The Four Horsemen_Reckoning

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The Four Horsemen_Reckoning Page 2

by LJ Swallow


  "Sometimes we need to sort problems with supes in the States, since the population is bigger over there," puts in Ewan without looking up.

  "We've a place there where we can hide out," adds Heath.

  "It's not strictly our place though, is it?" says Ewan and looks up. "It belongs to the fae who live in LA."

  Weird. Doesn’t Xander avoided the fae as much as possible? "I bet the fae place is nice, considering their expensive tastes."

  "Yeah, pretty good."

  “Not that it matters," snaps Xander. "It's safe. Not razed to the ground by a crazy god."

  "Plus, we have gear there." Joss pulls at his shirt. "Of the non-singed variety."

  "Oh, and here I am thinking we'd have a nice trip to the shopping centre tomorrow." My weak attempt at humour is met with stony silence.

  "I booked plane tickets already," Ewan replies gruffly. "We leave tomorrow."

  "And we move on from the shit he's dumped on us." Xander stands. "Right, who wants food? I'm ordering pizza."

  My head spins at the sudden switch from challenging Seth and preventing an apocalypse to discussion about food. Although my stomach growls appreciatively.

  Ewan's phone sounds an alert and everybody turns to him. Apart from each other, people rarely contact the guys.

  "Syv?" I ask hopefully.

  Ewan snorts derisively. "Him. You reckon Seth knows when we’re talking about him?" As he reads his mouth parts, and he returns to his laptop, looking between the two screens in consternation.

  "What's happening?" The phone sounds again and Xander stands behind Ewan so he can see too. “Answer the bloody thing.”

  We hold a collective breath as Ewan accepts the call.

  "You think you're fucking clever, right!" shouts a voice over speaker and my blood cools at the tone. He sounds like Seth, but flat. Distant. "How the fuck did you do it?"

  "What are you talking about?" Xander calls to Seth.

  “The text translation. Seth must mean that,” I whisper and glance at where Joss grips the book in his hands.

  "No. The storm," says Ewan. "Look. There isn’t one."

  He turns the laptop to face us while Seth's rant continues. "Who are you working with? No way can Vee do this."

  I have no clue what Seth means and exchange a confused look with Joss. Standing, I approach to stand beside Xander.

  Seth’s face half-fills the screen, but it’s tricky to figure out where he is. Inside? In the semi-darkness I can make out a small room’s walls, one with a noticeboard, but no window. The dim partially hides his face, but there’s no mistaking the hard, glittering eyes.

  "Maybe Vee did stop the storm," retorts Ewan. "Maybe she can do more than you think. Watch your back, mate."

  "Don't screw around with me, Ewan," he snarls. “Or I’ll be back over there and really fuck you over this time.”

  I swear and step back, waiting for Seth’s appearance--or my disappearance.

  "He won’t." Heath whispers in my ear. "Seth's still worried that you, plus the Horsemen combined, can hurt him. Otherwise I swear he'd be in this room right now, confronting us."

  "You think you can win?" Seth’s savage tone grows. "You have no idea what happens next, do you?"

  Seth's eyes turn a hollow black like the void I’ve seen before, and the darkness shimmers around him. My chest clutches with fear.

  Seth’s eyes look the way mine did in the museum bathrooms.

  "We have some idea, yeah," retorts Xander. "More idea than you, I bet."

  "I suppose that's a snarky comment about your dumb book? Don't worry, I'll have that info soon. I have my means.” His eyes fade to their normal brown. “No. I'm sick of you fuckers thinking you can beat me. Interfering."

  "We will. When we’re ready."

  Seth's lips twist into a smile at my words as he gestures around himself. "I don't believe you, or you'd be looking for me. You’re skulking in that fairy’s house, scared."

  I take the phone from Ewan and hold it so Seth sees my face and nothing else. "Think what you want. When the time's right, we'll destroy you. I’ll destroy you."

  Seth holds his screen closer too. "I want to see you alone, Verity."

  "Not happening," growls Xander. “We won’t let Vee face you alone.”

