Order

by Larsen, Patti

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  ***

  Next in the Hayle Coven Destinies

  Book Seven

  Dark Brother

  ***

  Chapter One

  Jean Marc Dumont’s trial should have felt like a giant victory. Why then did I feel like such a grouch sitting on the hard, stone chair I’d been assigned, glaring around me with my arms crossed over my chest at anyone who even hinted at intruding on my bad mood?

  Four days. Four freaking days since my return from the Dark Universe, since my mind and body and soul were torn apart by Creator’s sibling, Her heart putting me back together again. Four days since Max’s wings were sliced from his drach body, any attempt at regrowth with help from his people and the newly restored Stronghold failing. Four days since a giant chunk of the Universe fell through the crumbling veil and into the void.

  And what had I done since returning with a bit of knowledge about the other side and a massive, hulking, metal clad soldier of the Order in tow? Nada. Ziperino. El Zilcho.

  Because now freaking what?

  Not a sniff of the other two pieces made it to my son. Gabriel was our only line to the missing chunks of Creator’s statue and he’d run up against a blank wall that might as well have been a hell no from the Universe itself. Just thinking about the delay made me want to hurt someone. We’d come so far, only to be stymied in the past. Then, in liquid fast time, four pieces were located and returned. All within the agenda Fate laid out.

  Gabriel told me we were in a race against time at this point. So, if that was true, why were we again sitting on our hands, twiddling our thumbs at each other while the veil fell apart and people vanished into the black nothing?

  Because, that’s why. Because. And that was the best answer I was getting from anyone who would talk to me. Mom just shrugged, darkness under her eyes growing deeper by the day. She had her own mess with the NAWC and the fact the other world territories didn’t like her plan to make her council all coven inclusive. They could suck it as far as I was concerned. Piers wasn’t much help, the whole renewal of sorcery keeping him busy. He’d been named the leader of all sorcerers for some reason and with Demetrius Strong at his side as his second, he wasn’t wasting time taking over the world.

  And Jiao’s apparent betrayal in the other Universe turned intel gathering mission hadn’t given me anything I didn’t already know, much to her disappointment. The drachmor jerkfaces would have their punishment, would they ever. They’d pay for what they did to Max, the cowards. Running off like they did to the Dark Universe, abandoning ours. Fate or not, respect wasn’t due and I refused to even consider cutting slack. But, it had to hurt Jiao, the fact her turning on me to save me had led her to nothing I didn’t uncover myself.

  Ack. I really needed a better attitude. At least someone was seeing progress, case in point as the masses of sorcerers gathered in the room writhed with intense eagerness. And I couldn’t think of anyone better to lead the new Sorcerers League than Piers Southway. Crabbypants I might have been, but I appreciated the fact someone I cared about was in power instead of some asshat who would ruin everything.

  He’d been kind enough to offer the distraction of Jean Marc’s trial, too. The trip to Scotland wasn’t a happy one, though, and part of the reason for my terrible mood. Every time I rode the veil these days I couldn’t help but feel its intense pain and sadness, feel the shrinkage of its former limitless potential. There were times it reached out to me like a hurt puppy and asked—not in so many words, mind you—for my help. Explaining to it I was doing my best wasn’t going over very well. Try talking to the rubber membrane between the planes sometime in terms it will understand.

  Yeah. Crash and burn.

  I was big enough to admit my grumpiness was a shield to hide my fear. The frailty and fragility of the constant the veil had been for who knew how many centuries wasn’t lost on me. Nor was the fact we were losing whole races and planes into the void, our fault as we rebuilt Creator’s statue. And we couldn’t stop now, could we? The end of everything was inevitable. Our only hope was to follow this order the new Fate of our Universe, Zoe Helios, and my friend turned betrayer turned I didn’t know what yet, Trill Zornov, talked about.

  Maybe if Trill and Zoe were on the same page. Instead, it seemed like the two were at odds. According to Trill—who I’d recently thought a traitor only to have her guide me to pieces she herself had stolen from me—Zoe was being influenced, that Fate herself was cheating.

  Comforting thought. Especially when returning the pieces in order seemed so important. Gabriel stressed it too, even told me some of them had been replaced out of sync. And now I understood placing those pieces linked intrinsically to the very elemental magicks of the Universe, that with the right combination those powers disappeared into the void as they were supposed to. Was that even something I could accept? They were supposed to? How could Creator purposely have set us up to ruin everything?

