by Jamie Magee
“Sober moms, I swear,” Bastion said under his breath, walking through the coldness like it was nothing.
Gwinn shook her head and Adair swallowed her justifiable fear. She wasn’t a fan of having a haunt as a roommate, one that everyone but Bastion seemed to ignore.
A few steps in a thick, aged book was slammed onto the foyer floor by an invisible force. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. The book often appeared before Adair and each time she reached for it someone would take it away, or the pages themselves would repel Adair. Before she could think of any spell to break the protection on the book someone would appear and take the book away, usually Reveca.
The book was in Gwinn’s arms before Adair could think to step forward, which once again shocked Adair—she couldn’t figure out how Gwinn seemed to move so fast at times.
“We gonna talk about that?” Adair asked, shifting her gaze between Bastion and Gwinn. She was willing to put her escape plan on hold, hatch another one down the road, if they would bend now and start talking—at least make her feel like they were on the same team.
Gwinn glanced at Bastion, who slightly shook his head before he spoke. “It’s nothing, Adair, just a haunt mad that we went to the bar instead of studying.”
“Then we should study the book, eh,” Adair said in a cold, flat, daring tone.
“Reveca will show you when she’s ready,” Gwinn said, clenching the book to her chest, seeming to fight the cold energy Adair could still feel in the room.
“Seems like this haunt disagrees,” Adair said doing her best to stifle her temper.
Gwinn agreed with Adair, and had argued her case to Reveca, and lost. The book gripped in her arms, that the ghost in this house was trying to pull away, was part of the history of the Dominarum Coven, the story of their arrival here.
It also stated what Reveca Beauregard was—the Queen of the Edge. Gwinn knew if Adair read it she would understand how powerful and protective Reveca was. She would know that if there was anyone Adair needed in her corner it would be her.
Reveca disagreed. She said she had already given Adair books about the born myths the Sons arguably were, and Adair didn’t bother to question what she read—meaning she wasn’t ready to understand immortality.
“Just a few more days, Adair, I promise. We’re going to make it all right. Talley will be at peace, and so will you,” Gwinn assured.
Adair wasn’t listening anymore. She’d snapped her fingers at the threshold of the door to call Mystic inside. When she looked back she saw Gwinn and Bastion walking toward the hidden library with the book in hand, clearly not inviting her to come along. That they did so didn’t shock Adair because that was just part of their nightly routine, something Adair had counted on. From the library, they couldn’t see or hear anything else going on in the house—and would have no idea Adair had left.
As Adair climbed the stairs to her room, the cold, haunting air followed her, and whispered to her. It liked to do so, apparently. At first it scared the shit out Adair but now she was used to it. The whispers were not demonic, but more like a distant call. The best that Adair could make out was the word ‘Phoenix,’ and ‘save him.’ Sometimes she would hear words like ‘wind’ or ‘win some,’ there was a word that sounded like ‘Voyage,’ too.
“Right,” Adair grumbled under her breath. “Save the bird.” She shook her head in frustration. “You’re haunting the wrong girl. I’m here to save a dead man…the only one that cares.”
The cold air around Adair filled with grief, so much so that Mystic even sensed it and a weak, confused cry left her.
“You’re scaring my dog, go on now.”
Shocking Adair, the energy did disappear.
In her room, Adair strapped a gun to her back and checked the ones she had on each leg. She was going to have to leave behind the few clothes she had brought.
She picked up her phone and called Miriam. It took her nearly six rings before she answered.
“I was ready to hex your ass,” Adair growled in a low whisper.
“A hex would be kinder than what you’re asking me to do,” Miriam said in the soft, weak voice she was known for.
“I asked you to park two miles from the Boneyard and wait for me.”
“Which might as well be death. I have no idea why you do not fear Reveca but you sure as hell need to!”
Adair smirked. In her mind Reveca was nothing compared to the witch, Jade, she had been fighting, alone, for the past five years—Reveca had a calm energy that was familiar, even when she was silent Adair still didn’t fear for her life around her. Jade was a different story, she was wicked. She would smile and wish you the best as she mentally hexed you. It was hard to see Jade coming so you always had be on guard.
By no means was Adair underestimating Reveca, but at the same time Reveca had basically said, just like everyone, Judge had the say when it came to her, meaning Adair was of no concern or interest to Reveca.
“She’s not going to care,” Adair promised once more.
“You’ve been there for a week and you think she’s not going to care?”
“I’m property as far as most of these asses are concerned.” The very idea of others seeing her that way burned Adair. She respected the culture of the Club, maybe had even admired it in the past, but this deal sucked. Ownership should be mutual as far as she was concerned—otherwise it was imprisonment.
“Property of one of Reveca Beauregard’s boys, meaning if you hurt him, she’s going to kill you.”
“Miriam, grow up. You basically forced me into this. I asked you to bring Jade’s book of shadows here, you refused—you can’t fucking read it yourself. I have to—that’s how I fix this.”
“I can’t read it because it’s spelled, not because I’m an idiot,” Miriam shot back.
“You’re either picking me up or you’re bringing the book here and staying in this fucking jail with me so we can figure this shit out.”
