by Jamie Magee
Jamison made his way to the center of the room then he glanced at King. “Heads up, Evanthe is much the same when it comes to her things.”
King glanced around the massive room not doubting his words. “So don’t break it.”
“Right.”
King pulled in a deep breath, held Reveca’s stare. A few seconds later Dagen appeared, pulling on his shirt, and then reaching to fasten his belt—clearly he had been interrupted by King’s summons. When Dagen saw Jamison he jarred his head back a bit.
“What’s up?” Dagen asked, shifting his stare around the room as Jamison lifted his brow suspiciously.
“Moving this to the Boneyard,” King said, trying not to laugh. He was sure Dagen was with River when he called him. King was also sure that Dagan was not in the mood to come face-to-face with her father at this hour, or any hour, to be frank. He liked to keep his distance from the look Jamison was giving him.
“All right then,” Dagen said, looking down to the etched stone floor, to the pentagram. “I gotta stand somewhere or just lift.”
“Lift,” King said, right as Reveca pointed for him to stand near one of the points.
“I have the spell for this,” Reveca spouted.
“And I have the energy, we lift,” King said.
Jamison and Dagen shifted their gazes between the pair of them before trying to find a way to satisfy them both by taking their places and preparing to lift.
After a glare, Reveca started to whisper words across her lips. Wind began to circle the four of them and the air began to vibrate.
Dagen shoved his hands in his jeans, staring at King not sure what he was supposed to do. If the house needed to be moved he only knew one way to do it.
King let Reveca build the energy. He glanced to the windows, watching the home start to lift. It was a slow process, but it was happening. What was impressive was right then, Reveca, on her own was lifting the home. She was surely stubborn enough to move this house with or without help.
When the stone walls began to shake, Jamison added his energy to the mix.
King waited until the home lifted above the treetops then nodded to Dagen. The pair for them grasped the home with their vim, and lifted, then moved fast and sharp, the only way the Helco Faction really knew how to do anything.
Before the home landed on the new foundation at the Boneyard it was suspended in the thin air. Both King and Dagen vanished.
Reveca fell back on her heels, too stubborn to sit down even though she was sure the house was still spinning. “What the hell is he doing?”
“What I told you had to be done. It takes more than a foundation.”
“I know that. That’s why I spelled the electrical and such.”
“How did you spell something you don’t understand?”
Reveca tilted her head, somewhat admitting guilt. She wasn’t entirely sure she had composed the spells correctly, but she did do as the contractor she’d hired said, to the best of her ability anyway.
Reveca went to move, but Jamison held his hand out. “Stay, you’re balancing.”
“Me?”
Jamison stared at her for an endless second as he tried to understand how she couldn’t know that. “Reveca, dear, what was the one thing that terrified the elders when Kenson came into our village, when he lingered near you?”
Reveca moved her head side to side. “They thought my power was growing too fast, that I didn’t have control.”
“And you didn’t see that then, did you?”
“Or now, no, Jamison. I’m just doing my thing.”
“You need to.”
“Why?”
“Because your biggest problem with King, or any man, is you want independence and you think you don’t have it when it comes to this power. You need to figure out the balance, figure out how much of it is you. Otherwise, you’re going to end up being pissed at King again for no reason.”
“I have my reasons,” she said, right as the house tilted forward then balanced out again.
“Balance,” Jamison said to her in a calm tone. “Sit, Zen.”
She only sat because the move had exhausted her, but she made it seem as if she was focusing on balance. A few calm breaths later she felt herself slipping into an exhausted Zen, and tried to stop it but she was long gone. The home was still just barely elevated as King and Dagen did their thing beneath it, lining up whatever connections they were sure the home needed.
***
Waking up in the ER, knowing you were uninsured, sucked. Discovering that no, you didn’t dream a dead man attacked you was a wicked dilemma that twisted Adair Vallet’s gut.
