon being with my soul mate?”
“It’s not true… it can’t be done,” her father sighed.
Her breath threatened to leave her. Was that true? She had found Rylen and she knew with everything in her heart, soul, and body that he was her true mate… and yet she was still fading, unsure how to stop it. “You must be wrong. I will find a way,” she spoke with quiet determination.
Then she looked around her and remembered her father was keeping her in a prison in his club of militant workers that was hurting people. The indignation in her soul lit a match, sparking her fire to life once more.
“I know you are angry right now, and you have every right to be. I’m sorry this has befallen to you, but it is your lot now. We each have our burdens to bear, child.” His face transformed from that of her father, tender to her life’s plight, to Arturo Krestle, leader of the Fairfax Alliance. “We cannot stop what is about to happen, but I will make sure you are protected and comfortable while you wait for it to end.” He put his shoulders back and surveyed the little cell that had become her bedroom. “If you need food, water, more blankets, something to read… ask your guard; someone will get it for you.”
“Wait. You’re leaving me in here?” she asked incredulously, her arms gesturing animatedly.
“I can’t very well have you roaming around the base and sending information to your new friends from The Web, now can I? They aren’t what you believe them to be, dear.”
“You aren’t either.”
His face shut down completely, closing her off from any emotion left in him. “No, I’m not.” He turned and left his little girl in the cell, but not perhaps quite as alone as he assumed. Alana placed her hand over her heart and thought of her mate.
Rylen could feel her reaching out to him through their bond, but he didn’t dare answer her with the stone in his hand, and that broke his heart. He needed to finish this and get his mate as soon as he could. At least she was safe for now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rylen closed his eyes, severing his connection to the stone, and whispered a word of departing in the language of ancient warlocks. He breathed deeply and slowly, centering himself back in his Lair in the Throne Room and opened his eyes to find both Mather and Enock sitting at the table with a deck of cards. Some guards they are! Rylen thought with a chuckle. Late-to-the-party Luc had reentered the room but was standing guard by the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, scowl in place—usual for Lucius—but his stare was somewhere beyond them. What he could be seeing, Rylen had no idea, but as soon as Luc sensed he was being watched, his eyes snapped forward with awareness toward Rylen.
“Finished?” asked Lucius, unmoving from his position.
“Not quite. I want to try one more thing. For now, Alana is in protective custody—whether from us or from herself”—he shrugged—“and she will remain so for now since I got no further information to help with her whereabouts.”
“Shit,” Enock grumbled under his breath as his chair slammed forward onto the floor as he kicked his legs off the table. Mather winced at the loud sound and threw his card hand onto the table.
“Glad you had time for a round of fun, boys.” Sarcasm dripped from Rylen’s words.
“You were in a zone, man. We had a whole conversation, and you tuned us out,” explained Mather.
“We got bored,” Enock added with a lopsided smile and a carefree shrug.
Rylen stood up and stretched toward the ceiling then down to the floor. He rolled out his neck and his shoulders, stiff from sitting still for so long. “I want to try again while I still feel a connection with the stone. This time, I’m focusing on Mai’s brother Chen. I’m going to try a locator spell on the stone itself since Chen was last where the twin stone was kept,” Rylen explained.
“It’s riskier, Rylen… going to the source.” Lucius’ two cents were meant as a warning, but he knew they wouldn’t stop him.
“I’m counting on it,” taunted Rylen with a cocky smirk. “Let’s play.”
“Uh oh, boys, the king is in the house.” Enock punched the air and bounced around on the balls of his feet like a kid getting ready for a fight. And that’s very well what they were doing, upping the stakes, taking the fight back to the source.
“Let him concentrate, idiot.” Mather laughed and threw the cards at Enock to make him sit down.
Rylen began an incantation that was stronger than the first one he used. The air around him swirled like a dust devil of magic, amping up the energy in the room. It grew silent from the others as they instantly became the protectors they were meant to be. Lucius stayed where he was at the wall, but watched intently while Mather and Enock moved to stand on either side of Rylen’s throne. They hovered protectively by him even though they had no recourse over magic if something were to happen.
