 
Copyright © 2013 Jamie Magee

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved

Edited Todd Barselow

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

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EDGE

Episodes One - Four

Alphas Rise
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EDGE SERIES READING ORDER

Alphas Rise  
Dark Lure  
Sacred Betrayal   
Risen Lovers  
Fall of Kings  
Queens Rise

Stolen Son

Disloyal Souls

Aftermath

COMBINED WEB OF HEARTS AND SOULS READING ORDER:

Insight  
Embody  
Image  
Whispers of the Damned  
Witness  
Vital  
Vindicate  
Synergy  
Enflame  
Redefined  
Rivulet  
Imperial  
Blakeshire  
Derive  
Emanate  
Exaltation*  
Disavow

The Witches   
Revolt  
Scorched Souls

*If you are a fan of Adult Paranormal Edge can be read with the Web of Hearts, before of after Exaltation--the stories share the same characters.

INSIGHT READING ORDER:

Insight   
Embody   
Image  
Vital  
Vindicate  
Enflame  
Rivulet  
Imperial  
Blakeshire (Drake's Story)  
Emanate  
Exaltation  
Disavow

SEE READING ORDER:

Whispers of the Damned   
Witness of a Broken Heart  
Synergy of Souls  
Redefined Love Affair   
Derive (Aden's Beginning)  
A Lovers Revolt   
Scorched Souls

EDGE SERIES READING ORDER

Alphas Rise  
Dark Lure  
Sacred Betrayal   
Risen Lovers  
Fall of Kings  
Queens Rise

Stolen Son

Disloyal Souls

Aftermath

CONTEMPORARY NOVELS

Deploy

Disengaged

Impulsion

Friction

EDGE SERIES READING ORDER

Alphas Rise  
Dark Lure  
Sacred Betrayal   
Risen Lovers  
Fall of Kings  
Queens Rise

Stolen Son

Disloyal Souls

Aftermath

Special Note:

Edge is part of the "Web of Hearts and Souls," a massive story where more than one series connect. The series can be read pertly or together.

EDGE SERIES READING ORDER

Alphas Rise  
Dark Lure  
Sacred Betrayal   
Risen Lovers  
Fall of Kings  
Queens Rise

Stolen Son

Disloyal Souls

Aftermath

COMBINED WEB OF HEARTS AND SOULS READING ORDER:

Insight  
Embody  
Image  
Whispers of the Damned  
Witness  
Vital  
Vindicate  
Synergy  
Enflame  
Redefined  
Rivulet  
Imperial  
Blakeshire  
Derive  
Emanate  
Exaltation*  
Disavow

The Witches   
Revolt  
Scorched Souls

*If you are a fan of Adult Paranormal Edge can be read with the Web of Hearts, before of after Exaltation--the stories share the same characters.

INSIGHT READING ORDER:

Insight   
Embody   
Image  
Vital  
Vindicate  
Enflame  
Rivulet  
Imperial  
Blakeshire (Drake's Story)  
Emanate  
Exaltation  
Disavow

SEE READING ORDER:

Whispers of the Damned   
Witness of a Broken Heart  
Synergy of Souls  
Redefined Love Affair   
Derive (Aden's Beginning)  
A Lovers Revolt   
Scorched Souls

Perfect for Fans of T. S. Joyce, Kresley Cole, Jeaniene Frost, J. R. Ward, Gena Showalter, Donna Grant, Lara Adrian, and Karen Marie Moning.

EDGE SERIES READING ORDER

Alphas Rise  
Dark Lure  
Sacred Betrayal   
Risen Lovers  
Fall of Kings  
Queens Rise
For each that believes that we are not born to fit in, but to stand out.
 The only greatness for man is immortality.

 James Dean

Episode One

Episode Two

Episode Three

Episode Four

Episode One: Chapter One

The air was thick, heavy, and hot—so sweltering that you had no choice but to measure your breaths with each step. You could feel the glistening sheen of sweat blanketing your flesh against the humming heat of the summer.

The fact that the sun had fallen moments ago made no difference. In some way that made it worse. In the balmy daylight you expected to fight the heat, to endure it, but everyone knew that darkness was cold, and when it wasn't, it made you trust the night even less.

Reveca Beauregard was well aware of every twisted being that lurked behind the obscure canopy of a New Orleans summer night, both living and dead. She sensed each before her now as she stared forward into the dark swamp house that she'd visited often over the last years.

Reveca had known generation after generation of the Cartier family. The great grandmother, GranDee, was one of very few mortals that knew of Reveca's immortal status.

Most in the realm of the living assumed that Reveca was a beautiful twenty-something eccentric girl. The long lean muscles in her five foot seven frame screamed youth, as well as her near ivory skin which was accented by long locks of strawberry blonde hair that reached to her waist in gentle waves.

It was her eyes, that is, if you looked close enough, that gave the only hint of an old soul. There was something about the depth of the gray, the shards of blue, and freckles of black that led you to believe that her steady gaze had witnessed far more than the average lifespan of both the living and the dead.

Reveca had long ago been dubbed the Queen of Darkness by the dead. The living? Well, to the living she was known as the Pentacle Daughter, the only acknowledged female member of the Pentacle Sons MC, the most lethal biker gang known to exist.

Rumored to be a witch.

That rumor, of course, was true. Though Reveca Beauregard would never let one simple title that had been twisted and convoluted by half-truth myths define her. In her mindset, she was more than every title that was given to her. She was a scorned woman, one that trusted no one, and respected few.

Presently, it was difficult for her to remember exactly why she carried the attitude that she had at this point in her existence. She'd read once that people will forget what was said to them, but they would never forget how the words made them feel. That's true for both words and deeds.

She often told herself that she could recall every wrong, every two-faced, back stabbing, turncoat action that had come her way over time, but that was not entirely true. The details, the wicked deeds from long ago, at times she would forget, but she never forgot how she felt. Never forgot how cold humanity was. Never forgot that whom you trust today will, at some point, turn their back on you, drive a knife of betrayal in your back when you least expect it. Those thoughts of hers were merited by her own personal beliefs, her experiences, and some kind of church that lived within her. She had seen it too many times.

The air was still, but she could smell the blood, the invasion of its scent in the lingering aroma of the ghostly swamp. Reveca whispered a few words across her lips, and almost instantly she could hear the distant rumble of thunder.

Even though this moment did not deserve the reaction, a smirk dangled on her heart-shaped lips. It wasn't a cocky reply to the power of the universe that she dominated. It was a bow of respect. Reveca knew if she ever let her ego surface, or felt entitled to that power, she would lose it—it would leave her like a stolen lover in the night.

To this day, before she spoke any spell, called any power into play, she had a moment of doubt, a brief denial that she was capable of doing what her soul was clearly created to manifest. Each and every time her words created an impact on the world at large, she would feel a tingle right in the center of her chest, one that was weighted profoundly with a humble shock that the power answered her call once more.

She needed that distant storm she had spoken into life for more than one reason. Nature had the power to destroy, which meant it could mask whatever hell she was about to walk into. It would also give the Pentacle Sons a sign as to when to come home—when to leave their very public appearance tonight and return to the Beauregard Boneyard, the sacred stomping ground for the Club.

The dicing, public racing, on the streets of the Quarter wasn't planned until a few hours before. Reveca had read the signs, and reacted. No, not signs in some crystal ball, or burning herbs, or whatever other way you could imagine an immortal witch reading signs. She read the signs that anyone could see if they observed, and if Reveca did anything constantly, it was observe.

She'd noticed that the dark van which was always parked in the brush just off the main highway had vanished. She had no doubt within that van was a host of modern lawmen, all looking to take down her MC, her world.

Each and every time that van vanished before, some infraction would occur against the Sons, leaving Reveca to believe that both the criminal and the law were one in the same. Those lawmen were out to frame the Sons. She had no doubt about it. They had no other choice. There was no way in hell they would ever find enough legit evidence to convict the MC of any crime. They aimed to invent such proof.

Not long after that van vanished Holden took out on a ride.

Holden was what they called a wolf, a lone wolf. He had no desire to join any Club, but would linger with one or another for a time, or so he said. Holden had been with the Pentacle Sons for five years now; it only took Reveca five minutes to sense he was a fraud.

He was still breathing simply because the notion of keeping your enemies close was another truth that Reveca worshiped in her own personal church. She was waiting for him to make his play, for a moment where she could show him and any other modern lawmen that the Pentacle MC was untouchable, and would gladly prove that fact over and over if necessary.

Holden leaving for a seemingly spontaneous ride right as his buddies in that van vanished meant only one thing. Once again, the Sons were about to be framed. It had happened so many times before that counteracting the unneeded drama at times was near tedious.

Reveca and the others had no doubt Holden would ride out somewhere, commit a crime—marking the scene with the Son's symbol. Almost instantly the cops would find this crime scene, within hours at least, and on the basis of the symbols and crime, find grounds to search the Boneyard. From that point they would find some way to lock one or more of the Sons away, just long enough to manufacture more evidence.

The only thing any judge—including the ultimate judge, the public eye—needs is reasonable doubt. The second Holden turned off the main drag all the Pentacle Sons lit their fire, roared their bikes to life, and took off in search of a public stage.

Reveca had planned to watch the boys race, watch them raise enough hell to be ticketed by the police and sent home. Alibi in place.

When they all arrived home the near ritual barbeque party that happened every Sunday afternoon would have commenced.

The last thing she expected was to feel this summons, to be pulled here.

It takes a lot of power, conviction, to summon any being. To outright manifest them to you, to manifest someone as prevailing as Reveca to your side took more than power, it took the will of last rites from a formidable spiritual person.

Knowing that, knowing that she was staring at a dear friend's home was more than unsettling for Reveca—it was downright nauseating.

With slow calculated strides Reveca began to move her boots across the gravel drive. The sound was chilling, so much so that her bare legs pricked with warranted grief.

Reveca clinched her fist as her faultless vision focused on the distant porch. There she saw a body, a large man. It was his blood she sensed first. It had pooled and was slowly easing toward the steps.

All along the worn railing of the porch were crows. Silent crows. They were perched on the roof, as well as the shells of old cars in the yard. Some lingered on Reveca's path as well. This was symbolic. This was a sign that greatness had perished.

Reveca could clearly remember the first time she had seen this silent display of grief, the one the crows offer to those that are meant for more than the hell of reality. Back then the nausea was far worse, the pain was wickeder. Back then she was approaching her first and only love, a boy that had stolen her heart with a wayward glance and a handful of whispered promises just before he was sent to a battle that should have never been fought.

Even though it was lifetimes ago she still thought of him. Not his image, though. No, that faded with time—most of it anyway. The depths of his eyes, the pull of his soul...no time or hell could erase that mark on Reveca's soul.

Bo. That was the name of the dead man on the porch. He was GranDee's bodyguard so to speak. The porch steps creaked as she edged her way around the growing rivulets of blood. Bo had no hope. Not only was he sporting a bullet between the eyes—the most mortal of wounds—his soul was long gone. He'd let go almost instantly.

Reveca wasn't sure if she admired that act or not; her opinion had varied over time and circumstance.

A select few in the living world and all in the world of the dead knew she had the power to raise the dead, as long as they were on the Edge that is. Once they crossed the Veil, they were at the mercy of Gods that have been asleep or corrupt for far too long, or so the legend states.

They all knew that when Reveca chose to bring souls back, their immortality would be enhanced, fortified with a chaotic power.

Reveca wasn't sure if Bo was aware of her power. GranDee kept just as many secrets as Reveca did from those that were close to her.

One step further she found another man of considerable stature sprawled along the floor in a pool of blood, one shot to the head, right between the eyes.

With a glance to the wall Reveca knew her instinct about this night was on point. This was a set up. Someone had used the pools of blood to mark the walls with the Pentacle Sons symbol, a five pointed pentagram laced with a serpent. That coupled with the signature shot between the eyes would earn any modern lawman a search warrant to the Boneyard Compound the MC lived within.

She clinched her jaw in fury. She had expected Holden to rob a store, set up a fake drug buy, a host of other things. This right here. It was personal. Way too personal. No wolfs or prospects ever crossed paths with the likes of GranDee or any other souls that Reveca held in high regard. No, you had to be born into the life before you knew them.

This was still a lawman's game, his way of trying to prove to Reveca that he knew more than she assumed. But someone was helping those lawmen. Someone that had just all but begged for Reveca to hunt them down and destroy them slowly.

One step further and she saw the feet of another fallen body; same mark, only this time the symbol was across his chest in his own blood.

Down the path of the narrow hall were broken picture frames that had fallen from the walls. Glass crunched under Reveca's boots as she edged ever closer to the beacon of energy that had called her here in the first place. Her thoughts were echoing every word GranDee and her had shared, her wisdom, her telling Reveca over and over that she held her trust too close, that she was going to have to let someone in, and when she did the scars of her beginning in this world would fade. Oh what a tangled web we weave, child, yet it always leads us home.

Reveca didn't want her scars to fade. She wanted to remember why she was the way she was, she wanted to remember the pain of losing a first love, everything that conspired around that tragedy, each soul that broke their trust with Reveca. She knew if she did that then she would never open herself up to that pain again. Once was enough. Even now, with how guarded she was, how cold she may seem to some, she felt enough. This scene right here was ripping her in two.

She only vaguely glanced into the kitchen as she passed, yet what she saw stopped her in her tracks: GranDee face down at the table.

Reveca felt her gut clench with anger, raw wrathful anger saturated with grief. GranDee had suffered the same mortal wound which was the reason for Reveca's anger, but the reason for the grief was the fact that her soul was gone, she had let go. She knew that Reveca would have saved her, that Reveca counted on her, and she let go.

At that moment she no longer trusted the call that she felt pulling her toward the back bedroom. The only one that had the power to lure her that way was lying dead before her.

As she moved into the kitchen she heard the flap of feathers cross her shoulder. A crow, one of the largest Reveca had seen in recent memory, landed on the table and pecked its beak on the card that was laid there.

Reveca moved forward letting her eyes mist with her emotions as she gazed down at the old woman that had been more than a friend for decades.

She could smell a ham cooking in the oven, the corn bread that was cooling on the counter, hear the water in the pots on the stove boiling.

GranDee's dark sleeveless arms were haloed around the table, seeming to highlight the cards her fallen stance was cradling. The same large crow pecked once more at a card that was clearly the last that GranDee had dealt. It meant one thing: Daughter.

At first Reveca thought that perhaps GranDee was indeed the one that had called her here, that the killer must have taken the core of the spell with him to lure Reveca, but as she leaned in closer she saw this card was ingrained with other symbols. Transition symbols. This was old magic, dark magic, cards that you used for one purpose: to embellish power.

The sick feeling that Reveca was battling escalated. For a brief moment she doubted GranDee's loyalty to her, to the life. There was only one reason to call on power like this—to prepare for war with someone who could manifest more power than you. Which no doubt, in this realm of life, and within the Edge, the space before final death, that was Reveca.

Reveca whispered sacred words. The blood pooling on the table, swallowing the last message of GranDee, vanished. The open wound between her eyes closed, and all at once it looked as if she'd merely fallen asleep or had one of her 'hot spells' that she was known for and collapsed.

Carefully Reveca pulled her up, not being able to stop herself from holding GranDee's still warm body against her briefly as she gazed down at the array of cards and crystals.

Magic was a language, and like any language there were endless alterations, a slant to every meaning. Right now Reveca was reading the very last words of GranDee. It was a deliberate message. Reveca knew that because the box that she kept her reading cards within was not elegantly displayed on her makeshift altar, but instead on the edge of the table.

She could clearly imagine the scene: GranDee cooking away, hearing the shot that took Bo down, maybe even the words that might have been yelled before that. Knowing death was marching her way, GranDee scrambling to the altar, to the box, the frantic search for the cards she wanted to display, the message she needed to leave.

One that clearly told Reveca that GranDee let go for a reason. She let go to protect a prodigy, someone she thought was needed in this realm of life. Without a doubt she knew her death would buy time for whomever this was, allow them time to practice the lessons that GranDee had begun with them.

Reveca felt guilt now, guilt for even daring to think this woman that she was clutching could have betrayed her, could have been preparing to counter her rule in the life Reveca had built.

With a bat of her long lashes Reveca commanded the cards to assemble in one deck, in the exact order that GranDee had left them. With a shaky hand she grasped that deck and pushed it into the back pocket of her cut off shorts.

Her other hand was still clutching her fallen friend, advisor, spiritual sister. She was letting herself grieve then and there, for once she left, once she was face to face with her boys, all those in her life, not one tear would fall, not one show of weak emotion would emerge.

Perhaps because she allowed herself to feel mortal in that moment, allowed herself to almost envy GranDee's path, she didn't sense the danger until just before she heard the wood creak on the floor, before she felt the cold barrel of a gun aimed at the back of her head. Then again, it could have been because she knew no weapon made of brass and speed could take her down.

Carefully she let GranDee's body settle back on the table.

"Where are your boys, princess," she heard a broken hoarse voice say. Holden.

Slowly she turned feeling the gun graze across her head as she did so.

Holden smirked as his seedy eyes dipped to the rim of her tank top, to the hint of cleavage that was revealed there.

"I suppose we're overdue to have a little fun on our own now, aren't we." He grinned showing his stained yellow teeth. "I promise to send you to the grave with a smile on your face," Holden said as he tilted his head and his long dingy hair slid out of his eyes.

Reveca had to give the current lawman credit. Holden had the ability to make most any Club not doubt he was born and bred into the life. His arms were covered in ink that had shifted from black to green over time, he had a two pack a day smoker's essence about him, one that caused his hair to be a mix of yellow and gray, deep scowl lines reached out from his eyes, his beard was long at the chin, more yellow than gray. His shoulders were curved into a permanent slouch, and he was sporting a gut that proudly broadcasted his love of ice-cold beer.

The thing was, though, he stuck out like sore thumb within the Pentacle Sons. Ragged, raw, and dirty was not their style. Big, mean, and lethal was. They were not lethal because of the weapons they possessed but for other reasons. Brilliance and dark splendor. The boys had penned the nickname gramps on Holden from the moment he rolled into the gravel lot before the Beauregard Boneyard Compound.

"Where are yours?" Reveca asked not even bothering to look concerned about the gun that was pressed to her forehead.

His eyes narrowed on her.

"I know your lawmen are not here, couldn't be. You wouldn't want anyone to be a witness to the set up, because, of course, that would mean more liabilities down the road."

"When did you know?" he asked as his eyes glistened with malice.

"Before you arrived."

"Because your witchdoctor told you?" he asked with an audacious smirk. "Her hoodoo didn't see my ass coming."

Fury bellowed within Reveca but on the surface she was unnervingly calm. "Why her? Why this set up?"

"Shut the fuck up. Take your shirt off."

"Answer me."

He repositioned his grip on the gun, determined to use the butt of it to knock her out, have his way with her and end this fucked up job, but Reveca saw it coming. With lightning speed she lifted her hand and gripped the gun, pulled it from him as if he were a child, then aimed it at him.

"Answer. Me," Reveca said coldly, not even troubling to let the rush of the moment elevate her breath or cause her heart to race. She had been here far too many times before. No doubt there.

"Talon. We want Talon."

Talon was the president of the Pentacle Sons MC and as far as either world knew, Reveca's lover.

"I know you want him. Why this? Why did you come here?"

His body began to shake as she pressed the barrel into his forehead. He went down to his knees, but it was all an act. He wanted to appear weak, wanted to make it to the ground so he could reach the piece he had strapped to his ankle.

"We tracked him here," he said just before Reveca's knee slammed into his jaw and sent him flying backward. She kept the gun trained on him as she crouched down and retrieved the piece he was after.

"You didn't track him here. And since you have no desire to plead for your life," Reveca seethed as she aimed the gun at his crotch. "Maybe I'll let you live, most of you that is."

"Wait. Wait. Stop. Source. A source told us that what you're dealing is causing mutations. We were told GranDee was the cook."

No expression came over Reveca, but she was confused. She was mulling through all of the enemies in her mind that would know of GranDee, what her family did. None of them would have gone to a lawman with that information. No, if anything they would have harvested the source, not destroyed it.

"You know we deal scripts. Cook? What the fuck are you talking about? Who sent you here?" she asked as she pressed the gun against him. He roared in pain as sweat poured out of him.

At this point smoke was moving through the air. Whatever blessed Sunday dinner GranDee was cooking before her death had met its demise as well.

"Fuck," he roared. "I don't know! I was given an address. I came and dealt with my business."

"You set this up? This is your take down? You killed them to set us up. Has every fucking lawman lost their soul to the unclaimed, you evil son of a bitch?"

"I'm done with these bullshit games all of you play." He lifted his sweaty brow, nearly grinned. "This gets me out one way or another."

"Too boring for you?" Reveca asked with a raised brow. She knew exactly why he was over it. It was an endless game of cat and mouse between the lawmen and the Club, but that was only the half of Holden's hell.

The boys had little to no respect for him and showed that in more than one way. He was ragged the most, given the shittiest tasks; prospects had more respect than he did.

None of the women around the Club would look his way on their drunkest nights, not with that whole 'lethal' thing the other Sons had. They would rather wait in line for one of them than crawl into bed with the rotten excuse for a man that Holden was.

"I've been working this case for five years and I'm not even allowed in Church. That doesn't mean I didn't know what you were fucking up to. If you let me in I could have steered everyone away. I'm sure you could have paid me more. I'm fucking done."

Greed. They were all the same. Would turn their backs on any oath for a dollar.

No. He wasn't allowed in any Club meetings. He was a wolf. The Sons let prospects within those meeting walls, for the general human meetings, that is. But the ones that dealt with both worlds, you had to be patched in. You had to choose the life, and the life had to choose you, for either to occur death came first.

"You want out of this life?" Reveca said as she stood above him.

Fear. That is what she saw in his eyes, that and a tinge of relief. The bastard really was over his role in this life, in more ways than one.

"Up," Reveca said evenly.

Not breaking her gaze he rose to his feet.

"Walk," she said as she nodded toward the door at the back of the kitchen.

He hesitated for a second then began to move in the direction she indicated.

They had reached the porch, were down the steps before he spoke.

"If you kill me they're going to know it was you. They'll twist the story. You'll go down either way."

"And what prize do I get for keeping you alive," she asked as she jabbed the gun between his fleshy sagging shoulders.

"A deal. Turn on Talon. I have never once reported anything on you. You're clean. We'll protect you."

They had reached the edge of the swamp, the base of a large tree that had moss hanging to the ground.

"Let me think about that," Reveca said almost silently as she lowered her gun.

Holden looked over his shoulder. When he saw the lowered weapon he slowly turned with his hands raised in a peaceful gesture.

Reveca wasn't thinking about anything beyond the exact spell she needed to whisper. One wrong word and she would not be able to salvage this trash when the time was right, throw him right back at the assholes that had set this slaughter up.

She had it then. Slowly the words danced off her lips in a hiss of a whisper. Holden leaned forward thinking she was speaking to him, or perhaps he was noticing the faint glow her eyes emitted when she called on power. He didn't get far. The moss came to life around him. At first he thought it was the wind and brushed it away so he wouldn't lose sight of Reveca but when it began to grip him, panic filled his gaze.

Slowly the moss encircled him to the point where you could barely make out the shape of a man. His screams never had a chance to make it out. The branches pulled him back, then all at once the trunk of the tree parted, opened, and consumed him.

Reveca bowed her head to the nature before her, silently thanked it for harboring that foul infestation of a human soul until such time as she had plotted the perfect demise for him.

The moss that was deadly mere moments before gently swayed, caressing her skin.

Reveca pulled in a deep breath, tucked the gun in the back of her waistband, and turned to go.

That beacon that had caused her to manifest here tonight, the one that she was sure GranDee had sent, was still pulling at her.

She made her way back into the house, through the kitchen that was now masked in smoke, back to the hall that she was traversing before. A few steps later she was in a bedroom.

She saw the bullet holes in the bed, could see the tips of toes peeking out from beneath. That bastard Holden had shot someone through the mattress. With a glance, one push of energy coming from Reveca, the mattress moved, revealing the victim.

She was young, looked no older than twenty. Her hair was long and dark as midnight, her pure skin the rich color of milked coffee. Beside her on the floor in her blood was the symbol of the Pentacle Sons, one she'd made. Within that symbol was a broken vial. To the naked eye it looked empty, but within that vial was the essence of life that Reveca had given GranDee long ago, nothing more than energy—energy that belonged to Reveca.

As Reveca knelt down she saw the vial had been attached to a necklace, one that was around this young girl's neck.

Her mind was mulling over all that she had seen tonight, all the hidden messages and broken truths. The only thing she knew for sure was that GranDee wanted Reveca to bring this girl back from the Edge, from death.

That was a high order. One that Reveca could perform, no doubt, but one that she always thought heavily about before she did, at least now days she did. There were consequences to this action. She knew that. Hell, half the time the Sons were still policing the consequences of a few past times that she had performed this spell.

Right then she heard the flap of wings once more, and looked up to see the crow landing at the head of the young girl. Within its eyes she saw a final plea, felt the honest urgency of GranDee lingering in the air around her. She felt her spirit begging for this action, stating that if anyone needed to come back, it was this girl.

Reveca gently rolled the girl's dead body to her back. Her eyes, which were a wild green, were still open, staring into a fearful last moment.

She took the girl's limp hands within hers. When Reveca closed her eyes, focused her energy, she could see where this girl's soul was. She saw it lurking in the Edge, saw the frantic state, saw her rushing from soul to soul speaking Reveca's name, speaking the name of the Sons that traversed both the living and dead worlds.

Silently Reveca's energy spoke to her. The girl's soul ceased her plea and listened. Slowly, very slowly Reveca's energy spoke to this girl, told her that to return she must choose to, she must understand and accept that the human life she knew would be no longer, that she would be...enhanced. That is if the life accepted her.

The girl never questioned any word that was said. Instead, she nodded with a fevered understanding.

It was as if this young girl had been schooled on this process long ago. Considering the circumstances, Reveca had no doubt she was.

Reveca began to pull, gradually, powerfully, then all at once. She could feel life seeping into the dead flesh she was holding in her hands.

All of a sudden the girl began to cough. A golden light emerged behind her eyes as her body roiled forward. The wounds in her head, her chest, they closed. The blood vanished.

She didn't stop coughing though, and with good reason. The small swamp house was now consumed with smoke. Reveca pulled the barely conscious girl to her, then out into the hall. She needed a better plan, that was for sure. She could see the flames licking into the hallway from the kitchen.

She pushed the girl back into the room with her then across it to bust out a window. Seconds later she was pulling the girl across the yard, to the gravel path that she had emerged on.

Carefully she sat the girl down and stared back at the home. The approaching storm she had called just before had arrived. Thick weighted raindrops were falling from the sky, slicing the summer heat upon their decent.

Unfortunately, the downpour was also subduing the slow burning fire of the tomb that was at one time a home. That simply would not do. Reveca had to return to the Boneyard immediately and she had to ensure that any and all evidence aimed at her MC was squashed.

One thought. One focused thought enhanced with the raw power of her soul bolted forward, making contact with the flames.

The explosion was instantaneous.

The grief would be everlasting.
Chapter Two

It didn't matter how long you lived, how many spells you'd cast, what you knew about power or what you didn't know—everything and everyone had their limits. Manifesting your corporeal being from one place to another took energy, a lot of it. Manifesting yourself, along with an unconscious, clinging to death passenger, took immense power. Power that Reveca was far too low on before she was thrust into the hell she just endured.

Energy. It's food. It's food to those who know how to use it. It had been quite some time since Reveca had tapped into a pure source. So long that she made it a point to stay in reality as much as possible, to utilize good old fashion backwoods magic in lieu of the arts she was so adamantly trained in.

Right now, she was going to have to pull from somewhere deep inside her to find the power she needed.

She couldn't call the boys to her. They had an alibi right now, one they would need to maintain when the dust of this inferno settled. She couldn't walk. No, her body was already trembling with emotions she didn't care to show, and GranDee's home was literally in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by water on three sides, miles from what one might call a road. A boat wasn't due here until the next morning.

Taking Holden's bike would have been a daring idea, but being seen on it was too big of a risk. There was a good chance his lawmen were tracking him. Knowing that, she glanced down at the girl that was passed out on the gravel drive then made her way to the bike which was parked in the brush.

The glow of the fire had revealed its whereabouts moments before. She wanted to destroy that bike with a glance, but she knew at some point she'd need it, just like she needed Holden. Revenge was a dish best served cold—and calculated.

She charged toward the bike, kicked it just to make her feel better, then moved it toward the bank. As she approached, the sodden ground opened, nature's way of telling her it would harbor her enemies for now. She urged the bike forward and watched the ground swallow it whole.

With each step she took back to the girl she breathed in as deep as possible, trying to find her center. She needed to go home. Needed to manifest not only inside the Beauregard Boneyard, but in a private room.

It was Sunday. The weekly barbeque. The one time each week the MC opened their doors to the world at large. It was their way of showing the community they were not the bad guys, their way of pretending they were part of the ninety nine percent of bikers, and not the one percent, the outlaws. It was their time to seem human, normal. If any one of those wannabe rebels saw her appear out of nowhere, that would botch any and all American cover. If Reveca knew anything it was that no one knew how to keep their mouth shut; everyone loves a good story.

She knelt down to the girl, did her best to cradle her entire body next to hers, still focusing with all that she was on where she wanted to go. Slowly she whispered the words that with any luck would lead her there.

She felt the pull on her, felt the energy begin to whirl within, humming. Her body shook as she squeezed her eyes closed.

Seconds later she heard heavy breaths and a moan that was not coming from the girl in her arms.

Her eyes flew open. She was in her home, a home that stood just beside her club, in the second floor bathroom. In front of her, she saw the back of a leather kut, a vest all the Sons wore proudly that displayed the club's symbol—a crow with his wings spread around a pentacle wrapped in a serpent. Long dirty blond hair met his thick shoulders, leading down his strong back to a lean waist, a waist that was wrapped with legs—long feminine legs.

It was Shade, and he was doing what Shade always did.

"Get out of here you nervous fuck," Reveca nearly growled but as breathless as she was it was not near as fierce as she wanted it to sound.

She wasn't being cold to Shade. He was indeed a nervous fuck. Everyone had their vice, what they did once they dared danger and won. Some smoked, some drank, some fought, some fucked, others did it all. Shade always fucked. Every single time the Club came home he would find some girl and disappear for a moment or two then never look back.

Shade: that nickname came from his sunglasses, ones that look like Ray-Bans that he never took off, at least not around the very human girls that he pulled into tight rooms like this. He couldn't. If he did, they'd see the glow behind the blue, the rays of lavender. They'd see that glow change with his emotion, know he was more than mortal.

"What the hell! You said it was only me tonight! You have them waiting in line? You ass!" the girl belted as Shade dropped her legs and looked over his shoulder.

"Son of a bitch," he breathed as he stared at Reveca then grabbed the girl by her arm and pushed her out of the bathroom, not even giving her a chance to pull her skirt back down. Reveca could hear him calling out to the other Sons, telling them to find Talon.

Reveca had made it to her knees. She reached for the faucet in the tub and turned it to a mix of cold and hot, holding the girl's hand as she did so. She had to make sure they were the same temperature.

Her head was spinning. She was still in shock no doubt, but she was replaying her night, cursing herself. Even though that spell was entrapping Holden in that tree, even though he was still alive, she very well could have hazed his mind, which would have wiped away what he knew of what led to this night. The details.

It was a foolish mistake. She should have thought of another spell. She recognized that now. But the shock, the grief, and as dim and dark as she had felt in recent years had all influenced her clouded judgment this night.

The Pentacle Sons may not be able to reach those memories of Holden's now, but she would still have her revenge one way or another.

She glanced up at Shade as he walked back in the room.

"What the hell, Vec? Talon is going to go ape shit. He just rode out looking for you."

"What! Why would he leave?" Reveca nearly cursed. "Why do I even bother with setting up alibis for any of you if all you know how to do is fuck them up."

He clinched his jaw in fury. "You vanished. There one minute, then gone the next. And you were not here when we got back," Shade said rushing his hands through his hair.

Reveca gave him a halfway smirk. He was one of the younger ones in the life, still adjusting to his transformation which was decades ago. He had this whole baby face bad boy deal going for him. Fierce as hell, but at a glance he looked somewhat innocent. That made him dangerous in more ways than one. He knew how to use his appearance to his advantage.

"I didn't mean to kill your high," she said with a nod to the wall he'd had that girl against moments before. It wasn't really a high; it was more of an escape. Shade fed on energy and when that energy was full of malice, it would haunt him. Him fucking girls gave him something else to focus on, and it enhanced his energy even more. Sex is energy. Energy is power.

Shade's attention was on the girl that was passed out on the floor. "Didn't get that far."

Reveca furrowed her brow. Normally an impudent remark like that would have been accompanied by his signature sneer, the one where his top lip raised just a bit.

Right then other Sons pushed in the room. Echo, Judge, and Thrash.

"Out. Alibi. Be social," Reveca demanded.

A slew of cuss words and arguments rushed in her direction as they all demanded to know what happened, who this girl was.

Each and every one of those boys towered over Reveca, were three times her width in raw muscle, each devastatingly dangerous in more ways than one. Their size, their looks, had never once intimidated Reveca. They were like brothers, perhaps sons, to her.

"I said out. Send Cash in here," she said to Judge. "Get my altar," she said to Shade, who had yet to take his stare off the girl.

The boys dispersed with solid grunts laced in curse words bellowing from them. They knew she was right though. They had to be seen.

Cash, or rather Cashton, he was a different story. None of those humans outside could see him if they wanted to. The moon was still waning.

Cashton was the result of one of the many barters that Reveca had made with her sister over time. For some reason her sister wanted that boy out of the Veil. The thing was, to come out the way Reveca knew how to bring out souls, they had to be altered. Her sister, of course, seeing Reveca's magic as dark and warped, did not want that to occur with Cashton.

Instead, after a number of twisted barters with the Lords of Death, Reveca found an alternative. He was allowed out of the Veil with each new moon, five days before, and five after. Once that time was over he was placed back in the grip of death.

That bargain was struck years back, and even though Reveca was still not clear on her sister's motives, she felt that she had been given the upper hand. Cashton was an endless source of information. What he heard, what he saw past the gates of death, he told Reveca, which helped her time and time again when she needed to barter with darkness.

Because he'd been so valuable at times Reveca had extended his stay in reality, not by much, but days before each stretch of a new moon he was allowed to linger in the Club. Outside of the grounds of the Boneyard no one but those in the life could see him, but still, it gave him a sense of normalcy, helped him ease into his very few living days each month. She had no idea why the boy was willing to go through that painful near maddening transition so often. The excuse of a girl that he gave didn't add up in Reveca's mindset.

Shade was back almost instantly, carrying the small trunk that Reveca kept her portable altar within.

"Take her clothes off," Reveca said quietly as she turned the water off.

Carefully she opened her trunk and began to pull out candles, herbs, and crystals.

When she glanced back she saw the ease that Shade was using to carefully remove the garments that the girl was wearing. Anger clinched his jaw as his fingertips moved across the holes where the bullets had been.

"Who did this?" His quiet tone was nothing but ruinous. His attitude as a whole was shocking the hell out of Reveca. Shade wasn't a cold son of a bitch but the only female she had ever known him to show blatant respect for was her, and of course GranDee. The other girls, they were prey to him. An object he used to clear his mind.

She let the question linger. Right now she needed to take care of this girl, not calm her boys down. Murderous. That would be the only way to describe the reaction this Club would have to what Reveca witnessed tonight.

Knowing she had destroyed what Holden knew of this night, Reveca knew this girl was her only hope just then of proving what she already assumed. The greed of the twisted lawmen had landed her in this grim hell of grief.

Bringing someone back, it's not easy. If it were, those that practice white magic would have long ago found reason to accept the practice. It took more than a vial of energy, more than some witch telling you that you could come back if you wanted, but you would be different. No. That was step one. And that step is never completed under the duress that Reveca performed it tonight.

Oils and herbs should have cleansed the body. Then it should have been laid in a ring of fire. The heat was symbolic of burning away weakness. Then the body would be placed in purified blessed water, symbolic of a womb, a second birth. The most important aspect to bringing a soul back is emotion. Someone with life or power had to want this person to stay. Not just any want. No, the want had to be rich with emotion.

