by Katie May
in a circle to encompass all of my mates present. “And we’re losing! Don’t
you see that? The one element of surprise we had - our relationship as mates -
is out in the open. They all know. Your brothers even know!” This last
statement was directed at Dair who ducked his head.
“So we change the rules,” Lupe cut in. “We change the rules and break
the game board on their head.”
“How do you suggest we do that?” I hated how desperate I sounded. The
uncharacteristic whine in my voice grated on my nerves. But it was true. We
were losing this game, this battle, with the Kings. Maybe Lupe was right
when he said we needed to rewrite the rules.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. His eyes met mine demurely. “I honestly
don’t know.”
“We finish this game.” Bash’s strident voice cut through the air like the
slash of a whip. “We win this game, and then we step back. Look at their
overall goal.” Sighing heavily, he brushed a hand through his white blond
hair. “But guys, we don’t have time for this conversation. We have twenty-
four hours to find a traitor and save five innocent lives.”
I took a deep breath to abate the mounting tension rising inside me. Still,
it seeped through, crashing repeatedly against me like a heavy wave.
“We take a...boat?” I looked towards Dair for confirmation, and he
nodded. Straightening with resolve, I faced the three men in the room. “We
take a boat and head to this island. Dair can scout the water in his Mermaid
form. Ryland can...”
I trailed off, glancing desperately around the room devoid of any
shadows.
“Where the fuck is Ryland?” The previously dissipated tension came
back with a vengeance. He wouldn’t have just left. Not after everything we
had been through, what he had confessed.
Lupe and Bash exchanged quick, wide-eyed stares.
“Bash, go look for him-”
“We need him to drive the boat, love,” Dair said. My ill-founded irritation
flared white hot.
“Can’t you or Lupe do it?”
“I’ll be in my Mermaid form, and Lupe doesn’t know how to drive it.” He
sounded almost apologetic though his eyes were sharp as they flickered from
my face to Bash’s.
I didn’t have time to argue with him. I needed to find the traitor and
Ryland. Now.
Trying to tamper down my growing panic, I met Lupe’s eyes first. “Lupe,
stay at the castle and look for Ryland. Bash, I need you with me. Dair’s right.
We need you to drive the boat, and your magic might come in handy.”
Both men nodded, but Bash’s face had tightened like he had eaten
something sour. Still, he didn’t complain.
“In twelve hours, we meet back here. Is that understood?” I stared
purposefully at Lupe. Dair, Bash, and I were staying together, and I hated
leaving Lupe to fend for himself. The big man held my gaze, dozens of
thoughts swarming in his whiskey-toned eyes, before he bobbed his head in
agreement.
“Good. That’s good.” I wiped my hands and, consequently, my excess
sweat on my pants. Now that I had finished giving orders, my courage had
been drained from me. I was suddenly weak and tired and vulnerable - a
scared little girl playing big, bad assassin.
“Hey,” Lupe said gruffly. He grabbed the back of my head and brought
our foreheads together. “Everything is going to be okay.”
I desperately brought out lips together, a clash of teeth and tongues. The
kiss was over as quickly as it had started.
My voice was shaky when I responded, further confirming that I wasn’t
as tough as I pretended to be. “I hope so.”
TWENTY-SIX
JAX
Dark walls.
Everywhere.
The sickly copper scent of blood permeating the air. Sweat.
And desperation.
One may not think desperation had a scent, but they were mistaken.
Sweat glands combined with piss, an entirely unpleasant smell. It clogged my
airways.
I curled into a ball, willing the voices away. I tried to repeat the mantra
Killian had taught me when I became lost in my head.
This isn’t real.
This isn’t real.
Somewhere in the distance, a scream reverberated, shaking me to my very
core. I huddled in the corner of the dank, gray room with blood staining the
walls.
This isn’t real.
This isn’t real.
This isn’t real.
My eyelids fluttered shut. If I didn’t see it, it wasn’t real. Wasn’t that why
little boys and girls hid underneath their blankets at night? To hide from the
monsters?
My mind had always been a cage. It was ironic that I had found myself
quite literally trapped in one.
“I’m sorry, Sasha,” I whimpered, searching the darkness. Walls. Pressing
in on me. Blood dripping from the ceiling.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Always dripping. Why did blood have to drip?
Absently, I began to murmur that one word beneath my breath.
Drip.
Drip.
“Sasha!” I cried again. One could get lost in this darkness.
If I didn’t have my heightened senses of hearing and smell, I might’ve
gone insane.
Drip.
Drip.
A figure’s shadow moved to stand in front of me. While I could vaguely
make out shapes and colors directly in front of me, he or she was too far
away to see clearly.
