I closed my eyes to the sound of my brother ordering Talia to kill me, willing the tears away.
I ssssmell you, Witch...and your pretty new Angel…
I threaded my fingers through Luke’s and miserably looked over at his peacefully sleeping face. He was so close. All I had to do was lean forward slightly to press a kiss on the tip of his nose. I soaked in the comforting flow of energy coming from his contented slumber and squeezed his hand. He hummed against my skin in his sleep and squeezed my hand back, pressing his warm lips against my shoulder.
I swallowed hard, my heart aching with longing.
I knew what I had to do.
It didn’t mean that I had to like it.
I kissed him lightly again before I carefully untangled myself from him. Silently, I gathered my clothes and pulled them on.
I walked toward the bedroom door and stole a glance back at Luke, wanting with everything I had to crawl back into bed with him, revel in the warmth of his body, the laughter in his eyes, the beauty of his soul.
Instead I turned away, my heart heavy with how unfair everything was.
It was better this way.
Chapter 28
Talia stood in the patched-together Throne Room, her arms crossed over her chest, her mind carefully blank. She watched the knightmares mill around the grand hall like they belonged there, their viscous bodies sticking to the marble as they slithered against the expensive floors. These were the smaller ones, able to get through the barriers in the outer regions. The main Barrier at the Beacon was giving them more trouble. There was a reason that the Queen’s Angel was the only one that was able to care for it; open it if the need arose. There was a reason that the Beacon had been built here.
Beacon: a guide, something that projected hope. The name seemed grossly inappropriate now.
There was no hope here.
She swallowed the fresh wave of bile that made its way into her throat at the thought of it.
Instead, she turned toward her husband as he stared into empty space, back straight, hands clasped behind him, looking every inch the King of Witches that he would be. Cale knew what to do. Cale knew what was best.
If only the rest of his family could have figured that out before all this.
Talia carefully tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about the proud General, held prisoner in the bowels of the Beacon. Tried not to think of Prince Theo, her open and affectionate brother-in-law, somewhere unknown, probably fighting to survive or worse. Tried not to think of the benevolent Queen, her necessary death so regrettable, the only path for Cale to the Throne.
She tried not to think about the Princess.
Talia mashed down the ache in her heart when the name popped into her mind. Danny, the little girl who welcomed Talia into her family with excited, open arms. Danny, who was so loyal and so smart and so thoughtful, always making time when Talia needed her. Danny, who had been so kind even through the pain of losing her father.
Danny, the beloved Princess and what had to happen to her.
Some things were just too painful to think about. It was all for the best.
She loved Cale with her entire being and trusted him beyond what words were able to describe. She would follow him into the Void itself. What he said was best.
Talia felt the cold burn of one of the knightmares brushing across her wing and she jerked it away with a disgusted noise, glaring as it slithered off, hissing its laughter. She couldn’t wait to be rid of these revolting creatures. It would all get better after Cale was the King.
Talia turned and made her way over to him. He smiled at her thinly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear and she leaned into his hand, savoring his touch.
“The General is on his way.” Cale told her. Talia looked up at him as dread turned her stomach.
“He hasn’t done it yet. Does it make sense to keep-?”
“Talia.” Cale interrupted her. She immediately stopped talking, her heart aching at the disappointed tone of his voice as he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. “I know what I’m doing. You don’t have to worry.”
“I know that, it’s just…”
“I won’t be second guessed, Talia. Don’t you trust me?” Cale asked her, his grip on the back of her neck tightening ever so slightly. “I can’t believe you don’t have faith in me.”
“Of course I do.” Talia assured him immediately.
“I will take care of everything. I’m the only one that can.” Cale told her, leveling his gaze to hers. He turned away from her, smiling and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yes.” Talia nodded, then fell silent at his side, mashing down the sick feeling when he took his hand away from her skin as she always did. She steeled herself when she heard the doors burst open.