Luckily, Miriam was there when Adair awoke and already had an escape plan ready to go. It was simple really, a charm spell, one that made the attending doctors believe their actions were correct—like discharging her and losing her paperwork. In all truth, Adair should have been able to do the spell on her own but she was wiped out and dizzy from the concussion the doctors stated she had. The tips of her fingers were freezing for no reason, and her body was aching.
The entire way to the Cauldron Adair’s head spun. The night before flashed before her eyes over and over, but so did something else. It was a voice, one she’d heard when she was warding off Talley; it was deep, charismatic…sensual even though it was clearly enraged. What was throwing Adair was she was sure she knew the voice. Her mind had paired it with a biker she had never spoken to but had seen often. The biker she dreamed of nightly, and not in an innocent way, at least not all the time—basically her mind had made a life with that boy, in some fantasy world, where the wicked didn’t tread.
A world where families were whole…growing, not disappearing.
Dove. The word was jarring in her mind, making her head spin.
Apparently this biker who she’d been crushing on hard at a distance was a fan of her dog. Each time the roar of a bike was heard outside the Cauldron Mystic would take off, despite Adair’s command to stay, and earn herself a pet and a treat from the walking heartbreaking who owned the bike.
More than once he’d caught Adair outright eye-fucking him, and each time he quickly averted his stare right as a pissed expression came to him.
She’d been trying to find a way to hate him for a while.
As far as she was concerned she had no room for assholes, and evidently not only were he and Rush in the same chapter of the Pentacle Sons, but also drank from the same well—the one that said you can be an ass to people in general.
She’d asked Rush about the blond biker in the past and his response was even harsher than the one he had about Adair meeting Reveca Beauregard.
“Fuck him,” Adair mumbled.
“What?” Miriam asked as they ducked under the police tape. Moments before she’d cast another charm spell, one that suggested everyone who worked for the law should take a lunch break.
Adair shook her head. “Have you seen Mystic?”
“No.”
Lie, Adair thought to herself. She could always discern if someone was speaking the truth, or at least hiding something from her, and Miriam definitely was.
“Tell me,” Adair demanded.
A flustered, deep sigh left Miriam as she reached up and tied her flaming red hair back. Her blue eyes searched Adair quickly, clearly pissed that even after the night Adair had, she couldn’t be fooled.
Miriam wasn’t much older than Adair. She was the same height but a good thirty pounds lighter, all bones. Her ivory skin was becoming, yet haunting in the bright sun. To most she seemed innocent, but Adair knew she was anything but—the girl had a gift when it came to charm and illusion spells. Those spells built Miriam’s confidence, and more times then not was how she found her bed partners.
“Heard the law saying a few bikers picked her up,” Miriam said, averting her eyes, making it seem as if she were taking in the scene: the blood where Taylor’s body had perished, the broken table, the brick wall Adair had been slammed into, the mud on the floor.
&nbs
p; “The biker?” Adair asked after she managed to calm her emotions. Miriam knew about Adair’s distant crush on the blond biker who passed by often. When Rush was a dick about her asking about him, Miriam backed him up, told Adair the Boneyard was the wrong crowd for her. Which in Miriam’s world meant Adair didn’t do causal fucks, at least not since her accident. Her scars were deep, and sex flat out hurt. She had to really want it to open her bed up. Which was near nil.
“Yeah, I’m sure if that were true they’ll bring her back. What did you want here?”
‘Sure’ wasn’t good enough for Adair. She reached down and picked up one of Mystic’s toys along with some of the mud that was on the floor, exactly what she needed for a locator spell, one for Mystic, and one for Talley. “I want to make sure I saw what I saw.”
“And what was that? Do you know who robbed you?”
“She wasn’t robbed,” a cold voice said from the doorway that led to the front of the shop. It was Jade, looking witchy as ever in one of her vintage tops, with her blonde hair carefully pulled back, eccentric jewelry draping her neck, ears, and wrists, and large crystal rings on her fingers. Her knowing stare made pairing an age with her youthful image near impossible.