I waited with bated breath for the familiar tingling of my skin. A sign of
my love’s presence.
Nothing.
My skin remained tingle free.
“Tingle. Tingle. Blood. Itches. Doesn’t itches.” I scrubbed a hand
agitatedly down my face. I needed her to stop the constant tingling, the
constant drowning sensation as if I was sucking up too much water and not
enough air.
“Jax,” a soft voice cooed, and I froze. Could it be...?
“Sasha?” I whispered.
But no. Sasha was dead.
Dead.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Blood continued to splatter around me. The ominous sound was almost
addicting, breaking apart the monotony of silence I had grown accustomed to.
“I can be Sasha if you want,” the female who wasn’t Sasha said.
“Where is she?” My skin felt too tight, and I desperately wanted to rip it
off. Undress myself from my skin. Free myself of the burden.
“She?” Not-Sasha released a liltingly laugh. “You’re not talking about
your dead school friend, are you?” She moved to crouch in front of me. “She
left you. All alone. She knows what type of person you are, what type of
monster. She knows what you did to Sasha.”
“No. No. No.” I shook my head vehemently in denial. I refused to believe
that. She promised she wouldn’t leave me. Maybe not in words, but it had
been clear in her eyes...
Eyes gorged from her head.
Blood.
Drip.
“She left you, Jax. She left you. They all did. Your brothers chose her
over you. They don’t care about you. None of them do.”
I continued to shake my head as if that could somehow dispel her words
from my mind.
“You’re not real,” I whispered harshly. Taking a deep breath, I closed my
eyes and willed the images away. The illusion, as my brothers repeatedly told
me. I willed away the bleeding walls, the mysterious woman, and the smell of
sweat.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
When I opened my eyes, minutes later, I was alone once more.
Alone. In darkness.
With the walls that dripped blood.
TWENTY-SEVEN
DEVLIN
Idrummed my fingers against the thin oak table, my father’s words going
in one ear and out the other.
He stood haughtily in the front of the boardroom dressed in a
pristine black suit with his hair slicked back. The similarities between him
and me were eerie. Brown hair, lightly tousled, olive-toned skin, and rich
violet eyes. But his eyes...
Glacial didn’t even begin to describe them. They were devoid of warmth
and affection, of feeling. Looking into them was what I imagined looking
into dark, purple abysses would feel like.
The meeting dragged on and on, and by the time we were dismissed, I
was practically running out of the door. I moved briskly down the hallway
before stopping in a tiny crook between two doors. There, I leaned against the
wall and folded my arms over my chest.
Waiting. The tension in the air could be cut with a butter knife.
After a moment, Laurel appeared with a slight sway to her hips. The
female Genie was immensely powerful, perhaps even more powerful than
me.
As a descendant of Greed, Genies relied religiously on deals and wishes.
Contracts magically crafted with numerous stipulations to ensure obedience.
Fail to hold up your end of the bargain, and your soul became the
Genie’s. That was the purpose of our lamps. A cage, one would say, of souls.
And the reason I was meeting Laurel in the dark hallway away from
prying eyes.
“You found it?” I asked tersely, kicking myself off the wall. In answer,
she thrust a purple bag into my proffered hand, and I checked the contents.
My heart, which was beating steadily, picked up speed. I could feel it
reverberating in my chest, the sound deafening. I released a breath I hadn’t
realized I’d been holding.
“I granted your wish,” Laurel said bitterly, hand extending. I fumbled in
my pocket for her golden lamp and passed it to her. She held it reverently in
both her hands, stroking her fingers down the sides.
I knew it was taboo to steal another Genie’s lamp and ask for three
wishes, but I was desperate. That desperation clung to me like a sickly
poison.
Laurel finally looked up from her ogling of the lamp, and her eyes
narrowed into thin slits. No doubt, I had made an enemy out of the petite
Genie.
Still maintaining eye-contact, she snapped her fingers and a scroll
appeared, unraveling. I knew the words printed on the contract by heart.
Every phrase and clause. Every condition. My name was signed in blood at
the bottom, glaring back at me.
“I remember,” I told Laurel curtly, peeling my gaze from the dreaded
paper. How could something so insignificant be so damning? “I’ll hold up my
end of the deal.”
“You better.” She took a step forward and jabbed an accusatory finger
into my stomach. “I hate being fucking used.”
Her finger lowered, trailing down my chest, and I stepped away from her
touch as if it was toxic. I imagined my eyes were glowing vividly like a flame
lit beneath the surface. She must’ve seen something in my gaze, felt my
power whipping through both of us, for she took an automatic step back.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.” My words were a growl, nearly inarticulate. For the
first time since I knew her, true fear flittered across her face. It was there and
gone too quickly for me to be certain.
