by Billi Jean
“Gideon aided them?” Jamie offered.
“Yes, I think so, too. Where are they? Did you all get taken at one time?” Elsa asked.
“I’m not sure where they are. I bonded to Isobel but I can’t sense her. She’s…” He glanced down at Faolan and the boy nodded.
“She lives.”
“How—no, scratch that—Faolan, what is going on? Why do you know these things?” Elsa demanded, turning to him.
Faolan hung his head, but when he looked up Bryson saw the worry on his face. “Will you still be my family if I tell you?” he whispered to Elsa.
“We will always be your family,” Elsa said fiercely, tears shining in her eyes.
“Faolan, no one will ever change that. Not even you, buddy,” Jamie added.
Faolan swallowed and ducked his head, hiding his face with his long hair. “I am not only Faolan, Jamie. I am also more. Him. I am him, too.”
Elsa met his eyes and mouthed ‘him’ with a worried wide-eyed look.
“Faolan, who is…? Who is this…him?” Jamie asked more gently than Bryson had ever heard the big man speak.
The boy looked up and tossed his hair away from his eyes. “Jorge was his father. Tessa his mother. His soul left and wandered until it found mine. Now, together, we are strong.”
“Oh, my God,” Elsa whispered, clinging to both Faolan and Jamie.
Bryson nodded to Elsa’s whispered words. “We need to find Isobel, Faolan. Can you find Isobel for us?”
“Yes. I can always find her.” Faolan touched his chest then turned to stare into the distance. “She is being protected by Aubrey, but they will break the protections soon. We should hurry.”
“Then take us there. Who else is with her?” Jamie pulled out his phone.
“Jack, Circerran, Emerald, Aubrey and Rowan were all gathered at Rowan’s home.” Bryson had no phone, but he waited, anxious for Jamie to call one of them.
“I haven’t heard from Cir or Jack. I don’t know Emerald and only know Aubrey by name. But I doubt Cir is taking calls…” Jamie listened for a while but got nothing. He frowned and punched in another number. “Calling Derrick. Samantha would know…” He waited again.
“No one is answering or you have no service?” Elsa asked.
Jamie frowned. “No one is answering. We can’t wait. Faolan, we do it my way. You lead then hide. Got it?”
“Yes, Jamie.” Faolan smiled big. “I am good at hiding.”
“Elsa, shift or hide if this goes south. We could be walking into a trap.”
“Only if you come with me.”
Jamie grimaced.
“You should go with her. Never lose her, Jamie,” Bryson said, taking Jamie’s shoulder. “Never.”
Jamie winced and nodded. “If shit goes south, we all do.”
Elsa leaned her head on his shoulder while Faolan did the same, but to Elsa.
“No, I will ensure it’s not a trap. Faolan can show me where, you two should stay here.”
“You are not going alone, man,” Jamie snapped, surprising him.
Elsa laughed. “He really doesn’t like you scaring him, but he’s not going to let you face the stampede alone. Besides, we are your friends, Bryson. Just what do you think friends are for?”
“Friends don’t let friends go it alone,” Faolan told him.
Jamie met his eyes steadily. “Let’s get this over with. Shit hits the fan—”
“—all go south,” Elsa and Faolan said in unison.
Bryson snorted. “I have a hard time believing her.”
Jamie cracked a grin. “I don’t even try to believe her but I trust her not to get hurt.”
Elsa didn’t deny it, and she had a pretty satisfied smile for her mate.
Isobel, hold on for me. Wait for me.
‘Isobel? Isobel, you need to wake up. You’re late. We’ll miss the ceremony.’
Isobel turned over, burying her head in the warm softness of her blankets. Tonight was a distant dream. It couldn’t be here—not yet.
‘Isobel, if you do not wake, I will wake you!’
The threat in Jorge’s voice was real, but tinted with his colorful humor. She grumbled a denial, but the warmth of her furs was suddenly gone. Along with the loss of warmth came freezing cold.
