by Elle Lincoln
For the first time in my very long life, the world sits in perfect silence. The rumbles have stopped echoing through the valley and the rain long ago stopped falling. It switched from the acidic patters back to the freshwater Earth supplies, not only for drinking but for crops as well.
Here, in this little section of the world, it’s hard to say what damage has be cast upon everyone else. Magic flexed and broke free of the Realm’s confines to blanket the world we once knew as Earth. While that may be beneficial to all those who carry just a small inking of magic in their bloodstream, there are those who undoubtedly suffered a magical death. A fact that somehow pulls at the heartstrings I didn’t even know I had left. That small, shadowed piece of humanity that lay unbidden in my soul.
No longer will Earth’s humans view their species in racist categories. I have little doubt that it will now be us verses them. While humans were long past the need to settle arguments, this cost is too high. Their deaths being the greatest loss they will ever see, more than any plague or war.
And who is to blame for our failure? I’m too much of an asshole to take on that responsibility or allow it fall onto Bette’s shoulders. These actions were set long ago, I see that now. Truth be told, I have no regrets.
I snort into the canopy of the forest, thicker and full of creatures unknown to this world.
But I don’t regret a failure that isn’t mine. We were just spectators to an event that was inevitable. No prophecy was written. No chosen one was to save the day. This is what happens when you taken advantage of the world and forget that it is a living, breathing entity—though lost to slumber for millions of years, while creatures evolved into monsters, and others devolved into nightmares.
These are the only thoughts that plague me. Now, more than ever, we have work to do. Plans to be made and lives to secure.
The world fell into a mixing pot of immortal and mortal monsters. Humanity is now but a verb. The weakest are gone. Leaving the rest to a game of supernatural proportions.
And I, the asshole leaning against a tree, anticipate the challenge. Would Bette still want me if she knew my thoughts? My need to be more than what I am. A nothing gifted the world of immortality.
I flick the cigarette butt into the forest, the red cherry snatched up by some invisible monster. Its outline shimmers in the moonlight before darting away.
I don’t have much experience in the Realm to understand its creatures.
Though now this is the Realm, it is Earth. A new name will be supplied by someone more righteous than I.
A caw pierces my solitude. How is that bitch still alive? Her inky, black body charges toward me before shimmering to land. There, Morrigan stands, wearing a red pantsuit. Her nails and lips all match, while her long brown hair is swept up into a bun.
“I must leave.” If the forest could become even quieter, in that moment, it does.
“Bye.” I have no love lost for this creature.
“Casseus, you do not understand. I must leave.” Her body twists to the side and her face tilts to the sky like she is listening to something no one but her can hear.
“Okay.” It isn’t like I know where she goes when she isn’t annoying us with her prophetic visions.
“You must secure the area. Keep the survivors safe.” Her voice sounds lost to her visions again.
“I believe that is the plan.” I light another cigarette. That damn toothpick can only curb so much, and right now I need something more.
Not like it’s going to kill me.
“Dark times are coming. Wars.”
“I thought you could not see anymore, soothsayer.”
“I couldn’t.” I jerk my head, waiting for her to continue. “Everything has come to pass and the mission stays the same.”
“The mission was to keep the worlds from merging. That clearly happened.” I flare my arms wide to indicate the oddly blended forest.
“Was it? I thought the mission was to keep the Fae from abducting humans. To keep them safe.” Her neck rolls and she looks at me with those creepy eyes of her. Almost as black as mine in this world without electricity.
“Excuse me?”
“I believe my words to Mac were to take them one by one.” I don’t recall that conversation.
“That is exactly what you said.” Mac steps from his hidden spot behind a tree. I had no idea he was even there, a testament that his own power has grown.
Her lips tilt up in that knowing grin. “I believe you will find now that though your power grows so, too, do your greatest weaknesses.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” My greatest weakness is the Sluagh. As is Bette’s.
“I’m leaving this state. There are matters I must attend to in the north.” She turns, dismissing us.