Patrick was bruised and bloodied, struggling between the knightmares that dragged him into the room, his wrists and wings still bound. He gave a bitten-back grunt when he was thrown to his knees before them, his gaze briefly down on the ground for a moment while he gathered himself. He looked up and leveled his glare at Cale, straightening his shoulders.
“Hey, Pat.” Cale smiled coldly.
“Prince Calen.” Patrick answered, his voice carefully level.
“I think you know why I’ve brought you here.” Cale explained, moving around Patrick.
“I do.” Patrick kept his eyes straight ahead.
“You do.” Cale echoed. “It’s the same reason as yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that.”
Patrick’s glared hard at the wall at the far side of the room, a muscle in his jaw bunching as he clenched his teeth, stubbornly silent. Cale sighed, stopping his pace around Patrick, allowing his gaze to wonder up to the ceiling in disappointment.
“I ask for something so simple, General.” Cale shook his head.
“You can continue to ask, my Prince.” Patrick said blankly. “The answer will still be the same.”
Cale gave a sigh again before turning his body and viciously kicking Patrick in his unprotected stomach. Talia’s body twitched as the General doubled over, gasping. Talia searched for something, anything to help the situation.
“Can-?” Talia blurted. She stopped when Cale rounded on her, flinching again.
The Barrier couldn’t be that hard to open. She had opened smaller ones before. How much harder could a bigger one be?
“What is it, my Angel?” Cale asked, a frightening desperation in his eyes. Talia swallowed and continued.
“Can I…can I do it?” Talia offered timidly.
“No…Talia, don’t…” Patrick croaked from the floor. Cale gave him another vicious kick before turning to Talia and smiling at her.
“Oh, no, Talia. I still need you.” Cale explained, sending a wave of warmth through her. “You won’t be able to control this barrier until my sister is dead and I’m King. Which would be easier if the General would cooperate.”
Cale threw another violent kick into Patrick’s stomach for emphasis at the last word.
“Why does it have…have to be…?” Talia’s voice stuttered to a halt.
“Why does it have to be an Angel?”
Talia nodded. Cale’s lips curved into a smile just a little too wide for his face.
“I’ll show you.” Cale answered. He turned toward a few of the knightmares around them. “Bring me Marcus.”
Patrick tried in vain to heave himself up, but toppled over again, his eyes wide in terror.
“No…” Patrick moaned.
“You had your chance, General.” Cale snapped. “Now I think you and Talia need a little demonstration.”
Talia turned when the doors opened and Marcus stumbled into the Throne Room, flanked by knightmares. His eyes darted around for some sort of escape. The sick feeling in Talia’s stomach grew worse.
“Marcus.” Cale greeted. “Good to see you again.”
“H-hello, Your Highness.” Marcus returned nervously.
“Do me a favor and open
the Beacon’s Barrier to the Void, would you?” Cale asked casually.
Every inch of color drained from Marcus’ face.
“Wh-what?” Marcus stuttered.
“Don’t…” Patrick groaned. Cale rolled his eyes and put his shoe on Patrick’s neck, cutting his speech off.
“You lost your right to be vocal, General.” Cale picked up a piece of wood from the re-construction of the Throne Room and tossed it to the former Queen’s assistant.
“Do. It. Now.” Cale demanded.
“Highness...” Marcus looked down at the piece of wood in his trembling hand, and then looked at Cale pleadingly. Talia tried to find something to say, but her voice froze in her throat at the fear in his eyes.
“I graciously overlooked the fact that you were part of the former Queen’s corrupt court.” Cale sighed deeply, crossing his arms. “Now I’m asking you to do this simple task to help me rightfully assume the throne and you won’t? Would you rather find out how long it will take to find where you’ve been hiding your wife, hmm?”
Talia watched as Marcus grew even more horrified before looking down at the wood in his hands and clutching it, stepping forward. Cale smiled over at Talia. She gave him a small nod back and continued to look at the proceedings in confusion. Patrick heaved at his restraints.
Marcus stepped to the center of the room, the wood clenched in one fist. He closed his eyes and spread his arms, his eyebrows drawing together in concentration.