  "Ha! So, she isn't able to take me down without you guys? There’s a chance I can kill Vee?” His face brightens as we don’t respond. “Interesting. Keep talking, Xander. Tell me more."

  Xander sucks in a breath as the others glare at his slip-up. Not entirely true, but a big enough indication that the fight between Chaos and Truth isn’t a done deal.

  "Nice one," Heath mutters to Xander. "Fucking brilliant."

  The clock ticks on the wall as we struggle how to respond.

  "Gotta go. Keep watching, guys." Seth’s parting words come with a familiar smirk, and Ewan’s phone screen blanks as he ends the call.

  "Shit." Xander drags a hand down his face.

  "Has the storm really gone?" I ask Ewan before an argument can start about Xander's loose tongue.

  “Yeah. Look.”

  Social media websites and news stories are filled with the same story. The storm stalled, completely still for a few hours, then switched direction and returned to the Atlantic. As the weather system dissipated, meteorologists across the world scratched their heads in confusion. Hurricanes don't pause to mock those fearing its arrival. Weather systems aren't controlled.

  Unless by a god who's messing with us all.

  Ewan points at the meteorology site on the screen filled with confusing scientific detail. "Who did this? How? Or do you think Seth is fucking with our heads again?"

  “He sounded pretty pissed off. I doubt he stopped the storm,” puts in Joss.

  "Well whoever did should bloody let us know who they are. If they can do something like this, they can help us."

  “Yeah, but how do we find out who?” asks Heath.

  Xander wrinkles his nose. “Dunno. Talk to Ripley and Portia, see what they know.”

  My stomach grumbles loudly, breaking the atmosphere. Xander straightens and chuckles at me. "Pizza? Then we talk about this."

  I sink back in the chair.

  How can he jump from crisis to the mundane in the space of seconds?

  3

  JOSS

  I have no choice currently but to hold inside how I feel. I know Vee's struggling—but over how this affects us as much as the effect on her. I tried to tell Xander and Ewan. I don't know if they understand, because they're lost in their own attempts to process the news. So, yeah, I have no option other than to stay focused on helping.

  Did Vee’s time alone with Heath help? I sensed their closeness when they returned. I sense she’s closer to the humanity that slips through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. I’m thankful I didn’t meet her request to take away her humanity the time in the study. If I had, what would she be like now?

  Heath's better since he returned too, but Ewan and Xander aren't.

  Xander’s anger edges above his fear and distress, which is usual for him. Ewan's emotions are harder to figure out. Hurt. Anger. Fear.

  We're all frightened.

  Vee's switched off and hasn't left Heath's side since they returned. I don't want to be jealous, but I'm the one who normally soothes and comforts her when things turn to shit. Of course, she hugged and kissed me when she came into the room and asked if I was okay—because she's Vee. That's what she does.

  I also saw the hurt in Vee’s eyes when Xander kissed her on the hair with just a brief hug. The matching wave of pain from him stabbed at me too. The empath thing is a shitty power right now. I don't want to experience every emotion surrounding us—it drains me.

  If I said the guys’ emotions are off the scale, it would be an understatement.

  They're all in bed now, spread between the rooms the Collector offered us. I'm surprised Xander's sleeping, but suspect he's still recovering from the fire’s effects on him.

  I'm wired
and unable to give in to sleep.

  I sit in the lounge room that's turned into our base since we arrived late this afternoon. The room is now lit by a single lamp standing in the corner beside a large picture of a country scene. I stare at the painting for a while, drawn to it as if I could lose myself in the quiet woods represented. I sip my whiskey—the glass I poured for medicinal purpose, y'know, like helping me get some bloody sleep.

  The still house holds a strange peace I've never felt in our farmhouse, as if infused with a magic to keep us calm. The Collector? How powerful are his spells? He protected Syv the day they went to Paris, and from something powerful too. Resting my head on the sofa back, I close my eyes and inhale the peace, hoping this helps me with sleep too.

  I don't hear anybody enter the room until he speaks. "I did offer you a bed, Joss."

