Savagery & Skills: Books 1-4

by Ciara Graves

  “Evil?” I asked, alarmed. “I’m not… I mean I know I can be a bit bad, but I’m not… I’m not evil. What seed are you talking about?” What was she saying, that I was born evil? No one was born evil, right?

  “I see several paths for your future,” she said earnestly. “There is no clear vision which one you will take. Every decision you make shifts the paths.”

  “And Draven? Do you see him in my future?”

  She shut her eyes and let out a heavy breath. The air crackled with her power and her nails dug into the cushions. When her back went rigid, I rushed to her, shaking her shoulders, but then she shook out her head and patted my hand.

  “Draven is indeed part of your future, in more ways than one. He will either become your ally or your enemy, but I’m afraid even those two choices are shrouded in fog. His is a tormented soul. Not unlike you.” She patted my hand again, pulling me down, so her blind eyes looked into my green ones. “You must tread carefully now, so carefully. Do not act rashly no matter what you learn.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “I know, but I had to say it anyway.”

  Realizing there was nothing else helpful she could tell me, I thanked her for the advice and made to go. If she was right, and if what Draven hinted at was true, then I was not just a normal fae. My parents weren’t normal fae. They were royals. It couldn’t be true. If they were royals and if I was, too why didn’t anyone come for me after my parents were killed? Or when Macron saved me from Rudarius? Or even after, when I was turned into a vampire? Whatever I was, royal wasn’t it. No one from the fae world gave a shit about me, and the only family I had was dead.

  As I walked back to the cottage, I studied the rings on my hand. Why would Macron give them to me if they weren’t really my mother’s? Why hadn’t he just told me the truth? With every step I took, my anger grew, until I was seething about everything I hadn’t known about myself.

  Minnie’s mention of having a seed of evil in me only infuriated me more. I’d done some shitty things in my life, I knew that, but evil was such a harsh word.

  Rudarius was evil. The vampire who attacked me was evil. But me? He told me several times while torturing me he would stop, if only I would give in. Vaguely, I recalled his saying I could be invincible if I gave into him. Right before Macron came for me, I’d been close, so close to agreeing, if only the pain would stop.

  Evil.

  I pressed my hand to my chest, as if I could feel this seed buried within my soul, find it, and rip it out. I would just have to do as Minnie said, be careful not to let myself fall completely over that line and into the darkness.

  I found myself in the garden without knowing how I got there. The orbs shimmered red and orange as they surrounded me. I was anxious. My hands clenched and unclenched, replaying the conversation I had with Draven. Then the arguments with Owen. And seeing Macron everywhere. All this shit from my past being dragged out into the open again. Every scar on my body ached with remembrance and set my teeth on edge.

  Never had I felt this way before and I didn’t like it, but had no idea how to get out of this darkening mood. Rudarius. He was my main problem, and if Draven said he wanted to kill him, maybe it was time to hear him out, if only so I could get my revenge.

  “Seneca? Where have you been?” Owen asked as he joined me in the garden.

  “Went out for a walk this morning.”

  “You left your cell here. I was about to go out looking for you.”

  “As I said, just took a walk. Everything’s just fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine,” he argued, walking around until he faced me. He hesitated when he finally laid eyes on me. “Did I miss something?”

  “No, but I think I did,” I said slowly. “When I ask you over and over again if anything’s happening in Otherworld and you tell me no, are you lying to protect me or because you actually can’t tell me the truth?”

  His face went completely blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t lie,” I hissed, losing my tight rein on my anger. “I told you days ago I saw Macron, that I believed he was alive and in trouble.”

  “And I told you it’s probably nothing.”

  “You’re lying. You just don’t want me putting myself any closer to whatever the hell is happening in Otherworld. Macron isn’t the only mage missing, is he?” When he didn’t say anything, I laughed harshly. “All this time, you’ve been lying to me. You knew Macron was alive.”

  “I never said that,” he muttered.

  “But you knew something about them?” I asked in disbelief, but he was shaking his head. “Tell me the truth.”

  “I have,” he snapped. “If you needed to know, I would tell you.”

  “Missing mages sounds important to me.”

  “There are no missing mages. Why are you even asking me these questions? Who did you go see this morning?”

  “No one important.”

  “Seneca.”

  I crossed my arms and kept my gaze steady. “It was nothing to do with you.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “And what were you asking about? Does that have anything to do with your conversation with Draven? The one you’re not telling me the whole truth about?”

  “You don’t get to stand there and call me out for lying when you’ve been doing it too.”

  He raised his hands, growling furiously, then stomped around me toward the door.

  “Where are you going? We’re not finished talking about this.”

  “I am, since there’s nothing to talk about. I’ll see you tomorrow when you’re finished acting like I’m the enemy here, instead of Draven.” Then he was gone.

  The garden that had been filled with our yelling voices moments before was now uncomfortably quiet.

  I went into the cottage, and I looked at the door for a long while, waiting for Owen to come back, but as the minutes ticked by, I realized he was serious about staying away.

