by Coralee June
“I just hate that we’re locked up here waiting. My spider feels anxious,” I replied with a sigh before shooting webs onto the floor and creating a pillowed cushion of silk. The effort of that small use of power left me feeling dizzy with exhaustion. Fucking magical power block.
The moment I sat down, Crow pulled my legs over his lap and started rubbing my legs, massaging the sore muscles with skilled, precise fingers. Tomb was asleep—finally. He went two days of just staring at the door in his stone form, daring anyone to try and steal me away. I was thankful that he’d finally gotten some rest.
“Any secret messages from Cheryl in your blood bag today?” Crow asked, though he already knew the answer. He just liked to keep up conversation. I think it worried him when I got too quiet and withdrawn.
Three days ago, I’d gotten a hidden note inside a blood bag from my eccentric, self-centered friend. I was certain that Stiles arranged it. The guard that delivered it wasn’t our usual, and I’d been keeping an eye out for him ever since, but I hadn’t spotted him.
“No,” I replied with a slump of my shoulders.
“It’s probably for the best,” Crow replied. “I’m really not in the mood for another monologue about how angry she is at us for being on television for the trial and not bothering to put makeup on.”
I snorted before reading the letter again.
Dear Motley, Stiles says I need to keep this short, but there’s way too much to say. I saw you on the news, and I have to be honest, it wasn’t your best day. The TV didn’t just add ten pounds, hun, it added pasty skin and under eye circles too. I won’t get started on your hair. I don’t have the room on this paper. You should’ve really asked Vick to get you and your mates some makeup for the event. At least try to get the public to like you, you know? All they’ve seen otherwise is you going all murder-y and killing, like, a hundred people. Concealer would’ve been a big plus.
Anyway, Stiles got us out. I’m not allowed to say where, just in case this note gets confiscated, but right now, I’m drinking a mai tai, and I’m working on my tan. Some of the others are here, but most of them split up and went their own ways. Stiles was really strict about them lying low for awhile though, which is awful because I was really hoping to invite everyone over for an engagement party once Stiles and I get settled. A winter wedding would just be divine, don’t you think? And—
Hey, Motley. Stiles here. Sorry about...all of the above writing. When I told Cheryl we could smuggle in a letter, I didn’t think she’d start blabbering, but I should’ve known better. I’ve been pardoned for my superior blood line. It’s a bunch of fucking shit. I signed a contract to never use my powers and to work for the council. A few other paragons and influential members of society were privately given the same deal. Cheryl also was pardoned because of our engagement and her family’s standing in the community. She bragged about her family until she was blue in the face, but what else is new? I guess they didn’t want to publicly show preference for the elite. Twenty-three of us made it out. We lost...a lot. But twenty-three lives counts for something.
I tried to break you and your mates out, but I couldn’t get to you. They want to make an example of you. We all know the real enemy, Motley, and I won’t rest until they’re punished. I’m so sorry I know I’ve been a shit brother all your life, and our father was even shittier. By the way, if you’re worried that I’m angry with you about our father’s death, I’m not. He had it coming.
Hang in there, okay? I need a week, and then I can get you guys out. I have a plan.
—Stiles
I looked over at Crow. “I don’t want him getting caught trying to break us out of here. That could go really badly for him.”
Crow just shrugged and pushed his blue hair out of his face, clearly not as concerned with Stiles’s safety as I was. “He’s an adult, and he’s on the outside. If he thinks there’s a way to get to us, then he can have at it. There’s no use worrying over something you have no control over.”
I knew Crow was right, but I still didn’t like the idea that Stiles would get caught and then killed because of me. I also wasn’t a martyr. I didn’t want to be left behind, but I knew that enforcers were crawling all over this place. Security was even tighter than Spector.
Crow’s thumb came up, dragging my bottom lip out from between my gnawing teeth. “Don’t bite that lip of yours off. I like it too much,” he said quietly before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on my mouth.
