by Sadie Moss
Wind whips across the barren landscape as we arrive in the Scottish Highlands. I’ve traveled via transportation magic enough times in my existence that the disorienting feeling of nothingness is something I hardly even notice anymore, but Trinity groans and staggers as we materialize on the outskirts of a large town.
“Whoa, sugar pie.” Phoenix catches her, holding her against his body as her knees wobble. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, although I get the very strong impression she’s just barely holding in vomit. But after allowing my brother to steady her for a moment, she steps away, turning her head this way and that as she takes in our surroundings.
Little warrior.
Perhaps that would be a more apt nickname for her than little angel. I’ve never known someone quite like this woman, and I find myself constantly surprised by her.
“Let’s go.”
Ryland begins striding toward the town, and I fall into step beside him, careful to keep some distance between us. I don’t want him thinking he’s the only leader here, but I also don’t want him getting the impression that he and I are partners.
Those days ended long ago.
As Henrik explained to us, this is an all-supernatural settlement—one of only a few in the world. Most supernaturals tend to want to live among humans, just like my brothers and I do. Even Phoenix, who usually shuns the company of others in his bunker-like mansion, enjoys being close enough to civilization to enjoy the perks of modern living. Online shopping and delivery, for example.
The reason the tournament is held here is because it would be difficult to disguise or keep hidden from humans living nearby. Apparently, some of the challenges involve venturing out into the Scottish landscape to go up against threats or puzzles created by the group that runs the competition.
It’s been going on for years, drawing a huge field of contestants every time and offering a massive prize to each year’s winner. It isn’t always a Barakah Crystal, but it’s something tantalizing enough to entice dozens of supernaturals to risk their lives for the entertainment of thousands of spectators. Some watch from home, and some come to watch in person, but all of them are deeply invested in the outcome since most spectators place heavy bets on their favorite competitors.
Without discussion or even conscious thought, all seven of us form a tight group around Trinity as we make our way through the town toward the Angry Stag, the tavern that serves as the home base for the competition—assuming Henrik’s information is good.
The angel glances at us but doesn’t comment on the protective phalanx that’s formed around her.
I’m glad.
If she pressed for an explanation, I would have none to give her. I don’t quite understand it myself, why my brothers and I moved so instinctively into protective positions.
I tell myself it’s because she’s an angel, which in certain less savory circles actually makes her more likely to be attacked than any of us are. But I don’t let myself wonder why that prospect concerns me so much.
“There. The Angry Stag.” Remington points ahead of us to where an old wooden sign hangs outside an establishment, swaying lightly in the breeze.
“Yup. That is a very angry stag.” Phoenix wrinkles his nose at the sinister looking deer carved into the wood. “Shit. That’s gonna give me damn nightmares.”
“If that’s enough to give you nightmares, you really need to fuckin’ get out more,” Ford grunts as I pull open the door and gesture everyone inside.
Several heads turn as we enter, but no one abandons their drink to give us any trouble, so I lead our small party through the room toward the back. We bypass the bar entirely and step into another room that’s connected to the main one.
A man with beady-looking eyes glances up at us from behind a heavy wooden desk, one corner of his mouth curving in what looks like a permanent scowl. “You all here for the Blackfire Tournament? Sorry. Entries are closed.”
Trinity stops dead in her tracks, her mouth dropping open in dismay. “Closed?”
“That’s what I said.” The guy goes back to scribbling in a ledger that sits open before him.
“We’re too late? You’re sure it’s closed? There’s no more room?”
Trinity’s barrage of questions fly from her mouth in a rush, and the man looks up again, seeming to take her in for the first time. I don’t like the appreciative way his gaze slides down her form, and if the reaction from my brothers is any indication, neither do they.
“Yeah. The tournament starts tomorrow, and we don’t got eight more slots to fill. Sorry, babe.”
Even though we’re in the Scottish Highlands and several of the people in the bar were clearly locals, this guy sounds like he might be from Brooklyn. He’s definitely not from around here.
“You don’t have eight slots?” I ask, stepping forward, my hand already slipping into my pocket to retrieve my wallet. “How about one?”
“I might.” The man behind the desk watches my movements carefully, and when he sees how much money I’ve pulled from the leather wallet, he nods decisively, as if he’s just remembered something. “Yep. You know what, there is one more slot available. I forgot about it. You want it?”
“No,” Trinity blurts, stepping forward. “I do.”
“What?”
My head snaps down as I glare at her, but she deftly plucks the money from my hand and slaps it down on the counter in front of the man, who I’m fairly certain is fae. His hands slides out to collect the money as fast as a snake darting through grass, and the second it’s disappeared inside his jacket pocket, he breaks into a smile, thin lips spreading across a lean face.
“Done. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Trinity.”
He starts to write in his ledger, but I step forward, my jaw tightening. “Now just hold on a damn second. She’s not the one who’ll be entering. One of us will. I will.”
“No, Beckett, it has to be me.” Trinity turns to face me, her eyes shining earnestly. “I’m the one who needs to fix this. I’m the one who’s responsibility it is to fix this.”
My jaw clenches. No. No, that’s not right.