Shakily, the tear appeared, so tall it almost touched the ceiling. Flames flicked out around the edges as it struggled to expand. The piercing hisses of knightmares on the other side filled the Throne Room. Talia’s heart was suddenly in her throat when she saw the sweat breaking out on Marcus’ forehead as the tear started to wobble. His body was shaking with the strain before it was too much and a pained howl burst from him.
The flickering flames sprang forward and wrapped around Marcus, shredding the flesh off of his bones. His eyes bulged in horror, the muscles of his face exposed as his skin was peeled back.
Talia’s scream was frozen inside of her chest.
Before Marcus had a chance to dissolve completely, the flames grabbed hold of him and he was pulled, shrieking, into the Void. The tear winked out of existence as if it had never been there.
“Any more questions?” Cale asked casually, his voice slicing through the silence that followed Marcus’ gruesome death. Cale took his foot off the General’s throat, allowing him to suck in a desperate gulp of air as the knightmares around them sniggered. Talia turned away, putting her hand over her mouth for a moment, trying to get the urge to throw up under control.
“Cale…” Patrick rasped. “How could you?”
“It’ll all get better soon.” Cale reasoned. “The ends justify the means, General. Now, if you had just opened it like I’ve been asking you to, nobody would have died, would they?”
“No.” Patrick growled firmly, struggling to his knees again.
“You won’t.” Cale intoned mockingly.
“I can’t.”
Talia whirled around and saw Patrick’s body go completely still, his eyes squeezed shut in disappointment, as if just realizing that he had just given away something important. Cale looked down at him, his head cocked to the side with razor blade inquisitiveness.
“You’ve been caretaker of the Beacon’s barrier since my father died.” Cale said in a dangerously low voice. “What’s changed?”
Patrick’s jaw clenched as he opened his eyes, staring at the floor and saying nothing. A slow smile crawled its way across Cale’s face.
“Oh.” Cale drawled, his voice smooth velvet spread over a bed of nails. “Oh, I see.”
“What is it, Cale?” Talia asked quietly, afraid of the answer.
“It seems the little baby Queen has found her Angel at long last.” Cale explained. Talia felt a nudge of painful joy at the news. Danny had been looking for her Angel for such a long time. It was tragic that she had to find them now.
“What does that mean?” Talia asked.
“It means that there is officially a Queen’s Angel to open the Barrier. We just have to find it.” Cale explained, kneeling down in front of Patrick. “Thanks, Pat.”
“Cale…you can’t…” Patrick began. Cale laughed.
“I can. The Witches need a King.” Cale told him. “After all, when Danny dies, I’m the only heir left.”
The desperation suddenly painted across Patrick’s face made Talia look away.
“Theo…Theo’s not…” Patrick stuttered. Cale grabbed the General’s chin.
“Your husband’s dead, General.” Cale finished for him coldly. “Your stupid little trick didn’t work.”
Cale tossed him to the floor and Patrick went without a fight, staring ahead numbly. Another kick sent Patrick sprawling on his stomach.
“You’ve been a pain in my ass for far too long, Pat.” Cale snarled, advancing on Patrick.
“I’m glad I could be of service.” Patrick intoned toward the floor.
Cale shouted in frustration as he brought the heel of his shoe down onto Patrick’s pinned wing.
Talia flinched at the cruelty when she heard the bones break with a sickening crunch. Patrick gave a pained scream that he couldn’t bite back.
“You Angels aren’t much without your wings.” Cale sneered, crouching down next to Patrick. “Worthless.”
Talia took a step back from Cale at his words and he noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye.
“Not you, of course, Talia.” Cale comforted her. “You’re different.”
Talia gave a small nod, unsure of what else to do.
Patrick took advantage of Cale’s distraction to slam the crown of his head against the bridge of Cale’s nose. Cale reeled backward, clutching his face as blood spurted out of his nostrils. It gave Patrick a chance to get his feet under him, running forward and throwing his shoulder into Cale’s stomach, sending the Prince sprawling. Patrick sent kick after powerful kick into Cale’s stomach, chest, and face. His eyes were wild as he shouted his rage.