  Good, that was good. Maybe we needed some time apart. His month was nearly up, and all we’d done was bicker with one another since we came home from Valesk. Too much was going on for me to sort out all the raw and confused emotions.

  The issue with Draven should have been clear-cut. Spy on him, get the intel and hand it over to the Feds. What did I do instead? Found myself questioning who I was, all because of that rotten sleazeball of a bloodsucker. Why was I even bothering listening to a damned word he said? If Rudarius was really kidnapping mages and was preparing to start a war, someone in Otherworld would have noticed.

  “When did you get so stupid?” I muttered to myself.

  Draven was playing me for a fool and nothing more. He realized I was better than him, could kill him if I wanted to, so he came to me with this story about missing mages and taking on Rudarius to get me off his back. Made me start asking questions of Owen that would tear us apart.

  Granted, the two of us hadn’t gotten along the greatest, and it was mostly my fault, but I never doubted our relationship so much until Draven got involved. Owen was right. I let Rudarius and every vampire connected to him drag me down and disrupt my life. All it took was a couple of weeks for me to spiral out of control and to start to think there was some huge plot. Rudarius was evil, that I was certain of, but as far as I knew, so was Draven.

  I texted Owen that I was sorry, but if he wanted to stay away tonight, I would understand. I wasn’t going to go through my entire explanation through text so wandered around the cottage, cleaning and picking up. Usually, I kept the place neater than this, and it bothered me I let it get so messy. Eventually, I found myself in the garden again.

  With every weed I yanked from the dirt, I cursed my gullibility even more.

  Even Minnie had me going. She might be a seer, but they were known to be wrong more than they were ever right. I let myself get caught up in the madness that was once my life, instead of remembering my job. Remembering where I belonged an
d where I was happy. My hands dug deeper into the earth, relaxing me and clearing my clouded mind.

  Seeing Macron could even be explained away by my overactive imagination kicking in. By the time I finished with the rose bed and moved onto the wildflowers, I was pissed at myself. I was better than this. It was how I survived the past few years on my own, by seeing through the lies the bad guys told me.

  Sweat covered my face, and I wiped at it, getting dirt everywhere. I scooted down the line of beds and dug around the base of an overgrown thorn bush that had cropped up in my garden. Never had I torn out so many weeds. Not until the Feds set me on Draven.

  I cursed and grunted as I yanked on the bush, attempting to wrench it from the ground. I pulled until my arms hurt and I clenched my jaw so hard, I expected my teeth to crack. The roots suddenly snapped and with a yelp, I went sailing backward but never hit the ground.

  Two strong arms caught me and together, Owen and I hit the grass. I tilted my head back, looking up into his amused face.

  “Did you get in a fight with a bush?”

  I realized I was holding said bush and shrugged. “You know me, picking fights with anything and everything, including you.”

  “Seneca—”

  “No, let me get this out,” I said cutting him off. “I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with and I do tend to wallow in the past. For some reason I don’t understand, I wanted there to be a reason, I guess, for all the suffering I endured.” I tossed the bush aside and turned all the way around, so I could look him in the eyes. “Taking the case on Draven was a bad idea. You’re right. I’ve let myself be taken in, and I’m slipping back into the past.”

  He reached for my hands and kissed them both with a sigh. “I’ll stop you from slipping too far,” he promised. “But you have to talk to me when you feel your world coming apart.”

  “I’m not good at that part.”

  “Trust me, I know,” he replied with a light laugh. “We’re young, Seneca. Extremely young considering what we are. You have all the time you need to find a way to move on.”

  “Telling the Feds to piss off on the Draven case might be a good step.”

  “Yeah, might be,” he agreed. “You want me to take care of it for you?”

  “No, I can handle them. If they decide to come after me, though, then I might need your help.”

  He kissed my forehead. “You have it. Always.”

  “You know I can’t promise that I’m going to be able to change,” I mumbled, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’m not a good person. I’m not sure I can be anymore.”

  “We’ll work on it. First, I think I should help you with this garden before you get into a fight you can’t win,” he said with a wink as he helped me to my feet.

  When we were up, the urge to be close to him struck me hard, and I wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “I’m sorry for doing this to you. You can hate me if you want, you know.”

  “Don’t hate you,” he assured me, hugging me back just as hard. “Worry about you, is all. About us, but we’ll get through this like we always do.”

  I believed him. Or I tried to.

  We worked side by side in the garden for the rest of the day, with me shoving any more worries about Draven or Macron or the rings on my fingers aside. None of it mattered. If I was from some supposedly royal bloodline, no fae cared enough about me to tell me or to come find me.

  I owed them nothing. That night as we turned in for bed, I took off my rings and laid them in the small wooden keepsake box on my dresser.

  The weight being gone was odd, but at the same time, I felt lighter. The magic always coursing through my veins quieted down, though it was there with me all the same.

  “You alright?” Owen asked.

  “Yeah,” I said with a smile. “Yeah, I feel pretty good.”

  I climbed into bed more relaxed than I had been in weeks.