‘Jorge!’ She tossed her hair off her face and glared as hard as she could, but her brother, she could tell, would not quell his humor or his excitement so easily.
‘You can’t be in a foul mood tonight. Come now, it’s our blooding night.’
True. Today they would both be full members of the Dragon Guard.
“Isobel! Isobel, you must wake!”
The urgent whisper in her ear snapped Isobel from her dream. Events came back to her, along with the memories and worse, her fear that she’d lost Bryson.
“Isobel, I cannae keep you this way much longer! You must rise and fight.”
She blinked, narrowing her eyes as the images before her face took shape. Aubrey. The witch from Rowan’s home hovered over her. As she concentrated on her, Aubrey nodded tightly.
“Good. Now, you must break free.”
Break free. She must break free. From what? Aubrey grew shadowy as if she were no longer a witch but a ghost.
“Don’t leave.” Isobel’s voice came out in a whisper, cracked and dry.
“I am no’ even here. Rise. Fight. I will repair the link. Bryson will come for you.” With her words, the witch floated away into nothing. Nothing happened for a space of time. Silently, not moving, Isobel tested her surroundings. Heat and rock. The hint of salt on the air. Heat she saw in the distance, from an enormous central hearth. Salt. Salt from the air?
I am near the sea. Metal, ancient and heavy, hung from the towering ceiling. Cages, like the one she was in, hung down, each with bones in them— Except mine. Torture devices, antique and covered in centuries of suffering, hung from walls and racks. A tower. I’m in a tower. The circular staircase trailed around the inside of the room, reaching up out of the pit she was in.
Magic surrounded her. More protected her, but she sensed that unraveling at the same time as she became aware of murmuring—chanting. Witches and warlocks dressed in black and scarlet hooded capes moved in a pattern around the central hearth, bowing and twisting to a heavy drumbeat. Somewhere someone was screaming. Elsewhere, she could hear singing in a language long since dead. The words were dark, darker than even the most ancient civilization’s devils.
Inside the circle of magic users stood a man she knew only from Christian’s thoughts. Sandy blond-haired, handsome, but in a cruel, arrogant way that warned he was not to be trusted. At his feet two women dressed in little more than sheer gauze knelt, their bodies clearly outlined from the glow of the fire. Between them lay another woman—Agatha. Her head was drawn back with a noose someone had tied between her teeth like a bit for a horse—only her back was bent until her head nearly touched her bare feet where the rope circled her ankles. The gruesome display was only made worse by the way the women fondled the trapped ancient.
Isobel shut her eyes and assessed the bindings around her. They were many. Each spell was covered and wrapped with another and another and another without end. No! Do not follow that path. Tricks. Look deeper.
She sought the power, the telltale heat of the spell a witch leaves behind, and through that she pried and shoved. Each spell was a layer of painful webbing she needed to destroy. From a distance she heard her name. Then closer, closer, until with a shout, Bryson in all his power and glory was there. Relief made her weak even as she struggled to break completely free.
‘Show me what you are fighting! Show me where you are!’
‘You are unharmed!’ She sucked back the need to break into tears and clung to her sanity by reaching through their bond toward him. He was there. Strong. Brave. Solid.
‘I am here. Show me. Ah, gods, what is this? They have… Look again, they have Rowan, too, and you are… You are harmed!’
At his panic, she felt pain surge
along her arms. Two long slices on the inside of each wrist upward to her forearm. Her blood dripped down, spilling on the cage flooring and taking her strength with it.
Bryson’s rage roared between them in bright reds. She couldn’t stop him or warn him not to come. Already she was too weak, already she was bound by ropes. Just like before.
‘Bryson! Be careful!’
But this time, she was not alone.