The stone glowed red, pulsating with the power Rylen was feeding into it, guiding it back to its twin, back to its master. His gaze was fixed with determination and victory at the expectation of seeking out his prey. The hunt had begun, and his prey would be found.
A spark emanated from the stone, the red light growing, encompassing the space around Rylen. Mather and Enock stood straight, fists clenching at their sides, anticipating the possibility they’d need to pull Rylen away or knock the stone out of his hands or whatever they could do to separate him from power it was now giving off.
Rylen’s shoulders were locked in a fierceness that stabilized him against the power ricocheting back toward him. His protection spell was still intact and allowed the stone’s magic to flow over him like water off a duck’s back. He inhaled with victory.
“I see Chen.” His whisper was hoarse, but he couldn’t get much more out with the strain of intensity he was experiencing. To everyone’s surprise, Rylen closed his eyes and began a different chant, causing the air around him to increase in speed and intensity. It took on a greenish tint as his magic coalesced and gathered around him. His magic strengthened him, infusing him with the ability to stand against the magic coming against him and to accomplish his goal. He only tapped into his greater magic when it was absolutely necessary. Doing so left him slightly drained and sometimes disoriented to his surroundings, and he usually didn’t like to take the unnecessary risk. Today was an exception. His eyes flew open, raw magical energy seeping out of him, joining with the power and magic of his beast. Power from the protection spell wielded a shield around him, blocking him from the foreign magic. He could feel it divide around him and then dissipate. Confidence rose in him, and he peered into the stone. Even though it was doing everything it could to block him out, it wasn’t strong enough. Everything in the facet’s image became clear. He saw Chen sitting on the chair, still tied and bruised as he was earlier. But he saw more than before. The room he was in was more like a cave. The walls looked like stone or rock. Little light permeated the room, darkness and gray ton
es seeped in from all sides of his periphery. From outside the room and through the stone’s small visual portal, it was hard to tell, but the walls appeared to move in ripples or waves. With a little extra push of his magic, Rylen thought he could influence his vision to pierce the darkness.
After a few more ancient words, his sight pierced the darkness and he sucked in a deep breath. “What is that?” he mumbled to himself. “The walls are moving, slowly shifting like… fuck…” Millions of tiny spiders were crawling all over the walls. He kept watching despite wanting to shake his body as if the spiders were crawling over him with their little prickly legs, seeking the perfect place to sink their tiny fangs into his skin.
“Don’t tell us,” Mather groaned. “I hate spiders.”
“Mather,” Luc warned, his vision intent on Rylen.
Mather whipped his head back to Rylen, instantly on guard after his slight lapse. But spiders…
Chen began to whip his head around, the fabric over his mouth preventing him from saying anything. Several of the spiders crawled up on top of his shoulders from behind his back. Their tiny, red beady eyes looked straight at Rylen, taunting him to make a move. Rylen tried to take in as much as his mind could process. What was this place? Black Widow’s lair? Mentally, his magic alerted him. His locator spell had found a point of access that was not warded. He had it! He knew not only where Chen was located, but he may have also just found Black Widow’s lair.
As if on cue, Black Widow slowly and deliberately moved right in front of the stone. If she was surprised to see Rylen, she didn’t show it. In fact, she looked a little smug and perhaps a bit angry if the red glimmer in her otherwise black eyes was anything to go by. Unearthly and eerie, “a demon from the depths” were the only words that came to Rylen’s mind. Like a TV gameshow host, she gestured to the space behind her with a wicked grimace. Then she turned back to him and gave him a sultry wave with her fingers. Not only were the tips of her nails black as night, but the blackness seemed to be dripping down her skin, coating it an inky oily mess of black. The image wavered, and Black Widow’s face morphed. No longer human, her figure began to take on the shape of a creature of the dark. Her body dropped to the ground onto not four legs but eight, growing a large engorged abdomen, and her head transformed into an almost cartoonish version of a spider… a black widow. The red streak in her hair culminated into the red hourglass figure on her back.