  I open my eyes. The Collector stands close by, amused curve to his mouth. His blond curls surround his face tonight, loose like the vibrant blue shirt partially unbuttoned. A large pendant, matching in colour, hangs around his neck, touching the top of his broad chest. For a moment, I wonder if his form changes. Or has he always looked like this—halfway between a man and an ethereal creature?

  Why will he never reveal his name?

  "I'm not tired,” I reply.

  The Collector sits in his chair, buttoning his shirt as he does, and nods at me. "But you should sleep. I sense your exhaustion. You have busy times ahead."

  Understatement. "My mind is racing. I'm panicking about—"

  "Vee?" he asks softly. "But you have more time and less distractions now the storm has gone. You can focus on finding Seth because you know what to do."

  "One less distraction, but a fuckload of confusion." I drain my glass and his lips purse. "Sorry, I hope you didn't mind me helping myself to your booze."

  "No. I told you, whatever you need. I'd like to help, where I can."

  "You already have, and we really appreciate it."

  He nods and watches me drink. “How are the others coping, Joss?"

  I shrug and place the glass on the table. "I think once we move somewhere we can settle and regroup, it will help. We appreciate your help and letting us stay here, but—"

  "I understand. You need to be somewhere you can be in control." He smiles.

  The Collector remains still, watching me, and my scalp prickles. Why did he come in here? To talk to me? This fae holds answers to questions and more secrets than I realised. The mystery surrounding him grew with Portia’s news he could open the fae realm portal. I need to dissuade him—and find out how he can. That way, we have a chance to prevent extra shit happening if something walks through to our world.

  To distract myself, I stand and look around the room. For the first time, I notice that something is positioned on a table beneath the forest scene painting. A blue-clothed table, trimmed in gold. I recognise the fae runic symbols in the open book resting on the table. A metal pendant of a Celtic knot on a long silver chain lies along the spine.

  The Collector approaches as he notices my interest and closes the book. The more I look around, the more similar symbols I see hidden amongst the room’s decor.

  "Syv told us you employ her to find everything related to fae that’s spread around the world."

  "Yes.”

  “And this pisses off Portia. What are you looking for?”

  He arches a brow. “How do you know I’m looking for something particular?”

  I bite my lip. "Is it something connected to what Portia said—to open your portal? Is there a key?”

  "Not a key, but something I lost." He chuckles. “Portia doesn’t know what.”

  "I don't believe that. How could you lose an item that can open something as dangerous?"

  He frowns. "You keep talking of danger in my old realm. There's nothing dangerous back there. Who we left behind are shrivelled versions of fae. Magic addicts incapable of anything but subsisting in the wasteland." He stops himself. "Anybody who could survive left. Only the insane would return."

  “Wow. Portia must be really desperate. Can’t you help her break back through?”

  “No. Even if I wanted to. But she doesn’t know that.” He winks at me. “I’ll keep her distracted and on her toes. She can keep thinking she has a chance to leave if she can persuade me to help. If I keep her focus on that, she’ll leave you alone.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But remember, I'm only getting involved in this.” He gestures around him, “Because I don't want to be forced from another world. I’m comfortable here, and I have an infinity to live."

  "And we appreciate the help."

  The Collector picks the chain with the wrought symbol and runs a finger across it. "I hope you found my help useful today."

  "Of course. We had nowhere to go. You were very generous and of course the translating—"

  He interrupts again, a habit beginning to irritate me. Powerful people like the Collector aren't interested in listening to others. They prefer to say what they think.

  “I may not be much use when it comes down to the wire with the chaos god, but I will help where I can."

  "And then you'll go back to looking for your… item?"

  The Collector rubs his lips with two fingers. "Yes. But only to keep the power to open the portal away from others."

  "Such as Portia?"

  His reply is another smile.

  "This helps a lot. We’re relying on Seth's fear of Vee right now. We've moved a step ahead after translating the text, now we have more information. Vee will stop Chaos. With us. We all will."