“I’m voting on neither.”
Adair glared out her window. She couldn’t figure out why Miriam was keeping her distance from the Boneyard, why she kept asking her what she remembered about Judge, the other boys—why she gave a damn.
Then again, maybe Adair had figured it out and just didn’t want to deal with it.
“Look,” Adair said, reaching to rub her eyes. “It’s been five years, Miriam. I don’t have time to give a fuck if you hooked up with someone here. I gotta take care of my family.” The lie burned as it left Adair’s lips, so much so that she squinted her eyes closed, but her voice was rock steady.
Miriam was quiet for a long moment. “What did Jade tell you?”
Adair rocked back on her heels. There was nothing worse than knowing she had hit the nail on the head—she was all but positive Miriam was one of Judge’s one-night stands. “Nothing. I’m a seer. I’m a witch, too—you can’t hide shit from me.”
Adair could have sworn she heard Miriam laugh. “So says the girl whose memories were sealed.”
Adair gripped her phone. “You get your boney ass in the fucking car and pick me up or I swear to God I will hex your sex life until the end of time—I’m not playing games anymore.”
“Fine,” Miriam spouted just before she hung up.
Adair stared down at her phone for a long moment, still feeling sick. She wanted to beat the hell out of Judge just then. She was pissed he had any effect or control when it came to her—mad that she cared that whatever was between them, whatever he stole from her, meant nothing to him.
She pushed her anguish deep down and focused on the plan she had now. Before she met up with Miriam she was going to the Cage. If Jade’s book had any spells that would help Adair lay Talley down they would do little to no good if she couldn’t find Talley. The ass the Sons had locked up surely knew where he was.
She doubted Talley was far away. At times she was sure she felt his stare. At those times the tips of her fingers would turn to ice. Yesterday she had followed the strange feeling of
being watched and ended up at the riverbank; it wasn’t the dead end of water that had stopped her but Dagen.
He appeared out of nowhere and took her hand and walked her back toward the heart of the Boneyard. Adair didn’t put up a fight because each time he held her hand, she would feel tingles of energy move through her, birthing awareness, clarity. In some way it made her feel empowered, too.
“Ready?” Adair asked Mystic.
It had been nearly an hour since everyone was sent home. From her window she could see there was no one lurking outside, and all the lights in the swamp houses and the tents around the lot were nice and low.
She planned to say she was simply walking Mystic if anyone saw her outside. Even though she had an excuse in hand, she still cringed each time a step creaked on her and Mystic’s descent down the back steps.
Adair was sure at this point everyone at the Boneyard had hearing that would put superman to shame, that was one of the many oddities she had picked up on. The others were things like people moving too fast, not eating, not sleeping—each could be rationally explained when Adair incorporated the magic she knew firsthand how to use. Then again, she knew, but refused to acknowledge, there was something amiss about the souls who lurked at the Boneyard.
When her feet hit the pebble flower garden, she let herself bask in the victory of making it past Gwinn and Bastion and then began to creep through the shadows, beckoning Mystic to follow her. The second she passed all the tents set up in the field she took off in a sprint, heading straight for the Cage, which made Mystic’s night. She loved to run, and was far ahead of Adair within a second.
Less than fifteen minutes later Adair was gasping, out of breath from her hard run. She had stopped because she had heard mystic bark, her protective bark.
“Come,” she said, a command Mystic obeyed.
Slowly, Adair moved forward doing her best to see anything through the night. She had been running alongside the river for a while and had kept her focus on the branches swaying in the rare summer night breeze.
All at once they had stopped moving, and the entire river became silent. With the next step Adair took she heard the crunch of the grass, grass that shouldn’t have made a noise; it was too moist.
The tips of her fingers were freezing and her heart was racing as she noticed everything was dead—the grass, the trees. It was like someone had sucked the life out of them.
Bravely, she stood there, searching for Talley—knowing that death, evil, pulled the life out of everything it crossed.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said quietly as her mind grasped the new spells she had found in the library. Ones that would place a boundary around someone. “I want to help. I’m going to take you to Finley. You want that, right?”
Adair jarred back when she heard a growl, a struggle in the distant darkness just across the river.
Mystic whimpered at her side and strained to corral Adair, to get her to move back but, Adair held her ground.
Moments later, the sound of a struggle stopped. The sense of danger faded, the icy tips of her fingers warmed to a cold that Adair had gotten use to.
It was clear to her that Talley wanted help but didn’t trust himself to come too close to her, which gave her hope and told her the Talley she knew was fighting what was in him, what had tried to hurt her the last two times she had seen him.
Instead of running, she powerwalked the rest of the way, in hopes that she might get a glimpse of him across the river. If so, she might be able to do this without facing the dickhead in the Cage.
There was another house just before what they called the Cage. The lights were out and there wasn’t a sound coming from it. That was new. Adair had been scouting this place from a distance, knew that it was usually lit up. In most cases a fire pit was raging outside. She was absolutely positive that her plan had worked as she snuck around the side of it emerging before the Cage.
Right as Adair took a step forward she heard a deep, baritone voice say, “Where’re you going there, princess?” followed by the flick of a zippo.