  Questions and more questions and growl, snort, grumble, grrr.

  Whatever reason Zoe had for working for the other side remained a mystery. I couldn’t find her, not in the Sanctuary where she’d once lived—where Jean Marc had been captured—nor here in Scotland with the man who loved her, or anywhere else, for that matter. I knew my enemy and the mouthpiece of Dark Brother in this Universe, Liander Belaisle, had his own stronghold somewhere, but the idea she could be working with him just didn’t play out. Zoe wouldn’t sell us out to Dark Brother. She was Creator’s Fate. Whoever was manipulating her, she had to trust them.

  I had a few horrible suspicions, but kept them to myself. Because I couldn’t find those two, either. But I knew one thing for absolute certain. If Bellanca and Thanos—the original Fates—were involved in this, nothing would save them.

  A tall, black haired woman collapsed into the stone seat beside me, letting out a loud gust of air. Scowling only made my sister’s human form more beautiful, though I wasn’t in the mood to tell her so. Meira, the Ruler of Demonicon and the one person in the Universe who wouldn’t care if I was crabby to her, tapped her fingernails on the arm rest of her chair and glared back.

  “You look happy,” she snapped.

  “Oh, shut up,” I snarled.

  Meira grinned suddenly, hands rising to make a nest of tentacles under her chin. “Thorry, Thyd,” she said.

  The image of her nickname for me flashed in my head, Syd the Squid actually prodding my funny bone and making me snort.

  “How come no one knew you were such a horrible little girl?” I felt myself relax in her presence. I’d always loved my sister, of course I did. But as we got older—as the weight of the Universe settled on us both—it seemed we had only grown closer. With the exception of her fury with me at running away for six months, I think even that had strengthened our bond. I didn’t think of her as my baby sis anymore, my Meems. She was Meira, one of my best friends. An equal who understood with more clarity than anyone else in my life just what being me was like.

  “Because,” she said with a wink of one blue eye, her natural amber showing through her magic for a moment in a flare of demon fire, “they were always so focused on what a jerk you were. Made my job easy.”

  Fair enough. I reached over and squeezed her hand when it fell back to her armrest. How are things?

  She shrugged mentally, but her power felt diminished as she let me in, the giant, vast reserve of Demonicon in her possession feeling hollow, echoing. How do you think?

  I winced and looked away. I’m sorry, Meems.

  If I thought it was your fault, she sent, I’d accept that apology. She sighed in my head. I should be more afraid, shouldn’t I? My entire power base is collapsing, disappearing. The Node that holds my planes together burbles happily despite the fact it’s falling to
pieces while the spirit of our dead grandmother tells me over and over I’m worried about nothing. My people are vanishing into thin air along with their domains. And I’m here, at a trial for a former Dumont I really don’t give a crap about anymore.

  She was right. I realized it as I sat there, inhaling the mildly damp air of the Scottish castle. Where once I’d hated Jean Marc and his family, despised everything they stood for, they didn’t seem important any longer. With Andre’s death thanks to my werefriend Charlotte’s magic curse, the Dumont family power had died with him, leaving his two sons and their coven to fend for themselves. Whatever became of Kristophe I had no idea. At least he had turned out to be a weak and unthreatening witch who didn’t seem all that eager to follow in Daddy’s evil footsteps. As for Jean Marc, his possession of the once rare white sorcery had given him an edge over the former Steam Union, gave him leadership of the now defunct Brotherhood. And removed him about as far from my radar as anyone.

  I really should have just gone, gotten up and left. Piers could handle this. But even as the thought crossed my mind, the main doors to the chamber opened and my tall, blond friend entered, the Dumont eldest in chains behind him.

  Trapped. I sagged, shrugged to my sister. At least this will be quick.

  She sighed and nodded.

  Priorities. Funny how much they changed when the Universe was dying.

  ***

  About the Author

  Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.

  Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my very patient husband and six massive cats.

  I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at patti@pattilarsen.com. And if you’re eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren’t you just dying to know what I think about everything?) all in one place: http://smarturl.it/PattiLarsenEmail.

  Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I’d love to hear just what you thought. A review where you found this book would mean the world to me—reviews feed writers more than you will ever know. So, loved it (or not so much), your honest review would make my day. Thank you!