To say the least, this ceremony was beyond botched. Fire was there, water was now here, but it was not the same. And the want? Reveca wasn't sure if her desire to appease her fallen friend's last request would be enough. This transition—it would never work unless this girl right here fought like hell. She was going to have to prove herself, in more ways than one.

Shade cradled her nude body against his then lifted her like a lover before lowering her into the tub. The act, the gentleness of it, caused Reveca's rambling thoughts to halt.

"You know her?"

"No," he said in a deep whisper as his large hand carefully dipped her head under the water. Next to his touch, her skin seemed so much darker than it had when Reveca had found her. White to black, out of place, yet perfectly matched at the same time.

He lifted her head out of the water, let his hand caress the rivulets out of her closed eyes just as Cashton came in.

"We've got this," Reveca said to Shade. He hesitated but then he stood to leave.

"Who does she belong to? Who wants her to live?" Shade asked knowing that without that, this was all a waste.

"Us," Reveca answered.

Shade's body tensed. He nodded once then left, brushing his broad shoulder against Cashton as he did.

Reveca let out a shuddering breath as she stared up at Cashton. He was leaner than the other guys, but that didn't make him any less commanding.

His short dark hair was lingering near his eyes. Eyes that were insane, the centers flamed out in a deep blue, the edges dark as midnight. He had sharp god-like features.

The passage from life to death is exhausting, would deplete anyone, but from the first time Cashton took that path until now, he only vaguely showed signs of fatigue. Which meant he was powerful. So powerful that at times Reveca questioned exactly what kind of being she was harboring.

The thing was, Cashton didn't know either. That transition robbed memories, basically you had knowledge, but most times you had no idea where you gained it from.

All Cashton knew, or admitted, was that he never died. He claims that he was trapped in death. That's his truth. Where he's rumored to come from before he was entrapped is something that myths and legends were made of. Beliefs that Reveca long ago lost respect for. Her sister on the other hand, she was beyond committed to those beliefs.

"Dear sista, what do we have here?" he asked as his stare trailed down the girl in the tub.

"Someone who's going to be bunking with you in the Veil if we don't set this right."

Reveca trained all the Sons on how to use the craft. None really cared for it, but Cashton had a natural aversion to magic, even though Reveca had taught him next to nothing. Having him near now was a gift that Reveca let herself feel gratitude for. All steps in life, no matter how confusing or painful they are, at some point pay their dues. If anyone at this Club could help her save this girl it was him. His calm powerful energy.

The water was sprinkled with herbs, words were spoken, and the candles were lit before Talon made his way into the bathroom.

Cashton nudged Reveca with his shoulder. "I've got this."

Looking at Talon made her night seem too real. The shock factor was starting to fade.

Talon had raw supremacy that waved off of his six foot four body. His sculpted arms were filled with tattoos of the club's symbols, and symbols that reflected the power within him. A phoenix rising from the flames of death was on his right arm—that was Reveca's favorite.

His dark eyes were nothing less than enigmatic. When his anger was elevated waves of flames could be seen within. Every feature on his face was sharp, dominant. His lips, the lush shape of them, outlined by his near constant five o'clock shadow, begged to be touched, used. His overall image, his body which was solid raw muscle, was so stoic that when he spoke, when you figured out he was approachable, laid back, it was simply hard to comprehend. Not many outside of their tight circle dared to try and speak with him.

They had been in each other's lives for ages, though neither of them could ever hope to mock the age of thirty. She had found him as a rebel soul, a soldier home from a war that he was still engaged in in his mind, a young man that had traversed every dark road there was.

What they had between them back then was intense, a possessive passion that was full of fire.

When a bullet pierced his heart one night after a bad deal, she had more than enough want to save him. More than enough to keep him in this corporeal world.

It wasn't love. If it were, they would not have parted ways time and time again. Granted their separations were never long, and right now they had managed to stay as one for decades, but still, it wasn't that kind of love.

It wasn't the kind of love that landed Reveca in this life she lead in the first place. No, Talon may know her body better than Reveca herself, but he only knew the part of her soul that she chose to let him see. With her first love, it was the opposite. He seemed to read her soul so easily that you'd think it was his; they never had a chance to meet flesh to flesh so the impact of his touch was something that only lived in Reveca's fantasies.

Still. Looking up into Talon's dark eyes, she found ease. A protective comfort. She rose from her knees, then moved past him. She knew if he touched her the well of emotions bubbling inside would surface, and though she trusted Cashton, she wasn't prepared to look weak before him.

Reveca made her way down the hall to the room they shared. She could hear the roaring music from outside. The party was well underway as planned. Her strides led her to the window where she pulled the thick velvet drapes aside. The rain was dying off, birthing a different kind of heat, the kind that sucked.

The title of Beauregard Boneyard was fitting, not because it was full of human bones, but metal ones. Bones of old bikes, cars. It was set up as a legit business establishment.

Six-foot brick walls surrounded the land; there was a fifteen-foot wide iron gate that would lead you to the business side of the property. A massive garage and lounge, from there you could follow the paths anywhere on the property—that is if you were brave enough to move through the maze of old parts that stretched for miles in one direction, or the houses that lingered near the swamp in the opposite.

Sitting just back from the garage, surrounded by lush gardens, was Reveca's home.

It was a massive historic home that reached three stories high with wide wrap around porches. All of those that were in the life lived there and each had an abundance of space to call their own.

The others, the mortals in the club, the prospects, and a few wolves, they stayed in the shotgun swamp houses on the property. It was an empire. One that bridged the living and the dead. One that Reveca ruled.

Below, around the garage, she could see bikes parked, fire pits burning, girls dancing, and beers in each and every hand. Couples intoxicated with lust not caring that there was an audience.

When she heard the door close, felt the weighted presence of Talon enter the room, she let the drape fall closed once more.

"Tell me what happened," he said in a deep gravelly voice.

She turned to face him, saw those dark eyes filled with a mix of concern and anger. The anger wasn't at her, not completely anyways.

For months he'd tried to reach Reveca. He'd felt her slipping away, more so than the last few years. He'd seen it happen too many times to not know what was coming. Losing her again...he wasn't ready for that to happen. But he knew this life was weighing on her. The constant fight for balance was exhausting, but at the same time, the fight was what she lived for.

"Holden."

"What did he do?" Talon asked as he moved forward, every muscle in his broad, strong body flexed. Reveca let her eyes rush across him. In her mind she was hearing words that GranDee had spoken to Reveca in the past, ones that told her Talon was a good man, a strong leader, but not her man. GranDee didn't tell Reveca that to encourage them to separate. No, quite the opposite. GranDee told Reveca that the pair of them needed each other. Such a tangled web we weave.

"He killed her."

"Who? Who is that girl? What the hell is going on, Vec?"

She swallowed the emotions she was fighting, felt her eyes glisten. "GranDee. He killed her, everyone at that house, in cold blood."

The curse that left his breath was expected. Him taking two broad steps toward her and pulling her into the cage of his arms was not. It wasn't often that he paused long enough to weigh emotions. He'd lived too long. He knew they would be there as soon as he acted on what he felt.

Reveca let herself melt into his arms, even let a stray tear emerge.

"Where is he?" Talon asked as evenly as possible.

"In the moss. Bike's in the swamp."

"Did he touch you? Did he try?"

Try was all that Holden could've done. Talon knew that, but he still wanted to know, wanted that information to fuel the damage he was going to do to Holden.

Reveca didn't bother to answer the question as she edged back. "He admitted to working with the lawmen, but I think when I sealed him in the moss I hashed the memories over."

"Fuck his memories. We already know what went down. How the fuck did he even know who she was?" Talon asked with his steady gaze locked on Reveca.

"I don't know," she said glancing away, the exhaustion apparent in her gray eyes which had dimmed. "Were you ticketed tonight?"

"I wasn't but the boys were."

"But they saw you there, right? The lawmen saw you."

"Yeah, they saw me stop Thrash from breaking their face. Who is this girl?"

"I don't know. I've seen GranDee at least once a week for some time now, and I've never seen her. But she had the vial I gave GranDee. She was the one that summoned me there."

"Do what?" he asked as his eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"She's some kind of prodigy of hers, or was." Reveca reached in her back pocket for the cards she'd taken from the table and walked them to the chest on her dresser. "I know it looks like I used magic without reason, but the signs were there," she said as she placed the cards and Holden's gun within the chest and sealed it with a muttered phrase.

"And you're sure those signs were not set up?"

Reveca hesitated as she closed the lid on the chest. No. She wasn't. Internally she cursed herself. Her not taking in energy was the same as a human going without food. The near starvation and emotion of this night could have very well altered the way she saw the signs. If she were to be honest with herself she'd have to admit that.

In the past, they had crossed more than a few twisted souls that had mocked signs, played a part to earn their way back into life, the kind of life Reveca's magic could give them.

Daily the Sons were at war with not only those souls, but the everyday human ones that challenged them for territory among other things. Beyond those two wars, there were constant alliances being built or destroyed within both the living and dead worlds.

"A member of the Cartier family, a dear friend of mine, perished—let the fuck go, the house was burning, crows were present - and aimed me. I made the decision I had to. If she's a turncoat, I'll deal with it. She has to survive the transition first. And if she does she's going to tell me exactly what the hell GranDee had planned for her."

"What color?"

He meant the eyes. The color of the eyes that flashed when the soul first came back into the body usually hinted at what enhancements were set to come.

Some they brought back craved the essence of life. No, not blood, but energy. Shade was one of those. Sometimes they came back with an uncanny animal instinct. Thrash had that curse. Others could shift their appearance. Echo possessed that gift. There were even a few that surfaced as Phoenixes. Some had a mix of all the odd characteristics like Talon. It varied, based on who they were before.

"Gold."

"A fucking shifter? One that obviously knows how to use magic?" Talon nearly bellowed.

The only reason Talon had an issue with those that could shift their appearance was because out of the rogue souls, they were the hardest to find, hardest to stop. Echo had the best luck with that hunt, and that was because he could sense them long before the other Sons.

Before Reveca could defend her actions they both heard a booming voice call out, "Dinner's ready!"

That was not a call to go eat, that was a warning. Any time lawmen made their way to the Boneyard someone would yell out that a meal was ready—which one depended on the time of day—an obvious code that blended well enough to remain obscure.

"What did you do with the bodies?" Talon asked in a low voice as he moved closer to Reveca.

"Fire, nothing is left. There's no way in hell they could have made it there, meddled through that burning debris, and gotten a warrant that fast."

"No way if they were legit, and we both know they're not."

"Go out with the boys," she ordered.

He gave her a lasting stare that clearly said this conversation along with whatever void there was between them was not over, before doing just as she said.

Reveca made a point to peek into the bath, check that Cashton still had that girl taken care of, before she made her way downstairs.

For good show, she made herself a tall glass of ice tea before casually strolling to her front porch. She only vaguely flashed a shocked smile when she saw Detective Blackwater making his way toward her front steps.

Reveca hated him. Hate wasn't even a strong enough word. He was an old, sweaty, crooked, fat, backwoods wannabe-somebody lawman. Of course she'd also hated him decades ago when he was young, fit, and not so sweaty, when he was somewhat charming. But then he killed her, or at least he thought he did, forcing Reveca to reinvent herself once again.

The dumbass thought he was dealing with Maren Beauregard's daughter, the next generation of Beauregards, not one in the same. He was spelled to believe that. Or rather pushed to believe that.

Thames, one of the Sons was known as the "Pusher" to those in the life. On weak-minded humans he could invade their mind and invent memories, ones that they believed to be fact.

Years back Blackwater woke up one morning clearly remembering that he had coldheartedly killed Maren, but he also remembered that she had a daughter, one that looked almost identical to her, one that had been living out of state with her father, one that would no doubt replace Maren.

The thing about Thames's gift was he could also alter perception. So even though Reveca, Talon, all the boys, looked exactly the same year after year, in Backwater's mind, and in the minds of the modern lawmen that tracked this gang, they looked older, more rugged. The kind of alterations that offered enough similarities that they were never questioned.

Of course, if Talon was around when Blackwater shot Reveca he wouldn't be walking up to her porch now, Talon would have slaughtered him. Back then him and Thrash, the club's VP, were setting up other chapters of the Pentacle Sons across the states, in-between their wars with Rogue's.

When Maren's 'daughter' arrived in town she brought her man with her, Talon, and took over—at least that's what Blackwater believed. Idiot.

"The barbeque is that way," Reveca said with a slow southern draw which reeked of elegance that was not openly found at the Beauregard Boneyard.

Blackwater pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow as he glanced to the yard before the garage. Loud music, the smell of good food, beer, and sex permeated the air. There were more bikers than Reveca could count with one glance, and just as many women, each wanting to score some kind of ride tonight. Whether it was flesh or roaring metal between their legs was not their focus. They wanted a rush and either would grant them that.

Reveca's boys, the Sons that were deep in the life, were in that mix, too. More than a few had a girl hanging on them, and a beer in hand, but each of them were focused in some obscure way on Reveca. Judge, one that could see the path of a mortals mind, he was staring deep into Blackwater, but he made it seem so causal as his hand roamed over the girl in his arms, as his blue eyes glinted with a sinful intent.

Talon was the most obvious about where his attention was aimed as he lingered near his bike openly glaring at Blackwater.

"Not here for your shenanigans," Blackwater said as his disgusting stare looked over Reveca nice and slow, pausing at her chest, then hips as he did so. "Official business." He glanced to the yard, met Talon's cold stare. "All your boys accounted for?"

"I'm not their keeper."

Blackwater smirked. "We both know that you are. Spitting image of your momma, that's what you are. Pretty girl in the wrong crowd."

"Just like my mother, I'm exactly where I want to be."

Blackwater propped one foot up on the steps that led to the porch, leaned into the rail, and stared up at Reveca. "This life got her killed, you know that, right?"

The fact that he said it sincerely, that he said it as if he was offering a comforting hand to Reveca made her hate him all the more.

"In every crowd there is a bad egg, obviously she crossed one of those," Reveca said playing into this scene. "Is that why you're here? You've finally found the spineless son of a bitch that killed my mother in cold blood?"

Without missing a beat, Blackwater let a withered look of grief come to him. "The case is still open. I assure you it will remain open and active until the day I die."

It took all she had not to smirk, not to lunge forward and kill this ass. It wasn't the witnesses that stopped her, it was the fact that she liked her revenge cold, well served.

On Blackwater's dying day, she would be there, and she would let him know that the bullet he put between her eyes to cover his own ass years back might as well have been a slap in the face. He'd know that he never killed her, that he had been fooled into thinking that Reveca was someone she wasn't, a grieving daughter. That in fact, with each word he spoke to Reveca he further sealed his fate of a gruesome death.

Blackwater was a testimony to how vile humanity had become.

He climbed one more step. "You know, Reveca, your mother and I were close. We worked together. We kept each other in good company, good business, and out of trouble. You and I could have the same. I'm not the enemy here."

Back then, when Reveca went by Maren in the public eye, she did in some ways work with Blackwater. Not because she needed to but because she was curious, wanted to know how deep the corruption around her went in the living world. It was just as deep as she thought it was.

You see, not every neighborhood around the Pentacle Sons territory had the benefit of lawmen and those that did, well let's just say the lawmen only worked if they were paid twice.

The Sons put a hurt on that double paycheck. The good citizens paid the Sons for protection, not the lawmen. Paid them to protect them from the criminals and the law. To do that though, more than once the Sons had to break a law here and there— well, more often than not that's what it lead to.

Blackwater wanted the Sons to pay him to look the other way, to warn them when they were crossing a line, or even better, warn them when someone was preparing to double cross them.

The Reveca Blackwater knew today hadn't agreed to crawl in bed with the devil, so to speak. No, for years Reveca played dumb when he would drop hints like this, played into that innocent girl that he thought she was.

When he became more forward, more obvious about what he wanted, she outright told him that she didn't trust or need the law in her pocket, not one that couldn't solve one single murder. It was a cat and mouse game. She would throw lines like that at Blackwater, and he'd leave in a rage. Within days one of the Sons would be arrested for something.

That van, which was once again parked off in the brush down the road, was a result of those confrontations.

"I've told you before. This is a garage, a Boneyard of old parts. We ride bikes, throw parties. That's it. I have nothing to tell you, and there is nothing you know that I care to know."

He narrowed his stare. "There was a murder tonight."

"That a fact?"

"That doesn't concern you?"

"Should it? Are you here to tell me one of my friends perished this balmy night? I'm all out of family, so it must be a friend."

He moved his sweaty balding head side to side slowly. "You are far more stubborn than your mother ever was."

"I doubt that."

"I don't know if he was a friend or a foe, but he was a fan of yours."

She offered no response.

"Oddly he died in a neighborhood that the Sons are known to protect."

"Which one would that be?"

"Little ol' house in the thirteenth ward. You see," he said as he wiped his brow, "it's a bona fide mystery as to how he died."

Reveca sipped the glass of tea that was in her hand.

"You're not going to ask me who he was? That right there makes me far too curious about you or the Sons' possible involvement."

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Blackwater. Your police force is well aware of where the Sons were, along with me. If you do not trust your own men, walk out into that crowd and question any of them as to where we have been or what hell we've raised." She jutted her chin up. "As far as the mystery, this is New Orleans. I've heard every tale there is to be told, but if you feel inclined to tell me another, I'll listen, add it to ghost stories that are told around the fire pits."

He let out a shuddering sigh full of anger, hate maybe. "Newberry is the vic's name. It appears the cause of his death is unknown at this time. Don't get me wrong, the coroner is going to have a hay day trying to unravel the how, but as it stands now, every bone in his body is broken, yet his flesh showed no signs of an altercation. His heart stopped instantly, or so they assume. There one minute, a bag of broken bones the next."

"Sounds like a heart attack, not murder."

Blackwater narrowed his eyes. "Maybe so, but hours after his death someone decided they wanted to make sure he was dead. They put a bullet between his eyes." A sick chuckle left him. "Someone intended to kill him, no room for doubt there."

"That's interesting," Reveca said with a bored sigh. "So tell me, how did you link this back to me, my Club?"

"You mean beyond that signature mark?"

"I didn't hear you say anything about a pentacle," Reveca said with a lifted brow.

Not once, ever, had any member of her MC been accused, arrested, or convicted on the grounds of murder. Of course that didn't mean that it never occurred, it just meant that there was no way the lawmen could link that mortal wound to the Sons.

Blackwater moved his head side to side in dismay. "Well then, without a 'signature' mark I suppose what tickles my curious bone is that the man had extensive knowledge of your Club. It seems that things that he found..." Blackwater tilted his head, "curious, always seemed to link to a member of your Club, or at the very least you were in the area."

"Small town," Reveca offered.

"Perhaps. The man was a stark raving lunatic but he had some good points, ones he aimed to share with the upstanding law enforcement in this parish. Of course he died before we could get him to tell us all that he knew."

"I don't know a Newberry. You're welcome to ask anyone if they do. It's a free country."

"You're going to vouch for all these boys? State that they were in your presence this afternoon, earlier this evening?"

"The ones that are present currently, yes. I don't recall anyone leaving the pack after we left for the dicing."

"So you admit to public racing?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, I admit to infractions we have already been cited for tonight. We were asked to go home and we did."

Reveca sensed a surge of energy slide through the air. Her glance moved to the ground just behind Blackwater but she didn't say a word, offer one expression. If she did her outright fury would have made itself known.

"Who left before the dicing?"

"Holden."

"And where is he now?"

"He's a wolf, not mine."

"He's been with you for years."

"He's a grungy old wannabe somebody. He'd be the last person I'd track or care if he left."

"And you've never seen this man before?" Blackwater said as he lifted his phone into her view. There she saw an image of a man that was just as disgusting as Blackwater, and yes she had seen him before.

His death. GranDee's. That was the reason she was no doubt receiving an invitation at this very moment.

The yellow boa constrictor that she had spotted in the yard a second ago, right as that surge of energy came to life, was slithering its way to the porch and had made it to the step that Blackwater was on.

"I haven't," Reveca said just as Blackwater noticed the snake and belted out a curse as he jarred backwards. The snake eased its way up the stairs looped where Reveca was standing ensuring its body brushed up against her boots as it did so.

"You have a permit for that animal?" Blackwater belted.

"It's not mine, wild I suppose. You're free to take him with you," Reveca said as the large snake eased its way down the steps, causing Blackwater to backtrack, even reach for his gun.

Reveca sat her glass down on the rail.

Talon had not let his eyes leave Reveca or their unwanted guest. He'd seen the snake, knew what it meant. He lit his fire, roared his bike to life, and was rumbling in Reveca's direction.

"And just where are you going?" Blackwater asked as he watched the snake vanish into the brush.

"Church. You're welcome to come," Reveca said just as Talon rolled up in front of her.

Carefully she mounted the bike, wrapped her arms around Talon like the lover he was, and they peeled away into the night.
Chapter Three

Reveca had her thighs molded to Talon, her arms were reached around him looping up to cling to his shoulders, her head was laid against his back, and her eyes were closed. The vibration of the bike, the feel of him, it was easing her. It had been one hell of a night, and now its course promised that it was going to get worse.

Her life was by no means boring, but in most cases her dramas, causes for alarm, came one by one. At the very least she sensed them coming long before they arrived. She kept seeing GranDee's body, kept trying to tell herself that it was a nightmare, not a truth she'd witnessed.

It had been a long time since she had felt grief like this. Coming face-to-face with her sister always made her remember the first time she tasted that emotion, made her remember that to this day she wasn't over it.

When she told Blackwater she was going to church, she meant that. There were many churches in her life; her own personal one that was deep within, the meetings the Club had, and the one she was racing toward on the back of a bike.

This church was a mutual meeting ground. A place where different sides of worlds could meet, discuss the issues at hand. It was meant to be safe, meaning no physical or spiritual harm could be inflicted. For the most part it was, but words, memories—they were more dangerous than any weapon in existences.

Talon slowed the bike as they approached the small white church. The lights within gleamed in the darkness. You could hear the sound of a powerful choir, praising the name of their God.

She moved off the bike and had made solid strides to the steps of the church when she felt Talon's arm move around her. She looked up in question, but all he did was nod to the shadows as he pulled her there.

He leaned her against the base of a tree as the moss that was dangling from above grew longer, creating a canopy of privacy.

She lifted her eyes to his, saw the dark pools reverently searching hers. Carefully, with a shaky hand, she reached for his jaw, to the dark stubble there. Talon was a beautiful man, carried every element a lover could ever want. When he wanted to be, he was funny, he was strong, and his temper was always directed appropriately. He had the body of a God. He cared. He cared about his Club, and he cared about Reveca.

"I don't know what's going on, but you can't face her without us."

"I told you. GranDee was murdered by a wolf that we have broken bread with. Blackwater just told me there was another murder tonight...it was the man my sister had issues with before. The lawmen are going to try and connect us to that. I'm sure that's why she summoned me."

"That's not what I meant," he said as his hands moved around her waist, as the heat of his body loomed against hers. "I don't know what's going on right here."

Living in one existence for as long as Reveca had would afford anyone the right to slip into bleakness, some kind of bored depression. She had been edging toward one of those for a while.

It was the reason she was half starved this night.

Energy is power. Energy is food. Energy is found, manifested, as well as depleted, within the soul.

There are many ways to manifest energy, to elevate your power, but the fastest way, the most common way, is connecting with another source. Another person. Sex.

Sex is raw energy. It allows your body to be as close to another soul as possible.

Your everyday hook-up sex will do nothing more than give you a fading high, take the edge off. Sometimes that's all people need or want. But sex between two powerful souls that gave a damn about the other, that was supremacy, that was a high that lasted, that endured.

It took more than lust, almost more than passion to reach that bank of energy. It took emotion.

There had always been passion between Talon and Reveca; hot, smoldering, steals your breath, beg for more passion. But that was as far as it went. Outside of that they were best friends, partners. They led a Club together, they led wars together.

A while back, for no reason, late one night she felt a wave of pain and grief come over her. It was like a tidal wave. That sensation was so powerful that she knew it came from a source that was close. She frantically found Talon assuring herself he was fine, then one by one she found each of the Sons. She even ventured out to GranDee's ensuing her safety. Nothing. Absolutely no reason for her to feel like her soul had just ripped in two.

She thought for days about that emotion she felt. Each thought took her back to her beginning in the role she was in, took her back to that battlefield where she lost it all, where she lost him.

After that, each time Talon's hands rushed across her she saw that lost love's eyes in her mind. She felt his lips. Which made her feel like a turncoat. Made her feel unworthy to be with Talon. For she knew if he ever dared to imagine another woman as he was touching her that she would kill him.

So she stopped. The moments between them changed. Instead of disappearing for an entire night, maybe days, their encounters turned into quick brushes of lust. That notion was fun for a while, acting like Shade, disappearing into a closet for a wild ride. It reminded them of their beginning when they couldn't keep their hands off each other, but the rush faded.

Since then...it had been a silent fight where he didn't know how to ask what was wrong and she didn't know how to tell him she wasn't over something that happened far too long ago.

She felt his hands slowly move around her waist, slide down her ass, finding the flesh at the base of her cut off shorts, she felt the heat of his hand sliding up teasing the core of her body that clearly welcomed the invasion of his touch.

"You've had a hell of a night. Used more power than you have in a long time...and you still haven't come to me." His voice was low, deep, and seductive as his fingertips glided along the heat of her, as short breaths began to leave Reveca.

She let a smile edge across her lips. "I don't recall having the chance."

His hands started to move in slow circles against that tiny tight ball of nerves, the ones that sent erotic sensations through her entire body - that electrified her. "The girl I knew years ago would have told Blackwater to wait a damn minute." A sexy little smirk met his lips when he saw how hooded her eyes became, when he felt how slick the heat of her was just then. "The girl I knew a century ago might have let him watch."

She slapped his chest and nearly grinned because that was an outright lie and he knew it. Talon enjoyed doing this, having a civil conversation with her as he unwound her body, and nearly drove her mad. He liked to show her how in control he was, how commanding his touch was, he loved to prove to Reveca she was powerless when he got her right where he wanted her.

That sensual smirk of his was damn near irresistible. "Maybe not watch, but she sure as hell would not have cared if someone heard her cry out." He said as his fingers slipped within, as she arched her chest toward him.

Her hand on his chest slid up. "I don't know what's wrong with me right now." She said on a heated breath, gliding her body with his touch.

He bit his lip as he ducked his head and let the tip of his nose glide up her neck. "Last time we said no more breaks."

They did. Each time they parted ways in the past they stayed friends, well, after the first bit of silence they did, that friendship always turned into passion. They said if that urge to leave ever came again then they would know they were meant to be friends and only such.

"I don't want a break," she breathed, and meant that. She couldn't handle the sight of him with another woman, even the idea of it. He'd been hers for too long.

"What do you want?" he whispered as he pressed his body against hers showing her exactly what he wanted, as his fingers bore deeper within.

She gasped looked down, let her forehead meet his chest. "I want you to tell me this is a bad dream. Tell me she's still here."

Talon squinted his eyes closed feeling her pain, knowing as ready as her body was her mind was not letting go right now. Slowly he let his hands rise then ease through her hair, cradling her head against him. His woman was lost and he had no idea how to find her. No idea where she went when she stared into empty space more and more each day. He wanted to defend her, he wanted something to fight, something he could destroy, but he couldn't fight her own mind, couldn't understand all that she witnessed before they found each other, that place that refused to let her go.

"I can't do that, baby," he said as he lifted her head so his eyes would meet hers. "But I will not let you face your sister without power."

Before she could whisper a protest, his lips were on hers. At first it was a slow kiss ripe with command, melding their lips, but the second she felt his energy, felt him pouring all that he was into that kiss, her embrace became hungry.

She reached her arms up around his shoulders and pulled him to her, rocked her body against him. In his hands, no matter where they went, she felt a hum behind them, felt his focused energy absorbing into her.

Her head flew back as his lips eased down her neck. The grief was still present, the hell of this night was, but she felt the flood of energy moving back into her.

Right as she pushed his kut to the edge of his shoulders, slid her hands down his chest searching for his belt, he pulled his kiss away. "Better?" he breathed against her face.

"Much."

"Then deal with her and let me take you home."

She lifted one brow. "Tease."

He reached back for her thighs, that flesh just before the end of her cut-off jean shorts, then tilted his head. "I always finish what I start. You know that. And if anyone is a tease between the pair of us, it's this ass."

"My ass," she repeated with a playful glare.

"Yes. Every day all day it walks right by me," he said as his hands squeezed her flesh. "It taunts me."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"You've said that before."

"I've been right before."

"You've been wrong more," he said as he leaned down and stole the protest right off her lips as he pulled them between his. He squeezed the flesh of her thighs once more as he pulled away. "Go see what fucking hell ol' sis has gotten us into."

Reveca let out a breath then moved out of his arms and made her way toward the soulful sound of the choir that had been rejoicing right along with her body as Talon made her remember why they had been side by side for so long.

Not a soul turned to look at her as she entered. Their hands were in the air, most had their eyes closed. Their bodies were dressed in their Sunday best and drenched in the summer heat, in the passion they had for where their minds were.

Reveca stared forward at the choir, at one specific member. Thelma Ray. GranDee's younger sister. The resemblance was remarkable and excruciatingly painful for Reveca at that moment.

Thelma Ray kept her song as she stared down Reveca, but her eyes, they said she knew, they said she felt the loss.

Reverend Bradshaw said if you felt called, to walk forward. And Reveca did, looking shamefully out of place in that charming little building. The choir divided giving way to those that had stood to come to the stage.

Once those with Reveca reached the stage they knelt—that was when the crowd went wild, when the choir rejoiced and encircled those kneeling. That was when the step Reveca was kneeling on opened, when she moved her body past the trapdoor that was there, and sealed it behind her.

This was how each and every meeting with her sister was masked. The believers above created a dome of energy that no dark force could break through, the crowd hid Reveca's true purpose here from the modern lawmen. And quite honestly, knowing Thelma Ray was above kept Reveca and Saige both alive. The woman was just like GranDee, had no issues putting 'little white witch girls' in their place when they began to 'act a fool.'

Saige was Reveca's twin sister. When they were younger, it was the tint of their hair and the shape of their eyes, maybe even the lips, that made it somewhat easy for family to tell them apart. Now, well, now it wasn't hard at all.

Long ago, Saige weaved a spell that added twenty-five years to her immortal appearance. At the time Reveca called it well deserved karma. To her it didn't matter that Saige knew that would happen when she cast that spell, it didn't matter that Saige did it to help bring a newborn child into this world. Not at all.

Reveca still harbored ill will for not only Saige, but also Jamison BellaRose, the man that publicly claimed to be Saige's brother, a man that was there when Reveca was cast into the prison of the Edge.

It didn't matter how many times Saige told her that it wasn't a prison that it was a creation that Reveca had made. No matter how many times Saige told her what happened had to happen, Reveca was still utterly pissed.

When Reveca reached the bottom of the wood stairs, across the way in dull light, she saw her sister. Saige may have looked the better part of fifty but she was still ravishing, still carried a degree of class in everything she did, even when she was blessing someone out, cursing them to their end—she still had class.

Reveca was the black sheep. She was the one who questioned everything. The one tormented by impatience. The one that acted with heart before reason. She was everything that Saige wasn't.

In all truth, if it were up to Reveca she'd never see the likes of her sister again, but family is family. They're the ones that give you some kind of balance. Even if that balance is laced with hate.

In the beginning, when her life fell apart, Reveca did find herself in a prison, that thin line between death and life. She did see souls cross it. She never believed Saige or Jamison when they told her she created it, but she accepted their help when they weaved spells that allowed her to reside with the living or the dead as much as she wanted.

Years later, they gave her the herbs she needed to sustain Talon in the same manner. From that point, Reveca figured her own way of allowing people to stay. She no longer had to go to her sister or Jamison when she wanted to give a soul that choice.

Her issue? No matter how powerful Reveca became, no matter how many she brought back, she could not figure out how to sustain Talon without the herbs and spells that Saige and Jamison gave her.

Every two hundred years Reveca had to cast another spell of immortality for him, had to use the herbs that Saige gave her, their energy.

Basically, Reveca had no choice but to listen to her sister, barter with her when she asked. If she didn't, she feared her sister would punish her by taking Talon. Of course, Talon had no clue about this constant ticking clock above his head. That was Reveca's secret; one of many.

Saige did practice white magic, did fear Karma far more than Reveca ever had, but that didn't mean that Reveca didn't believe that Saige was capable of hurting her by denying Talon's next stay.

Saige was quietly pacing the wooden floor, dressed in designer jeans, an elegant top, fine jewelry. Her white hair was pulled into a conservative twist.

"Sister," she said as she looked over Reveca, the way she was dressed. "I do apologize if I have interrupted any engagements you had this night."

"Interrupted," Reveca said with a sly grin. "You mean you didn't mean to frame my Club for murder. You didn't mean to interrupt my grieving process."

Saige's lips pressed together in a fine line. Everyone has their allies and GranDee was one of Reveca's, not Saige's. Saige had no respect for anyone that toyed with what she called 'dark arts.' At the same time she honored family ties. GranDee's family, they were all a part of the Dominarum Coven, the one Jamison BellaRose led, the one in which Saige and Reveca's bloodline began so long ago. Therefore, she would have some remorse for GranDee's loss.

"No doubt a great power was lost this night," Saige offered. "However, I did not frame you for Newberry's demise. That was the result of juvenile actions committed by one of your mutations."

Mutations. That was the second time tonight Reveca had heard that word. First Holden said his source had said such things and now this. Of course, it was nothing new for Saige to call Reveca's less than admirable transitions such things.

In the beginning, when Reveca found a way to offer an enhanced life to others, she was reckless. She admitted that. She'd allowed more than a few unworthy souls back into this world. Those twisted souls misused their power, some even used humans as prey. Others even managed to figure out how to pass their gifts on. Basically a new evolution was born.

Reveca and the Sons, they were policing those that had misused their second coming, the Rogue's. One by one they delivered them into the depths of real death.

"Man created mutations," Reveca said, words she'd said more than once.

You see, for all of time man had told stories about things that go bump in the night—vampires, lycans, shifters, phoenixes, seers, the list is endless. Each story was exaggerated. Yes, there were souls that had extraordinary elements to them, but they were very human.

When you die, thoughts, beliefs you had as a living soul, coupled with something deep inside, some unique connection to nature as a whole, become a recipe for what will you become if you're brought back.

Saige accused Reveca of birthing monsters; Reveca didn't see it that way. Even if it were true, even if the souls she brought back progressed into the monsters that old tales predicted, that would not occur for generations to come. Right now those souls were just aware of powers within, powers that anyone could argue are within all of us.

"Perhaps, but the witch that brought them back knew that was a risk and did so anyway."

"Saige, this conversation is dated."

"That it is," Saige said as she lifted her chin.

"You told me this man that was murdered was dealt with years ago. Clearly your humane ways of dealing with assholes are full of just as many faults as mine, and now I have your mess to clean up. Blackwater has already surfaced asking questions."

"It's not going to be easy, sister. The man had followers, a host of others that believed his ramblings. He has names, locations, roles we play."

"Had. Apparently he was murdered in a neighborhood that is connected to my Club."

"The coven is in just as much danger of being accused by modern lawman as your Club. It is well known that we did not get along with the deceased."

"So you want me to pity you?" Reveca said with an arrogant smirk.

"No. I'm here to tell you this is the beginning."

"Thanks for the heads up, sis," Reveca said with a leer as she turned.

"This conversation is not over," Saige said.

Reveca let out a pissed gasp as she looked over her shoulder at Saige.

Saige looked over her carefully before she spoke. "What's done is done. Newberry's twisted soul is lingering in your Edge."

"Trust me, he's not coming back," Reveca said with a lifted brow.

"I want you to push him forward."

Most souls, ones that die without warning, usually violently, linger on the Edge for a while, long enough for them to figure out they're dead. Then, if not claimed by the light or the dark abyss of the Unclaimed, they're moved through the Veil. Pushing them through beforehand, well, that's just cruel. Infinite insanity is the best they could hope for.

"This man really pissed you off didn't he?"

Saige left that question to hang in the air and went on. "I want you to take him to Crass, barter for another soul in exchange. One Crass refers to as King. We need Crass to give him a stay. He's not to be altered or touched. He shall reside with you and your Club until further notice."

Crass was a Lord of death. Lords of death vary in their tact, their roles. Crass was one of the ugliest of his kind. Reveca had only dealt with him once or twice before, but her skin still crawled just thinking about it.

