The Goddess Chronicles Books 4-6: Urban Fantasy

by KB Anne

  Scott threw up his hands. “Spoiler alert!”

  He certainly was dramatic at times. Caer prided herself on being grounded. Practical. And far less loud.

  “What happened to him?” she asked.

  “His spirit was brought back and tied to another. But together, after a time, their magic became too powerful. Rather than cause rifts in the Earthly Realm, he found an island not conducive to the conduction of magic.”

  “And that’s why you can shift into a bear.”

  “I left behind my forename, Niall, and adopted Gallean. You are a bright woman.”

  “And what am I?” Scott asked. The uncertainty in his voice now did not match the personality she had come to enjoy in their short time together.

  “You will find reserves of strength you did not know you possess, for you readily embrace what Caer and Gigi fear.”

  “And what is that?”

  Gallean smiled. “That is for you to figure out. It is time for this old man to go to bed,” he said and left the room without any further explanation.

  Scott remained seated, wringing his hands.

  Caer couldn’t understand why Scott was so uncomfortable. She didn’t have much experience with talking to people about their deepest dreams and regrets, but she figured if she had learned how to hammer-fist a man’s throat at twelve, she could very well learn how to talk to someone. Even if it was someone who made her heart race.

  “What is bothering you?” she asked, much quieter than she intended. Her question felt far more intimate than it was meant to.

  “I’m worried about my sister,” he whispered.

  She already knew that. It was what he wasn’t saying that she wanted to know. “But . . .”

  He released a long sigh. “But I don’t know if I’m capable of what has been foreseen for me. The reserves of strength and the ability to end lives.”

  There were many years when Caer had lived on her own that she feared the monsters that walked the earth. It kept her up at night and drove her during the day. Her arm muscles bulged as she tightened them to prove to herself that she was strong and dangerous. That the monsters should fear her.

  “I will do it for you.”

  He smiled at her. Her knees felt weak. She was glad she wasn’t standing. Why could a harmless smile, one Scott gave freely to anyone he encountered, weaken her so?

  “That I don’t doubt, but I won’t have you killing for me.”

  She lifted her chin. He walked on dangerous ground with that statement. “Because I am a woman?”

  “Oh gods, no. Believe me, I have no problem with fierce females prowling around and kicking ass. If I did, Gigi would have adjusted my attitude a long time ago.”

  She envied the way he spoke about his sister with so much love and appreciation. Gigi was never far from his mind. Caer wondered if someday she’d find a place there too.

  “What is it then?”

  He dragged his hands along his legs. “Life is precious. It’s a gift. And even if someone doesn’t treat other living things that way, it doesn’t mean their own lifeblood should be ended.”

  “So the man who tried to take advantage of me even after I told him to stop deserved to live?”

  He shot up from his seat. “What?”

  “After you and Gigi arrived, Gallean told me not to return. I went to the village to find—” Caer paused. She went there to find satisfaction. To be kissed and caressed by someone other than the one she wanted the most. The one sitting next to her now. The one still furious at her for ripping open a portal for his sister.

  Should she tell him the truth or lie? She had always told the truth. She’d never had a reason to lie. In truth, she’d never had anyone to lie to. But with Scott standing before her, she could not risk any further rejection from him.

  “To get money to buy my way off the island.”

  He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “To get money?”

  “Yes, that’s how you leave a place, is it not?”

  A dimple popped out on his cheek. His eyes took on a dangerous glint. “It is, but not when you can create portals. What was the true reason, Caer?”

  The way he said her name made her squeamish. That need for satisfaction returned, but this time, the cause was standing in front of her.

  “To find . . .” she began, and he stepped toward her.

  “Yes . . .”

  She swallowed hard. His proximity was making it more difficult to lie.

  “To find . . .”

  He dropped to his knees in front of her. He was tall enough that even on his knees they were almost eye to eye. “Caer, what were you trying to find?”

  A sharp ache pulsed between her legs. She refused to tell him what she really wanted, but she could not continue lying. He didn’t believe her anyway.