Pulling back, he moved his thumb up between my brows. “And this frown. I don’t like seeing this frown on my mate,” he murmured, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the spot until the tension left my brows.
“That’s better,” he said before placing a kiss there.
His hands went back to kneading my feet and warming my toes until I was practically melted against him. “Why are you so good to me?” I asked, placing my hand against his chest as I rested my head on his shoulder.
“You’re my mate,” he said simply.
My heart swelled at those simple words, and I traced the lines of his muscled chest, thinking about everything we’d been through. “Crow, when you escaped Spector the first time, how did you do it?” I asked curiously.
He tensed beneath me, and I looked up at him curiously. “It’s not a nice story, Little Spider.”
“Please tell me?” I asked.
He let out a sigh, and his hands went back to his ministrations on my feet. “I can’t help but think what would have happened if I’d been able to save you that night during Thibault’s ritual,” he said. “My demon knew that his mate was there. Even if I didn’t understand it yet, my birds knew.”
“You tried. That’s what matters. And besides, if I hadn’t been taken to Spector, I never would have met Tomb or Risk. Without the ritual, I never would’ve had my spider in the first place. I don’t regret it.”
He nodded slowly in understanding. “There was a woman guard,” he said suddenly, his eyes focused on my feet. “She...uh, was known to give hybrids some leniency if we…”
I nodded. “Gotcha. What happened?”
Crow scratched the back of his head, and there was a faint blush on his cheeks. “She’d had her sights set on me for awhile, but I always shrugged her off. Tomb too,” he said, tilting his head at my sleeping gargoyle. “But one night, when she came to my cell, I could tell she’d been drinking. She was a necro, but not very powerful. I think that was why she liked fucking hybrids. She got off on us using her powers. Anyway, I let her in. My birds hated her. As soon as she was...distracted, I let them attack. They killed her pretty brutally, but no one was around. I stole her keycard and broke into the kitchens of the cafeteria. I killed one of the cooks, but a few of the guards shot me before I made it into the air shaft. It took about an hour to climb all the way up, and I kept getting stuck and getting dizzy from the blood loss, but I made it.”
“Gods, that must’ve been awful.”
“It wasn’t my best day,” he agreed. “After that, I passed out in some random alleyway and waited to heal. And then I just ran. But then there was this tugging that I couldn’t ignore. And when I saw that my crows had led me right back to another Spector ritual, I laughed. I thought it was some big fucking cosmic joke.” His violet eyes finally looked up at me. “Turns out, I was just supposed to find you.”
I reached down and laced my fingers through his. “I’m glad.”
“Me too, Little Spider,” he said, placing a kiss on the crown of my head.
Tomb suddenly shot up into a sitting position, his skin threatening to turn stone as a yell erupted from him.
Shit.
I was on my feet in a second, rushing over to Tomb’s side. His eyes were wild, and the moment I reached to put my hand out to comfort him, he snarled and reared back like he was going to attack. I flinched, but before Tomb’s massive fist could come hurtling my way, Crow was there, shoving me back and taking the punch in his own arm. “Shit,” he hissed in pain. At least he hadn’t been
in his stone form. “Tomb, it’s us!” Crow shouted.
My heart pounded in my chest as I watched Tomb snarl and jump to his feet, looking like a rabid animal trying to find a way out of his cage. His fists were up, ready to keep attacking, and sadness gripped me. Was this why he’d fought sleep so much? Did nightmares of what he’d endured plague him?
“Tomb,” I said, trying to step around Crow.
My mate stopped me. “He’s not himself yet,” he warned.
“Tomb,” I repeated determinedly. “It’s me. Motley.”
This time, when I touched his arm, he flinched, but stopped himself before moving onto the offensive. Feeling bold, I let my hand gently run up his bicep to comfort him. “It’s just us,” I cooed. “You’re okay.”
He shivered, and I watched as recognition slowly came over his face, and the tension in his body drained out. The glaze of fury left his eyes, and he blinked several times, taking in his surroundings.
