by Jamie Magee
All cryptic.
In Chalice’s mind if you were under evil’s influence, you were innocent. So even though Tisk, Blackwater, and Holden were guilty as hell and deserved their death, in his mind, they wouldn’t. They were tempted and failed, but salvation was promised to them.
And furthermore, Reveca had slaughtered no creators as Chalice claimed. Every soul her hand took out was mortal.
“What’s this shit about a boat?” she heard Rush say from her side.
“Plans change.”
“It’s nearly midnight,” he said in a casual warning even though he knew it was pointless.
“Then we better hurry,” Reveca said, tossing one hard, cold glare in Akan’s direction before she turned to leave.
By now Reveca would always be on her way back from death, not embarking on a journey—the timing always allowed her entrance into death to be hidden. If she left now she might have a chance to be back before dawn.
“You sure this is the right thing to do tonight?”
Reveca moved away from the barrier. She didn’t trust Akan not to be sensing her conversation.
Rush waved at Steele, telling him to follow, but he didn’t say another word until they were almost to the dock. He nodded for Steele to go and help Cash get ready to leave.
“You all right?” he asked, dipping his head to look into her eyes.
Reveca glanced to her side at him. Right now she was the victim, she was the girl who just figured out her ex-long term lover fathered a child, one she had, in some way, not only provided for but also advocated for.
The others had no idea what she had done to Talon and likely never would.
She wasn’t about to play the victim card. It sucked when they all looked at her differently when Talon was caught fucking Tisk; this blew all the more.
She was sure one by one they would all approach and offer their sympathy and in their own way claim their innocence, or understanding.
Talon being a father was a massive secret to keep, and apparently it was kept for some time. The boys respected Reveca, and would come to her with their darkest secrets. They would lay their life down for her—but the bond with Talon was different, in some way richer. Even though it was well known not to fuck with him—he was the fun parent.
She only offered a glance up to him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know how—”
“You knew?”
Rush stopped his walk and looked right at her. “Not really, at least I didn’t understand it. Hindsight.”
Reveca’s anguished gaze fought to ask him not to say more, but he went on.
“Talley was weird when we were in Savannah, off his game. He wouldn’t tell me what was up. I thought he was rumbling with Finley, they did that when she went all witchy on him.” He hesitated. “Um, sorry.” Reveca shook her head. She didn’t want to go down this road with him. “Then I figured it was Adair, him saving her.” He paused, not sure if he should or should not say the words on the tip of his lips. “Over the years there were other times when he was odd, too. Him, Talon, and Finley would hush up when I came in the room sometimes.”
“Finley knew?” Reveca was sure she was going to vomit.
“I don’t know, they did the hush up thing when Adair was sick. Remember how she got those fevers—fits?”
Reveca nodded vaguely. It wasn’t a fever it was her magic fighting to get out.
“Not long before he died, Talley told me he’d asked Judge to vow his heart was Adair’s. He didn’t seem surprised Judge had fallen for her or even could feel for her.” Rush’s expression was stern, and rightly so.
He may have been the asshole ‘uncle’ to Adair but he was still protective. Five years ago he didn’t think Judge was ready for a woman, not the real deal and not one as young as Adair. He was rightly pissed that both Talley and Talon stated it was a good match.
“He told me Talon was going to let Judge handle himself when it came to Adair, and I should let it be, too, but at the same time he wanted me to make sure I watched out for her.”
“When was this?”
“Three or four months before he was cursed. I didn’t know what the fuck he was up to, or thinking, I just figured he was paranoid about her because things were heating up with the Rouges again. We made a pact one of us would always survive to make sure Adair was good.”
Rush paused and looked out toward the river. “He said, ‘I’m always going to go with Finley, she’s my true North. Judge will be tested, he’ll come ‘bout but it’s going to hurt, a lot—you keep her right until balance is found. Talon will have your back, but his distance is needed.’” Rush drew his brow together. “I didn’t get any of it but the Talon part, it clicked tonight—I just didn’t know and even if I did—”
Reveca lifted her hand to stop him. She knew what he was going to say. Even if he did know for sure Adair was Talon’s he wouldn’t have told Reveca. It wasn’t his story to tell. The only reason he was saying anything at all now was because of the bleak yet deep message Talley had given so long ago.
“Months before he was cursed he said this?” Reveca asked, her stare now riveted on Rush.
“Yeah, but you gotta think back—Adair and Judge were new, Judge being tested? That was not a shocker. I already knew it drove him mad he couldn’t read Adair. Keeping Adair right? That wasn’t far off the mark. The girl has a quick temper, trigger happy then and now—and her craft was growing to the point where she was having a hard time controlling it. I just thought I was to be the voice of reason if she and Judge had a knock down drag out fight—and Talon would deal with Judge. You know he’s always been tight with Talon. And Talley following Finley? They went off all the time, and each time it was a bit longer.”
That was true. At least once a season Finley and Talley would take off for a few weeks. Sometimes Adair went with them, mostly Rush was left to watch her at Finley’s loft. Reveca would help—those were the limited times she was able to work with Adair on her craft.