  “I tried to find you.”

  He stood up and backed away from her. “Thank you.”

  She could breathe easier now that he wasn’t so close, but she missed his warmth. “For what?”

  He licked his lips. “For admitting that you wanted me.”

  He had skillfully backed her into a symbolic corner, but that wouldn’t stop her from fighting. “I did not say I wanted you. Just that I wanted to find you.”

  He approached her with purpose. She sucked in a breath. He reached for her white tuft of hair and pushed it behind her ear. She closed her eyes in anticipation of what was coming next and waited.

  And waited.

  Finally, she opened them to an empty room.

  5

  Chained and Bound

  Ryan winds a chain around my body multiple times while Breas watches with a stupid grin that I want to knock right off his face. But it’s Ryan I’m really concerned about. I keep trying to get him to look at me, but he refuses to meet my gaze. His eyes are black orbs—Breas took full possession of him. But how? Brigit said he can compel, but this blank gaze goes far beyond that. It must be whatever he has under his command.

  But Breas won’t win. Not if I can help it.

  I struggle against the chains in an effort to get Ryan’s attention, but I can’t move. The freaking chains are too tight.

  He continues to ignore me anyway.

  I focus all my attention on him. His mind’s blocked off to me, but I try to drop a single thought into his. Are these silver?

  He keeps pulling the chain in and around my legs so tight the links will leave permanent impressions on my skin.

  “Are these silver?” I whisper low and quiet enough for only a werewolf to hear me.

  Still he ignores me.

  “Are these silver?” I say louder, no longer caring if Breas overhears and hoping beyond hope that the third time really is the charm.

  “He won’t speak to you. He’s been compelled not to interact with you in any way. But, yes, the chains are silver,” Breas says from his perch in the far corner of this . . . cell. A freaking jail cell.

  As much as I’d like to figure out where the hell I am, I’ll worry about my location when I’m alone. For now I need to find out everything I can about Ryan.

  “How can he handle them without getting burned?”

  Breas laughs, reminding me of fingernails on a chalkboard. My body swells with tension.

  “Ryan, show the prisoner your hands.”

  Ryan lifts his palms, revealing severe burns.

  “You monster,” I whimper. “Why are you doing this to him?”

  Breas stalks over to me. “I remember your little vine trick from the last time you were imprisoned. Silver chains suppress magic.”

  “But why are you making Ryan suffer for it?”

  He drags a finger along my jaw. His touch makes me want to vomit all over his black leather pants. I mean, honestly, black leather? I hope he sweats profusely, drops them to use the bathroom, then can’t get them back up. With his pants halfway up his legs, let him hobble-jump to his bedroom to change and fall and break his neck.

  “I prefer to ensure my subjects are loyal.”<
br />
  “You remove their free will.”

  He shrugs. “It makes no difference to me.”

  Keep him talking, Gigi, keep him talking. He’s got to possess some sort of conscience. Remember that flash of it you saw earlier? Why else would Brigit have allowed their union?

  “Back in Vernal Falls, he was your friend. He helped you fit in at the high school.”

  He laughs again. I almost throw up in my mouth. Thank the gods my stomach’s empty.

  “Friend? I don’t need friends.”

  “He trusted you.”

  He drops to his knees and rests his hands on mine. His gray, lifeless eyes pierce into mine. “You never did. Even when you possessed no memories of your true self, you didn’t trust me. Why?”

  It was true. I wanted to jump his bones and poke his eyes out.

  “Must be your despicable nature.”

  He leans toward me his lips dangerously close to mine. “You still kissed me. You still wanted me.”

  “In this reincarnation, I’ve always indulged in behaviors that aren’t good for me. I sank to my lowest when I hooked up with you.”

  He pushes his lips into mine. I fight to twist away, but it’s no use. He’s locked on to my lips tighter than plastic wrap and thirty times more suffocating.