Adair closed her eyes as a curse whispered across her lips. Another thing that was odd about the Sons was that not once had Mystic found it to be a stellar idea to let her know one of them was a breath away. Which made her a downright traitor in Adair’s book.
Though Scorpio’s voice was at a distance when he spoke before, when Adair turned he was just behind her, jolting her back a step or two.
Scorpio was a mouthwatering man, no doubt there. He stood well over six foot, was lean but built. His dark hair barely reached his shoulders and was cut in a fashion that caused him to sway his long bangs out of his jade, all knowing, stare.
Adair was sure he was left in charge when Talon rode out with Judge, at least he acted so, calling all the shots on who was to go where, and when. Knowing so, Adair had put twice as much of the aphrodisiac in his drink tonight, along with the girls that were lingering near him. The stillness of the house had let her believe he was really distracted from his post of guarding this creep in the cage.
Adair’s stare raked down his bare chest, past every ridged muscle on his body, the piercing in each nipple, and the tattoo of a phoenix in flames across his chest.
It was the tattoo that had left her speechless, at least that’s what she’d told herself. She was wondering if it was some kind of sign, a message from the great unknown that seemed to whisper insights into her thoughts, the gut feeling that told her if she could or could not trust someone.
She seriously doubted Scorpio needed anyone to save him from anything, as the ghost had whispered.
In her very vague memories she recalled Scorpio from years back. He and his crew would roll into the lot, attend Church with Talon and the others then grab a drink before they headed out.
She couldn’t be absolutely sure with the way her memory was filling in, but she had a feeling Scorpio was the reason she and Judge had fought years back, the fight which pushed Judge to tell Adair how he felt about her, the one that began their love affair. Scorpio was the him Judge saw her leave with.
Adair nodded to the house behind him. “I’m sure you have company, I’m just walking my dog.”
Scorpio narrowed his stare. “What makes you think I have company?”
“Please,” Adair said, rolling her eyes.
Scorpio laughed, a deep, dark chuckle. For him, the hardest part about this gig, him having his men at the Boneyard, was being face to face to Adair Vallet once more. He respected his boys, every one of them, would rather die than cross them, but at the same time if he knew then what he knew now—how Adair would end up—he sure as fuck would have went a different way years back.
Years ago, first glance at Adair Vallet had twisted him; it was her penetrating stare, her enigmatic beauty. He knew he knew her from the past, it was the how that was lost on him. Second glance told him one of the Sons had claimed her—which fucking pissed him off.
What really tuned his temper up was knowing each night Judge was taking some other girl down the back hall behind the garage, and Adair was left looking lost and hurt.
When she made a move on him, he knew in some way, no matter how small, she was looking for revenge. He let it go too far—he was seconds before sinking into her wet heat when he stopped them…
Out of breath, with his soul pulsing from the rush of her touch—from tasting every inch of her twice over—he sat on the side of the bed they were in and lit up. He was so mad at himself that at first he didn’t see the pain of rejection in her eyes, a hurt he put there. When he did he told her about the claim on her.
“Fuck him,” Adair had said, pressing her bare chest into his back, hurting with want as she kissed his neck. “He’s never said a word to me. He glares at me as he leaves with other girls.”
Scorpio closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of her skin against his and fighting against his own morals.
“You don’t know him like I do,” he’d said with a grunt, laying her down and trac
ing her jaw with hands that had never once been tender before—only lethal. “You make him feel something, something strong enough to put a claim on you.”
“I’m not property,” Adair said with glare.
“You don’t get it,” he said, biting his lip and fighting his own desires. “He hasn’t felt anything in a long time.” He shook his head. “I see it your eyes, too. You’re trying to forget him with me. If you were any other girl I wouldn’t care.”
“I’m not using you. We have something—chemistry.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he said, lying next to her giving up on having the strength to stare her in the eye.
“How do I know you?” she whispered into the night.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t deny I do?”
He paused for a long a moment. “I just can’t figure out how. I can’t ignore it any more than I can that you make Judge feel.” He moved his head to the side to meet her questioning gaze. “What if you know him, too, if you’re something good in his past?”
Adair clenched her jaw, hating and loving the loyalty of this Club. “As soon as I see him tomorrow I’m going to tell him to take his claim off. If he doesn’t listen I’ll go to Talley—even Talon.”
Scorpio smirked then pulled her to lie on his chest as his hand carefully swayed her to sleep, knowing he had just ruined his shot with her, the first he cared to know.
As predicted, she did talk to Judge, and never looked back—not beyond begging him to keep what happened between them a secret. She feared Judge—or Talley—would hurt him if they figured it out.
Now, with her memory in ashes, the only one that knew of them was him.
“Go on home, princess. You can’t get in there anyway,” he said as he pulled in a long drag from the cigarette loosely nestled between his fingertips.
Something snapped inside of Adair. She had met her limit. She was sick of being treated like some child, like she was a hostage, or worse, an idiot. She didn’t have time for this. She had to take care of Talley. She couldn’t handle knowing he was out there lost inside whatever vile creature that had possessed him for one more second—refused to do so.