“Wid?” he asked tentatively.
When he realized Crow’s protective stance, Tomb let out a breath. “Did I hurt you? Fuck!” He turned and threw a fist into the wall, making the concrete crack.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay,” I assured him. “Really.”
“I could’ve fucking hurt you,” he snapped. “Both of you.”
“We’re fine,” I insisted.
“Yeah, that punch you laid on me was pathetic. More like a tap, really,” Crow joked, even as he touched the spot on his arm and winced.
I smiled, thankful for Crow lightening the mood. I pressed a hand against Tomb’s cheek. “Bad dream?”
He nodded slowly, placing his hand over mine to hold it there. He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push him to say more.
“Want to come lie down again?” I asked him, but he shook his head.
“No. I think that was enough for me.”
I wished he’d been able to get more sleep, but I understood. “I can make some web baseballs again, and we can toss them around like old times,” I joked.
He smiled and placed a tender kiss on my lips, in such contrast to his hard body. “That—”
Tomb’s words were cut short when our cell door was opened with an electronic beep, and it slid open to reveal none other than Judge Braxton and a team of enforcers standing behind him.
When Tomb growled, I looked down and noticed that there were red lasers tagged on each of our chests, the enforcers ready to fire if we made a single move at the judge.
The man was arrogant, but not stupid. He didn’t pass over the threshold. He just stood in the doorway, staring at us. Crow and Tomb stayed at my side, and the tension grew thick as the four of us stared at each other.
The judge had sleek black hair that was so shiny it was reflecting the lights off of it. He wore his black judge robe with its high collar done up at his throat, telling me that he’d just come from the courtroom. Which meant…
“You’ve declared a ruling on our lives,” I stated as understanding came over me.
The man nodded. “Indeed. You three have been deemed too dangerous to live and are an unlawful abomination to our kind.”
Tomb growled at the word abomination. I reached down and squeezed his hand in comfort. It wouldn’t be a good idea to attack the leader of the country’s entire supernatural community.
“Your execution date has been set. In exactly twenty hours, you will be beheaded, burned, your ashes contained in magically-reinforced boxes, and the boxes dumped into the ocean at an undisclosed location. All in the hopes that, should you regenerate through all of that, you will still be contained.”
My mouth went dry, and my breathing picked up the pace as the blood drained from my face.
Judge Braxton gave no emotional response whatsoever. “That is the ruling of the council, hereby decreed by myself.” He gave us all another long look. “I suggest you prepare yourselves for the end.”
He turned and walked out, the gang of enforcers following him out until the last laser disappeared. Our cell door closed behind them, slamming shut any hope that had been left.
We were going to die in twenty hours.
Stiles couldn’t get to us that soon, even if he managed to be successful. This was happening. We were an abomination to the public, and they wanted us dead.
Even if we regenerated, we would never be found. We’d be lost at sea, forever trapped, with all hope gone.
I buried my face against my mates, and I cried.
Chapter 35
Our execution day was fucking sunny.
Mother Nature probably liked being ironic.
Beams of light beat down on our shackled bodies as we looked around. There was a pleasant breeze, carrying the scent of spring flowers and hope. It was bright—too bright. I wanted rain clouds and storms. I craved an icy chill to match the desolation in my soul. I wanted to hear thunder and lightning. I wanted the air to crack with the sound of my breaking heart.
Just like all the other hybrid executions, it was very public. We were standing in the middle of an outdoor arena that was usually used for vampire professional sports games. The entire place was packed. I guess the three of us had become celebrities in the supe world. Just not the kind of celebrity you wanted to be.
I heard one of the guards bragging that he bought his entire family tickets to the spectacle. Young children with eager eyes stared at us from their seats in the crowd. Grandmothers. Kids skipping school. Public figures. Collector would have loved to see everyone gathered for his creations.