“What could be more important than this?” Again my arms fly out to indicate the forest surrounding me. The area I am sure is now full of Fae.
“As I said. I have matters to attend to in the north.” She pauses, her brows furrowed and for the first time she looks uneasy. “A piece of me is missing.”
Mac starts toward her and the goddess holds her hand up, warding him off.
“Don’t worry about me, it may be for the best, but there are so many possibilities. I must watch them play out.” She taps her chin with one long, bloodred nail.
“What if we need you?” Mac’s voice holds that edge of worry he would never dare show the world. But I can see right through it.
“You won’t, I tell you this not to worry you, but for you to know.” She takes flight, dismissing us completely.
I pinch the bridge of my nose before leaning against the tree and taking a long pull of nicotine.
“Now what?”
I almost don’t answer him because it remains to be seen. Do we watch the world flounder, or do we dive in and police it? I’m no cop. I never was.
No, I killed people for a living and enjoyed it like the sadistic bastard I am.
“It looks like we go home. Find a way to get electricity, because I want a hot shower.” Of all things to lose, hot water is a luxury I got used to and refuse to give up.
“Solar panels.” Mac falls into step beside me and I trudge through the woods, back to our little spot.
“Think that will work?” Again, I flick the butt of my cigarette into the forest, waiting for that creature to eat the cherry. “Watch this.”
I glance at Mac and his eyes are wide, the whites taking over the majority of the green. He grips the edges of my shirt, dragging me back toward him.
“What the hell are you doing?” he whispers angrily at me, just as the butt disappears.
“Flicking my butt.” I thought that was obvious.
“Cas. There are creatures that share the same world as us. Ones long ago forgotten. Left to the depth of complete darkness.” I know this.
“Yeah, and?” I don’t know what his problem is.
“Cas, you just fed a baby dragon a cigarette butt.” This time he yanks me back behind a tree. “Run.”
Dragons are real?
Chapter 1
Bette
The Darkest of Days
Dew seeps into the fabric of my clothing, dampening my skin and cooling my heated flesh. Along my ankle, I feel a tickle of tiny feet flutter the hairs there. An ant, making his way across my mountainous legs. Beside me, the soft music of a cricket’s fiddle sings me a lullaby. Farther beyond, I can feel the eyes of a dozen creatures observing me. Their magical song a balm to my taxed mind. I don’t move, nor do I twitch.
Instead, I lay still—watching, listening, letting the world fall away as the earth cocoons me.
The stars shine above with a brilliance foreign to this land, this world that is no longer just the Earth I remember. Twinkling with a daring radiance like the northern star without the hindering light pollution, a band of color twists and rolls in hues of green and magenta. Breathtaking isn’t even the correct word. It is beyond comprehension.
Overhead the wind w
histles through alien trees that burst from the ground not far from me, humming a somber song to the fallen. New creatures sing their mating calls in chirps and tweets. Alien, but nonetheless beautiful.
Nights like this have become a small solace. This space, where a patch of grass still grows beneath the cabin. Here, I can pretend the world is as it always has been. Even if the evidence of its change is the very thing I take comfort in.
Though it isn’t even just the stars that have spelled me. It is the laughter drifting down to me from the porch.
My guys, all five of them, finding comfort in each other, in the drink that wets their lips and the food that rests in their bellies. The jokes and the camaraderie lighten the air as the world still grieves.
I close my eyes, listening to the songs of the night, of my guys. I try to block the images that will haunt me for life, and yet they always creep into my soul to rip my happiness away and remind me that while I lie here in the grass, watching the stars, the world suffers.
It’s been one month. One month of putting our lives back together. Building the blocks that the Fae tore down, and yet I know they aren’t responsible for this destruction. But they did nothing to stop it. The gods aren’t responsible. No supernatural creature alive is responsible.
And yet... my chest aches at the loss. The cries haunt my dreams, leaving me sleepless. I wake sweaty, my eyes brimming with tears as the nightmares prevent me from living.