This time, with a shout, Bryson was there, and more warriors were at his back. But all she saw was Bryson—her warrior bursting into being and destroying the circle of magic. He beheaded two witches with a mighty cry. With another savage yell he turned to the man in the middle. They battled fiercely but Bryson was methodical and deadly. He forced the battle against a wall then followed as his opponent dove low and behind a pillar. When they were lost to her sight, panic rose up from the lethargy stealing over her. Blinking, she tried to find them. Instead, another man, and along with him a woman with long flowing blonde hair struggled through the remaining magic users. The warrior beheaded a big warlock and both he and the blonde spun to face Isobel. He shouted something and the woman nodded, then she disappeared and reappeared by the cage.
“I’m Elsa. Faolan told us you were in trouble. Hold on. This might hurt!”
The cage crashed to the stone floor, tossing her against the heavy bars. It didn’t matter. She sobbed out a breath, impatient for her release. The door was difficult. Elsa had to go and find something and returned with a heavy bar which she struck to the lock repeatedly until with a loud snap, the lock and chain fell to the floor.
“Now, come here, Bryson—he needs you. Wait, you’re hurt!” Elsa dragged her to the side of the fighting, sliced her bonds, and crouched beside her breathlessly. “How bad?”
“Bad. I need—blood.”
Elsa nodded. “Does it matter who from?”
“I would form a bond with you if you—”
“Not me. Jamie would freak. How about him?”
She pointed to a warlock fighting off Jaxon, she realized with a start. Joey shocked her by appearing behind a man and attacking him. The small woman fought well, keeping herself far from the other’s blade and downing him easily. She also moved closer to Jaxon with each step so they flowed together. How many have come?
‘As many as I could call. Drink, quickly!’
“Yes, he will do, but—”
“Hold the phone on that.” Elsa disappeared and reappeared behind the warlock and hit him with her large metal bar. He crumpled to the ground. She spoke to Jaxon who, after exchanging words, took on another man in a sword fight. Seconds later, Elsa dropped the warlock at her side. “Here. Drink.”
‘Yes. Drink! Faolan is your nephew, he is here. Hurry, you are weak!’
Isobel blinked then bent and pierced his neck, drinking until he was nearly gone. Only then did she stop. Her wounds began to close. The loss of blood was still great, but now she could see clearer, hear the sharp sounds of combat better, and best of all, rise to her feet. “Faolan is here?”
“Yes. You are his…aunt, but he is ours, you know? Jamie and I are his parents, if you understand?” Elsa squinted at her, but her words weren’t meant to be cruel or unfriendly. “He means a lot to us.”
Isobel understood that. He meant a great deal to her. And she knew through her bond with Bryson that Faolan was important to him, as well. “You love him. I understand. Where is he?”
Elsa grinned quickly but said, “Hiding. Look for nothingness and that is him, but right now we had better aid Rowan and Bryson.”
Isobel agreed. She took a second to grip Elsa’s hand. The touch startled the young woman. “Thank you. I will be in your debt if we live through this.”
“I’m living through this. I recommend you do the same.” Elsa squeezed her hand and smiled. She glowed when she did that, as if her soul shone through. “We’ve survived worse. Aidan is here,” she whispered. “Is that okay? Should you leave?”
“No, he has pardoned me.” Isobel sensed Aidan above them, but Elsa had felt him first. It intrigued her, but she lost her focus as her king’s presence intensified.
A door slammed open at the top of the circular staircase. With a blast of cold the room grew silent—even the last remaining fights stilled and the combatants stepped away from each other to gaze upward.
Aidan swept down the stairs, a blonde woman a few steps after him. He waved his hand, just that and Warren was plastered to the floor, his head pressed so tightly that he gritted his teeth.
Rowan went to one knee, arm over his chest. Every Vampire in the room followed, except Joey and Elsa. The big Lykae warrior walked over to Elsa and stood by her side. Jaxon grinned from where he had taken a knee, but Joey crossed her arms.
Bryson was bloody, his hair sweat drenched and his shirt ripped in several places, but he never looked more handsome to her. ‘You are harmed?’