  I was walking through my garden. The sun shone overhead, and a warm breeze rustled the leaves of bushes around me.

  I glanced about, but my cottage wasn’t here. That wasn’t right.

  I spun, searching for it, but then the garden shimmered and vanished altogether. What took its place was dead and smoldering, as if the fires only recently died down.

  “Owen,” I yelled, worry growing in my gut. “Owen.”

  “He’s not here.”

  The sound of that voice made my breath catch, and my feet froze in place. “Macron.”

  “Seneca.”

  I blinked, and he stood before me, but he did not look like the same mage who walked out on me years ago. His hair was longer, and a matted beard covered his face. His eyes were hazy, and there were fresh wounds on his arms, covering scars I knew hadn’t been there before. He seemed weak, as if he could barely keep himself upright.

  “This isn’t real.”

  “This?” He raised his hands. “This is real.”

  “What? No. This is a nightmare.”

  “I’m afraid not. War is coming, and you must be ready for it.”

  “War with who?” I asked, a nagging feeling telling me I already knew.

  “Rudarius. If you cannot find a way to stop him, what happened here, will happen to all of Otherworld.”

  “Where is here?” This had to be a nightmare. Had to be.

  “This was one of the seven houses where we mages used to come to gather and train,” he told me sadly. “Now, it’s nothing but scorched ground and ruins. The vampires have overrun it, and I hear rumors in the cells of Rudarius finding a weapon. A fae weapon.”

  “The rings,” I told him quietly. “He’s found a way to use the rings.”

  He hesitated, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “Seneca, it’s time you remember who you are.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? Why does everyone keep telling me that!”

  “Just listen to me,” he said gravely, grabbing my shoulders hard enough to hurt. “You must stay in the human realm and do everything you can to stop the war. Whatever you do, do not enter Otherworld. Do you understand me? He cannot get his hands on you. Not again.”

  “Is that where you are?”

  “You can’t come after me. Just save them, save as many as you can, before it’s too late.”

  “How long since you were captured?”

  He wavered, but I asked him again.

  “How long?”

  “Six years.”

  “And the year before? The day you up and left me without a word, what were you doing?” I asked, furious. “What was so important you decided to leave me? Do you have any idea what I went through after that?”

  “I do, which is why I had to come to you this way.” He reached for me, but I stepped back out of his reach. “I left to protect you. When I heard you were turned, it killed me, but you must understand—”

  “Heard… you knew I’d been turned?”

  “Rumors spread,” he said simply. “Everything that’s happened is for a reason. There is much you don’t know, and I have no time to explain it all. Stopping this war from entering the human realm is what you need to do now.” He frowned as he glanced at my hands. “Your mother’s rings, where are they?”

  “I took them off,” I said, rubbing my naked fingers self-consciously.

  “You must keep them with you at all times. Do you understand me?”

  I began to answer, but had to stop, gasping for breath. The air grew heavy, and it was hard to get any in my lungs. “What’s happening?”

  “Our time is up. They’re coming, and I can’t be found contacting you. Remember what I said.”

  “This is a nightmare,” I insisted. “Nothing else.”

  “Is it?” He took firm hold of my hand. “Remember my words, Seneca. Your life is about to change forever. Do not turn away from who you truly are. From your destiny. You must find the one who is meant to help you. Find him.”

  “What destiny? Find who?” I gasped when my hand grew hot. “Macron?”

  Bu
t he was gone, and the world around me fell away into nothing.

  I sat up with a curse.

  Owen snored lightly beside me, and I rubbed my hands down my face, ready to go back to sleep.

  “Ah,” I gasped when my right hand touched my face.

  I pulled it back, squinting in the darkness, but it was too dark to see. Careful not to wake Owen, I got out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. Once the door was closed, I turned on the light.

  “What the hell is that?”

  On my palm was a brand, as if it had been burned into my palm. As soon as I saw it, I knew what it was. The sigil from my rings.

  The nightmare hadn’t been a nightmare at all.

  Macron, everything he said…

  I looked at my reflection in disbelief. So much for convincing myself Draven was wrong. I had to find out what was happening in Otherworld.

  Agent Williams. He would know. He’d have to. Maybe it was why they had me going after Draven, to begin with.

  When morning rolled around, I’d call him first.

  If he didn’t give me the answers I needed, then I’d have to take more drastic measures.

  One way or another, I was getting to the truth.

  Chapter 11

  Seneca

  “Asshole,” I yelled as Agent Williams hung up on me.

  As soon as I woke up, I wanted to call him but didn’t want Owen to overhear.

  Bad enough, I had to find an excuse to cover up the brand Macron burned into my palm.

  I claimed I’d cut it slicing up steak for breakfast.

  Owen bought the lie and had hopped in the shower.

  That was when I called Williams, but the second I mentioned war and Rudarius, he told me to stop digging around for a conspiracy and do my job. When I shifted gears and asked about Macron or any other mages, he muttered something under his breath about politicians with big mouths talking around their bodyguards and then proceeded to hang up on me.