"This would make the second soul you have asked me to bring out of the grip of death, sister."

"Allowing Cashton into the living world has not hurt you. I would even imagine that his presence has added to your excellent bartering skills."

That was true. Cashton not only had knowledge, he was also able to bring herbs with him from the land of the dead, ones that helped Reveca weave her darker spells, the ones she had to weave to take down her Rogue's.

"And what does having him here do for you exactly?"

"I've told you."

"All you told me was the same bullshit that you have said from the beginning."

Rapture. That's what Saige called it. The excuse she used every single time she did something that hurt Reveca, hurt herself.

In Saige's mind there were Gods that were sleeping, and there were Gods that were corrupt. She also believed that new Gods had been selected, that they were rising, and when they did, Rapture would occur.

Reveca called bullshit on that the first time and every time she heard it. Of course the first time she heard it was right as she had used her magic to bring back her first love, to sustain his life, right as Saige's lover stripped that magic from Reveca and killed her lover once more, right as Reveca's would be prison of the Edge was born.

Back then Lorecan, Saige's lover, told Reveca she was premature. In his all-knowing way he told Reveca that in order for her to hold her lover for all of eternity she had to let him go that dawn. That if she didn't she would destroy the Rapture that was due to come. Reveca fought them all that day, and lost. The life she had now began then.

"I can't even remember the last time I dared to believe your promises." Reveca had to pause so emotion would not be present in her tone. "You destroyed my happiness."

"We have all sacrificed."

"We? Oh you mean the fact that Lorecan left you? That the child he gave you was taken? I call that karma, not a sacrifice."

Saige flushed with anger. "I will have them both again just as you will fulfill your fate and have your happiness."

"My fate? What is my fate exactly? To do your dirty deeds so that when I need your spells you will sustain Talon once again, allow me that one comfort in this existence? Tell me sister, why did you make me let him go, only years later to allow me to raise Talon? One that you and all of the Dominarum Coven, including GranDee, told me was not made of my soul. What did I do to deserve this?"

"If you don't know your fate I surely can't tell you." Saige stepped forward. "When you have a choice sister, that is when you know what you really want. Very soon, you will have a choice."

Soon. That word meant nothing to Reveca. Soon was a tomorrow that never came, a promise that was said to her a million times over.

Reveca stepped forward, the emotions of her night catching up with her. "I can't remember what he looks like, sister. You robbed me. Every wrong deed I have ever done, every soul I have brought back, my mutations...you caused that. I'm not shifting the blame. It's cause and effect. You placed me here, and I had no choice but to build a life." Reveca lifted her chin. "There's no fucking Rapture to be had."

Saige gave no expression during Reveca's rant. She'd heard it before. "I told you then, the bliss that awaits you will outweigh the pain."

"Bull. Shit."

"Reveca, you know there is truth in my words. I asked you to bring this soul out of death for a reason."

"But you will not tell me the reason, and whomever they are, they will not know either, because you only know how to work behind the curtain. You only know how to manipulate."

"This soul, if destroyed, as Crass surely will do to him, the emotion of exaltation will be as well. You know what that means, sister."

She did. All spells needed that emotion, that rush. To hear her sister talk you would think that she was asking Reveca to barter to bring a God back to life.

"Saige, you have lost your damn mind. You and your sleeping Gods."

"Crass is aware of the deal we want to make. This soul you are bringing him is one that attempted to capture Crass long ago. He's very eager to have him in his care, enough to consider a trade. Make this barter, Reveca, before the next moon sets. Or everything you have will crumble before your eyes." And with that Saige vanished.

"Bitch," Reveca breathed.
Chapter Four

The slow walk out of that church, the drive home, the hours that Reveca and Talon spent alone mulling over this hell was all a blur to her. Reveca was tired. Sick and tired of this game of life.

Right now, the Club had a turncoat imprisoned, a looming murder investigation, and a barter that had to be made. And apparently, as a whole, the Club had let one of the Rogues slip through their fingers, take a human life. Even though it was a worthless life, that karma was on Reveca.

Reveca told Talon that the barter had to be made in order for them to stop the Rogues. That very well could be true if Reveca dared to trust her sister's words. The undeniable truth was that if Reveca didn't complete this barter, in just over a hundred years Talon would be at risk. That sounds like a lifetime, but it's not to those who have immortality. It's far too short.

Church. That is what was needed now. They had to plan.

Reveca was the last to walk into the room. The other Sons that were in the life were already assembled. The table was shaped like a pentacle with a snake wrapped around its edges. Talon sat at the head of the snake. His chair was made of the iron wings of a crow. Thrash was at his side, the Club's VP. The others that were present in New Orleans now, Echo, Shade, Judge, Thames, Knight, Steele, and Cashton were all seated as well.

Reveca never sat at these meetings. She paced. She loomed in the background, and when she spoke she meant every word she said.

"The murder is easy. We frame Holden for it," Thames said as he leaned back in his chair and reached to scratch his short dark beard. His hazel eyes were glowing just then. No doubt he was thinking of exactly how he could push thoughts in to Holden's mind, make him confess to this crime.

That was an easy out for Holden that Reveca didn't want to give him. Going to jail would be a paradise compared to what she wanted him to endure. She was willing to wait for her turn, though, had no choice really. The lawmen would still look into the Club because Holden had been with them for so long, but if they had a confession they could only go so far with that hunt.

"GranDee's family reported the house fire. It's all over the news. Investigators are on the site. It's going to be days before we can get to the passage that leads into the Edge, much less the Veil," Echo said evenly.

Though Reveca ruled the Edge, she needed power to manifest in corporeal form there, power that she was inadvertently fasting from. Besides, none of the Sons liked for her to go there alone. The gate was a way for them all to appear as a unified team. Flesh was an envied armor among the dead.

GranDee's home, her land, it was rich with generations of practicing spiritual souls. Some even say the ground bleeds. On that land, and the waters around it, there was the gate that Reveca, along with the others used to reach the Edge, at times the Veil.

In truth, they could reach either of those places with deep mediation, like Reveca did when she brought that girl back, but to barter—to come face to face with a Lord of death, you wanted to be in corporeal form. For good reason, a Lord of death could steal your soul with a thought, but if it was within a vessel, he could not touch you, not unless you allowed him to. Corporeal form was their only way to go.

"Who is that girl?" Shade asked so quietly that his voice barely registered.

"We don't know," Talon said in the deep authoritative tone he was known to have. "All signs during the chaos of GranDee's death stated that she wanted that girl to live. If we find that to be false, we'll destroy her."

Shade's head jerked in Talon's direction in clear protest, but he never said a word.

Talon leaned forward in his chair. "We've unearthed something here. In the past our paranormal and non-paranormal wars were held separately. Now we discover this man that was murdered had managed to persuade lawmen that we were dealing drugs that caused mutations. Or so Holden said. We know that Newberry was toying with powers that he had no business touching. Our wars are merging it would seem."

That was unnerving for several reasons. One of the Sons' less than lawful acts was dealing scripts. No, they didn't sell pills so people could catch a high or enhance their boring lives. They dealt drugs people needed to live, ones that people could not afford but needed. So far they had yet to face charges, or even be linked to that act, but this right here—that could open up a whole new hell. The lawmen were so desperate that they would listen to some half crazed man that told them the Club was dealing some drug that was causing people to be enhanced, more powerful, paranormal.

Saige said that Newberry had tried to summons or trap Crass before, which meant he had a book of shadows in his care. It also meant he had the knowledge to summon Rogues—far less powerful souls—to him as well. All the Club could assume was one of the souls that Newberry summoned killed him. More than likely used their energy like a vice until every bone shattered.

"Their source died, though," Thames said.

"I was told he had followers," Reveca said as she paced behind Talon. "With the knowledge they have there is no telling what they can do. There is no doubt their aim is to gain power."

"And any fool can Google some wacked out spell," Thames said to push his point. "Surely his followers, if he does have them, would realize that they were playing with fire."

"Or be encouraged by that," Shade said.

"We don't have time for this," Reveca said coming to a stop behind Talon. "This barter has to be made before the next moon sets. The aftershock of any mess this murder has caused, his followers, we'll deal with them as they come." Her stare moved to Cashton. "Have you heard of a soul called King? Do you know why Crass has him in the first place?"

Cashton leaned back in his chair, stared forward for a moment, the blue flames in his eyes nearly glowing in the dim room. "Crass is a nasty Lord. His taste in souls runs to the lowest of the low, the ones that have no tact, gross even. The pure scum. If he has this soul, he sees value within the bloke, but at the same time he's loyal to no one. As far as I can remember, I've never heard of a King. That might help or hinder us. It could mean he hasn't been there long, but it could also mean he's a secret worth keeping, if you know what I mean."

Reveca was betting it was the latter; otherwise her sister wouldn't have interest in him. It was shocking in and of itself that Saige had any clue as to what Crass had in his possession. She made it a point not to get her hands dirty and this Lord was the definition of filth.

"Who the hell are we bringing back?" Shade said lifting his brow over his glasses. "His ass is not bunking with me."

"King is all I know," Reveca admitted. "He's not to be altered, but harbored here. He will be seen as human to the living along the grounds of the Boneyard."

"Will he return as I do?" Cashton asked.

Reveca looked down. This entire deal infuriated her. She liked Cashton. She believed him when he said that he'd never died, that he was imprisoned. This King guy, she didn't know anything about him beyond that he was owned by a disgusting Lord. If anyone deserved this deal King was getting, it was Cashton. That much Reveca was sure of.

Cashton cleared his throat. "Well, I can tell you that Crass now resides against the Veil. Some call him the gate keeper. I don't know how all of you are going to get that deep in corporeal form. If you want to add weight to the barter, bring smokes and liquor. He can't consume it but he loves to try."

"They're not," Reveca said.

Talon looked up at her in question. "The Veil and the Edge meet. I'm the Edge. I can go, Cashton can go, the rest of you, you're going to have to cover us."

"You're not facing this asshole alone," Talon bit out.

"Cashton will be there."

Cashton gave one nod. One thing that boy lacked was fear. Reveca had always wondered if that lacking emotion landed him in the hell he was in now.

"We ride out," Reveca said. "This Club, every chapter near here, we ride to GranDee's. We circle the home, have a vigil of sorts. In that chaos, I'll go through the passage," she nodded to Thames. "You will set Holden up for his confession. You'll have him walk right up to the investigators on the scene and turn himself in." She glanced at Echo. "Right now, you're going to change your image, go the police station. Tell them you witnessed Holden leaving that man's house, tell them you heard the fight beforehand."

The room was still. They may have found a fast fix for the problems at hand, but not knowing who they were bringing back, not knowing what hell this human had caused, that was weighing on them all.

"When the sun sets, we ride out," Talon said adjourning the meeting.

Reveca locked eyes with Cashton as he stood to leave. She had a million questions for him, but before she could ask him to stay, Talon pulled her onto his lap, told Echo to close the door as they left.

"You trust your sister?" Talon asked in a whisper.

"No."

Talon slowly moved his hand up her thigh. "What are you not telling me? Why did you agree to this?"

Reveca couldn't lie to him, feared the karma behind that, so instead she let her eyes fill with hunger, leaned forward and brushed her lips along his cheekbone. "Maybe I was in a hurry to get home."

"That a fact," he said with a sinful smile as he pulled her lips to his.

The very next second Reveca found herself laying across the table, Talon above her, a sexy little smile dangling on his lips. "You're trying to distract me."

Reveca slid her hands down his shoulders, his chest, found his belt. "Is it working?"

Apparently it was. His lips molded to hers, his hands were ravenous, energy was coursing between the pair of them as raw passion was rebirthed. Her mind, her heart, it wasn't there, but her body was, and it was inhaling all the energy he was giving her.

***

Twice before they mounted their bikes she tried to speak with Cashton but someone was always looming too close.

"You ready to say goodbye?" Talon asked just before she climbed on the back of his bike.

"I'm never ready to say goodbye to anyone." And that was the truth.

Talon leaned up, let his lips brush across hers. "We'll make it all right. Holden's going to get his. He'll take this rap, then when he least expects it, you'll have your revenge."

Reveca nodded once as she climbed on behind him.

The site of that many bikes, being tailed by one large van, moving at a slow crawl down the highway was humbling. The kind of scene that filled you with pride, loyalty, and authority.

Even though Reveca was preparing for the barter, she let her thoughts linger with GranDee, her memory, wondered what she would think of this display. What she would think of Reveca bending to her sister's will once more.

On the scene there were investigators. More came after the Sons arrived. They had an excuse to linger near now—too many possible outlaws in one place.

Bikes layered thirty deep circled the rubble that was left. The choir that was at the church the night before, they were there too, praising. Reverend Bradshaw, he was there, preaching. Those from the coven that Reveca's sister was a part of were present and accounted for. There were a thousand people on one patch of land that was surrounded by swamp. The perfect cover.

Reveca never even bothered to look in the direction of the tree where she had stored Holden. She sensed Thames and Judge moving in that direction. Judge was going to try and see if he could salvage any details from his memories, but Reveca knew it was a lost cause.

Echo had done his part with this set up earlier that day. All of that was the easy part.

This right here, wasn't.

Reveca squeezed Talon's hand once, then started to make her way through the crowd. She was deep in her mind, focusing on her Edge. She knew exactly where Newberry's soul was, had others holding him for her, waiting for her to arrive.

As she reached the choir she felt their hands fall over her, heard the wail of cries mourning the loss of GranDee and those that fell with her.

They had made a path for her, one that concealed the passage she needed. No one could see Cashton at her side, but she felt him there, felt his hand on the small of her back as they walked.

This passage was nothing more than a wave of energy, a sliver of light that most could not see. Reveca and Cashton both let that wave of energy pass over them and had taken steps within before Reveca spoke.

The Edge, like the Veil, for the most part looks like reality. That's why it takes souls so long to discover they're dead. It's easier for them to believe they're insane when they see the differences, when the impossible seems possible.

The swamp, that was the path they had to take to get to Crass.

By the bank, a few of her followers were there. They handed her a black box, wrapped in leaves. This was the murdered man. They had trapped him, condensed him. Reveca knew his day was only going to get worse from this point. Served him right for meddling with lives and arts he had no business knowing about.

Once on board the boat, Cashton began to row.

"When you leave the compound, on your ten day spread with the living, do you see my sister?"

"I haven't had the pleasure of a conference," Cashton said as he gave Reveca a lazy wink.

"Why did she want you out, Cashton?"

"I've told you before, I don't know."

"Why did you want out?"

He glanced down. They'd had this conversation as well.

"A girl," Reveca said. "You go through this hell of transition from one realm to another for a girl."

"The girl."

"The girl that is also the reason that you landed in death by mere accident."

One nod.

"And do you see this girl when you leave the compound?"

"I have before."

"So, I bartered you a way out of the death for brief stays, for a girl, and you may or may not meet her for a cup of coffee."

"It's complicated."

"How so?"

He bit his lip before he spoke. "She's healing from hells she's lived through."

There was jealously in his words. To most it would be hard to recognize, but jealousy was a language Reveca spoke well. She was downright possessive of what belonged to her.

"You love her and she has no idea what you've done to be with her."

Cashton shrugged. "I'm no angel, Reveca. I knew she was there, that she would be mine one day. I still let my mind and flesh wander. This pain is my karma, a due I have to pay to get what I should've never lost sight of."

Reveca felt her gut twist. The story was too close to hers.

"It's the nature of the soul to find comfort. If your absence from her was great, you did nothing wrong but seek that comfort."

"You would fare well with Talon being with another. In your breaks did that sit well with you?"

Fury came to Reveca then. "No."

Cashton let the oars settle. "You now see what I'm against. Talon is not made of you, yet your jealousy is present."

A murderous stare came to her. "You said you haven't met my sister."

"I haven't."

"Then why did you assume what you just said?"

Cashton let an audacious smirk come to him just as he leaned forward. He spoke low, evenly. "When souls with as much power as yours find their mate, there is no limit to their power. If anything, it grows too great too fast. You don't linger with the living, play with ordinary magic for the fun of it. You do so because you are limited." Cashton lifted his chin. "And you don't glow with Talon's touch."

"Do what?"

"Glow," Cashton said as he reached his fingertips reached for her arm. "When your soul recognizes its counterpart, the soul gleams, your auras connect. My dear queen of the Edge, you are far too regulated and dim to have found your mate."

"This is obvious to you?" Reveca said with a lifted brow wondering if this weakness was as openly displayed as she feared.

"To me yes, but my heritage demands that I recognize that aspect. I have my doubts anyone else, including Talon, is aware."

Reveca looked away, knowing that was not true. Talon felt this gap in her. Felt her grieve for something she should have let go long ago.

The night became silent, the water still, the stench barely breathable.

"So are we just crashing this party or what?" Cashton asked.

"Saige set it up. He knows we're coming, what we want, what we have."

At the dock, men in long black shrouds were waiting with lanterns.

Cashton ensured that at all times he had one hand on Reveca. It was a claim among these men. It didn't mean that she was Cashton's, it meant that Cashton was charged with ensuring her safety, and would reverently—and if needed, violently—do so.

The dock led to a jagged path, and then deep into a cave. Reveca kept an utterly bored look on her face, but she was disgusted. The Lords could manifest anything they wanted, they could live in massive palaces if they wished, and this one lived in a hole. That was proof that he wasn't going to be easy to trade with.

At the very least Crass decided to mock a throne, one made of red rocks. He himself was wrapped in a shroud of black. His head was bald, with a tattoo that started at his brow and reached the back of his neck, some odd pattern. He was heavy, and he smelled like sour milk. The entire room did.

"Well, well, well," Crass said as he leaned back. "When I heard you were coming I thought to myself I must be trapped in some erotic fantasy of mine."

"Always so flattering," Reveca said as kindly as she could manage. Being discreet as possible she glanced around the room, finding nothing but sodden gross souls just like Crass.

"You're looking for my inventory."

"I am."

"Someone specific I assume."

"You know who I want."

He chuckled. "And what shall you give me for this specific soul."

Reveca raised the box in her hand, watched as Crass inhaled. A soul as twisted and selfish as this was a five-course meal to him, a treasure. One that had crossed him in their breathing days, well, that would have been impossible for him to resist. That didn't mean he wasn't going to toy with Reveca, though, and she knew that.

"And just where did you find this treasure."

"Fell at my doorstep."

He laughed, a big bellowing laugh. "You. I like you." He nodded to the man at his side. "Bring them in." Crass leaned forward on his knees and gave Cashton a once over before his attention went back to Reveca. "You want King."

"Clearly. Is he your best? I didn't bring you a small trade. The barter must be even."

Crass smirked showing his yellow teeth. "All the ladies seem to think so."

"Well then it should be a relief for me to take him from you. I doubt you want another distracting your females."

"Not really. I just made the others look like him. It stopped the squabbling." He stared for a long moment. "Why do you want this false king?"

"A king?" Reveca said with a lifted brow. She was ready to murder her sister. She sent her to this Lord with a sleaze of a soul expecting him to trade for whom was assumed to be a false king.

If by some miracle Reveca pulled this off, she would have this King's enemies to contend with as well.

She recovered well from being caught off guard. "Perhaps we do need to barter for more than one soul. A false king is a nightmare to be had."

Crass's eyes gleamed. "Well played. You see, you are not the first that has come for him. Won't be the last. But you're different."

"How so?"

"You roam the living and the dead. You rule the Edge. You can bring more than one soul to me."

"Can. But won't." She nodded to Cashton. He dropped the duffle bag he had in his hand. All the smokes and liquor inside of it could clearly be seen. "I can bring you this, though."

Crass moved his head side to side. "You are a sly one, tempting my vices." He hesitated as if he were in great thought. "I'll make you the same deal as the others. You take the one you pick. If you pick him, you win. That is of course if you agree to see me more often."

"Bring you more souls," Reveca said as she narrowed her stare.

"Well, if I had new souls to enjoy the company of, I might forget to tell others that I no longer have King. I might forget to take the illusion of his appearance away from my men...I would imagine that would make your life easier on the top side."

"Who is hunting him?"

"Everyone. He's a vile son of a bitch. Fits in perfectly here."

"How long has he been here?"

"Not long enough. Not sure I want him to part just yet. He can be rather entertaining."

No doubt he was. If this King person had been there less than a century he was stark raving mad. He would have no memory of his life. Not the good memories anyway. Basically he was sitting in judgment. His mind was amplifying each and every deed he did. In this environment, Reveca doubted he was finding peace with anything he discovered.

Right then a line of men began to walk in—not men, walking Gods. Each stood at least six foot four, broad shouldered, dark hair. And the eyes, the eyes were indescribable. So blue they were nearly clear, and they were wrapped in long thick lashes.

Those eyes. Reveca felt the wind knocked out of her. Couldn't be, she thought to herself. But memories from long ago started to emerge. The eyes, that was what she never forgot. That and the memory of his kiss, the feel of his soul.

Reveca looked from soul to soul, all with the same image, all the while feeling a whirlwind of emotion erupting inside. She was a scared twenty-year-old girl all over again.

She felt Cashton's stare on her. That helped. It made her realize that she had to stay calm, uncaring.

He leaned into her. "Conceal your energy. Don't touch any of them."

Reveca looked up in question. Cashton was well versed in the knowledge of all the tricks the Lords of death were known for. "Focus on the eyes."

The eyes were what was making her crumble, but she surely couldn't tell him that.

Each and every one of the souls were lined up along the wall. With a nod from Crass their shrouds were taken off. Bare chested, in nothing more than ragged pants, they all stood. Every ridged muscle taut, glistening with sweat, scuffs of dirt here and there. It took all she had to breathe, to not lick her lips in some inappropriate display of seductive want.

She managed to show no expression. Each one was looking her way, standing obediently still.

"Which one, my dear?" Crass said as he leaned to the side of his throne and brought his fist to his chin.

Reveca slowly moved to the line, began at one end and paced. She felt a pull on her, one that she hadn't felt in forever, one that was so blissful that it nearly hurt. He was the third one. She had no doubt, but she kept walking, looking each up and down, even pausing at a few, letting her nails run down their chest.

"Enjoying yourself?" Crass asked.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."

Crass stood from his throne and walked to where she was, standing before the fourth man in line. He breathed in when he reached her side. "That man I sense on you, the one that is a mix of every paranormal being said to be presently born, how's he going to feel about your new toy?"

She felt it, she didn't see it. That energy that was pulling her began to prickle with jealously. That feeling was justifying her dormant memories.

"He wouldn't be a man of mine if he carried insecurity."

"See, that's why I like you. You and me we're one in the same. The universe and all the realms are too large to search for the 'one;' it's easier to create them."

She didn't bother responding. Instead she stared up at number four, even held his gaze. "Our deal is I take who I chose, and I bring you souls such as the one I have found today when they land on my doorstep."

"Land on your doorstep or not, it will take souls for me to forget where our dear King is."

"Vow it."

"I vow this barter to you. Guards, release him," Crass said looking at the fourth.

"No. It's him I want," Reveca said moving her stare to number three, to the one that had yet to meet her eyes, to the one that seemed the fiercest of them all. The one she felt calling her very being to life.

"Him," Crass said coldly.

"Yes. Him. You vowed this deal."

Crass looked down at Reveca. "You are one sly little bitch." He smirked. "Let me warn you, darling, my memory, it slips often. I surely hope I see you soon."

Reveca handed him the box that carried the soul she brought. "Take him," she said to Cashton.

He stepped forward, took King by his arm, and began to lead him forward.

Not a word was said until the boat had made it far down river. Reveca felt nervous, downright shaky in this small space with King and Cashton. The tension would be great without this awakening within her. What was occurring now was near impossible to handle.

"What's your real name?" Reveca asked.

King refused to meet her eyes.

"You have a name and it's not King. What do you remember of your life? Who would have wanted you out of that prison?"

Right then that stare that was as cold as ice met hers. That stare sent a tingle to all the wrong places. "No. It's not King, but it is the one I'm keeping for now," he said as he glanced at Cashton.

There was anger in that glance and it made no sense as to why it was there. "Everyone I know, care about, was safer with me in that prison." With those words he made sure his stare was dead set on Reveca.

"You belong to me as of now. You need to understand that."

"That is abundantly clear to me." His voice was so deep, so smooth, it carried a command that would make anyone think he was a king.

Doubt. She wanted to feel that. Deny that it was not him, her first, her only love, but she couldn't grasp it. That didn't mean she wasn't going to act as if he were a stranger. "How old is your soul?" she nearly whispered.

His stare dipped to Reveca's lips, then moved back to her eyes. "Older than yours, sweet. Yet there comes a point where time is irrelevant, yeah?"

She didn't answer that. Couldn't. She had heard those words long ago. She wanted to call him on his bullshit, this cold anger he had pouring off him. Wanted to tell him that she knew who he was, but it would have been pointless.

Right now, in King's mind it was like a dream, coming in and out of focus. There was no way for her to know if he truly remembered the young, naïve girl she was long ago. She wasn't sure she wanted him to remember that lovesick girl, because she was anything but that now.

"He has to be dressed before we take him back," Cashton said trying to sway the conversation in a different direction.

King's eyes moved sharply to Cashton. "Who are you to her. I know you're not her adored. No, you're one of The Selected, slayer of Gods."

"Slayer of Gods," Reveca repeated without one single ounce of shock. She'd heard those rumors about Cashton before. They all stemmed from her sister's faith in a Rapture occurring. "This slayer is in my care just as you are. That's all you need to know about the likes of him."

King's top lip lifted ever so subtly. "You make it a point to collect men?"

Someone that had crossed her mind for ages, someone she never let go of, but yet convinced herself was nothing but a fading dream was now before her and he was an asshole, blaming her for having some kind of life when she just rescued him from one of the vilest Lords there was.

There was no telling what infractions he committed to earn his way there, what he did while he was there. It took every ounce of stubbornness she owned, but she refused to let him know what his presence alone was doing to her, refused to let him know that now all of the pain she had pushed down was new once again—and worse the second time around.

"You could say that. What can I say, maybe I had a void I was trying to fill."

King smirked, shook his head, and looked to the side. "I bet you wasted no time doing that now did you?"

"I've wasted plenty of time. Apparently so have you if you landed with the most vile Lord of death there ever was."

King's eyes slithered down Cashton. "I did a good deed." He licked his lips. "Some poor girl's boy was too busy on his own jaunts to know she needed him. I fought his war."

Both Reveca and Cashton went ridged; the tension could not have been more penetrating. That comment, that stare, it was way too personal, too directed. Without a doubt it scraped against the demons that Reveca was abundantly clear that Cashton was currently fighting.

"You have a problem with me, mate?" Cashton asked.

King started to laugh. It was a low laugh, one filled with hysteria. "Me? Why would I have a problem with you." He nodded to Reveca. "You're a man who knows how to enjoy himself." He winked. "Good taste in women. I'll give you that."

"You're never going to survive in my Club if you speak like that," Reveca said. "I have nothing but friendship for Cashton. You're delusional. It's your transition. I'd wager you'll go half mad before you find any sanity."

King leaned forward, reached his hand toward Reveca, let his fingertips outline her jaw. She could feel his breath, that's how close he was. That wasn't all she felt. A raw surge of power rushed through her being, elevating her past any high that she'd ever experienced. "Trust me, sweet. My mind is crystal fucking clear right now." He let his fingertips trace down her neck. "Yours, however, is not."

The boat had reached the bank. Cashton stepped out, Reveca stayed, stared into those eyes of King's. She had no choice but lie right then. If she didn't he'd never make it back to life. Talon wouldn't allow it. "I don't know you. I don't know who you've pissed off but trust me when I tell you that you do not want to add me to that list."

King stood. "Why, will your Selected mate descend and destroy me? Or is that child he gave you now powerful enough to slaughter his enemies."

Lover? Child? A silent curse left her lips. Saige. She'd fallen for a man that was said to be from The Selected, another realm. Lorecan. He was the man that overrode Reveca's magic when she tried to save her own lover. He was the man that did give her sister a child, and vanished almost as suddenly as he appeared.

By the time Reveca realized that somehow long ago her first love had mistaken her sister's actions as her own and thought to say differently, King was on the bank—all the Sons in the life were present. Each appraising the soul she had just bartered for.

Reveca stood there still as a statue staring forward as King returned the murderous glares the Sons were giving him.

Fury met Reveca's soul. The mere idea that her love had found a way to return to her back then, after all the hell she endured, and mistaken her sister for her, thought that she had moved on, was sickening.

If the roles had been reversed, if she had seen such things, she would've been self-destructive, done everything that she could to mask the pain. Apparently that is exactly what King had done.

As King stood face to face with Talon, Reveca saw two lifetimes colliding. Two worlds that should never know the other, meeting for the first time.

She felt Cashton's gaze on her. He had already given a play by play of what went down to the others, but he left out the rest. He left King's words dormant for Reveca to reveal if she chose to.

That was a bold move in and of itself. This was an MC, a paranormal MC, men with the ability to kill you with a thought. Respect wasn't requested, it was demanded. Withholding the secrets that Cashton knew could very well expel him from the path he was granted each month. They could take him from this elusive girl he was dead set on loving. Reveca didn't know what to think about that. She surely didn't know what to think about how King had called him a God slayer.

Right now she and Cashton were the only ones aware that Saige had just asked Reveca to barter for a love that she had been waiting lifetimes for.

Too many thoughts were rushing through her mind. Her sister's enigmatic weaving across her life, her beliefs, what was taken from her and what was returned, the wars she had aimed at her in every direction.

Reveca was playing with fire and she knew it.

She didn't care how lucid King thought he was. As soon as he left the Edge, as soon as he was within the realm of life his memories would be hazed again. She had time to understand him, maybe even time to lead him to believe it was lifetimes after he left her that she found Talon. Of course there was no way to explain away the lifetimes she had since then, no way for her to ever claim not to have deep-rooted emotions for Talon. And she shouldn't have to; clearly both Reveca and her first love had long ago moved on.

For all she knew, the lost love she had grieved for all her life really was dead and gone. If anything he'd morphed into someone she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Too much time, too much guilt was building within her right then. She needed rest. She needed to bless out her sister, she needed to do a million things. But before she could do any of that, she was going to have to face the one man that could read her like a book.

She calmly stepped toward Talon. He was giving orders to the other guys, telling them exactly what cover story King had, precisely how to get him home to the Beauregard Boneyard.

In the mix of words she understood that Holden was already arrested, that thus far their quick fix had worked.

She leaned into Talon as he walked her back to the passage, feeling each of her boys behind her.

"We've been through bigger hells, Vec," Talon said quietly.

She held him tighter, felt herself quiver.

He glanced down.

"What?" she breathed.

"Your energy—it's never been this strong. What happened in there?"

"Cashton told you."

His dark eyes narrowed on her. He hesitated, telling the others to pass. Carefully, Talon reached to pull her closer to him. "Then maybe I should make it a point to have my way with you for hours each time you leave for The Edge." He tilted his head slightly. "There has to be a reason that you're more powerful right now than I have ever known you to be."

"You're taking credit for this?" she said with the sly smile she always gave him.

"Maybe I'm just looking for an excuse," he said as his hands gripped her sides. "I've missed this glow in your eyes. That's a good sign...an omen that whatever rut you've been in is fading." He grinned. "A good war always did get you pumped up."

When he leaned in to kiss her, she let her lips meet his, did her best to hide her out of control mind.

Good omen her ass...she'd just brought hell on earth back into existence.

Episode Two: Chapter One, The Very Beginning

War always looms, and it does so because change is constantly on the horizon. Whether people claim to love or hate change, deep down it's always the latter.

The Dominarum Coven was always at the forefront of change. The earlier generations were nomadic to say the least. They were always moving from land to land in search of a deep spiritual connection, a way to harvest the powers they felt in the world at large. Powers they feared, adored, and worshipped.

Reveca had long since reached the stage of womanhood, but she was still a child in the eyes of her coven. Twenty years was infancy. Most of the coven, without the help of magic, could easily reach the ripe age of two hundred if they were lucky enough to die of natural causes.

The length of their lifespan gave each member of the coven an immense amount of time to practice their crafts, to reach further, to beckon souls from other realms of life and death. Immortality—they were on the brink of unveiling that gift, or curse, depending on how one perceived it to be.

The coven was divided. Some felt that gift was the highest anyone could ask to receive; others saw it as a prison. They wanted to move through the stages of death, they wanted to find life again, new lessons. They felt that would enhance the power of their souls far more thoroughly than living in one existence indefinitely.

At twenty years old, Reveca already felt immortal. Life was new; it was a dare, full of possibilities. She did her best to take in every lesson her coven gave her. She practiced her arts daily and with vigor. But the lessons brought more boredom than pleasure. She mastered them too quickly, naturally. Her twin, Saige, was more cautious when it came to the arts, would study every risk before she toyed with them, even if the coven assured her they were safe passages.

Saige was the debutant. The princess who was always prim and proper. Reveca was anything but. She'd rather be in the stables, in some field, connected with the one true magic of the living world: nature.

From the moment Reveca and her sister were born, as their father's only heirs, he had done nothing but plot for their coupling. He knew his daughters were powerful, and he knew if he did not find proper mates that were just as powerful, or more so, they would live tormented, lonely lives. It was imperative to him that his bloodline, the bloodline that began the Dominarum Coven, reached a new greatness—that his daughters would have the balance they needed in order for them to guide the next generations through the turbulent waters the seers had predicted. The Holy Wars.

With that fear, he had reached out to the spirits that spoke to him often. He had allowed others into their village, entertained their knowledge.

That open-armed mentality had allowed a young man, that the coven named Jamison, within its village; a soul that anyone could sense had immense power, yet was coupled with humbleness. He was a lost soul that the inner circle was certain had fallen from the heavens above. They were sure he had lost a battle with one of the darkest Gods above. That didn't make him weak in their eyes, but all the more powerful for he was still alive. Who he was, where he came from, what was meant for him to do in their lives was something that was kept from the rest of the coven. For good reason. Jamison needed time to heal, to be one of them.

At first it was rumored he was a suitor for one or both of the girls. Reveca knew better. Though the boy had great power, the kind of power the coven had never crossed, the last thing he had was a mating mind.

Instead, he studied right alongside the girls, became a brother of sorts. Reveca enjoyed teasing him, finding ways to make him smile now and again, but that was as far as her affections went. In her mind, he agreed too much with her sister, making him hard to trust.

It wasn't until the soldiers came to her village that Reveca even thought to put her girlish ways aside, somewhat act like the proper lady her sister was.

And that was because of the leader, Kenson.

The day Kenson's forces marched into her village she was far outside of its boundaries, on the bank of the river. Before her there was a bouquet of pink dying swamp lilies. Her sister had plucked several of them to have at the banquet dinner the night before, the night the soldiers were supposed to arrive. The flowers were rare, and one Reveca's favorites. It killed her to see them dying without reason, which gave her an excuse to practice magic that was forbidden.

She was crouched on the bank, the flowers before her. For this resurrection spell, she was pulling from a source within. She was the solitary, vital, presence of nature. There were no herbs, no crystals, or the moon. Only her...her heart...a selfless request.

She had been trying for hours. Each time she opened her squinted eyes she found the sun had done nothing more than further slaughter the lilies.

She pulled in a deep breath and focused once more. All at once, she felt a hum. It started at the crown of her head, and slowly it spilled over her, sliding down her face, kissing her lips then her shoulders. When it crossed her chest she let out a gasp, felt her body respond to that sensation like the virgin she was. That hum moved down her sides and when it reached the core of her, it was all she could do to not moan. She had never once tapped into energy that deep, that powerful. No one had ever even alluded to the fact that it would feel like that.

Slowly she opened her eyes. A gasping smile came to her as she glanced down at her lilies; they were not only alive but also firmly rooted once more.

"Now, they can only hope to be as alluring as you," she heard a deep, charismatic voice say. It was like velvet and eased over her just as seductively as that power she had just felt. In fact, she was in doubt that what she had felt was magic at all.

She looked just behind her. Mounted on a stallion was the most breathtaking man she'd ever seen. It had nothing to do with his mount, or his uniform. It wasn't his enthralling image or those eyes. No, it was this surge of energy that emanated from him.

"You did this?" she asked, letting her temper flare in her cheeks. The rush of mastering that spell was now squashed, and she felt like a child.