‘No. It is not my blood.’
The woman behind Aidan, a Vampire, but also more, a witch, Isobel guessed, touched his shoulder. Aidan must have loosened his grip slightly on Warren, for he was allowed to move his head a fraction. ‘Aidan’s bride, Allie.’
‘She is stunning.’
Bryson sent her a denial. ‘She is pale compared to you.’
She smiled but inside shook her head at Bryson’s silliness. ‘She is our queen. It is right for her to be the best.’
‘She is not the best, but we will discuss this later. Aidan will need our support now.’
“So, it is true.” Aidan paused at the last step, his head held high, silver eyes flashing. He was a true king. A warrior of strength and courage she was proud to call her king. “Rowan, it has been long. I would not have my uncle kneel before me. Nor anyone. Rise please, this is not required.” He pulled Rowan up with a firm handhold and gripped his shoulder. Everyone else rose slowly. Jaxon winked at his Joey, and Elsa lifted a brow, as if she didn’t agree with Aidan.
‘Elsa and Joey have not seen Aidan at his best.’
‘Ah…and they judge him?’
‘It is a different age. They are independent.’
She tipped her head to regard his steady expression. He was laughing inside, but there was no evidence of it on his handsome face other than his flashing eyes. ‘You enjoy their disrespect.’
‘They are refreshing, don’t you agree?’
‘Yes.’ He laughed through their bond, warming her.
Aidan had moved to stand, speaking quietly to Rowan. “Come, counsel me on this tragedy, for it is a long unhealed wound that has been laid bare again.”
“Perhaps, now that it is, we can finally find healing.” Rowan bowed his head once and accepted the honor Aidan bestowed on him by gripping his arm in turn. The similarities between the two men were stunning. It was clear that here stood two men of close heritage and power. “You have grown into a potent king, Aidan. I would honor you even if you had not taken the throne, for it is your grandfather, my father, I see in your eyes.”
Aidan flashed a smile, but it was gone quickly. “Rowan, Alexandria, and I are pleased you are once again here.” Aidan gestured to his bonded.
“Aidan speaks highly of you, Rowan. I have many questions about these Dragon Guards…”
Her words brought a true smile to the old warrior’s face. “I would be honored to answer any of your questions, my lady.” He bowed over her hand. “After we have dealt with sadder things, I can share with you all you wish to know.”
“Rowan,” Aidan drew his uncle closer. “I think that you wish to share the blame of your brother’s guilt. I will not allow this. Gideon has acted on his own, made his own decisions, and, in fact, has laid down the road he has traveled by himself. It is not from lack of your trying that he did not turn back. Every darkness has a light, Rowan. Gideon perhaps is our darkness.”
“It’s true, Rowan. Aidan doesn’t hold you accountable for your brother’s actions. How could he? You have suffered because of him, too,” Allie said softly.
Rowan bowed his head again then straightened. Isobel thought he stood taller, taking his place next to Aidan’s side.
“Gideon,” Aidan called. “Come to me.”
Gideon—Warren—stood woodenly, and just as stiffly, walked to where Aidan waited at the foot of the stairs.
‘Will he kill him now?’
‘He will die, but I believe Aidan wishes to free the boy, Warren, of him.’
She considered that. ‘Warren may not thank him for it. He is a passenger to all Gideon has done.’
‘We shall see. If it is possible, we should try to save him.’
Aidan raised his hand and stopped Gideon a foot from him. “Gideon, I wish you to leave this body.”
“I own this body.” Tension flowed from every inch of him. His shoulders were hunched, his hands fisted at his sides, and clearly Isobel could see sweat dripping along his jaw. “This is mine. My right!”
“You do not own this body. Nor do you deserve it. Release it. Show yourself to me as you are now.”
The body Gideon possessed trembled as Gideon fought Aidan. From behind his clenched jaw, he cursed Aidan. But Aidan held firm. Without speaking again his eyes flared molten silver.