It isn’t my fault.
No matter how many times I remind myself, those words flutter to the wind. I feel spoiled that I sleep here smashed between men who I know are beginning to love me. I can feel it, the bond that ties us together, strengthen by the day. I’m so fucking thankful for it, because without them, I’d be this shell of a woman I don’t even know.
And Grandma. She gave us her cabin, her home. I think it was the thought of her granddaughter and a bunch of men touching her that did her in. Either way, the sneaky bitch had another cabin not too far from here. She is a true mountain woman, prepared with a shotgun and a backup plan.
“Mind if I join you?”
I peek up at the shadowy figure standing over me, Logan. My pulse kicks up as he crouches before me. His tall, muscular form dwarfs me in size, but he treats me like porcelain. My giant, lone wolf.
“Yeah.” My hormones have been all over the place lately. I’ve done nothing but mourn the loss of my world, denying myself and the guys any pleasure to help us through. To cope through touch. It’s starting to get to me. The more I suppress my desire the stronger it flares. As Logan brushes along my body, a shiver of pleasure ripples down my arm, heating me up. I conceal a groan.
“You forget we can feel you,” Logan whispers into my hair, his body lying in the grass beside me, then turning toward me. I can just make out his dark t-shirt and jeans as I turn toward him.
“I forgot.” It’s hard to remember that I’m not the only one inside this head anymore. The guys have spent the last month popping in and out. Some days, I can feel them, others I’m too far gone.
He brushes the hair from my face, his movements unsure. Our relationship is newer than the others and yet, my body still aches for him just as much as them. Maybe I’m selfish, but they are all mine. I inch closer.
“Bee, you need to move past what happened,” he murmurs. I sigh at his words, not happy with the direction of this conversation. I was thinking of breaking that dry spell. That’s moving on, isn’t it? “Sex isn’t moving on.”
“My head,” I reply, tapping my temple and then his. “Your head.”
“I understand anger, Bee. But this was out of your control.” Logan inches closer, sex is definitely still on the table.
“I know you understand anger, but I wish we could have at least warned the world.” I drop my head onto my arm, closing my eyes again against images of acid rain burning people to nothing more than a puddle.
The past month has been anything but a fucking fairy tale. Humans now know that they were never the top of the food chain. Well, what humans survived that is. The two worlds, Earth and the Realm, collided. Some towns deteriorated for castles to spring forth. Hell, even the sun is deeper, a darker orange that spills sepia light at dusk. But it wasn’t even the new foliage or new creatures that were the first wave of danger. Though they eventually were after the acid storm—that thankfully hasn’t happened again—which resulted from the storm building in the atmosphere of the Realm. Once the worlds collided, that storm released.
But the magic that spilled over the world like a tsunami held the most damage, killing thousands of humans like a plague. Magic, that fucking bedtime story that puts children to sleep, became a deadly killer. Humans, pure humans without a trace of magic, couldn’t handle that energy. It dove into their bodies and tore them apart from the inside out. Darkness swept the nation as whole families fell, and world leaders and influential figure heads succumbed to a magical plague.
For a long time, I did nothing but sit by the radio and listen while the guys did everything they could, like running out on calls over the CB radio. Police forces failed, fire departments were unsuccessful, and with it first responders. Humans were left on their own to a world hellbent on devouring them.
The government began to break apart, our world leaders struggling to hold their positions, but half of them had died. The other half couldn’t even stand up to the magical creatures who took over.
Gods and Fae alike took over states, the boarders blurring into territories. Ashville became no different. The mayor survived, but he battles to keep things in line. Creatures roam the night, out for blood, while humans board up their doors in hopes it will keep them out. Schools are nothing more than a deserted memory. Grocery stores were wiped clean, food becoming scarce.
I peek over at the soft light emanating from our cabin. Grandma had set up solar panels. We were lucky to have electricity and hot, running water. Most didn’t even have that.
My eyes trail to Balor. My God King. I know before long he will take over. He’s already doing so in small ways. Becoming the king he should have been.