"No..." he said as that stare moved down her body nice and slow, so slow that she was sure she felt his glance feather against her flesh. Felt it awaken something inside of her, a warm humming current. It stirred her all at once. The entire world seemed different, more in focus, yet vast and unexplored at the same time.

"You're lying," she said as she stood. Numb feeling or not, she was not one to blush and bow to a man's power. She had proven that over and over with each suitor that came her way. Hell, one time she nearly killed Zale, another witch whose family stemmed from one of the most powerful bloodlines in the coven.

Kenson's army was in the distance marching toward her village, each glancing her way as they passed. She didn't care though. Didn't care that they surely found it amusing that she had left the dress her mother insisted she wore paces back and was in her slip, one that was stained from the bank of the river. Didn't care that her long hair was down and windblown. She didn't care that she was glaring up at someone that these men clearly had respect for, someone that she already knew had more power than all the elders in the village combined, including her own father.

Kenson leaned forward in his saddle and bit his bottom lip just before he spoke. "Lying to you would be impossible."

Reveca jutted her chin up. "Why is that?"

Those otherworldly eyes moved all around her then met her gaze. "You can't lie to someone who sees past the vessel...who sees your soul."

His words vibrated the very core of her—her very body and soul wanted to lurch forward and touch this boy, own him. Her mind was the hold back. Her mind was telling her to hold fast to the fierceness that had always kept boys at bay—ones that saw her as a way to rule, ones that only wanted the supremacy her family had. "Who said I could see past that with you?"

"I see you, love. That act is not a one way passage." And with that he winked then galloped away.

The further he moved away from her, the fainter that hum Reveca felt became. She glanced down at her flowers, and then walked with haste back to her village.

Kenson was a glorious man, or rather a boy that was lingering on the edge of manhood. His warrior body made every girl in the coven blush when he passed. His dark hair, which reached his shoulders in gentle waves, begged to be touched. His eyes—a crystal clear blue that would rival any ocean—seemed to look right through your soul. Downright ghostly, those eyes were framed in thick, dark, long lashes.

It was a holy war he was leading, and he was good at it. His skill as a warrior helped that along, but his knowledge, his gift with the arts, made him nearly impossible to stop.

Reveca knew he was the last man on earth her father would ever want her to be with. A man like him had enemies; a man like him would stretch every safe boundary. He would not stay stagnant for long. He wouldn't grow the empire her father wanted her to oversee one day.

Reveca didn't care though. He was the first boy that didn't tease her about the dirt under her nails or snicker when he found her in the stables in boy pants. He didn't see any of that; he saw her.

Everyone that Reveca had ever known in her life made her feel restrained, they held her back. They'd tell her that no girl as young as her should have that much dare to her. Ever.

Kenson didn't.

At first it was only glances, sweet smiles, a wayward wink here or there. But then they began to meet each night as the coven slept. He told her of the wars he'd fought, told her how the world was growing darker, that this was the beginning of the end. He told her of magic that her father had warned her to never approach, even showed her how to use it.

Using that power, casting any spell, was simplistic in his presence. Even when she wasn't near him, when she had just left him or was due to see him soon it was easy as well. Reveca became so skilled that each of the elders would watch her in her studies and whisper in haste as they left. She had mastered skills that were decades beyond where she should be.

This boy, Kenson, he could speak of hell on earth and still smile, not because he was cold or enjoyed it but because he knew how to enjoy the moments of bliss.

He once told Reveca, "Even if you only have a second to be happy each day, one second to feel a rush, you take it because it's not promised to come again. That's where the power is, love. It's in exalting moments, no doubt there. "

And they stole those moments. There was an adventure every day. It could have been as simple as riding a stallion across an open field in the midst of a thunderstorm, or as complicated as a spell that taught Reveca how to bring back to life a dying plant, or move her energy, use her energy as a weapon.

That went on for months. It was a deep-rooted friendship that was only a breath away from becoming something so much more. For the first time in Reveca's life she felt understood, enthralled with life.

She became so enchanted that she barely noticed the man named Lorecan that came to the coven. How her sister, who was always proper, was giggling like a fool at the dinners held each night in the great hall. No, she didn't notice because she was too focused on when she could catch Kenson's gaze, catch the cues he would drop for her to meet him.

As the weeks moved forward war was the constant topic of conversation. That and the rumor that very soon Lorecan would choose his bride. Which twin he would choose seemed to be in question among those that partook in gossip. Those rumors never bothered Reveca. To that day, their parents had never denied Saige a request. It was clear that even if Lorecan didn't want Saige, and Reveca was sure he did, her parents would only offer Saige's hand.

None of that rambling conversation troubled Reveca as much as the idea that Kenson was taking his sweet time with her. Each time they snuck away they would practice the forbidden magic, speak of how they saw the world, and he would pull her to him, melt her with slow sweet kisses that seemed to savor the sensation, that hum on each of their lips.

Each and every time they found a rush, would dare to push forward, that his hands would begin to explore, something would happen to stop them. More times than not it was the likes of Zale sneaking up on them, even Reveca's other friends, Evanthe and Windsome. Something or someone always stopped them.

It was so frustrating that she was determined that the next time she slipped away with him that the talk of magic and sweet whispers were going to have to wait. She wanted him. Couldn't handle it anymore. And if he didn't want her that way he needed to say that so she could get over him. Even though the very idea of him rejecting her, of him not seeing and feeling what they were the way she did made her sick to her stomach. She simply had to know one way or the other.

One night she waited for hours just outside the council room doors. Kenson was in there, along with Jamison, and Lorecan, all the elders. She could hear the arguments, and she whole-heartedly agreed with Kenson, and it wasn't because she was in love with him.

He was stating that the battle the coven wanted to engage in was fruitless. The coven had nothing to gain but enemies from such an endeavor. The others thought they needed to stake their claim on the land they were on. They said the coven needed this land, that it was rich with spirits, that and if they didn't stand up now, others would come.

When the meeting adjourned Reveca stayed in the shadows of the second floor, stared down at all the men, watched Jamison, Kenson, and Lorecan conference with her father. Though Kenson kept to his argument his glance found Reveca. She smiled and nodded her head. The glint in his eyes was his silent yes.

Reveca felt her heart flutter as she ducked into her room.

Saige moved in her sleep, so Reveca waited for her to settle. Then went to the window, climbed out and ran, ran as fast as she could across the field to a distant river, one that tended to pond in shallow ponds.

Bold. Kenson had always told her she had to be bold. Always told her that any fool could see how powerful she was, that if she tried to hide it or refused to acknowledge it that it would be a show of weakness.

She'd tried to be bold with him, but in most cases her nerves would get the best of her, and she'd let him guide them, which led them to where they were—her with an aching want and no way to know if he saw her the same way, or if he was just humoring her while his armies were camped within her village.

A man as bold as Kenson would have no issues asking for something he wanted. Or needed. That's how she saw it, why her mind toyed with her the way it did, gave her doubt.

In the shadows of the brush, Reveca let her gown fall. She waited until she heard his distant approach before she waded into the water, let it cover her to the point of her shoulders.

She watched as he scanned the bank looking for her, grinned when she saw the look of disappointment in his eyes.

"Are you looking for me?" she said with a sly grin dangling on her lips.

Kenson returned that smile the second he saw her. He'd never admit it aloud, he just wasn't made that way, but Reveca had stopped his heart the first time he laid eyes on her. Miles before he reached her village he had felt an insane pull on him. It stirred him so deeply that he rode far ahead of his navigators, needing only that pull to guide him. The closer he got to her the more invincible he felt...the more vulnerable he felt.

She was a walking fantasy. A woman that was not afraid to speak her mind. One that was comfortable in her own skin and drop dead gorgeous. Her eyes would be the death of any man. They had a lure to them, and when he managed to get past that point, let his stare travel down her body, he thanked every God he knew in his life that at the very least he was able to cross that enigmatic beauty's path.

"Swimming?" he said with a lifted brow.

"It's hot."

Kenson looked down at his uniform. He was dressed for battle, one he would lead men into in just a few short hours. In all truth he should be prepping them, but the opportunity to see Reveca was too tempting for him to pass up.

Slowly he unbuttoned his coat. When she whistled he chuckled a near silent laugh, flashing a carefree smile that he only let her see.

He took everything off but his bottom undergarments. He'd sensed her fear, that trembling that possessed her when their moments became too intimate.

Deep down, that innocent girl that she was would emerge in moments like this. He didn't want that girl to ever leave Reveca, would wait forever for her if he had to. He'd traveled less than stellar roads in life, lived through one too many dares, and even though while he was doing that he was fighting for much needed change, he still crossed lines that were better left alone. He wanted it be different with Reveca. He wanted to savor her for all that she was.

Slowly he made his way into the water. She eased back. That innocent little sexy smile was on her lips, but he could tell she was nervous.

"You sounded so fierce tonight," she said finally.

He raised his brow as he lowered himself in the water. "You heard me?"

"Maybe not every word, but I knew it was you."

"It was intense," he said as his stare slowly moved across her face.

"You don't agree with them."

"I don't agree with a lot of people."

"But you're going to listen to them?"

Kenson bit his lip. If this were any other time, he would have moved his armies on. He would have told this coven that had sought his protection that he didn't have time to protect them from wars they invented. But it wasn't any other time. This time Reveca was involved. This time his fight had a deeper reason. He was fighting for honor, the honor of holding a noble woman for the rest of his life.

He wasn't clear on where Jamison or even Lorecan came from. He'd heard the legends, seen their power, no doubt. What he was clear on was that they were not hired henchmen; they were not brute warriors but the men behind the war, the ones moving the pieces, those that supposedly had the ability to see the 'big picture.'

Kenson believed that in order to have the favor that either of those had with Reveca's father, he'd have to bend to their will. Without doubt, it was not easy for Kenson to bend. In fact, it was a brutal hell.

"I'm going to defend your land," he said finally.

"Mine."

"Yes, yours...the nature here calls you by name."

She laughed. "Most of this land is swamp. Am I the queen of the slithery things that crawl through the night?"

"No...you're the queen of that power I see in your eyes. There's enough there to create your own little world."

Reveca blushed and hoped that the moonlight didn't reveal that.

"Why do you keep moving away from me? It was your idea to swim," Kenson said as he splashed her.

She splashed back. "I don't get you."

Kenson ran his fingers through his dark, wet locks. "What's there not to get? I'm by far not as complicated as your father's favorites."

"You're not as damaged, either."

He lifted a brow.

"Jamison, he's running from something. Broke away from some life he didn't want to live anymore. He doesn't even know who he is. Lorecan, I don't know, he's too calm. You always have to watch out for the quiet ones."

He lifted a brow. "The loud ones are dangerous too, always masking something."

"And you're neither."

"You do get me," Kenson said with a sly grin.

"No I don't. I don't know what I am to you."

Something changed in the energy around them, it became heavier. The playfulness evaporated in an instant.

After an awkward moment she spoke again. "And your silence...it speaks volumes." She moved past him. "I didn't mean to spoil our escape."

When she felt him reach for her arm she sucked in a deep breath, sensing that surge of energy swarm through her body awaken an unclaimed sensuality.

"I don't want to terrify you." His voice was quiet, deep, so smooth.

"I'm not terrified of a broken heart. I've been expecting it."

His grip tightened on her arm. "That's not what I meant." He urged her to face him. She did, but she stepped back, stayed hidden in the water. Kenson let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "You're innocent...you're perfect. Someone like me, telling you that you're everything—that would terrify you."

"Everything?" she repeated with wide eyes, eyes that the moon was basking within.

"Everything. I've loved you from the first glance. I felt you before I arrived. I inhale your presence each day. I plot. I plan. I want nothing more than to make you mine and I will, one day. But I know that the gift of you, it doesn't come without patience. It's a gift that will test me."

"You love me."

Kenson clenched his jaw, unable to read her expression. He cursed himself for speaking his mind. It was inevitable, though. Each night before a coming battle he tended to do such things, yet usually that was him telling his men how much of an honor it was to know them. He'd never once told a woman anything even remotely close to this. "I do." His stare moved over her angelic face. "You can run if you want. I get it."

She didn't run, she lunged across the water at him, molded her lips to his, just before parting them with sheer passion. The moment she felt his tongue move against hers she moaned.

Kenson wanted to stop, wanted to point out that she was very nude, that her body was wrapped around his like a vice and testing any and all restraints a man could be asked to have but he didn't, couldn't. No, she was life, and she was clinging to him.

Beneath the water he let his hands slowly move across her, felt himself smiling against her lips with the sound of her responsive moans. His touches were innocent thus far, but hearing those sharp breaths would lead you to believe they were anything but.

His lips broke away from hers, biting her bottom lip as they did so. Utterly slowly, his lips moved down her neck. That alone was wreaking havoc on Reveca's emotions, her body, but when she felt his hand slide down her back, squeeze the flesh of her ass before moving lower, she quivered with a deep want that she had never felt before. The second she felt him slide his fingers within the heat of her, her entire body tensed. His lips halted on her neck.

"You feel that?" she gasped.

She could have sworn she felt his lips smile against her neck.

She rocked her hips forward. "Not this." Her hands reached for his face, then moved down his shoulders. "That hum."

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. "That's us, love. That's us coming home."

A gasping smile came to her just before her lips crashed into his. Her body rocked with his hand, and she fought not to let his lips leave hers, but when his lips moved down her neck, past her shoulders, when they claimed her chest she decided he must be a God, had to be. He was everywhere all at once, stimulating, pushing, awakening every inch of her mind, body, and soul.

She felt that hum began to build, growing and growing. It was like a flame, one that was meant to erupt, would dare to, only to settle once more.

"Kenson," she breathed when she couldn't focus her thoughts anymore. She felt a high began to consume her. All at once, the very cliff her body had been edging upward met its climax, and she cascaded over it. His lips broke away from her chest as he felt her began to quiver.

"Look at me," he breathed.

And she did. She stared at him as she felt her body become utterly unraveled.

"Beautiful," his husky voice said into the darkness.

Reveca's body felt like it had just performed every spell in the book, as if her energy had been pushed to its limits, but at the same she felt like she had been empowered, revitalized.

Her hands moved down his shoulders, down his chest, over every ridged muscle there, finally slipping beneath the only garment between them. He groaned as her hand ran the length of him.

"I want to make you hum," she whispered as his eyes became hooded with every stroke of her hand.

"Love, I never stop in your presence."

She claimed his lips then, rocked her body against his, moaned when she felt those deft fingers began to usher her toward another cliff of ecstasy.

Kenson felt his legs began to grow weary. The barrier of water was more than he could bear to stand any longer. He wanted to lay her across the bank. That one sliver of good in him hoped that transition would give her a second to think, a second to ask them to wait, and he would wait. He would fight this battle, and he would come home, demand her hand. He would demand they were joined that night, and if they were denied that, he'd ask her to leave with him, beg her to if need be. Hell, he'd downright insist that she did so.

Just as he rose them out of the water, her legs still wrapped around him, he heard a gasp from someone else.

On the bank were her parents, apparently out for a nightly stroll.

It was chaos after that point. Reveca unraveled her body from Kenson but she didn't hide herself, she stood proudly by his side. That stubbornness didn't last long as her mother ripped her away. Marched her to her room.

Reveca fought like hell to get back to Kenson, to defend him, told everyone in shouting distance that he took nothing she did not give him, that she loved him. When she started to pack her bags, her mother and her chambermaids tied Reveca to a chair. Told her that distracting a man before a battle was a bad omen and she had done just that.

Reveca thrashed, spoke every spell she could think of to undo her binds. Her mother spoke just as many, keeping Reveca bound.

From her room, she heard the army march out. She could feel Kenson, his dominant energy leading them all.

She felt sick, she felt doom. She didn't want him to fight this battle. She agreed with him, those that were moving past the edge of their land would keep moving. Her coven was creating an unnecessary war, leading others to believe there was something on that land worth protecting.

That feeling never left, not once, but she did grow calm. She had to if she wanted to sense Kenson.

She told her mother that she loved him; it seemed more believable coming from her in a calm tone.

"I know this, child. Your father sought his army for a purpose."

Reveca looked at her mother in shock.

"He had a dream. That dream showed your mate."

"Then why did you rip me from him?"

"He had a battle to fight. You are not his yet, daughter."

"You accept him. You vow that. When he comes back—you will not stand in our way. You'll tell father that?"

Her mother stood, loosened the ties around her daughter's arms. "If your father's dream is true, when he returns we will not be the ones that stand in your way." She looked down at her daughter. "You will be, child."

Reveca didn't understand that, and didn't want to. All she could think was that before this night was done she'd be coupled.

She tried to tell herself that was the reason for the anxious feeling scratching against her soul, but as the hours moved on she couldn't swallow that lie.

Saige was left to watch over her sister, and surprisingly when she saw Reveca begin to whisper words that would release her, she did nothing to stop her.

As Reveca dressed in a frantic rush, Saige spoke. "We're cursed, sister."

"What?" Reveca asked. Not really caring if she received a response.

"Father, the elders. They said we're cursed. You and I."

"And how are we cursed? They envy that we have mastered each of their arts already. They envy that Jamison, an outsider, has done so. We are not cursed, we are gifted."

"That is an omen, sister."

"To what."

"Rapture."

"I don't have time for this, Saige."

"Reveca," Saige said gripping her arm as she went to climb out of the window. "If you leave here, you will spur the omens that have been spoken."

"I don't giving a flying fuck about omens. I have to know he's okay. He has to know we're not in trouble."

Saige's eyes filled with grief. "Reveca...you have to understand that the greatest things test us the most. They're worth the pain."

Reveca shook off her sister's grasp and her words then ran toward the stables. Desperation. She owned that emotion.

She mounted her stallion bareback and yelled for him to go forward. He charged through the night like a bullet aimed at a distant target.

Reveca had no idea where she was going. The battle had grown quiet nearly an hour before. She called upon every connection she had with nature at large looking for guidance.

A massive crow emerged, flying straight as an arrow before Reveca and her galloping stallion—that was the path she followed. She never stopped, not even when she passed soldiers returning. In the air she sensed a victory, but like with any war she sensed the loss, the payment for that victory.

Her eyes misted as she told herself what she was feeling were her deepest fears and not a truth.

Moments later she reached an opening, one that bordered the river, and swamps on its other two sides. At the edge she saw Jamison. She saw Lorecan standing somberly next to their horses. She dismounted before her horse ever found the will to completely stop and began to run.

She stopped short. The moon was full, and dawn was daring to break against the horizon. There was enough light for her to see the carnage, the bodies laid across the ground.

In the midst of that, in the center, there were crows. They were not feasting, but watching. Silent crows encircling one body. They didn't even bother to move as Reveca raced forward and fell to her knees.

Kenson, had a mortal wound right between his eyes. That didn't stop her hands from rushing over him, her lips from touching his. Her tears fell like a river mixing with the rivulets of blood. She could barely breathe, felt her body roil but she wasn't giving up. She pulled from deep within, pulled the power that was bred into her soul forward. She spoke spells, ones that were forbidden, ones that brought souls back from the clutches of death.

Slowly the blood vanished. The shock of that almost made her lose her focus but she kept on.

When he took a breath she gasped. When his eyes fluttered open she felt an eruption of emotions pouring out of her. He was only clinging to the edge, she knew that. She knew that she was nowhere near skilled enough to pull this spell off but she believed if she could keep him there the others would help her, they would combine their power and pull him back.

Kenson stared into her eyes, far past the surface. "You're mine. I'll live here for now," he said as his mud stained hand reached for her chest.

"You'll live in the flesh."

He bit his lip as his dreary eyes moved over her. "Mine."

She nodded her head frantically agreeing with him, but right then something happened.

She felt the air change. She felt powers she had only read about colliding. She looked up to see Jamison and Lorecan there, staring into the nothing around her. Lorecan glanced to Jamison, Jamison swallowed nervously, seemed far too weighted by the moment, then nodded.

That nod, it was deadly.

After Lorecan saw that he lifted his hands, and all the magic that Reveca had Kenson encased within vanished. She was nothing more than a girl holding a fallen love at that moment.

She screamed. That power she felt in the air, it grew denser, more massive. It was enough to make Reveca fear the unknown for the first time in her life.

Fear drove her in that moment. She knew that power was taking him, that she could not stand by and let it.

She gripped the ground and spoke a spell. Normally she felt the welcoming call of nature's power instantly, but whatever Lorecan had done had stripped her. That only made her pull even harder, use more conviction. She felt death calling her name but she kept on. If it was going to take Kenson then it was going to take her, too.

That struggle in the air faded. She felt it, but couldn't see it. No, her eyes were squeezed closed. The spell she spoke, it was meant to halt time, to give a pause. That's all she wanted right then. She needed a pause between life and death. A pause where she could negotiate with the powers that be, convince them that she deserved a life with her love.

When she opened her eyes, she knew he was gone. She knew that all her efforts were in vain. Through her grief stricken eyes she found shock, though.

The others, the soldiers that had fallen with Kenson, they were all standing, looking alive and well, but they weren't.

The Edge, Reveca's prison, was born then. The pause between two realms, life and death. She was no longer living but far from death. Every sense she owned was enhanced. The energy she had played with swelled within, understanding of that power came, too.

No amount of understanding, however, could stop the grief that she was drowning within.

Time, a lot of time passed before she allowed the coven to break her out of her prison. She walked amongst the living as a phantom. She saw the path between death and life, saw the hesitation, the beginning of reflection.

Later, much later, Jamison and Saige found the power, the spell, that would allow Reveca a life of flesh, a life where she could move through the living, and the space between.

Her anger, it never left.

She asked Jamison a million times what those silent words between him and Lorecan were that dawn. She could only ask him as Lorecan had left not long after Reveca's life as a human ended.

Jamison had no answer he cared to give. Saige, she spoke of Rapture, of a fate.

Reveca didn't give a damn about fate. She was now an immortal with no reason to live.

She was in hell. Alone in hell.
Chapter Two

Present Day

"I don't fucking trust that asshole," Thames grunted, as he pulled from the blunt that was casually resting between his fingers, holding his inhale for an endless moment before the smoke snaked from his lips. He narrowed his hazel gaze and aimed it across the garage as he passed the blunt to Judge, and then reached to scratch his dark beard that was at that stage between thick and thin.

Reveca had just made her first appearance of the day. The previous days and night before and most of the morning she'd been in a sealed, darkened room with the mystery girl, doing everything she could to bring that girl back around—no such luck.

Reveca needed air, light, and nature. The day was at its midpoint, which meant everything she needed was at its most torturous peak. At times she was sure a New Orleans summer was the breath of the devil himself.

She'd compromised her needs and dared to make her way to the garage which was well over thirty thousand square feet. One half of it was just that, a garage. Bikes were being built or repaired. A few choice cars were too, but not the plastic boxes that dominate the streets today. No, these machines were raw horse power, machines that were made when people gave a damn about what they owned, when they put their heart into it.

The other half was a bar, lounge, a place the MC hung out. In the daytime the barrier between the two was usually opened, so anyone that came to that garage could see in. They'd see the top half of the side walls cut out, industrial fans lined up side by side around them, showering down much needed relief, ceiling fans spinning nice and slow, ensuring that bursts of air made it across the room, and down to the concrete floor.

There was a bar at one side, one that would put any established business to shame. A stage lined the south wall. Most times it was meant for bands, but there were poles there, too, ones that the girls looking for a little attention used often.

Along the walls there were wide booths intermixed with couches and expansive chairs. Tables were in the center, most intact. Each had their fair share of burn marks and worn wood. A few had nearly met their doom with the rumbles of male testosterone that would erupt on the wilder nights.

Still, with the lingering smell of grease, smoke, and beer, with the clear ambience of a bad boy playground it was spotless. Eat off the floor spotless.

It was kept that way for a host of reasons, but the most dominant one was because this was a paranormal MC at its core, one that had a powerful witch within their ranks. Witches in general are the cleanest souls on the planet. They're that way because they know energy clings to everything, which means everything must be cleansed, often.

Reveca had her hands tucked in her back pockets, pockets that were nearly as long as the somewhat loose-fitting cutoff jean shorts she was sporting. Her black tank barely reached her belt, her skull buckle. Her kut, which was far more slender and feminine than the boys, one that actually shaped her figure, was pushed just off her shoulders so she could feel the fan that was gracefully blowing over her as she stood in the sunlight.

When Thames spoke her eyes were closed, her head was leaned back, the length of her neck exposed, reaching for a peace she hadn't been able to find in days.

She couldn't find it because memories, details that she'd let settle, almost fade, were drowning her mind. Right then, she could remember the last eight moons of her mortal life far more easily than she could remember what she had done the week before.

She knew Thames was talking about King. Reveca hadn't surfaced around the boys much over this week. She'd managed to use saving that girl as a viable excuse, but each night Talon would tell her what she missed around the MC, tell her of the grumbling tension that had no choice but to build.

King should have all but collapsed as he passed from the Edge to the living world. They'd expected that. That was the reason they brought the van to that vigil in the first place.

King should've had to be carried into a dark room. At this point, days later, they might have been lucky to get him to take in water. They would have been slowly teaching his body how to take in living elements, elements the flesh needed. Of course it didn't need it as often as mortal souls, but feeding, drinking, that kept you stronger longer. They would've given him toxins too, ones that would teach his flesh to build natural defenses. Nothing gross, more than likely a pack of smokes and a beer.

None of that happened. Nope. King walked right out of that Edge like he owned it. He rode in the van, but sat right up. Never stumbled when he got out, as far as Reveca knew, he never once faltered. He acted as if he was right at home in the world they brought him to. She'd heard he even asked for a steak an hour after they were home, and ate it with the grace of a well-mannered man.

That was mind blowing in and of itself. Cashton, even now, tends to look at the oddities in the modern world curiously at times. He still jumps when the cell phone the Club gave him rings. King? Nothing, not one damn thing rocked his steady calm.

"Are we sure that fucker was even dead?" Thames asked with another exhale.

Reveca dared to let her eyes open slowly, lowered her chin, and casually glanced over her shoulder at Cashton who was perched on a stool at the bar, tuning his guitar, his one and only vice in the living world. He clenched his jaw as he broke the string he was adjusting.

"You ignorant ass. Vec got him from Crass. He was as dead as that sadist's haircut you have," Echo said to Thames.

Thames let his eyes grow hooded. A playful malice lingered there. He reached his hand up to smooth over his nearly clean shaven head then slid it down his face past the his brow ring, across the stubble on his cheek then to his dark goatee which reached an inch or so below his chin. "The ladies like it rough right here."

"Bullshit," Echo said. "You just got sick of Carla pulling your hair out when you went down on her."

"I got fucking sick of Carla in general," Thames snapped back as the others started to bellow laughs. "I'm serious. He wasn't dead long. No way in hell."

"And where did this verdict come from?" Judge asked as he exhaled.

Despite what the name would suggest, Judge was not old and wise, gritty, or well worn. Judge had some of the most innocent features of the MC; near all American boy haircut kept slightly long, hair so blond that the tips were white. He always shaved because even when he had a beard, no one could really see it. His name came from not only him appraising every situation thoroughly, but because when he was alive, his father was a judge.

Before Judge went down a dark road he was in law school himself. Of course that was centuries ago and most of the laws he knew or studied then had long been altered, but still, he could read law and he could find any loophole the Vlub needed.

The fact that he was a seer, had the gift of dual vision, added to his mystery, his magnetism. Judge could look at any soul or circumstance and in his mind's eye see a dual path, one that would show him where whomever's actions would carry them, at least for the next step or two in life. It was flawed like all the enhanced gifts the MC had. It had his limits. Judge saw that path as an outsider, never knew all the details, so it was nearly impossible for him to know where the long term risk would reside, but he could always help the Club avoid immediate troubled waters.

"Where did that verdict come from? Are you being serious right now? Give me that," Thames said taking the blunt away. "Obviously you cannot chill and judge properly." He nodded across the garage. "Look at him. That's the second transmission he's nearly rebuilt."

King was across the garage, wearing loose fitting stone washed jeans, a white wife beater tank. Marks of grease were shadowed on his arms, arms that were thick and perfectly sculpted, glistening with the summer heat. His steady ice gaze was on his task at hand and nothing else.

"And?" Judge said.

"That bike is only five years old, an infant, and not once has he asked anyone what the hell to do—he just does it."

"So you're jealous that he's a better mechanic than you?" Judge said dominantly reaching for the blunt once more.

"He shouldn't know how to do that even if he was Henry Ford's best fucking friend. And you know what else?" Thames said as he raised his pierced brow. "He asked Talon what parts he could have or use in the Boneyard—he told him any. I went out there last night, that fucker is resurrecting a firebird, a 1975. And when he's not doing that, not fixing bikes, he's building a bike, too."

"So I'm right, you're jealous," Judge said as he coughed out his exhale.

Thames jabbed him in the ribcage with his elbow.

"He was with a lord of death," Echo said finally, rushing his fingers through dark hair that reached his thick shoulders, simply to get it out of his blue eyes. He was only twenty-three when he left mortal life, but that stern profile of his, the way he kept his goatee, the tattooed sleeves on his arms never allowed him to look quite that young. "To be claimed by one of those he had to have been dead a while."

"So why the hell can he fix a motor like that?" Thames said raising his hands feeling validated and insulted at the same time.

"Because it's not hard," Judge threw back. "Just a puzzle, man. When your mind is jacked the best way to sort it is to keep your hands busy."

"That explains it," Thames said, looking seriously over Judge, even tilting his head to the side.

"What?" Judge asked.

"You. Your mind is fucked. That's why you're over there, shoulder to shoulder with our antisocial haunt." He made a crazy sign with his hand. "Warped minds. Crazy as shit."

"Are you trying to insult me for being a better mechanic than you, or are you pissed that last night I kept my hands busy with that redhead you were eyeing?"

Thames flipped him off and then leaned back in his seat. "Something ain't right. I can feel it. I even tried to push my way into his head, have a look around. No way in. That has never fucking happened to me."

Reveca let her lazy stare meet his. "Well, almost never," Thames said with a wink.

You could always feel when a pusher was making his way into your mind, but in most cases, he was already in before you realized what exactly you were feeling. Reveca, she'd felt it all, seen it all. Thames told her that her essence was dense, so layered with time that there was no way to even understand what he was meddling with if he could get past the natural barrier she had up.

"That's a good point, too," Thames said. "Not getting in means he should be old as hell. Dude had no issue with indoor plumbing. Didn't think the big screen was some kind of wicked portal or some shit," he said as he nodded at Cashton.

"I never said it was portal," Cashton said not bothering to look up.

"No, you called it a Fall or something—thought you were seeing other worlds at play," Thames said laughing along with the other guys.

"Bloody hell, you fuck. I was delirious."

"Another point," Thames said. "Rock star over there passes back and forth between life and death. He may not look at the TV like a magic box anymore, but he still looks stoned off his ass for a day or so when he comes back. King? Nope. Nothing."

That was true. Inside the Veil of death, it was like being high constantly. Your mind could call back memories from the beginning of existence, but you had no clue how you came to be where you were. It always took Cashton a day or two to 'sober up' when he came back. When he gave Reveca the information she needed, it was like asking a hungover man to recall the night before. Each time though, he was getting better with his clarity. He'd told Reveca for him it was just easier to be all in; all in the MC when he was back, all in the Veil of death, dealing with his past, when he was there.

"Put that out," Reveca said sternly, promptly shutting up the back and forth taunting.

The room grew still instantly as they looked to her. She was glaring toward the front gate.

Echo stood and unclipped his phone from his belt, clicked the direct talk button then told everyone on the site that 'lunch was ready.'

Even though the Sons that were in the life rarely smoked, they all lit up then, hazing the room with that toxic smoke instead of the all natural illegal element they'd been passing around just before.

Judge and Echo kept to their seats, laid back on one of the side couches, but Thames stood and made his way to the other side of the garage openly flipping off Blackwater as he did so, earning a rumble of laughter from the other boys, even Cashton.

Blackwater scanned the lot, surely counting the bikes, wondering who was there and who wasn't. He glanced to the garage where the bikes were being repaired, hesitating when he saw King, who never bothered to look up, before making his way to the lounge.

"Miss Beauregard, you're glowing in this summer air."

"Is that what you call sweat?" Reveca said with a languid draw. That line killed Blackwater's fake smile and made her boys rumble with laughter.

Blackwater moved his head side to side. "Something's different 'bout you."

"What do you want," she asked lifting her head to the fans once more, nearly closing her eyes so she could absorb the breeze.

"That was some vigil the other night."

Reveca didn't respond.

"I surely assumed the funerals were going to be a sight to be seen after that, but, ah...I didn't see any of you there this morning."

"We say goodbye in our own way, Blackwater. On our own time."

"Apparently." He glanced to the bar. "You all looked nice and stocked over yonder. I assume all your permits are in order."

"Why would I need a permit? I sell nothing. This is not a bar."

"Sure, you just hand out beer and liquor and expect nothing in return."

Reveca let a lazy smile come to her lips and opened her eyes. "No, I expect something."

Blackwater popped his brow.

"I expect my friends to have a good time, and talk about the bikes they love so much."

"Well, we're friends aren't we? How 'bout a tall glass of water."

Reveca nodded at Echo, who stood to bring Blackwater just that. While Blackwater waited he scanned the lounge, nodded once to Cashton. "I see our traveling musician has returned to town once more, just like clockwork."

Cashton only glared in response.

"Where is it that you play when you leave here?"

Cashton narrowed his gaze, so much so that you could only see the blue flames of his eyes. "On a stage."

"Do any of you know how not to be a smart ass?" Blackwater asked as Echo approached him with his water.

Once Echo gave it to him he held out his hand. "Twenty bucks, Lawman. We're saving up for a permit."

"Do what?" Blackwater said as he nearly choked on the long drink he had just taken.

Echo busted out laughing, so did Judge, shook his head and made his way to the other side of the garage.

"What do you want today, Blackwater? Here to tell me more ghost stories?"

"Why would I do that when you already know the ending?"

She moved her shoulders so her Kut would fall back into place. "I didn't know any such thing."

"Holden is one of yours."

"No," she said with a lifted brow. "He's a lone wolf, a biker that moves from club to club. Most times they never even linger near a club. He was not one of ours." She stepped forward. "I don't know where he came from. But I have no doubt that someone as foul and disgusting, someone as twisted and ignorant as him surely kept company with more of the same in his past. Hell, for all I know those people from his past sent him right at my Club."

Blackwater stared at her for a long moment. This was one of their standoffs, the moments when they both knew a truth they could not speak without tainting themselves with guilt.

Reveca had no doubt the lawmen were having a hell of a time trying to figure out why their undercover officer confessed to a murder in front of hundreds of witnesses. That would be a hell of a thing to try to sweep under the rug, especially since Holden described the murder in unfailing detail. It wasn't hard for him to do. Knight, one of the Sons that was skilled with computer systems, had hacked into the files, knew how the crime happened. So Thames, he pushed that into Holden's mind as his new truth.

Finally, Blackwater gave a grin.

"Was it the assholes that sent him at you, or your Club that taught him to use a woman's weapon to kill a dead man?"

"Excuse me?"

"The vic—the bullet used was a 22." He reached in his pocket. "Now this here, this is a 45, a bullet that means serious business. The kind of gun that big strong boys like yours would use, if they ventured to do such things, of course."

"Doesn't look like a bullet to me."

"It's what is left of one. It was found in one of your fallen friends. Seems he was nice and meaty in his living days. Took the fire extra long to burn him down and by the time it reached this it was all out of heat."

"Are you trying to say that GranDee's friend was murdered?"

"It's a possibility. We're still investigating of course. With any luck we'll be able to link what's left of this bullet to a weapon."

"I sincerely hope that you do. From all accounts that family was enjoying a Sunday dinner when they met their demise. It would take a coldhearted son of a bitch to walk in the middle of that and fire off rounds for no reason."

Blackwater's top lip twitched before he spoke. "It's a dark world."

"So it seems."

"What was your association with the Cartier family, by the way?"

"Family friends of friends."

"The kind of friends you see often?"

"Often enough."

"So you would be aware of any enemies they may have."

Reveca smirked. "Cleary the vilest enemies are often right in front of your face, Blackwater." When his eyes grew a little wider, Reveca let a breath out, hating the very sight of him. "Of course I say that because of the recent confessions of Holden." She smiled. "No, I'm not aware of anyone that would harbor ill will toward an innocent old woman who did nothing but cook and tend to her garden."