“You better hold up your end of the deal, Devlin,” she whispered icily.
“Or else your soul is mine.”
In response, I flipped her the finger. Childish, yes. Effective, also yes.
Cuddling my new treasure, I sidestepped the very pissed off Genie and
moved purposefully down the twisting hallways. I must’ve given off a vibe
that said Don’t Fuck With Me because everybody did just that.
I passed my own room, stopping in front of Z’s. Her absence hung like a
sword above my head, seconds from dropping. It was all I could do not to
follow her to the Mermaid Kingdom and ensure with my own eyes that she
was safe and well.
Pushing open the door, I took stock of the empty room. It was exactly as
she had left it, the bedroom door wide open to reveal the bed still unmade
from her night with Killian.
As I stared at the crumpled bed sheets, I waited for jealousy to hit me. If
it was any other guy besides my brothers, I would’ve gone insane. Instead, all
I felt was...relief.
I sifted through my thoughts to get a better understanding of my
emotions.
Relief and acceptance were the predominant ones.
Killian needed someone in his life to take care of him, to love him, to
protect him from himself. Z was capable and willing to do just that. I couldn’t
fault my brother for being happy, just like I couldn’t fault my mate for
making him as such. She was good for him, and he, her. He brought out a
tenderness that was absent normally, even when she was with me.
I could see the way she looked at him, like he was something to be
cherished and protected at all cost.
So no, as I stared at the bed, I felt no jealousy. No animosity for two
people I cared about more than anyone else in this god-forsaken world.
Diverting my attention from the fluffy white bed, I walked to the couch
and collapsed down. My fingers were white from how tightly I gripped the
package Laurel had given me.
I could scarcely believe I held it. I kept expecting to blink and have it
disappear in a cloud of smoke. To dematerialize, as if it had never existed at
all.
Hand shaking, I grabbed the golden hued lamp from inside the purple
bag. It was small, smaller than even Laurel’s, with a color that wasn’t quite
gold but wasn’t yellow either. Umber and amber blended together, a dark
shade of black at the bottom. There were no jewels encrusted on the sides like
my father’s.
Simple. Relatively unremarkable. It gave no indication of the power it
wielded, the power it continued to wield.
I felt as if I was going to pass out. My entire attention was fixated on the
lamp in my hand. The lamp that had been missing for years now.
When you made a wish with a Genie, you had to be specific. There could
be no loopholes. It sometimes took weeks, months, to articulate a wish. If you
fucked up...
Well...
It wasn’t unheard of for things to become dire for you.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought of wishing for my lamp until Z had come
back into my life. That would’ve saved me years of fruitless searching.
With bated breath, I rubbed my hands down the smooth sides. Cliché,
most definitely. It was a stupid practice implemented at the beginning of
time.
Unlike Laurel, I didn’t revel in collecting souls. I didn’t like granting
wishes to unsuspecting people, despite my entire survival depending on it.
I took clients that wanted little. A new dog, for example. Or a roof over
their heads. Unlike the other assholes, I tried to keep the wishes straight to
the point. No loopholes. No stipulations.
It didn’t change the fact that the universal cost for not holding up your
end of the contract was your soul. There was quite literally nothing I could do
about it, no matter how hard I tried.
I only had one soul in my lamp. One soul trapped in a cage for all of
eternity. One soul that had failed to uphold his end of the deal.
My hands scrubbed the sides erratically, waiting for the soul to appear.
Nothing.
Not even a wisp of smoke.
Fear strangled me, and I once more rubbed a shaky hand up and down, up
and down.
I couldn’t seem to take in enough air. It wasn’t grief, not yet, but a
strangling type of fear. It closed off my airways and made me light-headed.
It shouldn’t be possible. No, from what I gathered, it was im possible.
A soul didn’t magically disappear from a Genie’s lamp.
After one more ineffectual scrub down the ice cold sides, I pulled at my
magic. Violet tendrils escaped me, snaking to the lamp and encompassing it
in a soft embrace. My magic sputtered once before dying out.
It, too, didn’t sense anything or anyone inside of my lamp.
But that was...
I took a breath meant to calm me, but it did little to slow down my rapidly
beating heart.
The soul was gone. Disappeared.
If that was the case...
I shook my head, as if fending off dizziness.
If that was the case, Z was going to hate me.
There was no doubt about that. She would hate me once she discovered
the truth, once she discovered what I had kept from her.
And the rest of us?
We would be fucked.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Z
There was a certain sound the water made as the boat was steered
cleanly out of the basin. I wouldn’t call the boisterous sound
soothing. Loud, would be a better description. Almost comforting
and hypnotic, a noise that would lull you to sleep. The slightest swoosh of