My spider could smell the bloodlust in the air. Everyone was getting off on our impending suffering. Lusty venom dripped from the vampires’ fangs. Shifters could barely control their rabid animals. Elementals were tossing fire into the air, littering the sky with magic fireworks in celebration of their conquering.
The boos and hisses and hate were palpable throughout the arena. Our faces were shown on the massive screens and broadcasted to every other supe in the world who wanted to watch. They branded us as the enemy, marketing our deaths to hide the fact that most of the council wanted our gifts. I guess if they couldn’t have the unlimited power of our demons, no one could.
I was put in a black dress that wasn’t mine and didn’t fit right, while my mates stood at my sides, also dressed in black clothes that swallowed them. My red hair had been braided back by some mute shifter woman before we were herded outside, because I guess they didn’t want it in the way when they chopped my head off my body.
The three of us stood on a wooden stage that looked like it had just been built for this purpose alone. Our hands were shackled with steel chains. Sweat dripped down my spine from the anxiety and heat. I knew that this would be painful. I prayed that what the council did stayed, because I couldn’t imagine an eternity of suffering for my mates.
Judge Braxton was droning on into the microphone, listing our crimes. We’d been standing there for a while listening to them because there were a lot. Murder. Misuse of power. Conspiracy. Demon ritual involvement.
But when he got to the part about me using my lure to purposely make Oz aroused so that I could stop doing the rope climb in the training room, I don’t know what came over me. I just started laughing. Laughing so hard I couldn’t stop. I knew I was hysterical. I was terrified out of my mind. I was shaking harder than a leaf in autumn. I hadn’t slept, and I’d cried so much that my eyes were swollen nearly twice their normal size.
And now? I was finally snapping.
Everyone looked at me with wide eyes. I felt like a self-fulfilling prophecy, cackling on stage as tears of disappointment streamed down my blotted cheeks. They wanted a terrifying, manic hybrid, and I’d become that. I was at the point where I wasn’t sure who the fuck I was angry at anymore. Spector. The guards. The council. Myself. I was just angry.
There was so much going on in my mind. The loss of Risk, knowing my mates would be tortured, Aunt Marie... I was just devastated. I’d finally gotten to the point where the list of injustices was piled so high
that it blocked the sun. All I could see was darkness.
All I could feel was the soul-crushing realization that it was always meant to lead to this. I was always meant to die. I was always meant to lose the people I cared about. I was always meant to be alone.
I drank in the look of my mates and reached out for my spider. I wanted to fight, I wanted to pull her from my chest and burn the world down with her protective fury. She couldn’t take on an arena of supes, but I wanted to go down fighting. I wanted to make them bleed.
But she had been noticeably complacent throughout the entire ordeal. Webs didn’t spill from my fingers, anger didn’t burn across the mark on my throat. I’d expected her to take over like she’d always done. I wanted to become the thing of nightmares, but she was nothing but a whisper in my soul. Waiting. Waiting. Maybe she had given up. Maybe death didn’t scare her.
The judge continued to drone on and on and on. Each accusation became more and more redundant. At this point, I just wanted to get on with the process. I couldn’t handle the limbo any more. I closed my eyes and reached out to my spider for the last time, seeking comfort in her presence while I still could. I sought to mirror her emotions, sinking into how she felt about this deadly sentence to make sense of my own debilitating grief.
And she seemed content. Bored. She was...excited?
What the fuck?
My brow dipped in confusion, shocking me out of my pity party. What did my spider know that I didn’t?
“I would like to thank the supernatural community for banding together to take down these abominations with my guidance,” Judge Braxton boomed with pride from his spot on a nearby podium. Enforcers flanked him on both sides, looking at me with disgust. I glared back at them, imagined wrapping them in webs and consuming them whole. “I look forward to moving forward past Spector’s indiscretions. I look forward to living as the gods intended us to.” Cheers and yells littered the crowd. My spider laughed within me, amusement filling every cell of our shared souls.