  Left with one choice, I soften my lips. His tongue slips into my mouth. He shifts to deepen the kiss.

  His tongue waggles around, searching for my tongue. Mine plays hide and seek with his, darting in and out. When he shifts all his attention to capturing mine, I chomp down. I wish I had werewolf canines that could really cause some damage. He paws at me to break the hold. I refuse to let go. Rust reaches my taste buds. I almost smile, but then I’d loosen my hold. For now, he’s my prisoner, and I’m going to enjoy it.

  Finally, he jerks away, holding his mouth. Blood drips from the corners of it.

  “Whatsa matter, cat got your tongue?” My blood-stained lips rise into a smile. I relish in my resemblance to the Joker.

  His chest heaves in and out. Anger rolls off of him.

  Though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t stop myself. “Did wittle Breas get hurt?”

  He flings his blood-covered hand at my face. As it hits my cheek, my head snaps back against the chair. It’s the only reason my neck didn’t break.

  “Ryan,” he growls. His tone promises swift and brutal punishment.

  Please, I plead silently in the hopes I can break through Ryan’s clouded mind.

  It’s the last thing I remember.

  “Gigi,” someone whispers. “Gigi, wake up.”

  I jerk awake. My arms, my legs, my body strain against the chains. My foggy mind begins to remember that I am Breas’s prisoner.

  “Are you okay?” the familiar voice whispers.

  I peer into the blackness and see only the faint hint of golden eyes. “Maddie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  The last time I saw him he was unconscious and tied up outside of Amorin’s cottage.

  “It appears that my curse allows me to get out of rope—even stuff that burns my hands. And then I followed your scent.”

  His curse. It bothers me that Maddie doesn’t appreciate what he’s been blessed with. In the grand scheme of this situation, it really doesn’t matter what he thinks of his own abilities, but for me, it does. I didn’t appreciate any of my gifts when Gram and Dad first brought them to my attention. If I had, maybe they’d both still be alive.

  “You possess a gift. Do not call it a curse.”

  “Fine, my gift. Can you get out?”

  Breas had planned for my vines. That’s why Ryan wrapped me with layers of silver chain. But he doesn’t know the true strength of my abilities. I’m still learning what I can achieve, and with Gallean’s training I have a better handle on mastering it.

  I focus on growing vines, but nothing happens. Not even a flicker.

  I imagine balls of fire shooting from my palms. Still nothing. Breas warned me that my magic wouldn’t work.

  I try variations of tricks I learned from Gallean. Nothing works. My head falls back against the chair. My chest heaves against the chains as I try to catch my breath. I’m tapped out.

  “The chains are silver. It dampens my magic,” I whisper between pants.

  “Maybe I can get the key?”

  The last thing I want is for Maddie to get caught. He’s big. He’s powerful. He’d be useful to any side he was on. Breas could compel him into becoming another one of his mindless minions.

  “You need to get out of here. Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

  “I’ll use my curse—er, my gift—to get the key.”

  He’s smart not to mention his abilities aloud. Sometimes it’s easy to dismiss Maddie as simple because he doesn’t talk much, he isn’t obnoxious with an overcompensating fake ego, and he’s big and lumbering like Lennie from Of Mice and Men, but unlike Steinbeck’s stereotype, Maddie goes far beyond expectations.

  Not that I want to reside in Breas’s prison, but I am curious to find out what he’s up to. He’s so godsdamn cocky, he’ll start blabbering in no time—well, only if his tongue heals.

  “Give me a few days, and then, if I don’t get out on my own, you can help me.”

  “I don’t know.” His eyes shift from side to side. I imagine him wringing his hands together, debating whether to listen to me or to try and free me.

  “Go, before you get caught. Search for Alaric.”

  His eyes still. “He’s not here?”

  In my gut, I know that Alaric isn’t here. The cell doesn’t resemble any of my visions, especially since my last one leads me to believe he’s in Brigit’s shrine along with his father. Besides, I don’t feel him anywhere nearby, and though he might now hate me, I love him. I send out my energy just to see if I can taste him, but I’m still empty from my magic chain-wrestling session.