They knew, Reveca thought to herself. Talley and Finley saw this coming. How?
Jade came to mind instantly and Reveca tensed with anger before charging forward.
Rush reached out to her, turned her, clearly showing he was a brave man. “Where is your head right now? What are we marching into tonight?”
“Set on revenge.”
Rush’s stare searched for the answer to which enemy they were going after but Reveca turned too quickly.
Once they had reached the Edge, boarded the massive ship Erios had prepared for her, loaded with souls for Crass, Cashton approached her. Steele and Rush were clearly getting their game plan in line in case anything went off course tonight.
Cashton found her at the stern of the ship, an aching feeling absorbing her gray gaze.
“The queen of the Edge is shrouded in misery, much like this night.”
His depiction of the night was on point. The fog was black. So dark one would think the reign of the Unclaimed had stretched across the entire Edge, perhaps the Veil as well.
“It’s been an impossible night,” Reveca admitted.
“You’re weak,” he said in low whisper. She doubted the others could hear them but appreciated the notion.
“So are you,” she said with an arched brow.
King had pulled Cashton from the Veil instead of his normal escape, which saved Cashton a ton of energy. But still, she should have given him a few more days to recover, especially since he had been using his insights to deal with the spirits in the Evanthe’s home.
Not to mention the dreams he had of his true home each moment he stilled, waking or sleeping—either way his past was formidable in his mind, weighing on him. In the Veil it was an oddity, here it was a reality—it was evident his mind was preparing him for something.
After speaking to Windsome last month, her telling him he would see his sister again—Cashton had to wonder how soon her prediction would occur, and what her appearance would trigger.
�
��Strong enough.” He stared at the dark water for a moment. “It’s not all a loss, something good might’ve come from this night.”
“You think you got through to Gwinn?”
“Aye. She didn’t make it far with the books but the mood of the home has shifted. I believe when she returns with Shade the spirits will speak to her.”
According to Cashton, there was more than one haunt in the home. Evanthe, in some way, was one of them.
These haunts apparently were not going to speak to anyone until they were embarking on Kairos, a fated time. In theory, Shade and Gwinn were fated; they gave strength to each other.
Reveca wasn’t sure how much stock to put in the thought of them being fated, but King, Dagen, and good ol’ Cash were on board with the idea.
In all honesty, Reveca just wanted them to get past this tension they both had. Shade didn’t need the stress, and it was hindering Gwinn’s craft.
“How many Voyagers have you met, Cashton?”
“Is this a trick question?” he asked with a lifted brow.
Reveca almost smiled—almost. She knew there were erratic theories daring to be spoken about Voyagers, and who might be one.
Reveca thought discovering Escorts under her watch was the most unnerving incident in her life, the life she had now, rather.
She was wrong.
Voyagers…no one should have that much power.
“Do you know the name of the King of Shock?” Reveca asked him.
Cashton adjusted his stance. “Names are irrelevant, they are known by many.”
“Such as Xavier?”
Cashton lifted a brow. “Aye. You’ve heard of him, then?”
“Long ago someone said the name.” She glanced to her side at him. “The person who uttered it was clinging to death and stricken with a fever. It wasn’t the name spoken that gave me pause, it was the rest.”
“Are you going to keep me in suspense?”
She needed to. She was too emotional, too all over the place right now to speak, but Cashton, he got this faith she fought with—he understood what couldn’t be explained. He was by far the easiest to speak to about it.
King had the knowledge but when he dared to broach this topic all she could think of was when Revelin took him and the threat he could again at any moment. She had no choice but to change the topic as quickly as possible. Denial, at the moment, was her survival when it came to the likes of King.
“I don’t remember the exact wording because, well, I guess, I rejected the idea. But one of the lines was about how someone would pass, like come here to this side—the other phrases spoke of births that would occur.”
She glanced up at him. “Is it possible for a Voyager to have made sure you were able to pass to here?”
“If so they fell short,” he quipped. “I’m rather trapped in death at the moment.”
She nudged him, and fought not to grin. “And if evil could not have stopped the pass but affected your fall—landing you in death?”
Cashton stared out at the dark fog, in deep thought. “Anything is possible, I suppose.” He looked right at her. “I woke from a dream, an urgent one. It told me to leave when I did, with haste. No going to those who had guided me, who would guide me—no listening to my family telling me to be reasonable. I was to go. And I did. Where the message came from or why, I couldn’t say.”
“You’re here though, poised to rise and take Revelin down, along with all those fated to die with him.”
Cashton glanced away. Even now, after everything he knew, there was not one desire to slay King within him. He said as much to King.
“So they say,” he finally answered.
“Who will slay this king of Shock?”
“Can’t say.”
“It’s said the Lords of Death are servants to the dark Gods, or work with them, trading souls and energy.” She glanced to her side. “So in theory, if a Lady of death named Ambrosia favors obsession, then the God that rules such things must be real as well.” Before Cashton could speak she went on. “It is said Crass oversees souls who died in fear, whose emotion belong to the dark king Donalt.”
Cashton bowed his head, now knowing where she was going with this.