Shocked, it took Talia a moment to spring into action, spreading her wings to send Patrick tumbling backward with a wave of energy.
“Cale!” She scrambled over to him to make sure he was all right.
Cale sat up with a snarl, his face twisted in fury and his eyes…
His eyes had turned completely black.
They winked back to their usual color fast enough that Talia thought she might have just imagined it. Ignoring Talia’s attentions, Cale stormed over to where Patrick laid panting and gritting his teeth against the pain of his broken wing.
“I’m sure you’re hoping I’ll kill you, General.” Cale ground out, grabbing Patrick’s lapel and hefting him up to hiss at him nose-to-bleeding nose. “I’m afraid you’re quite out of luck.”
“The only way I’ll go to my death is if I drag your carcass with me, my Prince.” Patrick growled back at him.
Cale was about to reply when a knightmare approached and whispered something in his ear. He smiled back down at Patrick.
“Well, I’ll kill you soon enough.” Cale comforted, pulling Patrick to his feet and dragging him out of the room. “In the meantime, I better make sure you can’t use those pretty wings in the near future.”
Patrick let himself be dragged. He looked so utterly defeated, Talia had to look away.
“Oh, Talia.”
She turned to see Cale had paused at the doorway, seemingly unaffected by the blood still pouring out of his nose.
“You have work to do.” Cale told her, nodding to the knightmares oozing their way toward the exit.
She nodded before she followed the knightmares to the roof, eager to take off.
Hopefully, if she got far enough away from the Beacon, she wouldn’t be able to hear Patrick’s anguished screams.
Chapter 29
I stepped out into the street from Luke’s apartment building, turned my jacket up against the cold th
at swept through me, and began to walk. I headed toward the Beacon, trying to decide what to do.
My options weren’t that great, to put it mildly.
Hiding wasn’t going to solve anything. It certainly wasn’t going to keep anyone safe. I could take the fight to Cale, who was bigger, stronger, and better equipped than me. He had his Angel as well, but I carefully didn’t think about that. I couldn’t ask Luke to die for a cause he had been part of for barely a week. I wouldn’t ask him. It was better this way.
Then there was that last option.
I give up.
It seemed like a good fit. I was the reason Cale was ripping the city apart. Searching for me was getting people hurt and killed; people I was supposed to protect. People the Queen was supposed to protect. I felt a cold stab of dread when I thought about it.
If I give myself up, all this would be over. Done.
I came back into myself and looked up to see that I was several blocks away from the Beacon, standing next to a diner, which was just beginning to bustle with the breakfast crowd. I pushed the door open, eager to sit for a moment and…
…well, to put off the inevitable, if I’m being perfectly honest with myself. It’s not like I was terribly eager to die.
I walked up to the counter and plunked down onto a stool, putting my elbows on the bar with a sigh, kicking my sneakers lightly against the footrest as I stared blankly ahead.
“Damn, I’m good.”
I jumped and gave a yelp, turning toward the voice that had just spoken.
“Luke! Goddamn it! You scared the crap out of me!”
Luke looked over at me from a few stools down, his eyebrow raised almost to the brim of his baseball cap, pulled low over his eyes. He sat stiffly in a sweatshirt, his elbows resting on the bar, a half-drunk cup of coffee sitting on the counter in front of him.
“You know,” he began, “I’ve had my share of one night stands, but seeing as you rewrote my biology, I thought I could at least buy you breakfast.”
“How-? How the fuck-?” I sputtered, an unexpected and sudden anger boiling in me at his sudden appearance after I had torn myself from his arms.
“I’m a cop.” Luke explained, grabbing his coffee cup and walking over to the stool next to mine. “There’s not much besides office space around the Beacon, so I decided to stake out the most probable route. Add in the soul bond thing we’ve got going on and the educated guess I had when I woke up without you turned out to be right.”
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