  “I don’t think Breas has him.”

  Confusion swirls around Maddie. I can’t get a full read on his mind because of the dampened magic, but I sense his emotions.

  “But you said . . .”

  If he doesn’t hurry, he’ll wind up getting caught.

  “Maddie, go. For Alaric.”

  His eyes grow into wide orbs. “Someone’s coming.”

  “Go!”

  He disappears as footfalls echo down what must be stone stairs. Loud sniffing fills the space.

  Oh shit. I forgot about werewolf noses. When Maddie goes invisible, does his scent disappear too?

  Ryan flashes a torch in front of my cell. “Who were you talking to?” he snarls, revealing sizable canines. How is he able to partially shift too? Can all werewolves partially shift outside of a full moon, and they just don’t realize it?

  I swallow in anticipation of the burn that is about to hit my throat. “Myself. You must remember me talking to myself all the time.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Never one to miss an opportunity that presents itself, I leap at the chance to keep him talking.

  “No, really, I always talk to myself. Who better to have a conversation with?”

  He raises his nose into the air and sniffs.

  “Do you remember when you first moved to Vernal Falls, and Ms. Lehman sent you to Principal Donahue’s office because you asked her a question without raising your hand? And you sat down next to me while I was having a conversation with myself about why Mr. Gagliano kept writing me up for crimes I hadn’t yet committed, and you asked me who I was talking to, and I said, ‘Myself’?”

  He waves the flame around. Thankfully, I don’t see Maddie anywhere. He went invisible, but did he heed my advice and sneak upstairs when Ryan got down here, or is he hiding in one of the crevices?

  “You remember, don’t you? There was that other time that you, me, and Scott picked up Lizzie at the gas station, and I went inside to get her, and while I was walking in, I debated the merits of DC Comics versus Marvel . . .”r />
  His eyes fix on me.

  “. . . but I was talking to myself, and you snuck up behind me and asked me who I was talking to? And then, Lizzie came up, and you whispered to me, ‘Gigi, one day I am going to go out with that girl,’ and finally, after almost a year of flirting and dating other people, you did. You remember Lizzie, don’t you?”

  He blinks.

  “Lizzie was my best friend. She was one of the sweetest people in the entire world. There wasn’t a mean bone in her body. You two had a lot in common. A lot actually. You’re both . . .” I stop myself before mentioning the obvious werewolf thing, “Tauruses so you’re stubborn but very kind. You’re both . . .”

  A blast of light explodes in front of us.

  “Silence!” it orders in a disembodied voice neither male nor female.

  Ryan’s eyes return to black, lifeless orbs. Whatever progress I made with him disappeared with that order, but I made an important discovery. With time I’ll be able to switch him back over to my side. I smile to myself. I might be locked in a cell, wrapped in layers of silver chain that quench my magic, but Ryan isn’t lost completely.

  Neither is Lizzie.

  Neither is Alaric.

  And who in the gods’ name is the owner of that creepy voice?

  6

  Five of Batons

  Scott had never considered himself a tease, but he supposed that’s exactly what he was. If Ryan were still alive and had witnessed what Scott had pulled on Caer last night, he would have punched him in the stomach for being not only cruel but stupid too. Leaving Caer with her eyes closed and her lips anticipating a kiss from him was perhaps one of the lowest things he’d ever done. But then, he wasn’t the one who had ripped open a portal and shoved his sister through it. He wasn’t the one who had killed a man.

  How many men had Caer delivered the death blow to? Why was ending a life easier for her than it was for him? What did that say about him? Or more importantly, what did that say about her?

  Sure he had dreamed about her. According to the old myths and legends, she was the Goddess of Dreams. Maybe she had manipulated his. Maybe she wasn’t his true love. Maybe the “great” swan relationship was nothing more than a work of fiction written by hopeless romantics, who didn’t realize what she really was . . . a murderer.