“So in theory, my Club, my family has somehow crossed paths and or engaged in strife with four dark Gods who are intent on survival, no matter the cost. Crass, fear. Ambrosia, obsession. The King of Shock. And then you, who will fight exaltation.”
Cashton’s hand moved slowly across her shoulders and she fought the urge to cry.
“Months ago I didn’t believe in them. Weeks ago I accepted I would have to fight Revelin once more in my lifetime, that I very well could or would lose. Fighting one evil God and hoping for survival is a stretch—four? How can survival be possible? How can any of the souls under my watch hope to have a tomorrow?”
Cashton’s hand gripped her shoulder. “Your one mistake in your thinking is you assume you will fight alone.”
Reveca slowly looked up at him, the Sons were not a match for Gods, she had her doubts how long they would last against an Escort if they were forced to fight them.
“I don’t think your MC, your family, or you have been asked to fight this war alone.” He dipped his head to meet her gaze. “I think you are a safe harbor. I think the Creator knows you are strong and just. You lead with heart. He’s asked you to watch over this tangled web, to stand behind those whose fate is insurmountable.”
“He’s testing me tonight,” Reveca said with a rasp.
She stood up straighter. “This fucking Rapture is pulling my family apart.” She looked right at him. “And it has been for ages, only I didn’t know.” She swallowed her emotions. “What I have chosen not to see, Cash? Is there anything I can even do? Or am I to rush from one battle to the next until they’re all gone, until the cold darkness swallows us all whole. Are we the sacrifice for the rise of kings?”
Cashton reached his arm around her. “You see what you are ready to see, when you need to. You will know what to do and when. You won’t always like it either. It won’t break you though, this hell. It’s meant to grow you into your own fate.”
“Spoken like a true Selected,” Reveca said, calling out his title in the world he came from.
Reveca leaned into him. “If we have this power in our ranks, we have to control it. Before it was said I birthed myths, the creatures in the story book pages. Now there are Escorts, Selected…Voyagers.”
“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!” Cashton mocked.
The smile he was searching for finally dared to show itself on Reveca’s lips.
The victory was short lived.
He tensed, knowing this was not going be good. Not with the mood Reveca was in.
From the black abyss around them two ships emerged, one on each side of their vessel.
The black fog was clearing but far from gone. The air was rich with power. Power Reveca knew.
Her nerves went haywire. She felt like a child being scolded, a girl waiting on her crush, a woman held for the first time—adrenaline was coursing through her but it was on the defense, not the offense.
She searched the ships, looking for a signature pull, a vibration, and though the hint of one was there, the core was absent.
Rush and Steele were at her side, ready to fight.
“Stand down,” she said as firmly as she could.
No one bothered to listen until Dagen appeared before Reveca. Even then they hesitated to obey her order. Dagen, normally a laid back fun guy, didn’t have a trace of playfulness in his cold gaze.
“Now,” Reveca said through gritted teeth. She was fine with the lesson in humility, knew it had to occur at random points of everyone’s life—but she was not fine with Talon suffering from it.
The boys didn’t need to know what went on behind closed doors.
Apparently Reveca’s insight on ruling people with balance, always showing a united front, was something King didn’t share with her.
H
is people were plainly aware of what occurred hours before. Otherwise the scold in Dagen’s gaze would not be there.
From where Reveca stood, across the ships, she sensed no less than a hundred Escorts, dark angels.
“Is the word subtle not in your vocabulary?” Reveca asked boldly, doing a damn good job of keeping the shame out of her eyes.
Dagen didn’t bother to speak at first, he simply prowled around her, making it a point to look down. What respect or honor he had at one time for her was gone.
As expected.
“Is it in yours?”
Reveca clenched her jaw. “You bastard.”
“Have we moved on to the name calling portion of this encounter?”
“This is my barter, my journey, and it is meant to be subtle. I know Cashton’s wellbeing is of no matter to you, but King’s surely is.”
“And why would either matter now?”
“How could it not? If I’m seen bartering with Crass, the Lords I barter with to get Cashton out will grow envious and curious—they would capture him at the first opportunity.”
She stepped up to him. “If I arrive at Crass’s with a hundred Escorts at my back Crass will realize how powerful King is. He may decide to twist our barter more, or worse, tell Revelin where his missing warriors are.”
Dagen didn’t bother to show his half-smirk, his normal response to the wicked or any challenge thrown his way.
Instead, a fierce warrior was masking his visage. “The men about were not taken from Revelin, they left, and since they left they have stripped their connections to him. Revelin would not search for any group of warriors less than a million fold. King is at no risk—I don’t tolerate King being at any risk.”
Reveca heard the silent, lethal message between his words. How could King tell him what she did? And then not face her? Fucking coward.
“You don’t understand Crass.”
Oh but Dagen did. He had faced off with the fucker more than once looking for King because he was told he was there, and each time Crass lied to him—for that infraction alone Dagen would see to it the Lord spent an eternity in his own prison. In time, with the right witch, he would.
“So quick to assume. Tell me, does the great Reveca Beauregard think through any of her actions? Or do you just wing it? Set sail for the fuck of it in the middle of the night.”