He watched for an instant before he spoke. "Well, since you're friends with the family, do me a favor now and let them know that until this investigation is closed they will not be permitted on that property. I can't seem to get them to return my calls. I'd hate for them to make their way out to that forgotten patch of swamp land only to be turned away."

"Your boys are out there in this heat, meddling through that foul smelling carnage? Dodging gators and every other slithery thing that grows curious?" she asked. "I seriously doubt anyone, including the Cartier family, is eager to be in your place."

"Right," Blackwater said as he put his glass down on one of the tables. "Who's your new guy?" he asked with a nod in King's direction.

"Another lone wolf."

"So quick to invite another in?" Blackwater asked suspiciously.

Reveca nodded toward Cashton. "Him and Cash are buddies. He vouched for him."

"That a fact?" Blackwater said looking at Cashton.

Not missing a beat Cashton answered. "We're bloody fucking best mates."

"Where 'bouts you meet him? He a foreigner like you?"

"Blackwater," Reveca said. "Our new friend, along with Cashton, didn't arrive at the Boneyard until both your mysteries were well known. Let them settle before you try and aim half-assed accusations disguised as idle chatter in their direction."

"Right," Blackwater said as he gave a nod goodbye, then left at an insanely slow stroll.

Reveca glanced at Judge once Blackwater was far enough away.

"They don't have a fucking clue. They're still going to hold that ground hostage, though."

Reveca nodded once trusting what Judge saw within Blackwater.

Holding that ground was not good news. It very well could mean a death sentence for the girl upstairs. Reveca needed herbs, ones that she didn't grow on her own, ones that she counted on GranDee to give her anytime someone needed to make a transition.

That girl upstairs was breathing, but that was about it right now. If Reveca didn't do something soon, she would fail GranDee's last request. And that burned. The grief burned. Being drowned by a past that was now staring her in the face—that burned. Acting like life was peachy and normal to Talon—that scorched. Basically, Reveca's life sucked right about then.

She knew where she needed to go, and hopefully that little errand of hers would answer more than a question or two.

She walked over to the bar, pulled out a bottle of water from beneath it, then glanced at Cashton. "You heading out for a cup of coffee today?" she asked.

Cashton looked past her where King was, then leaned a little closer. "Until I figure out why that bastard thinks I'm the devil, I'm keeping my distance from anyone who can't defend themselves."

"You? With a weak girl? You traverse life and death for a damsel in distress?"

Cashton let his stare slide over Reveca. "All power lies dormant from time to time. Let's just say I haven't awakened hers yet."

"So she's not glowing?" Reveca said with a weak wink, trying to make light of what they'd discussed days ago.

"Not as much as you, Vec."

Reveca felt herself grow tense but she waved her hand anyway. "What is it with men today? Thinking sweat is sexy. The heat has gotten to the lot of you."

With that she strolled out of the lounge and made her way through the bays, all the way to the last one where King was crouched over a bike. With each step she took toward him she felt this throbbing building in her, a deep hum of a sensation. One that she'd felt for the first time long ago, the memory of which had haunted her through all of time.

When she set the bottle on his shoulder, that contact, even though it wasn't flesh-to-flesh, jolted her somewhat, enough that she stifled a groan and clinched her thighs together.

King slowly looked up at her. There was not one iota of shock in those clear blue eyes. He'd sensed her coming. Hell, he'd felt her approach long before she made her way to the garage.

"You need fluids."

He stood slowly, until he was standing, towering over her. "Is that what I need?"

Reveca's gray eyes rapidly moved across his image, seeing the past and present as one. "I don't get you."

He lifted one brow, stifled a smirk. That wasn't the first time she'd said something like that to him. Just the idea of where that conversation ended up last time was stirring him, testing every inch of his will power. "Seems like your head's clearing up there, sweet."

"Sweet? What is that? A nickname? That's right...a guy like you, I bet you have one you say to all the girls that nearly faint in your presence because you can't remember their names. I don't care for sweet."

His ice stare searched over her face.

"You're not going to ask me which one I care for?" Reveca asked. This was her test. Kenson, always, always called her love.

"Sweet will have to do for now," King said as those long lashes narrowed around his eyes. "No."

"No what?"

"No, I don't use an endearment for girls I cross paths with." He reached to put the bottle of water down on the table but to do so he had to lean near Reveca. "I remember everything," he said in a deep, quiet voice that was laced with command. It sent a surge through Reveca, a sensation she had not felt since she was a twenty-year-old girl.

Right then the distant thunder of bikes rumbled through the air. She gave King a once over, then turned to go to the dock where everyone parked their bikes.

Right then Talon, Thrash, Shade, and Red pulled in, and just behind them four others.

She waited as Talon backed his bike in, even ensured the smile he liked was in place.

"Miss me?" he asked as she walked to him. Before she could answer, still astride his bike, he pulled Reveca to him. His kiss was deep, claiming, so was his hand that loved the fact that her shorts were loose which allowed him to glide under them without effort. They could hear the other guys whistling.

Reveca had never been one for public displays of affection and Talon knew that so he pulled away far sooner than he wanted to.

"What are you doing out here? How's our girl?"

"Sick as hell. I was just heading out. How'd it go this morning?"

"Everything is collected, being checked. We make the drop tomorrow night."

Daily, tourists and locals alike, would board riverboats to gamble. The boats the Sons had affiliations with didn't take money in exchange for chips, they took filled scripts. After they were collected, once the boats left the dock and made their way down the river, they'd drop a package in the water. A seemingly innocent fishing boat would pick it up, haul it further down river. At a specified meeting point they would pass the drop. The drugs would be taken to a hidden sorting house, checked over, sorted, then packaged again. Days later what was not needed for those under the watch of the Sons was sold to the black market, to a buyer that would offer the drugs at a price a working family could afford.

All drugs were toxic in Reveca's mindset. The earth had every remedy that was needed, but modern man had developed a habit of forgetting that. They pumped toxins into everything they consumed. Then, instead of questioning why they were sick, they medicated themselves with stronger toxins.

The only way Reveca stomached her role in this business was knowing that in some way they were saving lives—they just weren't doing anything to break the cycle of destruction. No, corporations controlled the food and they controlled the healthcare. They were the infection and the cure.

"Blackwater just left."

"I passed him. What'd he want?"

"Said GranDee's land was closed off for now, and waved a bullet in my face."

"A bullet that belonged to their undercover," Talon said like a curse.

"Right."

"What are you going to do?" he asked as his dark eyes moved over her. He knew she was pissed about a host of things, and being banned from a garden wasn't the worst of them but it surely wasn't going to make her any happier.

"I'm going to go to a different source."

"I thought sis was ignoring you."

"Yeah, well, my bro is more agreeable at times."

Talon laughed knowing that was the furthest thing from the truth. Jamison, a prominent modern southern business man who moonlighted as the most dominant coven leader of all time, kept a wide berth from the Sons and from Reveca.

Talon assumed he was an ass. Reveca knew it was because he still harbored guilt. She was going to use that today, for sure.

"Want me to come?" Talon asked.

"No, I got this."

He patted her ass as he stood then pulled her lips to his once more. "You're glowing, babe." He leaned into her hair. "You gotta stop turning me on when I got business to handle."

"You get what you put out," she said only vaguely having to force herself to smile.

She patted his chest then made her way to her bike.

Right as her machine roared to life between her legs, as she felt that vibration all but consume her. She glanced over her shoulder, toward the pull she'd felt all but stab her where she stood just before. Those eyes, clear as ice, were staring out at her from behind the bike King was working on.

Reveca held that glance for a second before she peeled away, looking for the road, an escape, a way to breathe for a moment before she came face to face with Jamison BellaRose. Before she asked him why the hell they waited until Kenson was warped into another man, before she'd become a new woman, before they put a nice little bow on him and slammed him back into her life.

She took the long way to the Quarter, just needing to feel the road for a second. When she did make it to one of Jamison's finer establishments, she backed her bike against the curb. Flipped off the drunk tourists that were either whistling at her or asking where her daddy was.

She marched right into the front door, passed the stuck up hostess that was surely about to tell Reveca she needed to be dressed differently. She moved through the dining room, letting a smirk linger on her lips when she heard conversations halt. Then she made her way to the elegant second floor bar.

There he was.

Jamison didn't look a day older than the first time she had seen him, but he damn sure tried. He'd put a little gray in his side burns, dressed in suits, carried a dominance about him.

But to her, he was the same. He was that fallen soul her family nursed back to health, the one that became stronger than they ever imaged. Jamison was the reason Reveca could mock a living life. He was the reason that himself, Saige, and other select members of the coven had grasped immortality.

When the world Reveca grew up in, or dimension rather, began to collapse, Jamison is the reason they survived. He brought them to this one, long ago.

He was sitting at the edge of the bar, looking over some papers. Two women were on the opposite corner, gawking at him. That was pretty normal. The boy was a looker, sharp features, an easy smile. Charm. He had that in spades.

Reveca sauntered right up to him. She didn't slide into the bar stool. No, she used the bar stool as a step and perched her bottom right on the bar. Slowly she crossed her legs, leaned forward, and gave Jamison a lazy smile as she heard the others in the room gasp.

Jamison had sensed Reveca before she'd ever managed to park her bike, but it made no sense to move to the front to meet her. He could make this room as private as he wanted, so he waited.

"You look ravishing, Reveca," Jamison said as his blue eyes moved down her, holding his gaze on her he spoke to the bartender. "Ensure our guests make it to the front bar, a round on us. This bar is closed until further notice."

Reveca held his stare as the few in the room began to leave.

"Why are your eyes so hungry, brother? Where is that innocent you play house with? Are you two having a tiff?"

Jamison didn't answer until he heard the lock on the main doors slide.

"Brother?" he asked with a lift of his chin and sly grin.

That was all that Reveca needed to see to know that she wasn't leaving there empty handed.
Chapter Three

Reveca reached for the straw that was in the drink before Jamison and spun the ice slowly. "Yes. Brother. The world at large believes that Saige is your elder sister. Granted it would be hard for them to believe she's my twin in her tragic state, but still...you and I, well, my father did see you as the son he was never given."

"Reveca, I would gladly publically claim you as family if you chose to engage in legitimate business, legitimate practices."

"Semantics, Jamison. I'm a product of my environment."

Reveca let go of the straw and leaned forward on her knees. "But daydream with me for a moment. If I ever agreed to bend to your will, brother, would you finally introduce me to the next generation of the coven?"

Jamison had managed to do what most would call the impossible a while back. After endless eras of an immortal life he became a father of a child of flesh. To the world at large and the private coven, his life was the picture of perfection, nice and neat inside safe lines. Jamison's family had no idea Reveca existed. Yet Saige was the sweet, older, eccentric aunt they adored.

None of that bothered Reveca, not really. Innocent young girls had no business in the life Reveca led, but that didn't mean she wasn't prepared to taunt Jamison with that threat if she were pushed to, and she was.

Jamison never answered, only let his eyes reflect a practiced smile rich with charm.

"Just over twenty years now, right? The little one." Reveca threw her head back in mock enthrallment. "Oh, how I remember being that young, grasping power, feeling that surge come through you—downright orgasmic. I bet you have your hands full keeping the boys away."

No response, not really, perhaps that stare harbored that same 'knowing' edge Jamison was notorious for, but nothing more.

Reveca let out a breath. "Big girl now, big enough to want to take down her daddy's enemies, huh?" Reveca pursed her lips. "Perhaps I should introduce myself to Little Bit, tell her if she was trained properly she wouldn't need twenty-twos to take down nasty human men."

"She's well aware of that, I assure you." Jamison crossed his arms, nearly smiled. "Are you accusing my daughter of being involved in this?"

"Not at all. You see, when you and Saige call on me to clean up your fuck ups I get curious as to how you fouled your way into the mess in the first place." Reveca narrowed her stare. "And any time Saige blames me for something it means she's guilty as hell."

"She blamed you for this?"

"Don't act as if you two aren't sharing Cliff Notes. She said my Rogue's killed that man, a man you had issues with not long ago. Apparently, Saige thinks that I should believe one of my Rogue's broke every bone in the man's body, stopped his heart, then waited a few hours and put a twenty-two in his head. That's overkill, Jamison, really."

"It makes more sense for you to think that my daughter did that?"

"Well, I don't know her so it's easy for me to assume anything." She pursed her lips before she spoke further. "I should introduce myself. Take her out for a drink. I'm sure she'd love to hear stories about her daddy dearest...I'm sure she'd like to know that from day one her father defended our coven as if it was his own. Went to war to protect it." Reveca slowly adjusted the way her legs were crossed. "I'm sure she'd loved to hear of how her father watched a noble man fall for the same cause. Yes, I'd tell her how I was her age, young, in love, full of power...and used that power to save the very soul that understood me at my core. And her father gave one nod—one fucking nod—and that nod destroyed my love. That nod put me in prison, became a catalyst for who I am today."

Reveca bit her lip, and waited for a response.

Jamison leaned forward, looked reverently up at Reveca. "You want to know what that nod was about?"

"No, I only asked a million times before because I was grasping for conversation starters."

She could usually get Jamison to at least grin at her sarcasm. That amusement for her, that guilt he had for their past always helped her get what she wanted, what Saige would withhold.

His seriousness right now was twisting Reveca's stomach.

"I surrendered."

"Do what?" Reveca said as she drew her brow together.

His gaze danced over her confused expression before he spoke. "You may have been engaged in your own power that dawn but you felt it in the air." He sucked in a sharp breath. "You felt a supremacy that your people had only dared to write about. It brushed against you."

"And..."

"It was hunting me. Or so I assumed. That power was stopping your magic from taking root. Too much energy in one area."

Jamison leaned back in his chair. "Your power was blanketing that entire field. Lorecan had to subdue you in order for that supremacy to claim what it wanted."

"And this all mighty power, one that is greater than our people knew, made a mistake and took the wrong boy? I don't know how long you have been cooking up that bullshit excuse but you need to go back to the kitchen."

"In the divine plan I do not believe it was a mistake."

"Divine plan. The Rapture you and Saige admittedly believe in. The one Lorecan forced you to believe."

"Lorecan didn't force us to believe anything. You did."

Reveca felt her entire body tense.

"That's right. He was full of predications, full of prophecy. You were the first. You walked every step he said you would, right up until this very moment." He focused his eyes on Reveca. "I know you don't want to believe in this Rapture and that's fine. I didn't either. With all I knew, all that I had seen before I landed with your family, I still could not fathom the truth of it." He hesitated. "From the moment I became a father I wanted nothing more than to deny its existence. I can't, Reveca. Souls are falling into place. That's a given."

That stare of his moved over Reveca reflecting the same sympathy it carried each time Reveca's beginning was spoken of. "I surrendered. That power didn't recognize me anymore, it was blind to me. Lorecan claimed it was hunting Kenson all along. That it believed he was designed to be a part of it."

"What the hell happened to him, Jamison? Where has he been?"

"Been? Past tense."

"Fuck off. You know Saige sent me after him. Crass called him a false king."

"Sounds to me like he's been in death."

"You're an ass. Before that. Where was he?"

That knowing glint was back in his stare. "I suppose you'd have to ask him." He lifted his chin. "Is he getting along well with your boys, with Cashton?"

"I do believe I heard Cashton call him his best bloody fucking mate just before I left. We're just peachy at the Beauregard Boneyard."

That response oddly seemed to shock Jamison. Reveca wanted it to. For all she knew her sister was trying to destroy her Club from the inside out, tossing enough drama her way so her boys would fight amongst themselves.

"How is he?" Jamison asked sincerely.

"Oh, you know, coming out the Edge, it's hard on a soul, hard on the corporeal form. It's a shame, too. I can't get the herbs I would need to help someone with a transition, not with GranDee's property being locked down."

Jamison nearly grinned. "You expect me to believe that Kenson, or rather King, needs herbs to find clarity?"

"That's not Kenson, Jamison. Not even close."

That empathy filled his eyes once more. "He's different. I have no doubt." He let his gaze drop. "Where he was, Reveca, it strips you, rebirths you. I don't care how strong you are, you can't fight it. He endured that then eras later found himself in death, one that dug into his soul, unearthed his true beginning. He is a mix of who he was, became, and is. But that is him."

"He was strong, Jamison. Strong enough to break away from that power and come back, at least at a distance." She paused to hide her emotion. "And you know what he saw? Lorecan with my sister, my sister with child. He thought she was me. If he forgot his beginning, he did so on purpose."

She expected that revelation to shock Jamison as much as it had shocked her, but he didn't flinch. "Or perhaps that power allowed him to see that. Perhaps fooling him was the only way to get him to submit."

"You knew that happened?"

"No, but it fits."

"Who he was is gone." Reveca bit out.

"Who he was needs to be unearthed and being close to you will do just that." Jamison started to adjust the papers before him. "If he does so, that will make paths before others you have grown close to less agonizing."

"Talon does not bask in agony, he wields anger and dominance to protect his claim."

"I wasn't referring to him, however, that should be entertaining to say the least," Jamison said ambiguously. "Do yourself a favor and ensure there is space between Cashton and King...at least until the vagueness has faded."

Jamison looked up at Reveca. "I have no doubt you need herbs that are unavailable to you at this time, but they're not for King. They're for the girl you're harboring."

Reveca stared. She knew there was a strong possibility Jamison knew about that. For one, Thelma Ray helped him raise his family, as a nanny of sorts. There was little doubt she would freely share information about her sister's coming and goings with Jamison, for that fact and the fact he was the coven leader. Secondly, Jamison's position allowed him to sense when someone was using the power that Reveca was tapping into. That's why she had no choice but use guilt to start this conversation.

"I'll give you swipe."

"I don't need that herb, I need evermore."

"When you bring souls back, when their enhancements fall into place, what occurs?"

"Judgment."

"Judgment. They face the moments where they made choices that lead to their death. At the same time the soul will protect the mind from trauma it cannot withstand. Your girl. She made no choice to lead to her death or what happened before such time. She was a victim. To come out of that she's going to have to take swipe, the memories are going to have to lie dormant for now."

"I'm calling bullshit on you. I give her that and I will have to wait for her to remember what GranDee was doing with her in the first place. You're covering up something, Jamison. Something in her mind."

"The way I see it, Reveca, you can either trust me, give her this, and wait for nature to take its course, or you can let her die with the knowledge she knows."

"You're an asshat."

He laughed. "Always so quick to speak your mind." He held her stare. "Surely that will aid you in what lies before you."

He stood, now eye level with Reveca. "Saige told you the truth. A Rouge, a soul born of your actions, did kill that man. However, I believe that Rogue had no choice."

Reveca narrowed her stare on him.

"Newberry," Jamison said. "He was a weak man looking for power. He toyed with magic he should have never touched and it bit back." He stared before he spoke again, choosing his words. "He and others like him want the power within us. They can't comprehend energy so they think its blood. Reveca...your Rogue's, they're being hunted by more than you know."

Blood may not be energy, but it sure as hell added power to spells, and Reveca knew this Newberry man had an ancient book of shadows in his grimy hands not long ago. There was nothing worse than an idiot toying with dark arts they were too ignorant to understand. No, wait there was—an idiot with friends.

"Thanks for the heads up." She grinned smugly. "I'll return the favor. Holden told me that Newberry was an informant for the lawmen. Holden went on runs with us, knows we got scripts from casino boats. I know it's a long shot but those lawmen might connect the dots and figure out that a BellaRose owns those boats, under a different name of course."

Jamison smirked. "Newberry was declared mentally insane by every institution there is. No legal branch would be able to utilize that man's word as an informant, legit or not." He tilted his head. "I doubt Holden, a man that was in the midst of cold blooded murder, would see the importance of saying the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

Holden had told Reveca that the lawmen knew that GranDee was her cook. If anything, she was her gardener. But to Holden, someone that only saw the side of the Sons that pushed around scripts, that fit when Reveca heard it. Now, nothing really did, not completely anyway.

"I'll get your swipe, makes sure it's potent with energy, and have it here for you tomorrow night."

Reveca hopped off the bar, offering only a bored expression as a response.

"Reveca," Jamison said as she reached the door. "Be careful out there. Newberry's people can't tell a Rogue from a lifer, a witch from a human. You know just as well as I do that the ignorance runs deep these days."

When Reveca made it outside, just as she sat astride her bike she heard the rumble of another bike echoing off the buildings on the narrow, aged streets. When she looked in her mirror she could not help but grin.

Cashton halted his bike next to Reveca's and idled.

"What happened?" Reveca shouted over the thundering motor. "Caffeine addiction get the best of you?"

Cashton gave her a nod and winked. He glanced at Jamison's establishment just behind Reveca then drove off.

Taking the long way back, Reveca did her best to sort all that Jamison had revealed, the secrets he had alluded to. She didn't get very far with that. To consider half of what he said, she had to reflect on her past, and the only way she was making it from breath to breath was by pretending that King was some haunt they were harboring and nothing more.

When she arrived back at the Boneyard the day had almost reached its end, or rather the garage was closed for the day. There was a band on the stage. Prospects were manning the bar, bikers were outside drinking beer around their rides, more inside. Girls, wearing next to nothing, were sizing up their prey for the night. It was home. It was Reveca's life.

The second she stepped into the lounge her gaze found Talon. He was at the edge of the bar, his back to her, one girl at his side, one sitting on the bar just beside him. That was the girl that saw Reveca, the one that looked like she was going to puke just as she hopped down from where she was. Her friend followed, both looking down like scared school children.

Talon didn't seem to notice that they were there or had left. He was still going back and forth with Red, who was behind the bar, about something.

She didn't see King anywhere, but she felt him. He was close to the lounge but not within it.

All at once she heard Steele, one of the Sons in the life, bellow a curse. He was in a side booth flinging a dingy blonde off of him. Seconds before, when Reveca had walked in, flinging her off was the last thing he was doing. Steele had no shame, never crossed his mind that it might be a good idea to close a door now and again when he was enticing a woman to bend to his will. He liked the audience. He liked how it put his partner in a submissive position. Hell, he just liked submissive.

"You fucking bit me!" he roared reaching for his neck.

A few of the guys laughed, someone even yelled. "She must want a spanking, Steele!"

Reveca didn't think it was very funny though, not when she saw that girl shove something in her bra just before walking away. To the crowd she looked like a girl who had gotten in over her head. To Reveca, she looked like a woman who had just gotten exactly what she wanted.

Just as that girl reached the door, Reveca grasped her arm then slammed her against the wall.

"He said he didn't have an Ol' Lady!" the girl yelled. "I'm leaving."

Reveca held her with a glance as she reached in her bra. The first thing she pulled out was crank—that alone was enough to boil Reveca's blood. Then she found what she was looking for, a small vile full of blood.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw two other girls bolting for the door, the two girls that were lingering near Talon just before. "Stay," she said to them. The force of her energy demanding that they did so.

The entire room was near silent then. The band had even decided to stop playing.

"I didn't fuck him," the dingy blonde said as she started to shake.

"No you fucked with him."

"He said he had no Ol' Lady," she bleated in a frantic cry.

Still holding the other girls in place with her energy, Reveca slid her hand up the dingy blonde's neck and squeezed it just to scare her.

"They're all mine. Every last fucking one of them are mine," Reveca seethed. "You fuck with them, you fuck with me. You brought crank into my club." Reveca adjusted her grip. "You tried to fuck my boys and brought crank into my club."

"No, no," the dingy blonde babbled over and over.

"Family business," she heard Talon say.

That clearly meant if you were not patched into the core of the MC, if you were not in the life, to get the fuck out of the room, and everyone that wasn't scrambled to do so, knocking over chairs and tables in their wake.

Those other two girls tried to move, couldn't figure out why they couldn't. There was no doubt they were stoned off their ass as well.

The Sons that were present circled behind Reveca trapping the girls between them and the wall, in a cage with the violent lioness that Reveca had become.

Reveca patted down the rest of the girl, found more drugs, just enough for personal use. "What the fuck," Reveca said as she made her next discovery, a used condom that had been stuffed back into its pouch.

The girl refused to answer.

"Who fucked this girl?" Reveca said turning to her boys.

"Red," Talon said. "Saw them in the bays earlier."

Reveca rolled her eyes then moved to the other girls. "Who was on your to-do list tonight?" she asked as she flung the pair of them against the wall with a glance.

Both of them looked to Talon, there was a plea in that stare.

"That one right there?" Reveca said with a sly lift to her brow.

Clearly those girls understood it was mistake to make eye contact with anyone and began shaking their heads frantically.

Reveca seized them with her energy, nearly to the point of suffocation. "Ladies, I hate to spoil your night, but your ass isn't nearly big enough to get his attention. Oh, and he's taken."

She heard the other guys let out low rumbles of laughter but it didn't change her mood. She searched those girls. She found empty vials on them, more drugs, unused condoms.

"Who sent you here?"

"Nobody," the blonde answered.

"Who sent you here for blood?"

The laughter behind her stopped. She had everyone's attention then.

"Who sent your skank ass into my club to fuck with my boys?"

"We don't know," the dark haired girl said.

"I got this, Vec. Wash your hands, that shit is gross," Thames said as he stepped forward. Judge was not far behind him, both prepared to get in those girls' heads and find the answers they needed.

"What the hell is going on, Vec?" Talon asked her as she did as Thames told her, went the bar and started to scrub her hands with scolding water.

"Those quote un quote friends of Newberry's we were told about, they're after blood. Literally. Trying to get power out of it."

There were grumbles of cuss words among all of them.

"We'll search everyone as they come in, tell them we're looking for drugs," Talon said.

"And what's our next plan?" Reveca asked. "Make sure all the boys gag the girls they fuck, bind their hands so they can't draw blood?"

"Fuck that," Echo said. "I'm not turning into a dominator fuck like Steele. I like my women with a bite. We'll find the son of a bitch behind this and turn his world upside down. I fuck how I want, when I want."

"You'd like it," Steele said grinning sheepishly as his teeth grazed his lip ring. Steele was like Thrash. When he came back his animal instincts were loud and proud, especially with the phases of the moon. He was what Saige assumed would be a lyke one day, first generation werewolf.

"What do you got?" Talon asked Thames. He'd been pushing his way in the druggie's head nice and hard.

Thames glanced at Judge who was looking more pissed by the second then shook his head. "They don't know shit. They were at a rehab, nurse gave them meds, stoned them off their ass, then they saw a room full of girls. Guys wore masks when they gave them their daily dose, and what food they did get. Tonight they were shown Talon's picture and were told to get what they could off him, if not him any one that had a crow with its wings spread tattooed across their shoulders.

That tattoo, along with the words 'No Last Ride,' was a mark of all those patched deep within in the MC. Those that carried mortal lives in this MC they had the Club's symbol on their inner forearms with the same words.

"Red doesn't have that tattoo," Echo said.

"Yeah, well," Thames grunted. "This one right here," he said with a nod to the dingy blonde, "is smart for an addict. She figured they couldn't tell the difference. She was getting her crank one way or another."

"Fix them," Reveca said as she nodded for Steele to come to her. She wanted to look at that bite on his neck.

"Already did. Now they have this truth that tells them if they ingest anything but whole foods or water that spiders will burst from their skin. They also think they're from California, and need to make their way home on the next bus."

"Use the van and get them to that bus," Talon ordered.

Steele had made his way to Reveca. She had to stand on her tiptoes to see his neck. His dark brow drew together and he nearly hissed. "Shut up you big baby," Reveca said as she cleaned. "You're lucky I'm not pouring bleach on your cock."

"Didn't get that far, momma," Steele said as those grey eyes rained down on her.

Just as she was about to give him hell she heard a fake gasp.

"Oh my, now they told me outside that there was a 'family' meeting going on in here, and I was like but I am family, and what do I see, tsk tsk, Reveca dangling on a Son that is not hers."

The entire room turned to see Tisk. Her hair was wild with dark curls that reached just to her shoulders. Her makeup was nothing less than Goth—black lipstick, shadow—her clothes, more of the same, fishnet stockings, short skirt, and a loose tank.

"Get out of here you Rogue fucker," Talon said coldly.

"Darling, lest you forget, I'm not a Rogue fucker. I simply fuck Rogue's...which means I have information you may want."

"I don't want shit from you," Reveca said and meant it.

Tisk was a witch. She'd been kicked out of the Dominarum Coven for practicing dark arts, had come to Reveca thinking she would take her in. It wasn't hard for Reveca to see why the others wanted her out. She was downright abusive, used magic for gain.

Now she sold hexes and such at a little shop in the Quarter where tourist and locals alike come in looking for some dime store magic. If she wasn't there she was at St Louis graveyard doing more of the same to those that thought they were clever enough to pull power from empty graves.

"Well, then I suppose I'll have a beer, and wait until you find the need to listen to me."

Reveca rolled her eyes looked up at Steele. "Come up with me so I can cleanse this the right way."

"Sure that sounds like a great excuse," Tisk said as she sauntered closer to Talon. "You're very trusting," she said with puppy dog eyes. "Letting that big bad wolf go with your woman upstairs." She moved her hand up his chest. "I could keep you occupied."

It wasn't Reveca's energy that had Tisk pinned to the wall, spread eagle, arms out wide, it was Talon's. He strolled right up to her, let his lethal gaze ease down her like she was a steak dinner. He leaned in nice and close and said, "You wouldn't survive it."

He meant that, in more ways than one.

"Promise?" she gasped.

Tisk was a human witch, and wanted desperately not to be.

Talon shook his head and walked away leaving her pinned there. "Get this cleaned up," he said with a nod to the druggies. He glanced to where Reveca was, wanting to know what she wanted them to do with Tisk, but she was gone.

Didn't really surprise him. Reveca had a calm temper for the most part, but druggies in the club, sent to hurt her boys, followed by the uninvited appearance of Tisk was enough to stretch her limits. She needed space to think right now. It was going to kill him, but he was going to give it to her.
Chapter Four

No wound lasted long on any of the Sons or Reveca for that matter. Their flesh could still tear, they'd feel that pain like any human, but near instantly the pain would numb, the wound would begin to heal. The more serious ones, like bullet holes, they took longer, a solid night in some cases.

Her wanting to clean Steele's wound had more to do with her protective nature than it did with any fear that cranked out girl could have hurt him.

Reveca was in the second floor bath with Steele holding leaves against his already healed flesh. The herb purified, pulled toxins from the skin. If that girl did pass anything into his bloodstream with that bite this would help his body fight it off all the faster.

She was doing her best not to laugh at what he was saying to her. She wanted to be mad but every one of the Sons made it a point not to let her stay that way.

"You should kill that twisted bitch, Tisk, then like botch how you bring her back, hell don't botch it—nature will have its way. I bet she comes back as a horny nymph. Screw the name Tisk, we'll just call her Cock, you know, because she'll be mad craving that all the time but no will give to her because they're afraid they'll fall in the massive black hole her—"

"Shut up."

"What?" Steele asked clearly amused by his words.

Reveca was too, but she heard something, a pounding, then a curse.

Right as she charged out of the bathroom, Shade came out of the room down the hall yelling her name. That was the room mystery girl was in.

Reveca all but propelled herself there.

The girl was in the bed soaked with sweat. Her body was jarring forward violently. Her stomach jutted up then her shoulder slammed back, then finally her head. The same places she had been shot before.

"What the hell is happening?" Steele yelled.

"Run a bath, Steele. Strip her down," she said to Shade.

Reveca started pulling things out of the chest that carried all her natural meds and cussed when she saw she was all but out of three of the living herbs she needed.

Seconds later Shade was carrying her down the hall, Reveca was running after them.

Inside the bath Shade clenched the girl to his chest hiding her from Steele. "Out," he growled.

"I'm helping," he argued.

"I said OUT."

Steele grunted then left. Reveca adjusted the water to match the temperature the best she could then went through the process she had done when she brought this girl home, and at least once a day since then.

"Put her in."

The girl went lax in the water, at ease once again.

"What's going on with this girl? Why is she not coming out of this?" Shade asked with a gravelly voice.

"When she can't rise, her mind pushes her back to before she died. It's trying to tell her to let go."

"I'm going to rip Holden's flesh off of him slowly," Shade said through gritted teeth.

"She went quickly," Reveca offered.

"No, she didn't," Shade said as he caressed her forehead. "I can't figure out if he raped her or not."

"What are you talking about?" Reveca asked, hesitating placing the last of the leaves she had on the girl.

"I watched her last night, and tonight. About an hour before she reenacts the shots, her hands clench, like she's holding a gun, then she falls back, tears come out of her eyes, then she holds her hands before her like they're bound, stays that way for a moment then spreads her legs wide," he clenched his jaw. "She stays that way for a long time, then flails like she's running. The shots come 'bout five minutes after that."

Reveca put her hand on his shoulder. "He didn't."

"You don't know that."

"I've been caring for this body for days. I know she was not hurt that way."

"I'm still ripping his fucking flesh off."

"Okay, buddy," she said patting his shoulder.

When she stood he looked up. "Where are you going?"

"I need to get some more stuff from the garden. Tomorrow I should have what I need to break her out of this cycle."

"I'll go."

She shook her head. "She rests more calmly when you're here."

Shade lowered his head.

"What is it about her? What's with you?"

"I don't know, Vec, I don't fucking know. It's just a hum."

Reveca tensed but he didn't see it. She had to get out now. She could feel her very own hum not far off. There were one too many emotions roiling through her right then.

When she went outside she saw that half the bikes were gone. It looked like only Club members were left, and they were all sealed in the lounge with loud music.

She roared her bike to life, meaning to sling gravel all over Tisk's Honda as she pulled out.

Her garden was at the edge of the Boneyard, miles away from where she was, close to the river. Normally it was her sanctuary. In all truth, if it were any other night, feeling the way she was, she would linger there for hours, meditating her building emotions away. But tonight she didn't understand what was going on with that mystery girl, wasn't entirely sure that she would make it until Jamison gave her the herbs she needed, so she grabbed what she came for, packed her saddle bags, then made her way back.

She'd barely made it on the road when a truck came up behind her. She twisted her throttle trying to get out of its path. It charged on, barely missing the back of her bike. It was instinct for her to use magic to tell this ass to go on, but her lawmen buddies were parked in their regular spot and the last thing she wanted to do was give them a show. She was too amped up and she knew with her luck one wave of her power would cause an explosion that would bring all kinds of people she didn't want to her doorstep tonight.

She twisted the throttle once again, weaved on the road just to dodge the truck. It stayed right on her. "You after me?" she thought. "Fine. Follow me."

She raced forward then turned into the gravel lot. Her turn was too sharp and the bike slanted to the side. Reveca closed her eyes and prepared for impact, but then all at once she felt a body encase her. She felt a deep throbbing hum drowning her adrenaline.

The bike spun, keeping its near parallel angle with the gravel ground. Three complete sharp whirls occurred before it came to a halt. The truck had swerved. It plowed into the ditch then dug its way out and burned rubber as it peeled off down the road, apparently deciding it didn't want to play anymore.

Reveca felt the bike balance, its engine thundering along as it sat at idle.

She felt strong hands ease up her legs, past her hips then her chest, only to fall back to her leg once more. She had all but laid this bike down, her leg had been thrashed against the gravel, the heat of the bike had burned her as well.

King, he was astride the bike behind her, he'd stopped the bike from spinning, from crashing. The how and why was something that Reveca could not process at that moment. No, that hum it was penetrating, concentrated on her leg that had felt an instant sharp pain in the middle of that drama. She felt her flesh healing more rapidly than it ever had before.

Against her ear, she sensed his heated breath. "When a vehicle is crashing, a soul as powerful as you, should vacate said vehicle."

That powerful hand of his was sliding up her leg once more, moving to her hip, easing up her side, carefully grazing the side of her breast before it rose to her shoulder then eased down her arm. She couldn't feel anything right then but the pain of want, her body, her soul reaching for what felt like a life force. Her mind, it was the barrier holding her back, the one thing demanding that she held on to who she was that day.

"If I did that it would've crashed into the wall, could have burned."

"And?" he nearly growled against her ear.

"And I like my bike." Her speech was lazy, near seductive. Her eyes were hooded, the bike was humming between her legs, hot, and full of power. The body she was pressed against, his long legs, his strong chest, those arms...they were putting that bike to shame.

His long arm reached down to her leg once more. This time her skin felt smooth, like nothing had happened seconds before. She couldn't feel a damn thing. Nope, nothing but the aching want right at her core. She had no idea what he was doing, needed him to stop, but sure as hell didn't want him to. She was out of it, so much so that her head naturally fell back on his shoulder.