Mac, though he is so far removed from the sea, thrives here, having discovered a network of saltwater deep inside the earth. Though you won’t find him too far from Casseus, my pirate playboy.
Then there is Patrick, my leprechaun. Him and Logan keep these forests safe. A feat that amazes me daily.
All of them have stepped up to keep this state and the surrounding ones safe. Though the Fae have yet to come back, I sense it is only a matter of time. Ryoden, Kelsie’s father, will pop up eventually. Until then, I’ve done nothing but mourn.
Perhaps I’m wasting away my abilities.
“You are.” Logan’s voice brings me back to reality.
“My head, Logan.” I peek up at him playfully, inching even closer to his body, letting the tension build as I brush my lips against his. I sigh, my breath mingling with his.
His hand skims down my arm, my waist, coming to rest on my hip where he bunches the fabric of my leggings. He flexes his fingers, gripping the fabric and holding on.
“I know exactly what’s going on in that head,” he counters, which is not at all my point. “It is still a deflection.”
“Stop calling me out on my bullshit,” I whine and pout. “You guys are supposed to cater to my every whim and pamper me like a princess.” I know better than that. They know better too, and if the guffaws I hear from the porch are any indication, that’s never going to fucking happen.
“Pull yer head out of yer ass lass!” Patrick yells down, his chuckles louder than the rest.
I glance over Logan’s shoulder at the porch where Patrick flings his stocky body over to land in the grass with a solid crunch.
“Nope, you’re mine right now,” Logan declares, drawing me closer.
“If she’s finally feeling frisky, we want to watch.” Patrick plops down on my other side with a flask in his hand. “Bout damn time too. Logan’s arse was starting to look mighty fine to me
.”
Logan jerks his head back around toward Patrick, his brown eyes eyeing him up like he would like to stab him. My wolf has a bit of an anger issue still, and though he’s calmed down, he is definitely the most volatile of the bunch. Patrick knows this, so why he is trying to rile him up is beyond me.
“You’ll go nowhere near my ass, munchkin.” His voice is nothing more than a growl. I suppress a shiver, because that gravelly timber flares a heat in my belly. Logan inhales sharply. “I can’t tell if you’re aroused because Patrick threatened to fuck my ass or if my growl set you off.”
“Definitely the image of me fucking yer arse.” I feel Patrick’s fingers draw lazy circles on my spine, sending a small spark of desire shooting straight to my clit. My body jerks forward into Logan who cups my ass. “See?”
“You played him, Trick,” I mumble, using Patrick’s fitting nickname. I drape a leg over Logan’s, my body pursuing his.
Logan brushes a kiss across my lips, my tongue teasing his. That deep groan that defines him sends shivers along my spine. “We were having a serious discussion,” Logan mumbles around our kiss.
“Doesn’t feel like it.” Talking is the last thing on my mind right now. Unless it’s dirty talk. Though there is only one in this group whose filthy words ignite me and leave me breathless.
“I think I’m needed here.” Casseus looks down upon the three of us. His hair finally cut back into his mohawk. “Proceed.” He waves his hand while taking a sip of the drink in his tumbler.
“Is this a group effort?” I laugh, feeling lighthearted for the first time in over a month.
“It’s about to be.” Mac’s voice carries from the porch where him and Balor are dragging chairs down to my little spot on the lawn.
A giggle erupts from my lungs. “Guys, what the hell?” I’m not saying no, but I didn’t think I’d been this bad.
“Sweetheart…” Mac opens a lawn chair and settles himself down on the other side of Logan. “You’ve done nothing but mope and scheme, and plan out how you would, and I quote, ‘kill them fuckers.’ We miss you.”
Part of me is thrilled they miss me, and yet another part of me is furious with myself for being a fucking idiot. Here I am with five guys willing to accidently or purposely cross swords for me, and I’ve done nothing but sulk and mentally kill every Fae I know—except for Kelsie of course.