“What did you do? Fucking hex her again?” Miriam spat in Jade’s direction as she stepped before Adair.
A slow grin spread across Jade’s thin lips. “Location spell, is that what you’re doing?”
“What do you want, Jade?” Adair asked, pushing past Miriam and making her way to the front so she could gather all she needed for the spell.
“I was going to let you know I sent the detective on his way,” she said as she placed a business card on the counter.
“How thoughtful,” Adair grumbled. When she reached the altar hidden behind the register she glanced back at Jade, to the smug look on her face. It was clear that she had recently laid down the spell Adair was about to do. Jade had already tracked Mystic.
“Where did you send the detective?” Adair asked, knowing the last thing she needed was the drama of involving the MC and the law.
Jade never answered, instead she turned to leave. When she reached the front door she hesitated then glanced over her shoulder. “I was told the shop would have to be closed for the next five days. Of course this will impact the percentage of sales you have grown to feed off of.” She lifted her chin. “That mud will do you no good…you can’t track the dead.” She grinned. “Worry not, they surely can track you.”
“Fuck off,” Adair said.
Miriam walked forward to ensure that Jade left. She made a point to show off as she did. Wind picked up in the shop, rattling all the trinkets on the displays.
Adair didn’t have the time or energy to show off any surge of power. She had to find her dog, and she had to find Talley. More importantly, she had to figure out who had raised him and how in the hell to lay him down once more.
Before she began her own spell she read the traces of Jade’s. What she saw in the ashes before her, as her fingertips touched them, stole her breath. It was Talley digging his way free from a grave, tracking through the thick swamp. The scene faded away and focused once more to him charging Adair.
Adair focused on Jade’s essence in the spell and saw her telling an officer, Mathis, that the man she saw enter the back alley from her loft above was a biker, and he rode with the Pentacle Sons—she said he wasn’t alone either, then perfectly described the blond biker.
Adair cursed under her breath, knowing this was a shit storm. Without even thinking, she sent a text to Rush, saying we need to talk. If Rush wasn’t riding he always answered her instantly.
By the time Adair had set up her own locator spell on Mystic he hadn’t texted back. Fucking great, Adair thought to herself.
She had to come up with a plan and fast. For all she knew the law was already on the way to the Boneyard prepared to question them about Talley, maybe even blame them for Taylor’s death. Everyone knew it was a death wish to point the finger toward the Sons; they were someone you wanted on your side, not against you.
Adair was sure that Jade was purposely trying to cause hell in her life by making the Sons her new enemy—she’d always hated the fact that Rush was close with Adair, protected her.
The spell to locate her own dog should have been simplistic, something Adair could have done while she plotted how to get herself out of the hell she was in, but she kept hitting a hard wall.
“What’s up?” Miriam asked as she read Adair’s frustrated expression.
“I can’t get through,” Adair said as she looked down at the hot wax she was trying to guide over a map of the lower half of Louisiana.
“Let me help,” Miriam said, adding her energy to the spell.
Brick wall. That’s what it felt like, only more threatening. Someone was deliberately hiding where her dog was from all mystical beings, blinding them so they could not see, hear, or feel their way in.
“Just like with Gwinn,” Adair said, looking to her side at Miriam.
Miriam’s eyes grew wide. “NO, no way you’re fucking with them.”
Too late, Adair thought to herself. She ignored Miriam’s plea and rushed by her to the counter where the detective’s business card was lying.
“What the hell are you doing?” Miriam scolded.
“Stopping this.”
“You’re fucking with the wrong people.”
“Maybe so,” Adair admitted.
All she knew right then was there was a good chance her dog and best friend were at the same place, and there was a witch who had to have known Talley—Reveca Beauregard.