"I don't have idle hands, Reveca. I would have repaired your bike, made you a new one."

No, those hands were not idle, she thought to herself as he followed that same path once more, reaching his hand to her calf then sliding forward, all the while his other hand kept her pressed against him like a vice. He may have sounded like he was in control, the tone of his words may have said as much, but she felt his want growing against the base of her spine.

Her hooded eyes glazed over as her mind took her back to the first time she'd explored him, how she'd hated that water barrier. She didn't know how good she had it then. Now, they had far more clothes, and entirely too much time and emotion between them.

"I don't get you," she said as her body acted on its own and rocked back against him.

He let out a hiss, his hand that was just passing her chest clasped over her hardened peaks. That one grasp sent a shiver down her body.

"Why?" he breathed as she felt his lips graze her neck. "I thought you liked the quiet ones."

She squeezed her eyes closed. Felt an eruption of emotions fighting to explode within her. The very idea that some part of her Kenson was within him still, and that part thought she had moved on, had some life with Lorecan, it was agony.

Before she could find the will to openly face their end, her beginning in the life she was in now, and deny his words, she heard another bike rumbling into the lot.

King's energy that was encasing her slipped back, giving her some sense of clarity. When she opened her eyes she saw it was Cashton.

King braced his arm around Reveca, then moved the bike they were on, placing it back where she always left it.

Cashton took his time parking his bike, keeping his glare firmly on King. Without looking, the tension in the air told Reveca that King was returning that glare. She felt him dismount, then did so herself.

She was a bit wobbly, surely looked like she had been to hell and back, but she was ready to stand between them if she had to.

King breathed in as Cashton approached. The ice cold blue shade of King's eyes was murderous. "Have fun tonight? Too innocent out there? Come back to get your kicks here?"

"You want to get that look off your face?" Cashton said pulling his shoulders back.

"You going to make me?"

"Look, mate. I don't remember shite I do in the Veil. And when I'm there I only vaguely remember any of this. So if I've fucked you over, you might want to wait until I remember doing so. Otherwise, whatever satisfaction you want to get out of this rumble your asking for isn't going to mean fucking shite to me."

Right then they went chest-to-chest, glare-to-glare. The tiny rocks across the ground started to move with the force that was in the air. Seconds later it was too much for the metal bins lined up against the garage. They all started to bang against the wall.

"Call it off," Reveca said through gritted teeth. "Or I will march you both back into the grip of death and let you have at it out there. You're not destroying my Boneyard over some petty shit that clearly happened long ago."

King lifted his chin. "Right. Because around here, the past doesn't mean shit."

Right then all the Sons came outside, surely wondering what the sound was, why the air felt dense all at once.

Judge and Echo wasted no time coming to King's side, Thames and Thrash to Cashton's, edging them back, all of them laughing their asses off.

"I won that bet!" Steele yelled.

"Not yet, you fuck! They didn't hit each other," Echo shouted back, trying not laugh. He patted King on the shoulder. "Do me a favor, buddy, don't hit him for another two days. I've got a lot riding on it."

King didn't bother to respond.

Talon was looking all over the lot at the obvious damage from Reveca's near accident.

Tisk, she was pissed. "What did you do to my car?"

"I did that," Reveca said with a cool gaze.

"You bitch."

That comment broke King out of his glare with Cashton. Now it was firmly placed on the Goth wannabe immortal witch. That sharp gaze shifted to Talon who was just before her. "She almost laid her bike down."

All the rumbling jokes and back and forth from the other guys halted right then.

"She was chased here. Fix that." And with that King walked away not even bothering to look concerned that he'd just given a command to the president of the most lethal MC in existence.

"You left?" Talon said with a furrowed brow. He pointed to the lot, "You spun your bike—you were fucking chased here?"

Reveca glared at King's back as he made his way to the main house. "A truck came up behind me, stayed close, I turned in, and that's it."

"You think I can't read what happened out here? That I can't tell how fast you were going when you 'turned' in?" Talon said, fury flaming in his dark eyes, literally. The biggest part of all his enhancements was a Phoenix. It gave him his strength, his speed, and a host of other fun elements.

"Why didn't you use magic, Vec? What the fuck? Outrunning a truck that was gunning for you? What were you thinking?"

"I didn't want an audience," she bit out.

"I don't care what that those fuckers in that van would have seen. We would have dealt with that."

She stepped up to him and leaned her head back just to meet his hard gaze. "The way I'm feeling, that truck would have exploded on sight. We don't have time to clean up bullshit like that. I wasn't outrunning them, I was luring them in for a silent kill."

"That worked well," he said as his jawline flinched and those dark eyes moved across her face.

If looks could kill, the one Reveca was giving Talon would have had that effect for sure. She turned sharply, went to her bike, retrieved the herbs from her saddlebags, then stormed toward the house, plowing her way through the others like they weren't even there.

Hours later, Reveca was slouched against the far wall in the guest room. Across the way, she and Shade had placed the mystery girl back in her bed. Shade was perched in the wide windowsill, staring down at her.

The only light was from the array of red and black candles that were burning in their place on the floor, the rhythmic flames outlining the bed in dancing shadows.

Talon slowly opened the door. He'd shed his kut, his shoes. His dark stare found her in the glow of the room, and silently he made his way to her. Not hesitating, he slid down the wall next to her.

"You come first, baby. No matter what." His whisper was deep, calm, yet still full of that edge in him that had her falling head over heels for him when they first met.

"It's not like I can die."

"No, they couldn't have killed you, but they could have hurt you. If you're in pain for a second that's one second too long."

He reached his long arm around her and effortlessly pulled her onto his lap, cradling her against his chest. "I don't know what we're up against here, babe. What kind of arts these people are playing with. Right now we need to stop worrying about what we look like to others and defend ourselves first and foremost. Even if that means you have to blow up a truck. I can deal with anything but you being in pain."

She shifted her head against his chest, looked through the window, out at the moonless night, out at the stars. "We have to figure out who Newberry's followers are, what the hell they've been doing with the Rogue's, what they think they can do with a drop of our blood."

He glided his fingertips across her arm, further easing Reveca to the null state she had found. She had to space out, had to take that time not to think about anything because she couldn't process King right then, could not understand any of the hell around her. Clarity, in some part, always came after she'd find her way out of these states. She could only hope to find the same outcome this go 'round.

"I talked to Thames when he got back from taking care of those girls. He said when he was in those girls heads...the shit he saw was twisted. There's other girls locked up with them, but he said it looked like they were experimenting on them, draining and adding blood through a shoddy IV."

"Find them."

"The boys are working on it. Those girls were high, but Thames saw everything through their memories. He thought he was sure about a few landmarks, but it's still a lot of ground to cover."

He moved his shoulder so she would have to look up at him. "Tisk said the other night she was at the graveyard helping one of her so-called clients. She claims she watched some older men come up to one of the girls that was doing a tarot reading. They said something to her then she went with them. The girl hasn't been back, and according to Tisk that's the third dime store practicing witch that has just vanished."

"She's come here to hide."

"I'm sure." He let his lips rest on her forehead for a second. "I knew all that, then I come outside and find out a truck came after you. Vec, I can't deal with that. I know I can't hold you back, I wouldn't. I'm just telling you to strike first and ask questions later, at least until we get to the bottom of this."

She settled against his chest, let his feathery touches, the brush of his lips against her forehead further ease her.

"How's our girl?" Talon whispered as he watched Shade flinch when the girl let out a moan and squeezed her fist.

"Bad."

"Jamison shut you down?"

"In a way. What he'll give me will strip that girl's mind, at least until she's strong enough to deal with what she went through."

Talon let his chest rise and fall with a heavy breath. "I wonder what our Mr. BellaRose is hiding."

"I don't know, but after watching this girl go through this hell for days, I have to wonder if his methods are more humane than mine."

"You always use your heart to bring people back, Vec, to use any magic really. No one's more humane than you."

"That heart got me fooled before. Zale fooled me."

"Zale will get his," Talon nearly growled.

Zale was the first to go Rouge, to ever use his gifts to create harm. Reveca was all for revenge, knew it was needed to settle the soul at times, but she didn't care for those who struck first, those that got off on that, that felt superior, that found ways to abuse a gift that even she didn't understand.

Zale was the first, most definitely not the last. Yet Zale was the one that was organizing the Rogue's, telling them the human race was prey, that they shouldn't hide how they were made, they should rule.

Zale's followers, they were the fools that were learning to pass their gifts on. They were the ones that were digging deeper into those enhancements and capitalizing on them. They were exactly what Saige said they would become. They were myths that were leaving the storybook pages and walking the streets.

Reveca, none of the Sons, thought they should hide who they were, lurk in the shadows. No, not at all. But they understood this world they were in, understood how power was the drug of choice. They knew that before the Rogue's could reach the supremacy the myths said they'd have, this world would have either mutated them into soldiers of mass destruction, or destroyed them all together.

Everything took time, time Reveca had seen pass, time that Zale was too impatient to wait for.

"One day," Reveca agreed. "Right now, we have other fools to contend with."

None of them really slept, didn't actually need to, but zoning out, letting your eyes close, your mind carry you deep within, that was done on the regular. It recharged energy, gave a divide from one day to the next.

Reveca had managed to drift fairly deep into her mind. By the time she had pulled herself out of that slumber, cared for the girl, and dressed, most of the day had faded away.

The boys were in Church. She was last to enter. The meeting room was packed wall to wall. This was a mortal meeting. Talon was going over the drop they had to make that night. Who would play what role, when and how. In most cases, drugs, guns, and money were never in the same place if they could help it.

Not long after they had settled their plan and armed themselves, all of those but the ones in the life left.

If the Club had a tech guy it was Knight. His name came from various points. For one, he was a genuine knight at one time. Two, online he had nothing but armor, could go anywhere and not one defense could harm him. It also brushed up against the fact that, like Echo, he was a shifter. He liked to scare the shit out his enemies as he fought them, would morph into the most wicked image he could come up with.

He was lean, built like Cashton. His dark auburn hair reached his shoulders. Most times he brushed it behind his ears, but when he was ready to fight, it was tied back—and it was right now.

"All right," he said. "Thames, I went through all the landmarks he saw, did my best to tap in. Good news. I think these girls are near our drop tonight. Bad news. They're also near the Devil's Den territory."

The Devil's Den was one of the human enemies the Club had, another MC that didn't care for the vast amount of territory the Pentacle Sons had. The Sons had cleared them out of three Wards that year alone, their crank anyway. Some of the scripts the Sons held back were used to clean up the junkies, help them through detox. What ticked the Devil's Den off was that the Sons allowed other dealers to stay, ones that dealt weed. The Devil's Den said a drug was drug, they didn't care that the Sons saw it differently. As far as they were concerned, they were taking sides.

"They could be in any building on this block," Knight said as he placed images on the table.

"You can't narrow that down?" Talon asked.

It wasn't the Devil's Den they were worried about. It was the fact that the law in that area knew about the tiff between the gangs and would be a bit too attentive if the Sons spent too much time there. Not to mention it was not even five miles from where they were doing serious business.

"I tried. I even shifted, went over there this morning, took a look around. Nobody's talking. But it's got to be in that Fly building."

"We could wait," Thrash said rocking back and forth in his seat. He didn't care to deal with some search and rescue mission for junkies any day of the week, especially when it crossed business he already had in play.

"They'll be dead. And the assholes behind this will have moved on," Talon said, not even having to glance at Reveca to see if she agreed.

"Then let's deal with our business," Thrash said "When we're done, we'll blaze around that building you think they're in. At the very least it'll let them know we're on to them. That might make the rats run from their cage."

Talon nodded.

Each of them stood and started to arm themselves for their run.

Reveca went to leave, make her way to do her own errand, when Talon pulled her to the corner. At that point the others were leaving one by one.

Talon slipped her kut off her shoulders, smiled when he saw the warm chills rush across her skin. "Tonight we're not sleeping in a corner watching Shade brood over mystery girl. Tonight we're going to disappear, take a long ride somewhere."

"Best laid plans," she said with a sheepish smile.

"Right," he said as he held up her shoulder holster. "I want you armed when you leave to meet Jamison."

She playfully glared at him.

"You're the one that said you didn't want to blow shit up. Fine by me. Shoot 'em instead, babe."

She smiled exactly the way he wanted her to and held her arms out, bit her lip as he pulled it over her shoulders, then let his hands move across her chest nice and slow.

"You're an ass man, remember."

He lifted a brow. "When it comes to the likes of you, I'm an everything man."

He leaned in, let his lips meet hers, his tongue brush against hers.

"Be careful tonight," she said when he broke away.

His hands moved down her sides. "Shoot first."

She laughed. "Will do."

When she stepped out on her front porch, Cashton was there. The only Club business he participated in was the paranormal side, and even that was limited, all under the guidelines of Saige. Reveca didn't oppose that. To walk the path with them is to live it forevermore. She knew Cashton was just passing through.

"If I leave you here with King, can you not kill each other? Will you watch over that girl upstairs? She's due for another reenactment soon."

Cashton adjusted his lean on the rail. "That bloke has some serious fucking hate for me."

Reveca's grey eyes searched over him. "You for real can't remember what it is he's mad about or why?"

Cashton smirked. "The Veil, it's a mistress, an addictive one, nulls your inhibitions. When I was first trapped there, I lost my way. Finally, I found a good friend, Charlie. He helped me come out of it a bit, then next thing I knew you came knocking."

"That buddy still keep you straight when you go back?"

Cashton grinned. "There when I step through, stays right next to me until I come back."

"What do you do?"

"Nowadays? Play music. Before, Vec, I don't know. I wasn't right. There is no telling what I did to that guy. But if I had to guess, I must have crawled into the wrong bed one night."

Reveca felt jealousy boil her skin, her stomach flip, and anger dwarf her. The anger was because she knew she had no right to feel that. There was no telling where King had been all this time or what he had done.

"Keep your distance. That advice came from someone who uprooted you both."

Cashton narrowed his stare in question.

Reveca didn't bother to answer.

As she made her way to her bike her gaze scanned the bays, finally finding King in the last one. No expression came to him, but she could have sworn she saw a hunger in his stare, felt a pull on her. She ignored that and made her way to her bike.

Her numbing night of clarity didn't get her very far with her rambling mind. All it did was put forth more questions.

King had exercised an immense amount of power the night before. Manifesting on a moving bike? Reveca wasn't even sure she could pull that off. And the healing? That was erotic and insane. She had never once known someone that could do that.

All she could think was that was the result of whatever power that had taken him long ago, the kind of power she avoided even acknowledging since it had.

Her plan was to have a chat with Jamison, ask him what was behind that force, how he escaped so long ago. Ask him what it could do to a man's soul.

No such luck. When she reached his establishment the manager handed her a padded envelope, told her Jamison was not in that night. He wasn't lying; the gravity of Jamison was always easy to sense. She had no doubt he was avoiding her. She'd let him for now, at least long enough to heal this girl, then they were going to have a nice little chat, even if that meant Reveca had to roll up to his front door and introduce herself to the family.

It was past dark when she made her way down the long vacant highway that led to the Beauregard Boneyard. The shadowy night didn't hamper her vision. Not at all. She could see for miles and miles. She saw the truck parked on the side of the street, saw it pick up speed and race down the shoulder before she passed it, surely hoping that it would be able to catch her if it did so.

Let's play, she thought to herself.

She flew by the truck without a care in the world, picked up her speed a bit. The truck lost some of its momentum as it merged on the road, though.

All at once Reveca turned her bike, used her energy to bring it to a roaring stop. She stood balancing it with her legs as she pulled the guns from her holster and aimed them at the truck.

A surge of her energy waved toward the truck taking its speed gradually down to a slow crawl. She didn't stop there, though. She gripped the passengers with her energy, too.

Once the truck stopped, the only distance between them and her was a few feet, and the hood of the truck. They could clearly see the guns that were aimed at them.

"You boys out for a witch hunt?" she asked with a sweet smile as she tilted her head to the side.

Nasty. That's what the men were. Both in overalls, unkempt beards, grimy hats on. Thin and lanky—the kind of lanky that made you want to throw a cheeseburger at them.

"Out," she said as she kept one gun trained on them.

The men made their way out gasping for breath under the hold Reveca had them in. She nodded for them to come to the front of the truck.

"You never answered my question."

The one on the left, smiled, revealing all two of his teeth and his rotting gums. "Whatever you are, I'm hunting it."

That hold Reveca had on him, it tightened. "To bring back to whom."

"Black."

"Black? Black sent you for me?"

"Black is everything," the other guy said with a dark chuckle.

That's when Reveca understood. Black was a drug—they were addicts. A nastier version of what she dealt with last night.

"You send those girls in the club last night?"

Neither answered so Reveca lowered the aim of her guns. Seeing her new target, both started to babble.

"They didn't come out. We gotta bring somethin' back."

"Back to where?"

They looked at each other, then to her.

"Speak," Reveca growled.

"Gaither."

Reveca only halfway paid attention to where the boys were talking about going tonight, but she knew it wasn't near Gaither.

"How many girls are there?"

When they didn't say anything, Reveca let out a frustrated huff, holstered her guns and aimed the vice of her energy right at their balls and twisted, each in an opposite direction. Both men went to their knees wailing.

Reveca was nice enough to roll her bike back so they had somewhere to fall. Then again, she would have done that anyway because they stunk and she didn't want them near her. Once her bike was on the shoulder she dismounted and strolled over to them, eased back on her grip of energy just enough for them to shut up, find some gasp of relief.

"I don't like to repeat myself. I don't like to keep company with those who do not shower on the regular. Answer my question when I ask or you will leave here short of three body parts you arrived with. Are we clear?"

They both looked up at her with pleading eyes. She eased off a bit more.

"How many girls are at Gaither?"

"Sixty maybe?"

"Addicts?"

"Some," the one on the right said. "Some there are doctors."

"Why do you call them docs?"

"They take blood. Give it," the guy on the right said.

"They don't take it from the addicts, though. They just give it to them," the guy on the left added.

"Yeah, they get it from the demons."

"Demons?" Reveca asked.

"Like you," the one on the left snarled.

"And what is your role?"

They both laughed. "Demon snatchers."

"You. You're the hunters," Reveca said with a 'you gotta be fucking kidding me' expression of incredulity strapped across her face.

The one the right laughed. "Black. It's power. Can't feel anything."

"You feel me."

"Yeah, no wonder you're worth a lot of Black."

"Am I? And if you had caught me, where would you have taken me? To Gaither?"

Silence.

Seconds later they were wailing again. "Hurt?" Reveca asked with fake sympathy as she watched them pull their bodies into fetal positions.

"Fly, fucking Fly," the one the right said. "We take you there, bikes come, boom."

"Boom," the one the left said with an agonized chuckle.

Fly was the nickname for a building the boys were planning to check out tonight, and it got that name because the Devil's Den made its victims fly off the top of the factory building.

Reveca unclipped her phone and sent a text to her boys that simply said 'home.'

"Who do you work for?" she asked when she put her phone back in place.

"Black."

She squeezed them like a vice once more.

"Black!" they both yelled. "His name is Black, he gives us black, he wears black. Black!" the one on the right said.

"And he sends you after junkies and demons?"

Nods.

"Did he pull you from rehab?"

They both shook their heads.

"Have you been to rehab?"

Frantic shakes of their head. "Fuck no. We're Gods," the one on the left said.

"You're addicts. And you stink."

She nodded for them to get up. "Are you feeling lucky tonight?"

They both looked at each other, then to her. The one on the right spoke. "I'm a little sore, but you give me a second I'll be ready," he said going for his pants.

It took all she could not to gag. "Get in the truck."

They hesitated but then scrambled to do so.

Reveca walked to the passenger side window. "Luck. Fate. I don't know how much weight to put on either. Karma is the master of all, though. Right now, your karma is going to catch you and have its say with your fate and your luck."

The way they were looking at her told her that confusion was the only thing they were capable of at the moment. "One or two things are going to happen right now. Either you're getting a one way ticket to a drug free world, or you'll end up in the ICU. If karma allows you to make it to the ICU, they clean you up, and later I find you on the streets once more worshiping a toxin that has no business in your body—I will become karma. I will rip your favorite body parts from your carcass nice and slow then move on, and on, until you wish you had died this night." She lifted her brow. "We clear?" Nothing. "Good," she said, stepping back.

Right then her energy floored the gas pedal and guided the steering wheel. Her flawless vision watched as it flew miles down the highway at dangerous speeds. Then 'accidently' it swerved to the side of the road, slamming into a van that was 'mysteriously' parked on the side of the highway.

The collision was so loud that it nearly made Reveca jump before she smirked then sat astride her bike and followed their path. By the time she passed them a fire had broken out.

She could see the men in the truck slouched over. The van was what was on fire, the back half of it anyway. There was a man outside of it yelling into a phone.

Reveca made her way down the highway, to her Boneyard, parked her bike, and strolled in. Those at the club, outside, were all looking down the highway, all hearing distant sounds of sirens marching their way.

When she reached the front porch of her house, King was leaning there. "That truck looks familiar."

"You think?" she asked trying not to grin. "I have a girl's life to save. If you think you can not kill Cashton, and want to use that healing power, for the karma of it at least, then follow."

When she reached the top of the stairs, he was there. King, leaning against the wall. "I'm not a healer."

Reveca sucked in a deep breath. "What are you?" He said nothing. "What did that power do to you?" Silence accompanied by a cold stare. Reveca stepped closer, angled her neck back to meet that gaze. "When they took you from the dead clutches of my hands, what did they do to you?"

His eyes narrowed; anger engulfed them.

"Didn't know that part? Wondering how a dead woman, or rather a woman turned immortal, had the child you think I did?" She stepped closer. Only let an inch separate them. "I didn't. That was Saige. Saige carrying her lover's, Lorecan's, child. I was in a fucking prison called The Edge."

The fury stayed in his eyes, maybe even grew.

"Right," she said as she passed him by. When she opened the door mystery girl was just about to start one of her reenactments, was moaning and thrashing about. Reveca reached her side right as her stomach jutted forward.

"Hold her!" she said to Shade and Cashton.

Each took an arm. Reveca sat astride her chest and took the leaves Jamison had given her and packed them in the girl's mouth, forced her to swallow as she whispered sacred words across her lips.

The girl started to shake violently, so much so that Shade tried to pull Reveca off her, but Cashton tackled him, having to use all his force to slam Shade against the wall. He managed to hold him there until reinforcements came. Talon and Echo both charged into the room.

Shade was cussing, they all were. The girl was bucking. It was all Reveca could do to keep her energy where it needed to be.

Finally, all at once, she felt this girl claim life. Immortality. Her body settled. Almost exactly at the same time Shade shut up, ceased fighting.

"You all right?" Talon asked Reveca. She was still astride the girl but daring to ease back.

"Yeah."

"We rode like hell all the way here. You scared the fuck out of me."

"It was a set up," she said still keeping her eyes on the girl. "They have more than a few girls—more like fifty. The dime store witches they've taken are with them, and so are whatever mad scientist they have mixing blood back and forth. They're not around Fly, they're at Gaither. The plan was to lure you to Fly then -boom."

"How do you know that?" Talon asked in his deep voice which was a mix of anger and fear, a fear only she would recognize. The only fear she had ever known Talon to have was existing in a world she wasn't in. Which is where his protective side came from.

Reveca reached for the water on the nightstand and tried to coax the girl into swallowing a bit.

"The truck from last night came back. We had a chat."

Echo busted out laughing. "You? I knew it! You flung that truck at the lawmen, didn't you!"

Reveca lifted a shoulder. "I was told to shoot first," she said with wink aimed at Talon.

Right then the girl started to come around.

Talon, Echo, and Reveca were to the right of the bed, Shade and Cashton to the left. When mystery girl's eyes fluttered open they went to the foot of the bed. "King," she rasped.

Everyone looked to the doorway; there King was staring curiously into the room at this girl that was doing her best to smile. "You're real. I knew you were..." And with that she drifted into a sleep.

"She's fine," Reveca said to the room. "Before dawn she'll be out of this bed, fully immortal."

Shade wasn't fine, not at all. He charged out of the room, ensuring he slammed into King as he did so.

"You know her?" Talon asked King.

King met Reveca's stare then turned to leave without a word.

Talon looked down at Reveca. "I thought you said Jamison gave you swipe."

"I did. It doesn't take it all, just takes her back before whatever trauma she endured."

"How in the hell does she know King?"

"I don't know," Reveca said under breath, feeling that burn of jealously rise in her.

"You fuck this girl?" Echo asked Cashton.

Cashton made a face clearly saying Echo had lost it.

Echo shrugged. "You fucked somebody that boy's into. Both of you were dead and nobody knows where the fuck this girl came from. Just sayin." Echo patted Cashton on the shoulder. "It's all good now, though. Shade and King will fight for a bit, give you time to figure out when you pissed in his cheerios." He lifted his brow. "Bonus. King won't hit you and I win the bet!" And with that he left, laughing. Cashton followed, looking for air no doubt.

"That's all we need," Talon said. "Shade is too young to be looking at this girl like this."

"Age doesn't have damn thing to do with it," Reveca said as she busied herself cleaning the girl up.

Her priority right then was to get into this girl's mind. Find out what GranDee was doing with her, and how in the hell she knew King. Right then though, even with the jealousy, with the pending wars and unanswered questions, she felt gratitude.

She'd brought this girl back. She should be long gone ten times over and Reveca had brought her back. That was a gift. One the universe let her deliver. That and of course her night was made the second she saw that truck crash.

"Even if you only have a second to be happy each day, one second to feel a rush, you take it, because it's not promised to come again. That's where the power is, love. It's in exalting moments, no doubt there."

The words from her past echoed in her mind as she let herself bask in the victory she had.

Whatever battles tomorrow brought, she'd be ready for them.
Episode Three
Chapter One

Time. It has a way of settling your aggressions. In some cases it teaches you to think before you speak. In others, you develop a habit of not giving a damn what you say—or do. Talon had always lingered somewhere in between.

In his mortal days he did nothing but raise hell. He never thought before he spoke. That notion forced him to learn to fight at a young age, simply because not many liked to hear what he had to say. The first of his immortal days were more of the same.

Even today, he was quick to strike first and ask questions later, at least when it came to those he cared about: Reveca, his MC. At the same time, because of his Club, he learned to pick his battles, or at the very least carefully plot his way through the war he was eager to engage in.

His cool nature coupled with his appearance was what some said made him the most lethal of all the Sons. He could smile with the best of them, never let you know he was onto you, then strike the lethal blow without warning.

One thing that Talon had never done well was bend to the will of others. He knew, though, that the only way to command an empire was to learn to do just that, marginally, of course. You always needed someone with just a bit more power or influence than you to edge you higher.

However, in his opinion Reveca bent far too easily for her family, for the coven that turned their back on her when she tried to build a life of her own.

Saying goodbye, she could never handle that. And as long as she had existed she'd been force to do so over and over. People came into her life and they left. As long as it wasn't a final goodbye she could handle it for the most part, at least as far as Talon knew she could.

Not being able to handle that final goodbye is the reason he was an immortal today. She'd brought him back. To this day he could still remember that pull. He remembered the cold grip of death opposing her, seeing all that he'd done wrong in life.

The only thing in his life that had any trace of good to it was Reveca. She was no damsel in distress. He'd never saved her from the woes of life, but she made him see life differently. She gave purpose to all that he was fighting against.

When she first began to pull him back, he hesitated. He knew it was her fear of being alone, her hatred of saying goodbye that was spilling her tears, that what they had was raw, deep and powerful, yet not complete.

He found himself hovering over his body, watching her cry, watching her pull all the power she could to one source. Through the words of the spell that were whispering across her lips he heard her say, 'not again,' over and over.

Two words. They've haunted him since that day, since the moment when he could not watch her fall apart any longer and gave in to the pull of her magic, told death to get its fucking hands off of him, he wasn't done.

He never regretted giving in, not even when the days became endless and sour, when he and Reveca had enough of each other. When every word they said was a dagger aimed at the heart. When loyalty held them in place, where once passion had.

He never regretted when all those that he knew, was born with, moved into death, not when he and Reveca found themselves in hell on earth time and time again.

End game. He didn't really have one of those. In the beginning they were fighting for change, fighting to help the voiceless ones. They were the dark guardian angels. But the world kept growing, the foul darkness did. Greed, power—they were the mistresses the world seduced, curled up to each night.

Being crystal clear on how humanity was aimed squarely at demise would surely make any soul want to surrender, let go. That didn't happen with Talon. Or Reveca. No, they began to choose their battles, made differences in small circles, would watch those groups grow and then move on. They'd move on long before anyone ever had the chance to realize they were not aging. They'd move on before they had to say goodbye to souls they'd brought into their fold, ones they knew would never chose the immortal life, that would let go when their moment came.

With each move, though, their immortal circle grew. Simply because, inevitably, a warrior that had fought at their side would fall, he'd fall and because Reveca could not bear the pain, she'd bring him back. Even if she wasn't close to him even if it was only Talon that would have to carry the loss, she couldn't handle it.

Talon was against coming to New Orleans. He never cared for the region. The roads were not open enough, or long enough for his comfort. It was Reveca's choice to settle there. She'd told him it was because of the spirits, said that crossing from reality into her Edge was simpler there, didn't drain her.

Talon knew better.

There was something about the river, the swamp...the way she would stand at the bank and stare down at the lilies.

Every once in a while he'd push her to let him in, ask her about her past. The closest she came to letting him in, the reason he agreed to settle in that swampland, was when she said it reminded her of home, a world that she'd lost long ago.

The story Talon knew was that the dimension the Dominarum Coven was in grew dark, began to collapse. Jamison, Saige, and even Reveca pulled their power together and found a passage to the world they were in now. They started over.

He'd asked Reveca to tell him about her home, anything about her life before she became the fierce woman he knew her to be, but she'd shut down. Those shut downs would lead to their breaks apart.

The last time, when she came back, she told him that her deepest fear was that she had destroyed that world. That her reckless magic had changed the energy, let more evil in...she told him thinking of home and knowing that she could never see it again was too much. That if he wanted to know about it, to ask Saige.

That was one of many statements that drew a line in the sand. One where she dared him to cross and he refused. He refused because he didn't want anyone telling him anything about his woman. Especially her twin, who hated every fiber in his soul.

Saige told him once he was there to comfort her sister for the time being and nothing more. Flat out made him feel like some fucking chew toy.

Jamison and Talon had a better relationship, but only marginally. Even though the man had an evident amount of power emanating off of him, he never boasted about that, was downright cordial in most cases. He was the one that in some way convinced Talon that settling in New Orleans, so close to members of Reveca's past, was best for not only her but for Talon, too.

He did that the way Jamison negotiated every alliance in his life, with a cool stare and a calm smile. He'd laid out the benefits, right alongside the restrictions, and of course tempted vices.

Being close to other immortal souls had its benefits, no doubt. At the very least in your day-to-day life you didn't feel like you were watching the same movie over and over. Other immortals had seen the course of time, so they were slow to let their emotions control them, slow to fall into a meaningless rut, repeat mistakes that generation after generation had before them, all the while thinking they were far different from those that bore them.

And of course, unlike lurking with mortal souls, that day that you would have to let them go, that they'd move into death, all but never came. At the same time, grudges lasted longer. All that BS about say what you mean because tomorrow is never promised vaguely registered with immortals; not at all, really.

Jamison had told Talon that the energy in the land around the Boneyard, the energy around every home the coven members had, was rich, that it literally mirrored Reveca's birthplace which would give her power, allow her to control the Edge with ease, allow her to bring back souls far easier, if she continued to do so.

He told Talon that in that land any oddity he or the Club let slip could easily be explained away or at the very least the mortal souls were superstitious enough not to question what they saw.

All of that was awesome for Reveca. But it didn't do a damn thing for Talon, and sure as hell didn't do shit for his boys. Each of them were warriors at some point in time, born and bred to fight. Each of them were not satisfied unless they had an enemy, had a battle that would stop bullshit assholes that were hurting others with their small minds and greedy hands.

Jamison's solution to that? The Club. It was his idea that Talon organize his followers in the public eye. The Club allowed them to help the community they were in in more ways than one. It also allowed them to blend within that world. It fed their desire for camaraderie; it gave them a place to air their aggressions. Allowed them to connect to their primal nature where they openly claimed what was theirs. A place where the only choice you had was to be strong, where you told your fear—and any trace of weakness—to go to hell.

This life promised them a fight that would never end or grow tiresome.

And that fight indeed was never-ending. The moment waters would still among the mortal battles, when the others that opposed the Sons would fall apart, or rebuild, even shift hands, the immortal battles would escalate. The Sons would take that time to revisit old grudges.

Rarely had both worlds been full of action at once. That was changing now. A somewhat innocent intent to get medicine to families that could not afford them had started a war. A war with corporations, a war with other gangs—ones that did their best to find and seize the narcotics that the Sons were taking off the streets.

The immortal souls that had left Reveca and Talon's inner circle had now branched out, not only figuring out how to create other immortals but being dead set on becoming the next evolution of mankind.

All of that was enough to keep Talon nice and busy. Then a lone wolf turned his back on the Club in a way that they never imagined he would. Then GranDee died, murdered. Then Saige sent her sister, his woman, to the depths of death to bring back another soul.

From the second Talon laid eyes on King something didn't sit right with him. He didn't like how tense Reveca was in that boat as they docked. He didn't like how Reveca refused to look at King. That was a red flag for Talon. In most cases Reveca was extremely protective of those she brought back, would hover until she knew they had their balance.

King's clarity, that too, bothered Talon. He shouldn't be very clear on anything at this point. No, he should be a slave to his senses, wanting to see, hear, taste...touch everything as if it were for the first time. Every sensation he loved before he should be entranced by now.

Then that girl. When she woke up days ago she said his name, acted as if he were some God she was told existed but had never seen.

Since that night Reveca had kept her distance from everyone but that girl.

It had been days since Talon touched her, days since he had a conversation with her that lasted more than a moment. It was downright pissing him off. Reveca was a drug to him and knew it. And just like any other addiction he knew when he wasn't getting his daily dose. He could feel the aggression building within, the patience he had fading. He could feel a lot of things he'd rather not.

The worst part was he'd been here before. With Zale.

The other night, when he and Reveca had made up from their almost fight, she mentioned his name aloud for the first time in a long while. Before that he was just a Rogue. He was the 'leader of the Rogue's,' but that night she named him.

To an outsider it would seem as if she was mentioning him simply to point out how out of hand the Rogue's had become, how now the Sons had no choice but to fight and defend them equally. But to Talon, it meant something else. It meant Reveca's mind was recalling the first time she strayed from their bond. She said he was a mistake which only led Talon to wonder what other mistakes her mind was tempting her to make.

Zale was a member of the Dominarum Coven, one of the originals. Zale had a knack for keeping himself alive and well for far longer than he should have been able to. Then gravity started to weigh on his body, though he looked young and prime on the outside, inside he was shutting down. He had to die to live.

Zale was the second soul that Reveca brought back, not even ten years after she had brought Talon back. The three of them, they were as thick as thieves at first. Zale understood Reveca's power, and Talon was the brute strength.

It was Zale that encouraged Reveca to bring back more souls, and she did. A lot of them. At first they were all ones Reveca knew from her coven, then more and more.

Somewhere in the middle of that growing empire Talon's jealousy got the best of him. He and Reveca started to fight. He found reasons to leave with his armies for longer and longer. And finally they took a break.

The thing was, during that break Zale had no issue filling in, keeping Reveca nice and warm at night.

Obviously, for various reasons that didn't last, and Talon and Reveca moved on—with a new enemy at their back.

Something about King made Talon recall all that hell. Something about the way that Reveca and King were never alone seemed obvious to him.

Right now, he wasn't in the mood to play this game.

He'd been watching King for some time now. Reveling in the past as he did so. King had all but claimed the last bay as his own personal workspace. That firebird he was building was now parked there, the bike he was building was on a rack, and the parts he was working on for the legitimate business the Club did have were on the table.

King never looked up when the other boys would get wild or even if they threw jokes his way. He didn't look up when Tisk walked by in next to nothing and purposely bent over in front him. Talon was sure that the only thing that got this boys attention was Cashton.

Each time Cashton would pull in from wherever he ventured off to when the living world could see him, King would breathe in, and then rage would wash over him.