She must see the argument forming on my tongue, because Trinity steps closer, resting a hand on my forearm. “Please. I know you don’t think I’m as powerful or capable as you and your brothers—heck, I’m probably not—but I want to do this.”
That’s not what I was about to say at all. I’ve seen the angel in action enough times by now to know that her delicate features and sweet demeanor mask a fierce inner strength. But no matter how strong she is, that doesn’t change that fact that she could get hurt in this competition. She could get killed. And I fucking hate that.
“It’s too late anyway,” the weaselly man behind the desk says, drawing my focus away from Trin’s dark eyes. “I already put her name down. She’s signed up.”
I feel my brothers all bristle at my back, and as a unit, we all begin to move toward the desk. The man’s eyes widen in terror, and he throws his hands up.
“But she can have help!” he adds quickly, his voice rising. “Every contestant is allowed to bring one person onto the course to help them with each challenge. She can bring any one of you to whichever of the challenges she likes!”
I stop, narrowing my eyes at him as I consider his words. I still don’t like it, but the tight knot in my chest eases a little at the knowledge that one of us will be there to keep Trinity safe through the entire competition. To help her win.
Once again, I tell myself that I’m only concerned about winning. That I just want to make sure our team is declared victorious and handed the prize at the end. I tell myself that I’m greedy for the gem, and that’s why I’m so invested in this.
But it’s a lie.
The truth is, I’m greedy for Trinity.
Almost against my will, my gaze slides back to the angel. She’s still watching me with her wide brown eyes, one corner of her lip tucked between her teeth.
/> “Please, Beck,” she says again.
And I know I’m lost.
Chapter Twelve
TRINITY
“Fine.”
Beckett’s voice is hard, his expression tense and unreadable. All the sins seem tense, and I really hope they don’t start a fight with the man who runs the Blackfire Tournament. But I think they’ll follow Beck’s lead.
I can’t even properly celebrate my little victory though, because as soon as he acquiesces, nerves explode inside my stomach.
Holy crap. I get to compete in the Blackfire Tournament. And I have to win.
The pressure of the situation makes me feel like a thousand pounds of bricks just got dropped on my shoulders, but it’s what I wanted, after all. I can do this. I will do this.
The organizer, whose name turns out to be Myron, tells me when and where the first challenge will take place. He doesn’t give me a lot more info than that, which makes me nervous. Apparently, it’s more fun for the spectators of these games to watch competitors get dumped into dangerous situations with no preparation.
Yup. Sounds like a hoot and a half.
The men are all silent as we file out of the Angry Stag, and I shoot a glance at Beckett out of the corner of my eye. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s pissed I signed up for the competition instead of letting him or one of his brothers do it.
Is it his greed? Wanting to be the best, coveting the crystal? Or is it more than that? Does he think I’m not good enough, that I can’t handle the competition and will fail?
To be honest, I’m not sure I’ll succeed. But this is my mission, and I want to try. Even if Anderson doesn’t care all that much about closing these portals and helping people on Earth, I do. I don’t want humans getting hurt.
And I’ll do what it takes to win.
Because the truth is, as much as I might like the sins, as much as I’m drawn to them, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still not totally sure I can trust them. What if they wanted to enter this competition just to satisfy their greed, pride, gluttony, or whichever particular sin they embody? I saw the way their faces all lit up with interest when Henrik mentioned the Barakah Crystal. It’s obviously a rare and valuable prize.
But we don’t need it as a prize or a treasure to be coveted.
We need it as a tool.
We need it to save Earth.
Wrapped up in my thoughts, I’m quiet as we settle into the accommodations that Ryland secured for us—apparently, he had his secretary on the job almost as soon as we arrived in Scotland. And mansion is really a better word for where we’re staying. There’s no other way to describe it. The massive house is fancy, elaborate, and ancient. He’s clearly showing off both his wealth and taste, trying to impress us.
Remington heads to the large kitchen immediately and starts whipping up dinner. It’s delicious, of course. As soon as we all gather in the sprawling dining room, I dig in with gusto. Remington gives me a little smile when he refills my plate, looking genuinely pleased that I’m enjoying his food, even though I know now that’s how he gets under people’s skin.
The other sins are all animated, keyed up, obviously running on a lot of adrenaline at the prospect of the impending competition tomorrow. I find myself keeping quiet, just sitting and watching them all, taking in their interactions.
Knight is silent as always. He seems to purposefully keep himself on the outskirts of the group, on the edge of conversations, even though I can see his brothers—Remi and Beckett particularly—trying to include him. Although the brothers all bicker and snipe at each other, they tend to go easier on Knight, and I wonder fleetingly if that makes the quiet man feel better or worse.
Ford and Sawyer seem to constantly have some kind of competition going on between the two of them. They’re actually very similar, which struck me as odd at first, although it makes more and more sense as I get to know them. They say there’s a fine line between love and hate, and after the kiss I shared with Ford, I’d say there’s a fine line between wrath and lust too.
“Live a little,” Sawyer tells Ford at one point during dinner. “Come on, you used to be so fun, and now you’re fucking boring. What’s done is done. You can’t dwell on the past forever.”