She would surely know how to lay the dead down once more. Adair knew, everyone knew, Reveca was old school. She bartered everything and believed in balancing the scales.
Jade had sent a missile at Reveca with Adair’s drama attached, basically blaming Reveca’s boys for the tragedy. Now Adair could flip it, cover for the Sons, that is if she could pull off the spell she had in mind.
Adair’s plan was to protect the bikers, who had clearly came to her aid the night before, from the law—which hopefully would mean Reveca would have a desire to help Adair with Talley.
“You’re insane,” Miriam said as she finished reading what was on the altar. She now knew what Adair knew, what Jade knew. “What if she raised him? You know she’s a possessive bitch! What if she wanted him back—you think she’s going to lay him down because you did her a solid that she could have covered up on her own?”
Adair didn’t answer at first. She was too busy setting up her spell on Detective Mathis, tracking him, his thoughts, trying to understand what Jade had truly said to him, what he knew of her and the blond biker.
“Reveca Beauregard has too much respect for magic to bring back the dead.”
Miriam jerked Adair away from her spell. “Respect my ass, you haven’t been around her—felt her power. She could kill you with a glance.”
“No I haven’t, why was that again? Oh yeah, you backed up Rush saying I didn’t belong at the Boneyard—but I know you had a blast there.”
Miriam glared. “Who told you?”
“I’m a fucking witch. Nobody told me.” Adair’s words were a bald-faced lie; Adair didn’t know for sure Miriam was at the Boneyard until just then when she all but admitted it.
Adair’s focus was back on detective Mathis. Carefully she pushed into his mind and placed the perfect alibi in his thoughts…or at least she thought she did. Apparently he had reached the Boneyard. She instantly lost the connection to him. She pushed once more, then grunted a curse as she ran out the door. She had get there before the bikers trashed her set up, which would be a miracle in and of itself—her scooter had next to no speed.
***
Reveca’s Zen didn’t last long, no more than a few hours at best. What woke her was the sensation of someone, a witch, doing their best to break the protection slash cloaking spells around the Boneyard. At best it felt like a gentle hint of a breeze, but the fact that Reveca f
elt it at all stated it was a strong witch—someone with that much power was categorically lethal.
Reveca sat up and slowly furrowed her brow. When she focused, she was sure she recognized the energy knocking on her mystical door.
Before she could explore the thought the actual front door to the home she was in opened.
Talon slowly approach her with a pained looked on his face that was somewhere between furious and miserable.
“Look who decided to come home,” Reveca said, standing in one fluid motion.
“You moved a house,” Talon said acidly as he approached.
“Yep.”
“I’m not staying in that room if that’s what this is about.”
“Why? You have so many fond memories there,” Reveca said dejectedly, knowing neither one of them would ever forget the darkest ones, the last ones.
Talon clenched his jaw and did his best to take in a calm breath. “It’s your house Reveca, you didn’t have to steal Evanthe’s.”
“It’s for Bastion.”
“Bullshit. It’s for you.”
“Right, so there you go, you can get off the fucking road and stop crashing in the swamp houses.”
“I like the swamp house.”
“You’re lying.”
“So are you—you can be pissed at me all you want but we both know you just can’t bring yourself to fuck King under a roof we shared.”
Reveca’s energy assaulted him. “No. I’m not a cold hearted asshole like you that fucked Tisk in our room.”
His dark stare never faulted or flinched. “I had my reasons.”
“Yeah, you keep fucking saying that.”
Pain flashed in his dark eyes, vanishing just as quickly as it emerged. “We have a Club to run, Reveca. I’m not going to keep having this fight with you. I’m not moving back in.”
“Fine. I’ll give the suite to Taurus and Star.”
“Do that.”
“You can leave now,” Reveca said, not able to look him in the eye for very long. She was clearly still pissed about how he chose to break them up. It didn’t matter that it was overdue. If he chose any other way they could at least be friends, they wouldn’t feel out of place in their own kingdom.