  The look he gives irritates me—a smile a parent would give to a child with a crazy idea. "I'm looking forward to when that happens."

  4

  VEE

  I've always wanted to visit the States, but not under these circumstances. I spend the flight sitting between Heath and Joss, drifting in and out of a fitful sleep where I wake panicking whether the images of death and destruction are dreams or visions.

  We also leave the cold and snow behind for Californian weather. I'd always imagined sunny skies and shiny people when I thought about the place, but of course it's winter. LA is a hell of a long way from England.

  Two large black sedans with dark, tinted windows wait outside the disorientating airport. Silent drivers take us from the city to a nearby town. Dazed by the trip, I stare from the window at the new world passing by. How long will all this exist if I fail to do what I was created for?

  We barely speak on the trip in the car. I travel with Joss and Heath, who explained the place we headed belonged to fae from the local court, but wouldn't elaborate. If I had to choose any city in the world to hide supernatural creatures and activities, this would be the one.

  The gated community we’re taken to looks like a supercharged version of Portia’s suburbia. Each home is set apart from the neighbours and surrounded by secluded gardens or fences. This one is hidden along a long driveway bordered by palms and frangipanis. I climb from the car and gaze at the huge two-storey house. Like Portia’s, there’s nothing remarkable from the outside.

  I lose myself the moment I step inside the expansive house and wander around openmouthed, staring at the marble floors and expensive furnishings. The fae like their quality and luxury, that’s clear. There's little sign anybody lived here recently, although the place is filled with everything needed to stay.

  An extravagant holiday home? Or one of many belonging to one person? Not the Four dishevelled Horsemen and the girl who no longer knows who she is.

  But I don't care about anything but face-planting on the nearest bed.

  Which I do.

  Somebody walks into the bedroom through the door behind me and footsteps pass to the window. There's a low whistle and comment on the view, I recognise Joss’s voice, and the sound of wooden shutters closing.

  "You okay?" he asks.

  I turn my head and look at him, cheek squashed against the soft blanket. "No. Are any of us?"


  He lays next to me, propping up on one elbow, his head in his hand. I reach out and rub his scruff with the back of my hand. "You need a shave."

  “Yeah?” He rubs his rough cheek against mine and I hide my head, swatting at him as the growth scratches my skin. He pulls back and runs a finger down my nose. "You look exhausted.”

  “Again, aren’t we all?” The dark circles growing beneath his eyes confirm this.

  I roll onto my back and look up at the spotlights in the ceiling, and the gently whirring fan fills the silence. More footsteps sound on the floor outside the room and Heath appears.

  "You look as shit as I feel, Heath," says Joss with a laugh.

  "Yeah, thanks." Heath flops down onto the bed, the other side of me, and the three of us lie silently together for a moment, all eyes on the fan moving slowly above us.

  "I suppose Xander's strategising and Ewan's on his laptop?" I ask quietly.

  Heath shuffles closer and kisses my forehead. "Yes, and complaining about American beer.”

  I smile, something I’ve forgotten to do much in the last twenty-four hours. “He’s lucky that somebody left beer in the fridge.”

  “We have clothes, too," remarks Joss and yawns. "From the last time we stayed. At least we don't have to face the apocalypse naked now."

  My smile turns into a laugh and Joss takes my hand and squeezes. "I like that sound."

  I turn on my side to face Joss again and Heath wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me close to his chest. I rub my cheek against his shirt’s soft cotton sleeve, enjoying the warmth and Heath’s scent. I’m tucked against Joss too, who strokes my hair.

  We're here. Natural. Together. Held together by the love in this room, I drift to sleep surrounded by love from the two of the men who refuse to let me go.

  5

  XANDER

  I stand in the lounge room and study my surroundings. Doesn’t look any different to last time we were here—big-ass sofa, TV screen twice as big as anybody could need, a load of unnecessary fancy shit in shelves. Our last visit here was a simple trip to take down some of Ripley’s guys. The demons were sloppy and easily found. That time we relaxed, happy in our victory. I drink from the bottle in my hand. Back in the days that we could take down time.

 

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