Talon sensed a girl on Cashton but he sure as hell didn't sense sex, or even an energy mark. Two things that, in his opinion, would give reason for King to be ticked at Cashton.

Another thing that didn't sit right with Talon was that both those boys were sent to his house by Saige. She treated the Sons like they were some holding pin for the pieces she played in the game of life.

Talon believed Cashton when he told them he had no idea why Saige sent them after him, why he had so many restrictions. The boy's eyes were too glazed over each and every time he came out of the Veil—high off his ass. He always told Talon he didn't know why they did that, he just knew he needed to be out. He was fine with being a pawn for the time being though, and he didn't start shit with the Club so Talon was fine with him, too.

With King, it wasn't the same. He knew something, and he wasn't sharing.

Talon nodded for the other guys that were close to the last bay to go into the lounge. Not one of them hesitated to comply.

Slowly, like the predator he was, Talon made his way to the last bay.

King was under the hood of the firebird, didn't bother to look up when he felt Talon's presence loom over him.

"You know this isn't a race, right? There are more...desirable ways to handle what you're going through."

"And exactly what am I going through?" King said keeping his gaze on his work.

"Coming back to life."

"Still dead."

"Debatable."

King looked up slowly.

"What? You're confused about your status?" Talon asked crossing his arms and leaning against the workbench.

"I'm dead. Depleted energy," King said evenly.

"Maybe if you leave the Boneyard," Talon said with a smug grin. "Yeah, if you left here you'd be a haunt, a ghost others walked through. Here, though, you're not."

King stood from his lean and started to wipe his hands clean.

"It's the energy," Talon said. "Or spirits. Hell, I don't know what the fuck it is. I'm not a witch and would never claim to be."

"But you use the power," King pointed out.

Talon glared, hearing the insult dripping from King's seemingly innocent comment. "The power made me. So yes, I use it."

"You don't like witches, though," King said with a placid expression and a dry tone. "You like to pretend you're just some badass mortal. I bet you don't even know what the fuck you're made of. What death put in your soul."

Talon pressed his lips together, slightly adjusted his shoulders, a near unnoticeable move his body always made before he struck. Talon kept his cool, though. This King guy was a smooth motherfucker; he was turning the conversation, trying to piss Talon off just so he wouldn't have talk about himself.

Talon decided to play the game for a second. No. He fucking hated witches. There was only one that he didn't hate, that he'd do anything for, and that was his woman.

"Fire burns through my essence," Talon said letting flames come to his dark eyes, that phoenix in him, the one part he loved the most. "I feed off energy. I use energy as a weapon," he said just before licking his bottom lip, pointing out the vampire side of him. "I sense nature at its core, I'm at one with each and every animal instinct there is. Of course I tend to favor wolves," Talon said as his voice moved a bit deeper, clearly pointing out the wolf he kept caged deep inside that added aggression that he never really cared to pull out. He was mean enough without it.

Talon jutted his chin up. "Anything else you want to know about me?" That was a dare, bait he wanted King to take.

"I didn't ask about you," King said with a wry smirk. "I said you don't like witches. You don't understand what they see, which means you sure as fuck don't understand the land you're living on. How it's raw with spiritual energy, how it intersects with other dimensions' spiritual lands. You don't get that it's a fucking miracle that Reveca, a witch, found a place like this to call home."

Talon narrowed his stare. "You don't know fucking shit about me—what I do or don't know. I know this place is just like where Reveca was born. That's why we're all here. I know the energy is wacked enough to host haunts like you. I know it's thick enough that any soul could hide from that unknown power that all local witches seem to fear and respect at once, well, most." Talon stared for a moment. "So, in effect, if you were a supernatural outlaw it would be one hell of a place to hide. What are you hiding from, King?"

"Not a damn thing." King said with a slight smile, one that didn't match the fury in his eyes.

Talon went ridged. "It's not wise to fucking lie to me."

"I'll keep that in mind," King said with far too much ease.

"When did you die?"

King's eyes glinted with a doused amusement. "Before time was recorded."

"How?"

"Battlefield."

"Time wasn't recorded, you were on a battlefield, and yet you have no issues rebuilding a 1975 firebird."

King smirked. "Have you ever been in the Veil? Did you make it that far before this magic you don't care to understand blessed you?"

"You better watch your fucking tone."

"Same," King said matching Talon's aggression. Oddly, Talon found himself respecting that. At the very least it told him he was not harboring a coward. He hated cowards just as much as Reveca hated addicts.

"No. My woman kept me in her Edge."

King let a sardonic grin come to him. "You have phoenix energy inside of you. One of their gifts is to move through the Veil if they choose. In all truth, in most cases, they like it better there. That's the magic you're ignoring."

"And you know about this magic because some Rogue told you that? Or did you read it in some storybook?"

"I saw it."

"Did you."

"I did. In the Veil. The place that you haven't seen as of yet apparently." King crossed his arms. "The Veil is a mistress. It always allows you to live out your fantasies, lulls you so you have no idea that you're in transition, so that you have no idea that whatever judgment you come to deep within will plot where your next life will lead you. That practice, though, it's slow, slower than the seasons. And because it is, souls manifest the worlds they lived in all around them. And they're good at it. So good that sometimes you can forget you're dead."

Talon nearly laughed as he shook his head. This sounded an awful lot like one of Echo's tall tales. "You're telling me some haunt hangs out in the Veil, and while he's figuring out how to judge himself he manifested a garage and taught you how to work on fucking cars."

"I didn't say that. All I said was that me putting together a puzzle should not be that shocking to you."

Even as believable as his story was, Talon wasn't buying it, not with knowing that Cashton has issues with TVs and cell phones, all that modern shit. Why would a ghost in the Veil choose to recreate worlds and leave out the modern element? Talon decided to let King hide behind his excuse for now, or at the very least find a different way to come at it.

Talon nodded down to the machine King was building, one that any man would have respect for. "You're putting this car together like it means something to you."

King just barely furrowed his brow, that all-knowing smile daring to linger on his lips. "What is the point of doing anything unless it means something to you?"

It was a silent standoff for a moment. King clearly pointing out that Talon was not only ignoring part of himself, but the largest part of Reveca, and daring Talon to tell him differently.

Talon wasn't going to engage that shit. Instead he was going to provoke him, at the very least let him know that King needed to change his course of action before Talon changed it for him.

"Right now, coming from death to life your energy is enhanced. Everything is better. Way better. The smell of a woman, the way her skin feels, the way her body thrives as you explore—it's better. It's fucking heaven."

"I'm well aware of how a woman's body feels under my touch."

Talon smirked. "But you're on some fucking fast right now."

King only glared.

Talon moved forward, leaned on the hood of the car, then raised his lethal glare. "I can't even count how many men Reveca has brought back. Can't count how many times those men came to, saw her, felt all their senses enhanced, felt the hunger for touch...the hunger to devour the sensations of the flesh. They had to touch, had experience touch until they found a way to balance the high they were feeling."

The entire time Talon was speaking King's body had turned ridged, his eyes cold, murderous.

Talon laughed. "Of course they never touched my woman, because they knew better. But I can damn sure promise you if the likes of Tisk walked by them in next to nothing and bent over there would have been nothing holding them back. They would have said and done whatever they could just to sink in, feel that heat, bask in how intense the sensation was. They wouldn't have given a damn that she was a slut. Wouldn't have cared who was watching. No, they were primal, and took what they wanted when they wanted, no emotion attached."

Talon squared his shoulders. "Now you see, Saige, she spelled the crap out of Cashton, told Reveca not to leave his side for the first five times he came out. Basically Saige's spells gripped the boy's balls and didn't let him have fun. Now you, she didn't do that with you. Saige just sent Reveca on a little errand and never looked back..."

"And?"

Talon moved around the car until he was face-to-face, chest-to-chest with King. "It takes a hell of a lot of willpower to resist flesh when you come out, even if you are technically dead. That willpower can only be found in devotion." Talon tilted his head. "Who are you devoted to? Why have I not had to pull you off every cute piece of ass that's walked through these doors?"

King's stoic expression never wavered. "None of your fucking business."

"Oh it's my business," Talon said as he lifted his brow. "We've established this is my land, now haven't we?"

King didn't say a damn word.

"See, now the smart thing would've been to tell me some bullshit story about you having your dick hard for some piece of ass Cashton is chasing. But you didn't."

"Do you have a point?"

"Yeah, I do. You're not the first and you will not be the last son of a bitch that lusts after my woman." Talon's cold stare moved over King. "You couldn't even fucking begin to understand how to handle her."

"Are you threatened?" King's tone was even but his eyes glinted with satisfaction.

Talon eased back. "No." He laughed. "No, I've been here before. Seen her get nice and bored with life at large, then out of nowhere some grand scheme comes into play. She gets wild. I get wild. We fight." He lifted his chin. "When the dust settles, I know where we'll be. You're her type. She's got a thing for big, bad pissed off warriors, the kind that are layers deep and take her a second or two to understand."

Talon edged back, furrowed his brow. "Someone destroyed her long before I found her. Ripped her fucking heart out. When she found me she was looking to fill a void. I knew that, she knew that. We didn't give a fuck though. We were having too much fun, still are."

Talon looked for a reaction in King, some kind of flinch that would back up his gut feeling that King and Reveca knew each other at some point, but the man was rock steady.

Talon wasn't convinced though, not by a long shot. Somehow someway, either directly or indirectly, King and Reveca had crossed paths. Talon would bet the very ground he was standing on, his Club, on that truth that his gut was screaming at him.

"If you're holding out for my woman, get the fuck over it. She sees time far differently than the rest of us. Days are seconds to her. By the time she even lets a fantasy of you cross her mind, your virgin rush back into the living world will be over. It will feel just like it did before, good, but not cranked out of your mind good." He smirked. "I'm telling you if you think Cashton is hitting some piece of ass that has your name on it, you're wrong, too. I would have sensed that by now. Hell, we all want to know what the hell is up with him, and it ain't that." Talon glanced across the lot at Tisk who was in a bikini top and a short skirt sunning herself, making it a point to run the lotion on her hands nice and slow across her chest. "I'm telling you that you letting off some steam, drowning in those sensations, is not a bad thing. It will clear your head out, let you focus on reality, handle the madness of it all. Hell, you might as well do it before Saige trades you in for what she really wants."

"Trades me," King said keeping his stare on Talon, not even bothering to notice Tisk, or any of the other girls that thought sunbathing on the back of a bike was a stellar idea.

Talon shrugged. "I don't trust her, you?"

"I haven't met the Saige you know."

Talon noticed the play on words but let it slide. "She knew where you were, sent us to get you. Specifically. And because we did we now have to take souls back to Crass just to keep that secret." He narrowed his gaze. "What did that fucker do to you? Is that it? He use you as some kind of sex slave and now your head is all jacked up?"

"He damn sure tried," King said. "It didn't take him long to figure out I don't play well with others."

Talon laughed at that. It was a genuine laugh simply because he heard the threat in King's tone. He could only image how much hell King had given that foul Lord of Death.

When that laugh settled, Talon said, "The Saige I know is a twisted bitch. If I were you I would damn sure be trying to figure out how I became a pawn of hers."

"What did she do to you?"

"Me? She just glares mostly, has a few choice words she likes to throw out. It's what she did to Reveca that pisses me off."

King's stare questioned him.

"The Edge, that pause between life and death—it's not a place where you can keep your sanity long. Everything you know is flipped. It's where the true haunts linger. Saige trapped Reveca there."

"Saige did?" King grilled.

Talon shrugged. "Reveca doesn't talk much about the beginning. But I know Saige is worse than any backwoods bible thumper when it comes to her faith. This Rapture she's waiting on, all of these Gods she thinks will rise. All I know is Reveca was forced to use magic that was forbidden and found herself in the Edge. Later, they got her out, but the Edge remained. That bridge between two points of existence. Some souls fly right by it, right by the Veil. They move on as easily as a dreamer moves from scene to scene. Others, the tormented souls, they linger. Then others, they pass it to go to the Veil, for that time of pause.

"All Reveca knows is tormented souls. Saige plays that against Reveca, has her do these little deeds like bringing you out. Apparently if Reveca does so, Saige will lend power or what have you that will help Reveca comfort who her sights are on. I don't know why Reveca bends so easily to her will, but she does."

Talon smirked. "That woman doesn't have a damn thing hanging over my head, and if she did, I'd sure as fuck find a way to move on into that bright light the innocent go into. I'm nobody's fucking puppet."

King gave one nod, a nod that led behind Talon. When he turned, he saw Reveca across the lot staring in their direction. She was pissed—anyone could see that. Right then though, Talon didn't know if she was mad because it was clear he was giving King hell, or if she was mad because all those enhanced senses of hers zoned in on this conversation and she heard every word he said.

Either way, Talon didn't care. King was overdue for a breakdown of how things were at the Club, and as far as Saige, he meant every damn word. There was no way in hell he would ever live in an immorality where someone had control over him.

No. Way. In. Hell.
Chapter Two

Gwinn. That was the name of the little mystery witchling girl. Obviously Reveca called her a witchling with the deepest sincerity, because of course at one time she was one, too. There was no doubt now that Reveca was now a full-blown witch, one to be reckoned with when ticked off.

The swipe Jamison had given Reveca to use was undoubtedly potent. Too much so in Reveca's opinion. Instead of wiping away Gwinn's recent trauma, maybe even a few weeks of memory, it took away five years.

The last thing Gwinn could remember was being seventeen and stepping out of her foster parents' house, leaving for her job at the local grocery deep in the heart of Alabama.

What Reveca knew of Gwinn was what Knight had dug up in each and every sealed file he came across. First and foremost, the Club was worried they were harboring a kidnap victim and with Blackwater popping up every five minutes that was the last thing they needed. She was listed as a runaway though, and because she had been so close to the age of eighteen, the file just slipped through the cracks.

What they did know was that Gwinn surfaced in the system at age eight. Apparently she had been staying with an aunt, but that aunt had issues with drugs—meth mainly—and lost her custodial rights. According to the file she had no other family, and from that point grew up in foster care. She moved homes a lot, at least once a year. The file never said she was a troublemaker it simply vaguely suggested the foster parents thought she'd be better suited with another family.

Reveca was curious about that, about a million things to be frank, but the second she saw the girl reach for a glass of water that was inches from her and the glass move to her hand, it didn't seem like that big of a mystery anymore. Nope. Anytime Reveca brought souls back, teaching them to use their energy naturally was the hardest thing to grasp. Even now, in most cases, the boys only used it to fight with, not for simpler tasks.

Reveca had a theory that Gwinn was a natural born witch. Which was good and bad. They were rare these days. Most that surfaced were like Tisk, people that were in tune with their energy and could read a book of shadows like a pro. They'd tap into a power and pull or taunt depending on the dime store witch.

The power is always there, you just have to know how to call it to you like a lover in the night. Having that lover show up and seduce you, well, that just rocked, it was natural. It was what Reveca was born into. It was the reason that in most cases Reveca didn't need to have spells memorized to have an impact. In most cases she just had to ask the power to perform whatever action she wanted and whisper it like a prayer.

The deal with natural born witches is they usually don't understand what's going on with them. Most of the time they don't even know they're different. They think it's normal to see hazes of light around everyone and everything. They think it's normal to have emotions that balanced with the atmosphere. Natural to use their energy as an extension of their bodies.

Gwinn told Reveca that she'd never practiced magic, not that she remembered. She did remember being tested, going to doctors that would show her cards and ask her what she saw, even ask her to move things. Gwinn said when she was young she did. As she got older she understood that performing for the doctors only earned her more time with them, and she hated them. So she stopped.

Reveca's goal now, while they waited for Gwinn's memory to come back, was to teach her magic. Reveca's theory was that if Gwinn felt empowered then she wouldn't fear what she faced as a human any longer. It would help her with her memories.

The first few days that Gwinn was awake Reveca kept her on lock down. She was a beautiful, young girl embarking on the prime of her life. Her figure wasn't as full as Reveca's; no, she was more slender, petite but she still had curves, had a body that would turn any red-blooded man's head.

Her dark skin nearly glowed in immortality, and her black, curly hair fell well past her shoulders, thick and healthy. A young goddess lookalike whose every sense had just been enhanced had no business near a room full of men.

Reveca knew the boys would be on their best behavior. No doubt they respected her protective state, but also Shade...he hadn't said a word about the girl, had managed to keep himself busy. But everyone knew he'd laid a silent claim on her. One that he was trying to convince himself that he didn't want or need.

After that raw need made its way out of Gwinn, she and Reveca spent dusk until dawn in the garden by the river, going over simplistic spells, meditating and communing with nature. The more time Reveca spent with her the more she realized how innocent this girl was, nearly naïve. She had to wonder if GranDee had seen the same in her, if GranDee had the same theory about the natural witch inside of her. Surely she had. Thus far, Reveca couldn't figure out why GranDee handed her the gift of immortality though.

Simple spells with the quiet of nature blanketing her, Gwinn could do that now. The thing is, though, when you need magic, it's never quiet, you're never one with nature, at least not in Reveca's world you weren't.

She had told Gwinn to sit at the table in the lounge, to find her center point. Reveca wanted her to have crystals, ones that had been charged by both the sun and the moon, so she'd made her way out to her gardens around the Boneyard to gather some.

Instantly she was disgusted with Tisk. Girls walking around in next to nothing, taken or single, was nothing new in Reveca's world. Sexuality was a power in and of itself, without question. But for some reason when Tisk did it, when she poked out her near flat chest and tried to make it look like she had some kind of ass, Reveca wanted to strangle her.

She wanted to tell her to go home, but the girl had come there for protection. Protection that clearly was needed. The Club was finalizing their strategy to get those fifty-plus girls that dumb and dumber had told Reveca about. If all went well they would strike that very night.

Understanding what the drug Black was or the guy in charge of that hell was still a mystery. Knight had told the boys it was like it wasn't there one day and it was all the rage the next, which meant it started deep underground, in closed circles, and had thrived for some time before the addicts at large discovered it.

Tisk was aiming her short, wide-open legs at the lot, surely thinking she looked like some kind of pinup model. The only one in that lot that was not letting his eyes move over her was King.

King. Beyond Talon, he was probably the only one that hadn't been there and done that but he didn't even flinch. Reveca wasn't really sure how to read that. No, everything about that boy was a mystery to her.

She didn't hear everything Talon had said to King but she'd heard the end, and that infuriated her. She was all about having pride—lord knew she had enough of it—but Talon was talking about his gift of life as if it was nothing, as if Reveca had not paid dearly for it, had not dreaded the end of it at least once a day since she'd risen him.

He didn't know about that. She'd never let him know, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he was being an arrogant ass right then. Acting as if nothing could hurt him. The point was that dying didn't mean shit to him. He didn't care that he'd leave them all behind for good.

The gift she gave him may have its limits, she may have to ask for help to maintain it, but it was still a gift, one that endless people would respect far more than he was.

Instead of engaging, she swallowed that argument and went back in to teach her willing student. She knew Talon was in that mood because she'd been busy, and that was fine. She'd deal with it later. Deal with it all later. When she couldn't understand her emotions or a clear path, whatever it was went on the 'do later' list. Right now that's where both King and Talon were residing.

She pulled the barrier between the garage and the lounge and shifted the closed sign on the door, the one that meant unless you were in the life, stay out.

Of course that made a few of the boys that were gawking outside curious and they made their way inside.

Thrash, the Club's VP, someone who had been with Reveca and Talon since the very beginning, rarely made his way into the lounge unless he needed a cold one, which apparently he did now.

He only had jeans and his kut on. The heat or dirt from the garage had apparently encouraged him to shed his shirt. He was cleaning his gun at the end of the bar, his dark hair, long on the top and short on sides, was raining down over his eyes which were a mix of blue and green, downright haunting. Somehow Gwinn had captured his attention, too, or at least what Reveca was teaching her had. Every chance he got he'd glance to the table they were at.

Thrash had a crazy amount of respect for magic, enough to stay away from it. He told Reveca once he didn't want anything temping the beast inside. Whenever that inner beast got the best of him you'd find him on his bike riding like a fool, which is where his Club name Thrash came from. Built. Wild. Free. That was Thrash in a nutshell. He did his business and then went on his way, went to find a way to tame that beast in him.

Shade was in a back booth all alone. It was hard to see where his attention was aimed with those glasses on but everyone knew who he was staring down.

Judge, Thames, and Echo were on the couch against the wall passing a blunt back and forth talking about bikes and any other bullshit they could come up with.

Not long after Reveca had sat down next to Gwinn, Talon made his way in. Surprisingly, King wasn't far behind him. Side by side they sat next to Thrash. Reveca could hear them talking about the Veil but ignored it.

"Okay, are you ready?" Reveca asked Gwinn as she lined candles in front of her.

Gwinn's dark eyes went a little wide. Her hands were in her lap, her fingers twisting together. She wasn't used to being around the guys, hadn't really said a word to them, and though she'd found herself relaxed around Reveca for the most part, when Reveca asked her do spells it gave her wicked flashbacks of being a kid in a room with a man in a white lab coat asking her to move things like pebbles or pencils.

"This is just like outside. It should actually be easier. That was sticks. This has a wick, a point to focus on," Reveca coached as she gave her the tiny crystals to put in the palm of her hands.

Gwinn was still blown away that she had started a campfire the night before, and she honestly thought Reveca had mercy on her and finally ignited the flame after hours of her trying. And to be honest the tingling she felt in her gut each time she did anything Reveca asked her to do did things to her—things that were, as far as she knew, still a mystery.

"Focus," Reveca said. "This is an element, it's energy. You just have to ask it to move, just like when you pull something to you."

"I don't ask though, I just reach. Sometimes I think whatever it is, is closer than it is. It always scared me when I did that."

"That's like being scared of breathing. Does it scare you when your gut expands with a deep breath? When you let it out?"

Gwinn shook her head even bit her lip. It made sense, everything Reveca said made since but thinking and doing was something that wasn't all that easy for Gwinn to connect just then. Not when she could feel this deep hum all but consuming her. She'd asked Reveca about it, asked if that was part of her coming back. Most times Reveca would ignore her, but if she did answer she'd say they'd talk about it later, once she had a better balance.

"All right," Reveca said pushing a candle to her. "Ask."

Gwinn tried, she really did. She thought about it, she asked, she begged, she visualized. Nothing.

"You're scared," Reveca said in a near pissed tone.

"Trying not to be."

"You can't try not to be scared. You either are or you aren't, same with everything else. Let go. Ask. This is witchling 101. This is the part where it's still fun."

Seeing Gwinn's wide eyes had Reveca biting her lip, wishing that somewhere in her life she had developed some kind of filter. All she meant was this is fun. One day when Gwinn needed to burn an attacker, that might not be so awesome. She'd get away, for sure, but she'd live with that for a long while.

"Fun," Reveca said once again.

Moments went by. The rambling conversation of the boys filled the room. Someone even turned the music on nice and low. Reveca was good with that. Gwinn needed to learn this with as much distraction as possible.

Finally a spark, one tiny baby flame.

"There you go!" Reveca said nearly standing.

Gwinn moved back in her seat with shock. The flame died.

"Sorry," Gwinn breathed.

Reveca shook her head, stood from her seat just because she needed to make a point. She gripped the candle. "You're not having any fun. You have to have fun." She heard the snickers of the guys, knew she clearly looked like a fool for saying have fun in the tone she used but at the same time she didn't care—she was too passionate about this topic.

"You have to shut it all off. You have to forget what the modern world has taught you. You have to pull from within, from that natural born instinct inside of you. This is energy, what you're made of—only you are conscious energy, you are in control, you are the creator."

"I am pulling. I swear," Gwinn said as her big almond eyes stared up at Reveca.

"You're afraid. You have stress, and you're pouring virtual water on this flame before it has the chance to be born."

Reveca sucked in a deep breath. "You have fear, and that's fine. You can't turn that off but you can channel it. Magic is...it's just awesome. And you have to be excited about it. You have to feel grateful for it."

Gwinn went to say something but Reveca held her finger up. She was on a roll and wasn't ready to get off her soapbox.

"Magic is orgasmic!" Reveca nearly yelled.

Gwinn's eyes went even wider. The room went silent but Reveca didn't hesitate, she forged on. "That's the best way to understand it." She leaned down. "Think of it as a man. When he looks at you and you know he has a mating mind, when you see that hunger, feel it reach out, feel it beckon. That's magic."

Reveca's bit her lip and did her best not to smile as she remembered the first time she felt that rush. "You may have fear, that's fine, but it's a good fear, it's a fear that is laced with anticipation, a fear that builds adrenaline in the core, it swells within. It's a rush. It starts at the crown of your head and slides down your body claiming it, awakening dormant energy. And before you know it you're moving with it, dancing with it. It feels dangerous, it feels sinful, but you love it." Reveca's eyes were lit with elation. Ice blue shards were breaking free from the gray. "You know at any second that rush could stop, someone could walk in, a million things could happen to take it away, but you don't want it to go away. You're hungry now, you want to feel it slide all over you. You want to claim it, pull it to you and command that it builds that rush that is heating inside of you. Then it starts to build, slowly. It's an ache—you want it so bad but you know you're clinging to the edge. It could be taken—again you move with it, you seduce it, you lust after this rush, and then all at once you're moving in sync with it. You know it wants you just as bad as you want it and that turns you on, that builds that rush, drives it forward until you're sure every sense in your body is a live wire, all focused on one point, and driven forward.

"That's when you feel the heat of it, feel your body welcoming the aching want to become one. Then it happens. Then your vessel convulses, and waves and waves of aching satisfaction slide over you. You find bliss, and I will be damned if you aren't grateful as hell that you were there, that you let go, that you didn't give a damn and rode that ride. Now, you want more, and each time you get it you're even more grateful."

Reveca paused, came out of her rant and really saw Gwinn, saw how her cheeks were enflamed, how she was crossing her legs, heard her faint pants of breath.

"Oh my fucking God you're a virgin," Reveca said with wide eyes.

The room became really small right then, tense. Reveca glanced up to see seven men gapping at her. Hunger in their eyes. Apparently they enjoyed her lesson a little bit too much.

Right then Knight opened the door. "Hey, we open? There's a party out here but everyone wants a drink." He glanced around the room. "What did I miss?"

Right then everyone but Talon and King stood from where they were and all but ran outside, outside to the girls that were sunbathing before.

"I'll take that as a yes," Knight said as he pushed the door open and the room started to fill.

Reveca closed her eyes for a second then opened them. "Okay, Gwinn, I need you to take this candle upstairs, to your room, in a quiet place, and find your rush. I want you to get excited, be grateful."

"Wh-where are you going?" Gwinn asked.

"I have an errand to run."

Reveca waited for Gwinn to gather her things, hesitated until she was sure she made it across that lot, all the while feeling the burning stares of both King and Talon.

Once she was sure that Gwinn had made it past every man she had inadvertently put in a mating mind, she made her way to the door.

Talon extend his leg in her path, reached to pull her into his arms.

Right as he touched her, Reveca felt a stabbing sensation in her energy. It wasn't painful, it was just a vague sting, like grazing a sunburn against cool sheets a little to briskly. She knew exactly where that was coming from but instead of looking King's way, she met Talon's eyes.

"I think I'm overdue for a magic lesson," Talon said as his hands eased down her sides to the cheeks of her ass.

"You hate magic," Reveca replied tilting her head slightly.

"Seems like your lesson plans have improved."

That lack of filter was not going to make Reveca's life any easier, but she couldn't stop the words before they came out. "I'm just teaching her how I learned."

Talon's hands on her body squeezed at the same time that burn in her energy eased a bit.

"You learned magic with sex?" Talon said evenly. It was rare, more than rare for Reveca to let a comment like that out. It was too close to the beginning she never spoke about.

"Seduction isn't always physical," Reveca said easing back. "I'm heading out."

"Where?" Talon said as he drew his brow together.

"Jamison."

Talon nearly growled. "He can wait." His stare glided down her. "May be best for you to have more energy before you face him," he said with a sinful smile dangling on his lips.

That burn was back in her energy. She could have sworn the room dropped a degree or two. She could literally feel King's stare boring into her.

"I can handle Jamison just fine." She lifted her chin as she stepped out of his arms. "Besides, I wouldn't want to stall the conversation between you and King." Reveca moved her gray eyes to King. "Seems he's well versed on the Veil. Maybe he can tell you all about the people in there that would rather have the gift you have."

Reveca smirked as she looked back to Talon. "Maybe he can tell you that the Veil is overpopulated, busting at its seams. That it's rumored the Reaper is sound asleep or trapped in some way. That some believe the only reason I was able to create the Edge in the first place was because of how stalled the process in the Veil is. Then he can move on to tell you that some fear that one day, because no souls can move on, that the dead and living will walk side by side, and when they do this world will collapse much the way my home dimension did." She sneered. "He can school you on the Lords of Death, how they entrap souls that died basked in one negative emotion and feed off it. I would think that any one of those conversations would make any soul, no matter how old they are, appreciate their status in immortality."

Talon glanced to King, grinned, even winked. "I told you, this one right here cannot be tamed."

"Was that discussion before or after your disrespect for your gift came into view?"

Talon's eyes met Reveca's once more. "King was telling me this fire in my blood—the phoenix— digs the Veil. He's thinking I need to understand my power more."

Talon bit his lip, let his dark eyes reflect an apology that only Reveca could read. "I disagreed until I saw how ignited teaching made you. I'm going to require private lessons."

She smiled even though she didn't want to. "I'm out."

"We're set to go tonight," Talon called after her. She nodded once. She was eager for the boys to get those girls that were trapped, eager for any information that would help her put all that hell with Black to bed.

She made her way to her bike in the lot. Rolled her eyes as she saw more than a few guys going down the back hall that led to church. Before you got to that meeting room there were others, ones set up like cheap hotel rooms, ones that anyone could crash in if they had too much to drink to ride on. Of course, in most cases, they were used for more than crashing.

When Reveca was waiting on Gwinn to come out of those first few days of her transition she had studied those cards that she found with GranDee, did her best to map out the meaning but there were too many variables.

Her sister had also ignored her each time she reached out. She'd only called Jamison twice, but he had not called back thus far.

Which gave Reveca no choice but to make an appearance.

Strolling up to Jamison's front door, walking in and saying "hi" to the family was a bold move, one that would not win her many favors down the road. But going to his woman's house, that was different.

Thelma Ray lived next door to Jamison's woman, Emery. Reveca's plan was to make her way there and have a chat with the grieving sister. She hoped to not only get a few answers but send a bold message to Jamison that it would be best for him to answer her. If not, she might accidently knock on the wrong door next time...

Once she reached the street that Thelma Ray lived on in the lower Quarter, she stopped at the top of it and stared forward.

There was a bike out front. One she knew. Cashton had told her over and over that he didn't mingle with her family on his jaunts into the living world, and now the lie was in Reveca's face.

She backed her bike between two other cars, hiding her from plain view as she plotted her next move.

Coincidence—she didn't believe in those. Cashton's bike was parked across the street from where Thelma Ray's home was, from Emery's home, but still, it was close enough to call a spade a spade. The chances of Cashton being inside any of the other historical homes that were not more than a few feet apart were near nil.

Jamison no doubt had a part in Saige's reasoning to get Cashton out. The connection of them knowing each other wasn't hard to make, so it made no sense why Cashton would tell her a lie that was so blatant. One that Reveca would surely eventually unearth.

A moment later, the front door to Emery's opened. Two girls and a guy who was not Cashton came out.

The guy and the girl with the short, dark hair had to be a couple. Their hands were entangled, and of course the way they looked at each other gave it away.

The other girl, she was beautiful. Her hair was long, almost reaching her small waist. One long streak of blonde was on the right side of her dark hair. Her eyes; Reveca knew those eyes, they were nothing less than a reflection of Jamison's.

The last time Reveca had seen Jamison's daughter, Raven, she was no more than ten, a hyper, happy kid that trailed after her father as he walked the streets of the Quarter. It was clear she was a woman now. Still innocent though, that smile, that glint in her eyes, those were signs that she had never seen the hell Reveca had, signs that Jamison had kept his daughter nice and safe, sealed in some all-American life.

Reveca waited for Cashton to make his way out, waited for the visual proof that not only had Cashton been around Jamison, but also that he was seeing Raven. The very idea of that had Reveca's head spinning.

He never came out though. Raven and her friends walked to the sidewalk, then across the street. Raven was laughing so hard at something someone said that she didn't see the bike until it was just before her. When she did see it her smile fell. She looked up and down the street blindly. Even reached out and touched it. Reveca couldn't read her eyes—that hesitation mixed with want laced with innocence. There was no way for her figure out if her theories were on point or not.

Finally, the other girl pulled Raven along with her and the boy, they moved a few paces down the street and got into a Jeep, then pulled away with music blaring, all dancing in their seats.

Reveca sat there awhile longer staring, waiting. Then all at once she heard the rumble of a bike and looked up. Coming in the opposite direction of the street she was on was none other than Cashton.

Reveca did a double take to the one she had been watching, then to him.

Cashton grinned as he came to stop in the middle of the street next to her bike.

"You stalking me?" he asked with a wink.

"I am," she replied with a smile because apparently she was. "This is the second time I've found you in the Quarter. That should narrow down what girl you're after."

A shy smile came to him, then he shook his head. "All I'm doing today is giving Blackwater hell."

"Do what?"

"He started tailing me as soon as I left the Boneyard. I've led him all over the place, all over hell and back. Then I came here, been moving in and out these side streets. It's totally pissing him off. He wants me to think he's backed off, but look." Cashton pointed into his mirror.

When Reveca looked straight ahead she saw Blackwater's unmarked car come to a halt at a cross street three blocks up.

"You gotta go back to the Veil at midnight. You got a coffee date today? Saying goodbye until next month?"

"Not really," Cashton said, vaguely staring down Blackwater in his mirror. "I try to say goodbye a good day before I have to go, just in case, you know."

He meant just in case he started to fade to the mortal eye. When he first came out, that happened a few times, but since then Reveca had reinforced the spells around him.

"Turn around, pass Blackwater by, lead him back to the Boneyard."

"What are you up to?" Cashton asked.

"Just stopping by to see an old friend," she said with an easy grin.

Cashton nodded once and did as she said.

The second Blackwater choose to follow Cashton, Reveca got off her bike, then started to walk down the long street she'd been staring down.

Someone had put up a mirage of Cashton's bike outside of Emery's home. She was determined to figure out who and why.

She had only made it a few steps before she felt an energy barrier. This little trick was something Jamison was good at, something he made a point to do if he was having a top-secret meeting.

Moving past that barrier wasn't a challenge for Reveca, not even close. That wasn't the issue. The issue was what she felt the second she passed it.

Zale.

Reveca felt her gut clench, her past racing forward all at once. This was ridiculous and she knew it.

Even though Zale was seen as the leader of the Rogue's, and the Rogue's were what the Sons fought on the regular, him being seen was a rare phenomenon.

In most cases he resided overseas, jaunted through the villages and towns where myths about the supernatural were born. His theory was if they believe, if they witnessed supernatural beings in action, that would become a catalyst for the rest of the world to believe and understand. The energy there was rich with time, a perfect breeding ground, a breeding ground he used to toy with life and death.

The farther he was away from Reveca the better in her mindset. He was a mistake in more ways than one.

The very idea that he was on the same side of the planet as Reveca was near overwhelming. She didn't need to deal with him on top of everything else she was battling in both the personal and business sides of her life.
Chapter Three

Reveca's walk was slow and calculated. Her first instinct was to march right up to that house, walk in and have a seat like she owned the place. Her doubting that she really wanted to come face to face with both Zale and Jamison at once, of course, halted that instinct. Ignorance was a bliss that was rarely offered to Reveca. She just wasn't sure she wanted to know what was going on in there.

There was no fear that Jamison was conspiring with the enemy. In all truth, it was Jamison that broke her away from Zale long ago. He came to her and told her how outlandish her actions had been, how dangerous they were. At that point Reveca had brought back more dead than she could name.

Jamison was the one that told her it was out of control and Zale was using her. It wasn't long after that that Reveca figured out she had been spelled to lust. It was a nasty little spell that only worked if you indeed had an attraction to whomever gave it to you. All it did was enhance what was there and when it did, you lost your inhibitions. It was like being drunk on seduction, riding that edge constantly.

It wasn't all sex with her and Zale, though. It was way more magic, toying with power, dancing across forbidden edges. As soon as she broke the chain of the spell he had her under, she paid him back. She spelled Zale to be genuine. A much harder spell simply because people rarely are genuine. They tend to lie to themselves more than anyone else.