“I can and I will,” Ford says. “Fuck you. Like you’d ever understand.”
“I did warn you it was going to end badly. Love always does. But you never do listen to me…”
“Beck, I’m gonna kill him.”
“Ry, he’s threatening to kill me.”
“Shut up, both of you,” Ryland shoots back, and I swear the corners of Beckett’s lips twitch upward for a split second.
Phoenix loves annoying the others. He’s constantly pushing their buttons just to see them get pissed off at him. And he’s always trying to make them do things for him. “Pass me the potatoes.”
“They’re right in front of you.”
“But you can pass them to me. And just scoop them onto my plate. You’re better at it than I am. Please? Come on, please?”
“Fuck’s sake.” Ford scoops potatoes onto Nix’s plate.
“Stop encouraging him,” Beckett orders.
Nix leans back in his chair, shooting me a broad grin as he digs into his potatoes.
Remington keeps moving through it all, making sure everyone’s fed, trying to put out the little fires that keep springing up. Ford doesn’t appreciate how Ryland and Beckett are lecturing him about how he spends his time, telling him that he could use his wrath for more productive things than cage fighting, and Remington has to step in and smooth over all the ruffled feathers. Nix apparently likes to watch while Sawyer seduces and then sleeps with someone—which makes my stomach do a strange little flip-flop—and he’s annoyed that Sawyer hasn’t been stopping by lately, so Remington has to mediate that discussion too.
“How do you put up with all of it?” I ask under my breath, leaning toward him a little when he sits down again at my right side. “Doesn’t it get tiring?”
“What can I say?” Remi winks at me. “I’m a glutton for punishment.”
That startles a laugh out of me, and he looks pleased with himself. I can’t help but notice that Ford and Beckett both look up sharply at me, then back down at their plates, like they’re mad at themselves for paying attention to me.
Geez, try to make me feel more like a bug under your boot, guys. Ugh.
I get that they don’t like me, it’s fine, but I could do without them rubbing it in all the time.
“Sawyer’s right,” Ryland tells Ford as I’m finishing up my second plate and contemplating whether I have room for a third. “You should join him next time he goes out looking to meet women. You need to get over it. Get over her.”
Ford’s head snaps up, and the entire table goes quiet. I freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth, wondering where the frick all the oxygen in the room just went.
Blue eyes burn like fire as Ford narrows his eyes. “Oh, just like how you’re doing such a good fuckin’ job of getting over your own heartbreak, you fuckin’ hypocrite? Because you’re so friendly with Beckett now and it’s all fuckin’ fine and dandy?”
Oh, wait. I was wrong before.
Now there’s no oxygen left in the room.
Ryland’s entire face freezes like cold stone, and his already harsh jawline becomes even more razor sharp looking as he glares at Ford.
“Do I even want to know?” I whisper to Nix, who’s sitting on my left.
“Ah, you know, I’m not really…” He blows out a breath. “Listen cupcake, you don’t want to kick that wasp’s nest. I’d just keep quiet. Pretend nobody said anything and just let it slide on by. They’ll drop it in a second.”
I nod, setting my fork down without taking a bite. The dining room is quiet except for the sounds of silverware scraping against plates for a few minutes. Then, just as Nix predicted, the conversation slowly picks back up again—although I notice that no one broaches the previous topic again.
&n
bsp; What was that all about?
Ryland mentioned a her, so I’m guessing there’s something to do with a woman in Ford’s past. But then Ford threw his comment right back in his face, insinuating that the long-standing bad blood between Pride and Greed is because of some heartbreak?
Gah! I wish I knew what they were talking about. But I obviously can’t ask—not unless I want to risk getting my head bitten clean off my body.
I also don’t quite understand why I get that uncomfortable prickly feeling in my belly when I think about whatever past loves the men might be talking about.
It doesn’t make any sense. It’s not like I have a claim on any of them, and I’m well aware of their wild sexual proclivities. Sawyer literally had a wet dick the first time I met him, and who even knows what happened between him and Mirabelle when he offered to “walk her out”?
It’s not like I expect all these men to have been celibate for the past several millennia.
But somehow, hearing about their past loves—even just the small, vague references I’ve picked up—feels different.
Because there’s real weight there, real emotion.
It means the sins can feel those things.
And that… well, I don’t quite know what to do with that.
Pushing aside my inappropriate curiosity about their love lives, I focus in on the conversation as it swirls around me. There are big blank patches and unanswered questions, but I am starting to get a clearer picture of their pasts.
From what I gather, Ryland and Beckett were once in charge together, in tandem, partners. Nix was the bratty youngest sibling, Knight was the shy one, Remi was the peacekeeper in the middle, and Ford and Sawyer were the bad boys, the pair most likely to cause trouble.
Then something happened, and now Ford won’t hang out with Sawyer or with anyone else. He’s been fighting in cage matches like the one we saw for the past several years. And he’s not over whatever ‘it’ was that made him do all this. I think that happened before Ryland and Beckett had whatever falling out made them hate each other so much.
After that, it sounds like they all scattered, and only now are they coming back together.