She played her part as a lust-crazed woman drunk on power and asked Zale of his plots and plans, and he told her. He told her of the next evolution he wanted to create, how they had already laid the foundation and had nowhere to go but up. Those revelations led to their current stance in which he was the enemy.

In all truth, if Kenson's armies had not been called by Reveca's father to her village so long ago, there would have been a good chance that she would have been coupled with Zale. He wasn't much older than her, and his family, like Reveca's, bore generation after generation of natural born witches. Back then though, he didn't turn Reveca's head. He teased her too much about how she'd rather be inside of nature instead of controlling it.

When the fine line between the dead and the living began to unravel, when Reveca's Edge was overrun with souls that could not move forward, when the darkest and the vilest of souls found a way to linger with the living and suck nearly every ounce of balance out of the world Reveca lived in, the coven had had to make decisions, and quickly.

Jamison had constructed the spell, one that made a passage to the world that he said was large enough to hide and balance the power they had. The glitch: only natural born witches could push through.

Only twenty-two were able to leave. Twenty-two natural born witches made their way to the world Reveca was in now.

All but four of them were still in the coven. Reveca was the first to break away. Truthfully she never wanted to leave the other world, was good with watching damnation rain down. It fit her mood at the time.

The second to leave the coven was Windsome. She let go of immortality, conspired with Reveca to deliver her into the hands of death. Windsome wanted to find her family, all those the coven had lost to death in the past. She wanted to know if they were trapped or had been able to move on.

Rumor has it, Windsome now leads a coven within that Veil. The witches in reality reach out to that force, and the ones there reach out to reality, all expanding power.

The other two that left were Zale and his twin sister, Evanthe. Twins, that was normality among natural born witches. It was even said that was a sign of balance. For one child was dark and one was light. There was no doubt who earned the dark name badge in Reveca's family.

For the longest time it was hard to tell who was the darker between Zale and Evanthe. They were too much like Reveca for her to tell the difference. Evanthe was—is—one of Reveca's dearest friends.

Even though Reveca and Zale had been at war for some time, Reveca and Evanthe didn't let that come between them.

Reveca wasn't the only one Jamison had come after so long ago. He was trying to reach Evanthe, too. He told her that she needed to be with her family, that they needed her, otherwise the world they had found a safe haven in would meet the same demise as the home they'd abandoned.

Evanthe lived in New Orleans, but not with the coven. For the most part she stayed out of sight, kept to herself. But every once in awhile she'd come forward, serve as a safe haven between the wars and conflicts between Reveca and Zale, between them and the coven.

She did that in various ways but her most known way, the reason Reveca kept her close, was by reining in lost Rogue's, finding them before Reveca did, before the streets did, and helping them find their way back to their own.

Shade was one of those. Evanthe had told Reveca that she found him seconds after he came back from the dead. Begged Reveca to give him a chance, told her he was a victim. She did, clearly. And never regretted it. Shade, even though he had not been around long, always seemed as if he were meant to be with the Sons.

As Reveca crept around the side of the house, she couldn't hear a thing. That wasn't shocking as no doubt Jamison and Zale had something in place to conceal their words.

Just as she decided it was better to know what the hell was going on and march up the back steps she heard. "Now you know if you want a glass of ice tea it's gonna taste better over here. Emery has some aversion to sugar. Surely thought the lack of it would calm those girls down." Thelma Ray laughed as she snapped the green bean in her hand so it fell into the bowl before her. "Sugar ain't their problem, it's youth. Come on over now," Thelma Ray said as she stood from her seat and went inside her back door.

Reveca looked to the back door she was about to charge into then to where Thelma Ray went. She told herself she had to find at least one answer to the problems she had before she added more to the pile, and surely one step into that house Jamison was in was going to unveil more that she'd have to contend with.

She hesitated on Thelma Ray's back porch wondering if she was coming back out. When she heard her humming inside she opened the door.

Two glasses of ice tea were already on the round table in the kitchen area, and Thelma Ray was carefully slicing banana bread and putting it on a serving tray.

She was a large woman—large and beautiful. Beautiful because she was comfortable in her own skin, settled in her own mind, felt free to say what she wanted when she wanted.

Thelma Ray was in the Dominarum Coven, just as generations of her family had been, but she was not a natural born witch. She wasn't a dime store one, either. She heard the power, knew it was all around and if she needed it, she'd whisper to it, ask it kindly to come her way. Her sister, GranDee, was much the same, only she was more daring, wasn't afraid of the dark energy that lurks in every power.

Thelma Ray was dressed in an all black dress, clearly still in mourning. The sight of her hurt Reveca, made her focus on the reality that she had yet to let herself grieve over GranDee.

"Sit down, child," Thelma Ray said as she turned with her serving platter and put it on the table.

"How are you?" Reveca asked when she finally did sit down, just as Thelma Ray put a warm piece of bread in front of her.

"Hot. You?"

Reveca smirked. "I'm sorry, Thelma Ray. I didn't get there fast enough."

"Nothing to be sorry for," she said sipping her tea and looking into blank space.

"Plenty to be sorry for," Reveca said quietly. "Holden was under my roof, killed her for no reason."

Thelma Ray met her gaze. "Everyone has a reason to kill, now don't they?"

Reveca heard GranDee in that statement, her not thinking the actions the Sons took to handle their business was bad, but necessary.

"His made no sense. Killing a family because some informant made him think they were some cook of ours, framing the Sons just to get out of whatever role he had agreed to with the lawmen."

Thelma Ray shook her head. "Newberry was a stark raving lunatic. He was no informant for any lawmen."

"You sound like Jamison."

"Mr. BellaRose is an honest man, takes care of his own." She lifted her brow. "Even when they stray from the fold."

Clearly reading between the lines of that statement Reveca was quick to respond. "Maybe they wouldn't stray if he didn't keep so many secrets so close to his belt."

"Men with a broad vision, who have seen as much as him, have no choice but to do so."

Anger and disgust filled Reveca's gray eyes. "His vision is a little too longsighted for my comfort."

Thelma Ray let a slow smile come to her. "Some people have to believe it's their choice to go down a path before they agree. Telling them to do such things would only muck up the twisted fate we're all trapped in."

"No one should be forced to go down a path or led to one. Either they feel called or they don't."

Thelma Ray's dark stare landed squarely on Reveca. "And some people are too stubborn for their own good and have no patience."

"We've had this discussion," Reveca said with an easy smile.

"And apparently it didn't sink in the first fifty times."

Reveca tilted her head back, slightly narrowed her eyes. "I don't withhold death from anyone. Some are not meant to move on, they are meant to stay here. I light the path, the souls agree, the power decides. The way I see it, if they come back they were meant to."

Thelma Ray just stared.

Reveca winked, did her best to hide a sly, guilty grin. "And those that temporally forget the gift they were given are being dealt with."

Thelma Ray shook her head. A deep chuckle came from the center of her and wobbled her large chest just so. "By you sending them back to the Veil you state they were not meant to be in."

Reveca's grin wavered, but the glint never left her eyes. "Don't twist my words, old woman. I've made mistakes. I know that. I'm rectifying them the best I can."

"I know, child, and I do agree that it's part of a larger plan we can't understand from our current point of view. One day, it will make sense."

Reveca had lived long enough to know that nothing made sense. Each time it almost seemed clear, inevitably she'd figure out she had not understood anything but found another mystery to unravel.

"Why did she let go? Why did she not wait for me to bring her back? It can't be because of the girl. I could have brought them both back. Even if the Veil had taken that girl I could have bartered my way to her, I would have figured something out."

"I can't speak for the dead."

"No, but you know more than you're saying. You didn't even question what girl I was talking about. GranDee's death, that surge of energy, its impact hid that girl. It allowed me to bring her back without any force—dark or light—clearly knowing what the hell I was doing. She died to give that girl a chance, a chance to live, to finish what she started."

"And here I thought she died because she was shot."

"Not funny."

"I'm not laughing."

"Holden is in jail now for killing a dead man with a twenty-two, as absurd as that sounds. He should be in prison for the coldblooded murder of four innocent people with a forty-five, but Miss perfect, almighty Saige, needed me to cover up Newberry's death instead. I only have so many creeps on standby to frame for murder."

Thelma Ray nearly laughed at Reveca's tone. "And now Blackwater is under the impression that you killed GranDee to cover your tracks."

"How do you know that?"

"Came by, a few times, with his deepest sympathies."

"But you said Newberry was not an informant, rather you backed up what Jamison already told me. How did GranDee's home even come into this fight?"

Reveca was waiting for her to slip, say something that backed up what the Sons already knew, along with the suspicions they had about what they didn't know.

Thelma Ray sighed. "Newberry did go to the police with several findings, but they laughed him off. Then their undercover lawman confesses to killing him at a vigil where three murders were committed. He's pulling at straws."

Reveca lifted both her brows. "He's doing what he can to take any one of us down."

"That he is," Thelma Ray agreed as a deep hum came from her chest and she shook her head. "And he's having a hard time with that because everyone he speaks to tells him that you were very dear to GranDee, that the reason you're clean from all criminal activity is because of that bond. Gardening. We made it clear that GranDee inspired your love for such things."

"All truth."

Thelma Ray nodded.

"I have to figure out what went down that night, and I have to figure out what the deal with this girl is while handling the business that was keeping me well occupied."

She nearly smiled. "I'm sure it will come to you, how all the pieces line up."

Reveca reached in her back pocket and pulled out two cards. The last two that GranDee had dealt.

"You want to tell me what this has to do with that girl?"

"You? You need me to read cards for you? You were the one that taught GranDee, who then taught me."

That was true. It was so odd to know someone from life to death, to see them as a child then a wise soul. A person that you guided that then in turn guided you.

"This is old magic. Magic from another world. I don't even know how she got this in the first place."

"I surely don't."

"Who is the girl?" Reveca asked again.

"I thought you had what you needed to wake her."

"I did. A little too much. Her memories are erased back until she was seventeen—to be honest that's making her a bit childlike, scared."

Thelma Ray laughed, hard, her whole body shaking, just before she fanned herself. "That timid mindset surely has nothing to do with being in a house full of men that would make any prim woman pant and bend to any will they suggested." Thelma Ray chuckled again, unconsciously fanning herself as a sinful smirk dangled on her lips.

"My boys are on their best behavior," Reveca said trying to keep her dark mood. She was always teased by both GranDee and Thelma Ray about the boys she kept close to her. They enjoyed the company of her boys to say the least, like to let their stares linger as if they were twenty-year-old girls wanting a taste of a dare.

"Still hot. Got to be hard to concentrate with all that muscle moving around."

"She was clear enough to focus on one of them."

"That a fact," Thelma Ray said with a knowing smile.

Reveca smiled coolly before she spoke her next words, prepared to judge each and every reaction. "Yeah, downright worships one of them...at least she did when she first came out. King."

Thelma Ray, who was sipping her tea, nearly choked.

"Not the name you were expecting?" Reveca asked with a lifted brow.

Thelma Ray just shook her head. "I didn't know you had a boy named King."

"Bull. Shit. You knew I went after him. And while we're being honest I'm sure you know my history with this boy, that I lost track of him for a long while."

"Might have heard that."

"She recognized him, said 'I knew you were real.' Why?"

"Did you ask her?"

"Apparently she knew he was 'real' in the gap of memory she's lost. The seventeen-year-old memory didn't know a King. She doesn't even remember saying that."

"Interesting."

"Agreed. Even more interesting is that I have no doubt you expected me to say Shade. Now, why would Evanthe give me a boy to save, pull into my fold, then years later Grandee give me a girl?"

"Evanthe gives you souls all the time, some for you to save others for you to walk into death. I don't see why this is odd to you."

"Maybe because my boy feels a hum around this girl. Maybe it's because it's driving him up the fucking wall because he doesn't want to."

Thelma Ray stayed silent, just staring at Reveca, a stare that told Reveca she should already know this answer.

"I'm not running a dating service over here, Thelma Ray. I don't appreciate being asked to do so."

"Dating service, huh? Is the romance hot and heavy at the Beauregard Boneyard?"

"Don't even..." Reveca had to halt her words just so she would not say anything she'd regret. "I want to help this girl. I need help to do that."

Thelma Ray leaned forward. "Tell me how King is."

"Why do you care?"

"Because I care about you."

"That was long ago."

"Time doesn't mean a damn thing."

"It does until I can figure out where the hell he's been, why he wants to kill Cashton, why this girl recognized him."

"He and Cashton are fighting?"

Reveca smirked. "Don't play dumb. You suck at it."

"Not playing, understanding."

"Understanding what?" Reveca snapped.

"Understanding that we're not as close to our Rapture as we thought."

"I love you, but you are just as brainwashed as Saige."

"Do you say that often?"

"What?"

"Love."

No, she didn't. Never really said it when it bore weight. She couldn't. Made her think about her beginning too much, when Kenson called her that. Who turned into King, who now calls her sweet and wants to kill another man clearly over a girl. Oh, and another girl at some point worshiped him. Someone she shouldn't even fucking know.

"No."

"Rectify that. Use it when you mean it."

"That doesn't have shit to do with anything."

"One day it will." She nodded to the cards. "You know that means daughter, and that one means seer. You want me to read them all then I need them all. But you're not going to show them all to me because deep down you don't want to know. You don't want to know where King has been, and you're going to have to get over that. From all accounts I know, he was yours first."

"What does that have to do with this girl?"

"Nothing." Thelma Ray let her dark eyes move over Reveca nice and slow. "That girl had a hard life, no one there to guide her magic. Then someone found her, used her, and she escaped. She escaped because a faction of souls that you refuse to believe in saved her and landed her on GranDee's doorstep, where GranDee then did her best to remedy her jacked up mind."

Reveca sat back in her seat and just stared. The souls that GranDee accused her of not believing in were called Escorts. And they were called that because they were meant to escort dark energy from human souls to a king, or God rather, and that God would cleanse the energy, feed off of it. Which brought balance. The Gods stopped doing that. They started to create dark energy instead of cleanse it, which, according to the theories of Saige and others, was the reason evil was gaining power. Saige believes those dark Gods will be slain, new ones will rise, hence Rapture.

There had been rumors that some of the dark angels had broken off from their gods, or rather kings, and made factions to try and change the path of darkness.

Reveca knew if any of that bullshit, those old myths and fairytales, were true, whoever did dare to breakaway was far too outnumbered to make a difference.

That didn't stop people from pretending they were someone they were not, though. Saying they were born of some dark God and had changed their path—it was just the same as a dime store witch claiming to be connected the spiritual world.

"Myths and fairy tales...no, I don't have time to believe in that. Tell me who brought this girl to GranDee."

"Helco faction."

"And those people believe they are born of some dark God?"

"They know."

Reveca clinched her fist and did her best to remain calm. She was not in the mood to be preached at.

"And how did they know where she was?"

Thelma Ray breathed in deep, glanced out her window to the neighboring backyard before she spoke.

"When you come across a fool like Newberry who gets his hand on old lore, they toy with the words. Too arrogant to believe there is something out there that can hurt them. They feel if they do happen to make something happen with the words they say they will find fame for proving there is some great beyond."

"Well aware," Reveca said as her thin line of patience was all but erased. When Thelma Ray didn't say anything else Reveca leaned forward. "You're trying to tell me they beckoned an Escort to them, and that Escort rescued this girl and pulled her across state lines because they were in a good mood."

"No, I was just telling you that Newberry is but one ass out and about. As for why Gwinn was located by the Helco faction and brought to GranDee, I suppose you'll have to ask them."

"Me. Ask some fictional souls why they had mercy on this girl. Laughable."

"That is why you will never understand this. They're not real to you."

"I've seen it all, Thelma Ray. I mean everything. These Gods, kings, I would have come across them by now. No, I don't believe in them. What I do believe is that there are assholes out there that are playing with magic that is best left alone."

Thelma Ray eased back from her seat. "Well hopefully Miss Gwinn will regain her memory in due time and explain how she came to be with this coven." She looked down at Reveca. "Of course if you grow impatient perhaps King will enlighten you."

That was a dare, and Reveca knew it. Her 'do later' list was well known around those close to her life. They knew if something bore too much emotional weight for her, she'd rather hang out with the likes of Crass than deal with it.

"Mr. Jamison will see you now," Thelma Ray said with a nod to the window.

"This is not over, Thelma Ray. You will tell me what you know. Next time I see you I don't want to hear fairy tales," Reveca said as she pushed back from her seat and made her way to the door.

"Perhaps they will not be fairy tales next time we meet."

Reveca gritted her teeth then all but slammed the back door open. She was nice and ticked off, saturated with frustration—exactly how she needed to feel to face the likes of Zale and Jamison who were both standing in the neighboring backyard waiting on her.

Zale. He hadn't changed, nothing but the clothes which were more modern. He still preferred suits, apparently.

He stood well over six foot. His hair was kept clean cut and was near white—his grey eyes reflected well with that shade. Broad shoulders and a lean build rounded out the picture. Wealth, power, and sex dripped from his presence.

That come hither smile of his as he stood next to Jamison was enough to make Reveca want to rip him limb from limb.

"You look ravishing, darling. Downright glowing," Zale said to her as his stare moved over her tank and cut-off shorts, all the way down her long legs to her boots. "Doesn't she, Jamison. My, I haven't seen her glow like this since the old world, since before all that war nonsense."

"Cut the bullshit," Reveca snapped. "What are you doing on my side of the planet?"

Jamison, sporting a white oxford and slacks, let a proud grin come to his placid expression. Clearly he was pleased Reveca still had disdain for Zale, that his presence had not altered the way Reveca saw him.

Reveca glanced to the folder under Jamison's arm then back to Zale.

"Family issues," Zale answered with an easy smile.

"What? Evanthe not playing nice? You get ticked that she was moving to help me save all those you turn."

Zale, with all his knowledge of magic, had figured out how to bring souls back without Reveca, even enhance them. The thing was, the ones he brought back had more of an edge, had a harder time with their newfound enhancements, a harder time blending in because it was clear they were not human. The color of their eyes, their build, the way they looked at humans as if they were food made that impossible.

What made it all the worse was Zale shared his knowledge with others. Which meant that fools that couldn't even dare to have enough respect for this dark magic were practicing it at their leisure. All the while thinking they were building armies, legions of souls that would be loyal to them. They were wrong. The souls they brought back didn't care to be controlled by anyone.

"Oh, you know how it is to have twin. You have ups and downs, you agree, you disagree," Zale said letting his gray eyes wander over Reveca once more.

Her energy reached out and assaulted him. A blow that would've knocked anyone across the yard didn't budge him. Too much power.

"I have missed you, dear."

Reveca moved her glare to Jamison. "What the hell is going on?"

"Evanthe...she's been taken."

"What?" Reveca said as she felt her gut flip.

"That expression almost looks genuine," Zale said with a tilt of his head.

"You thought I knew about this?" Reveca bit out.

"Well, you are harboring the last little witchling Evanthe tried to help," Zale said evenly.

"You've been misinformed," Reveca replied with a glance to Jamison. Right then she wasn't sure if she was being asked to cover up something else of the likes of Jamison. If he was silently asking her to hide where Gwinn came from.

"He's speaking of Tisk," Jamison said to answer her glance.

Reveca nearly laughed. "Tisk is no fucking witch."

"We all have dreams," Zale said with a sardonic grin. "Evanthe thought it was best to teach misguided wannabe witches, help them learn boundaries, among other little projects she took on. When I spoke to her last she was harboring Tisk, someone she said had toyed with the wrong magic."

"Black magic?" Reveca questioned.

"Evanthe wasn't clear on that. She said the girl said she was being followed, even claimed that she had been summoned by some human."

Reveca glared, did her best to hide her rage. Tisk knew that Evanthe was an original, a close friend to Reveca and had not said one damn word about this. No, for the last week she was more preoccupied with getting laid as she pranced around in next to nothing.

"Evanthe believed her?" Reveca asked.

"After the first night she did. She told me that she felt this pull around her home. She was reinforcing it."

"And?" Reveca said when Zale's pause was too long.

"And that was the last I heard from her, two weeks ago. I sent those in my ranks to investigate and they said she was gone, so I came myself."

"You mean you sent your Rogue's to see her."

"Yes. I sent my people that you're hunting to her."

"I'm not the only one hunting them any longer," Reveca said with a glance to Jamison.

"Well aware," Zale offered.

"Was that what this little meeting was about?" Reveca questioned. "You're joining forces to find her?"

"That's the plan," Zale said with a look of disdain, surely not happy that he was speaking with Jamison or Reveca for that matter.

"And?"

"And if she's being held here I can't sense her. Jamison believes that a recently deceased human may have been in possession of a book of shadows that would have taught him and his followers how to mask her."

"And what if they took her somewhere else?"

"They're not wise or strong enough to move her and conceal her," Jamison said. "She's here somewhere."

"Evanthe is capable of defending herself."

"And she has too big of a heart," Zale nearly snapped. "It's my understanding that the pair of you have let this all get out of control. That some human has not only kidnaped Rogue's, but also taken witches. If my sister was taken anywhere where souls were in danger she would have stayed to help them, to free them."

Reveca knew that was the truth. "I'm working on something. I have a lead on where several girls are being held."

"Gaither," Zale said arrogantly, deliberately wanting to point out that he was well aware of Reveca's every move. "She's not there. Your boys have done an excellent recon. I saw them there when I prowled through last night. I have no doubt that Evanthe was there at one point, but she's gone now. However, there is one little witchling there, one of mine too. You get your boys to get our people out and maybe we'll have something to go on."

"You think I'm going to hand over a Rogue to you?"

"I do," Zale said with a sly smile.

"You don't remember me very clearly."

"Obviously we both share that short term memory issue for if you remembered me, you'd know that I'd rather blow the whole damn place to smithereens, killing those addicts that were trying to remedy their path, your little witchling, and my Rogue before I'd let you take one of my own before my very eyes."

"Destroying all leads to your sister," Reveca said with a cool stare.

"I've lived a long time, Reveca, a shade longer than you. But unlike you, I have patience. I will find my sister in due time and clean up this mess while I'm at it. Hell, maybe it's time for me to relocate. Watch over my Rogue's and their progression in this city of sin."

Jamison cleared his throat. "Threats are not needed. Whatever war you want to engage in at later time, Zale, will be there once we bring our own out of harm's way."

"Back into the fold," Zale said mockingly as his gray eyes moved to Jamison. "You told her she'd be safe with the coven. You were wrong."

"I also told you that until your sister was found I would allow you in this city. That I would ensure that the coven, or Reveca, would not rip you limb from limb. Let's hope I'm not wrong about that, too."

Jamison let that threat hang in the air and Reveca did her best to swallow that silent demand...let Zale have passage into this city.

Bottom line, Reveca needed too much information from Jamison to go against him now and strike Zale.

Which ticked her off to no end.
Chapter Four

Jamison cleared his throat and pulled the folder from beneath his arm. "Zale brought this with him."

"You giving that to me so I can call it bullshit?" Reveca said as she took it.

Her remark earned her a grin from Jamison and a glare from Zale.

"There is a drug called Black that's all the rage around my home," Zale said as Reveca opened the file, as she saw printouts of articles from all over the other half of the globe.

"It's a high end drug, supposed to be better than cocaine."

Reveca wasn't about to admit that she had already heard of this drug so she just kept speed-reading the articles in the file.

"It's said to increase every single sense. It's even said to make you feel immortal."

"And this drug had what to do with Evanthe missing?"

"It has to do with a lot of problems we have," Jamison said. He nodded to the folder. "As with any drug, producers are looking for a way to make more of it for less. The law has had a hard time getting their hands on it in general because it's only sold in small quantities. A few months ago when Zale came across this, he had it tested and found that the sample had several elements of blood within it."

"Our blood? Immortals' blood? So the human race is turning into fucking vampires," Reveca said with a you gotta be kidding me expression strapped across her face.

Both Jamison and Zale almost laughed but the severity of the situation halted them. "This drug will not change them, its effects are temporary. But it is the reason that Rogue's are coming up missing," Zale said.

"You want to tell me something that isn't obvious?" Reveca said closing the folder. "Rogue's are missing and addicts are hunting them. It's clear the drug was behind that. Which is why I'm going after the addicts, working my way up to the buyer."

"You need to work your way up to the human that has this knowledge," Zale said. "We can take down every building and house that they are using to cook this and it will not stop until we find the ones that have the knowledge to summon supernatural beings."

"Newberry's friends."

"Right," Jamison said. "Those same followers are not only selling what they find, they are moving to create their own immortals to use."

Reveca shot a hard glance at Zale. "Yeah. I didn't see that coming. I wonder what ass decided to share the knowledge of creating immortals with the world at large."

"I shared it with someone who was close to me, clearly those that I let in eventually leave," Zale shot back.

Jamison held out his arm when he saw Reveca lunge. "Reveca, every person you and the Sons save will lead us closer to those in charge. It's happening here, somewhere close. All evidence points to that." Jamison let his arm drop. "Let your boys shake up that house you found, give Zale his Rouge—he'll get more out of him than you will. Then we'll figure out what to do next."

Reveca just glared at Zale.

"All right then. I want you both to leave now. And next time," Jamison said as his stare moved between Zale and Reveca, "call before you come."

"Answer the phone," Reveca said glaring at him.

"Handle this, Reveca, then we'll have a look at your other projects." He nodded to Zale then moved to his back door.

The energy in the yard became dense, hard to breathe through. That was Jamison's silent way of saying leave. Now.

Reveca nearly stomped around the side of the house with Zale at her side.

"I meant it," Zale said when they reached the sidewalk.

"What?"

Zale's hungry stare moved over Reveca. "You really are glowing. What magic have you tapped into once again?"

"Like I'd tell you."

He laughed and shook his head. "Reveca, my grand plan was never meant to hurt this world."

"And in all the history of man, what new revolution have you witnessed that has not brought forth bloodshed?"

He tilted his head in agreement. "There is bad blood in the ranks, I won't argue that. But I will never ask those in this life to withhold their natural cravings. They will become what they are meant to be. You can't stop that, no matter how many of mine you force into an overpopulated Veil."

Reveca glared up at him regretting that she had ever had mercy on him. "You're here for more than Evanthe. You know I'm cleaning this city up, that what I do here impacts others, sends a message."

"And what exactly are you doing here? Beyond playing human."

"Existing."

He smirked.

"Listen to me, I don't need your shit. You're allowed here for now, fine. But you will not ride around mocking my boys."

He lifted a brow.

Reveca moved her stare to where the illusion of Cashton's bike was. Now a corvette was parked there, one that Zale unlocked with a control in his hand.

"I was just looking for a way in. You really didn't think Jamison would invite me in on his own did you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Like you, Reveca, I lurk before I make contact. It didn't take long to figure out that bike had been at Jamison's woman's house more than once. Didn't take me long to figure out that baby-faced biker of yours was allowed in."

It took all Reveca had not to show an expression.

"I shifted into his appearance and knocked. A girl let me in and hollered for someone, told them that I was there. Of course daddy dearest saw me before anyone made their way down." He lifted his chin. "You. Of all people you were the last I would have suspected would follow the old ways."

"And what old ways are those?"

"Arranged couplings. You know, the practice our fathers engaged in, ensuring their offspring were with others that could continue the life of power." He grinned. "Seems Jamison is eager to ensure his daughter does such things."

"You're assuming a lot for someone that lurks."

"I'm using those powers you tend to ignore, the ones that feed off energy, sense it. I know that the girl that never made it downstairs was far too nervous and excited for this to have been going on long. I know that Jamison is no fool and carefully screens who comes near his own little fleshy child. What I don't know is why you would care. You were against coupling from day one, and now you're aiding Jamison in his attempts to further that coven tradition."

She wasn't, not that she knew of, but she'd never argue that with Zale. Right then Reveca was livid that she had been kept in the dark on this point. "You need to focus on getting Evanthe back, and not twisting realities. Nothing is going on here."

"Sure," Zale said with a wink before he crossed the street to get in his car.

The entire way back to the Boneyard Reveca fumed. She left wanting simple answers and came back with more hell. Now she had to tell Talon Zale was not only in town but he would have to give over a Rogue to him tonight. She would have to deal with Cashton's lack of truth, and she was going to have to rip Tisk into shreds. The latter she was okay with. She really did hate that girl.

The gravel lot at the Boneyard was packed. Not for a party but for a distraction. All those bikers would ride out in different directions when the boys did go on this run tonight, and when it got ugly they would offer whatever back up was needed.

Once her bike was parked she marched into the lounge. It wasn't hard to find Tisk. She was onstage in a bikini top and a short skirt all but humping the pole, entertaining all those that were waiting for the action that would happen in a few hours.

She marched right up to the stage, grabbed Tisk by her hair, and pulled her off hearing "boos" from the crowd. She never let go of her as she marched down the hall that led to Church, Tisk screeching the whole way.

She flung the door open with a glance. All the guys were in there, ones in the life and not in the life, plotting their run tonight and loading guns.

"Family meeting," Reveca nearly growled. She held her glare on Tisk as Talon ran down the last points of what was to go down before those outside the life left.

Tisk was grunting and whining trying to get away from Reveca. "I didn't fuck your boy, King. I couldn't even get a rise out of him."

The entire room went tense as every one of the boys glanced to Talon then back to Reveca. Everyone knew Tisk was trying to make waves like she always did but her methods, calling out the new guy that no one could figure out, built into the tension that everyone had been feeling for days.

Reveca let Tisk's hair go only to fling her against the wall with her energy.

"Babe," Talon said in a deep, calm tone.

"Tell everyone why you are hiding here again," Reveca said as she prowled before Tisk.

Tisk nearly cried. "I told you some cranked out old men are snatching up witches."

"Which you are not," Steele hollered. Trying to get a laugh he went on, "If they were yanking hoes I could see your concern."

He did earn a few laughs, but they were dark ones. They sensed a rat or a coward in their midst.

"What witch was harboring you?" Reveca seethed.

Tisk's eyes filled with fear.

"Say it," Reveca said as she put her face in Tisk's.

"Evanthe," Tisk said as her eyes watered.

Groans were heard all through the room. Evanthe may have been a witch that was helping Rogues or even wannabe witches, but she was just like Reveca, just as lethal, just as wicked to contend with. No one cared to cross her unless they had to. For all they knew then, the Club had been harboring an enemy of hers, someone she'd cast out and they picked up.

"And what happened to her?" Reveca pushed.

When Tisk didn't say anything Reveca squeezed her with all her energy.

"Babe, killing her in front of us is not going to give us any answers, and I would bet money that's exactly what she wants you to do," Talon said with a bit of humor added to his seductive tone. He liked it when Reveca became ferocious; it turned him on something fierce.

"Evanthe has been taken by these human assholes that are hunting Rogues, and because she has, her brother dearest is now in town, given a stay by Jamison until she's found. The last wannabe witch that Zale knew her to be with was Tisk."

Tisk was trembling against the wall, daring to cry.

"Evanthe told her brother that this witch had a fear that she would be taken and it was a real fear because she felt that dark energy in her home not long after Tisk arrived."

Tisk shivered on while the tension built.

"Zale is here," Talon said in a glacial tone.

Reveca met his stare. "You can thank this bitch for that."

Talon moved his unforgiving stare to Tisk. "What happened?" When she didn't say anything he growled. "Speak." That one word was what caused Tisk's tears to flow.

"I don't know. She was gone when I woke up. I waited for days and when she didn't come back I left. Everyone was talking about some girl that was taken from the graveyard, a witch. I came here."

"You're lying," Reveca spat, wanting to make this girl pay for all the hell she was going through now.

Tisk shook her head.

"No one knows where Evanthe is?" Thrash asked in an unnervingly calm tone. He was there the last time Reveca and Talon were face to face with Zale, knew this was exactly what no one needed now. He also knew Evanthe well. She helped the most with Thrash's transition; that beast that Reveca could not figure out inside of him.

"She's not at that building you're raiding tonight, but she was there at one time." Reveca looked across the room at all of them. "There is a witch there. She needs to be brought here. Maybe she can shed light that Tisk will not."

"There are a lot of people there," Thames said looking down at the blueprints on the table.

"Yeah, well, the witch comes here and you set the Rogue free."

Everyone looked to Talon when they heard that command.

"Why in the fuck would I do that?" Talon asked staring down Reveca.

"Because if you don't, everyone there will die, including the witch. You'll slaughter every lead we could gain to find Evanthe—ensure that we reside in the same zip code with Zale for longer."

Talon moved his glare to Tisk, clearly finding the same blame Reveca had with her.

Reveca took the folder out of the back of her waistband where she had stored it and tossed it on the table.

"Black. It's a drug. A high-end one that assholes are trying to make readily available to the less economically endowed. Blood's in it. Ours. Newberry was a part of this. We've got a mess to clean up. And thanks to this bitch, who could have told us two weeks ago about Evanthe, now we have to do it with Zale."

Her stare moved all around the room. She made it a point to let her eyes meet Cashton's for an instant. "One of the fastest ways to tick me off is to blindside me. This right here, it blindsided us all. We're in an all-out war right now, and it will get worse long before it gets easier."

Reveca released her energy from around Tisk and she fell like a bag of bones to the floor.

If Reveca didn't leave then she'd kill that girl where she lay. She turned and marched out, slammed the door behind her, charged toward her home. She needed silence to take all this in, to figure out what the hell to do next, and she wasn't going to find that near the garage.

Just inside her front door she felt that hum that haunted her since King returned intensify. She nearly moaned as she felt it. For two reasons of course. One, it eased her, and two, because she didn't have the energy to deal with King just then.

When she reached the top of her stairs she saw him, the back of him anyways, leaning into Gwinn's door, apparently waiting for a response to a near silent knock. Reveca stepped back into the shadow of the stairs and watched as Gwinn opened the door and saw the smile that beamed across her face. She watched as King went in her room and closed the door behind him.

Reveca felt sick, so sick that she was shaking. Her life was just fine before the pair of them surfaced, and now she was engaged in a war while trying to figure out what the hell to do with them.

Her anger took her all the way to Gwinn's door. Just as she went to open the door she heard Gwinn giggle, that innocent laugh that she was known for.

Reveca couldn't do it, couldn't open that door and see what she knew was there. Everyone had their limits and she had just met hers.

She'd made it to her room, and had prowled back and forth several times trying to settle her rambling thoughts and emotions before Talon came in the room.

"I hate her," Reveca fumed. She meant Tisk. She didn't have hate for Gwinn, some innocent girl that was far too lost right then to know she had tread down a road that was better left alone.

"You were with Zale," Talon said in a near ghostly whisper as his dark eyes slowly glided over her.

She only glared for a second. "I went to talk to Thelma Ray and he was next door. I wasn't with him. And when I was, Jamison observed our meeting. Doubt me—call him."

"Should I have reason to doubt you?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Reveca asked lifting her hands slightly.

Talon prowled a bit closer. "It means that for months the only time I get to touch you is when you know you need energy." He pressed his lips together. "That was fine. You needed space and I gave it to you. Then King comes. Then you drift further away. Then every time you leave this Boneyard you come back and try to kill the first female you come across."

She rolled her eyes and stopped pacing in front of her dresser. She braced her long arms on it and hung her head before the massive mirror. "I threaten to kill females that fuck with what is mine."

There was a tense silence then he spoke. "Reveca, I don't know how much more of this you can take."

She didn't bother to look up.

"You're not dealing with your grief. You're not dealing with anything."

Reveca slightly shook her head. Hating that even though she hid a huge part of herself from him, he could still read her, understand her. "Like I have time. I don't understand why it's all falling apart at once."

"Something like this doesn't happen overnight, and it won't be solved overnight. We have to take it day by day."

Reveca sensed him ease behind her long before she felt his strong hands move up her back.

That touch of his was always full of so much heat. That was the phoenix within, a burn that Reveca craved.

She sighed taking in the feel of his now innocent touches. "Too much shit that I've buried is coming back to life. I don't want to deal with my family. I don't want to deal with Zale."

"What do you want?" he whispered darkly as his hands moved up her sides, brushed her chest.

She didn't say anything for a minute. He was gaining control over her body. She was sighing, leaning back, wanting to feel more of those hands of his, and she was trying to figure out if that would make her feel worse or better. With as much anger as she had inside she was betting it wouldn't be a bad thing. Then again, dealing with it afterwards would suck.

"I don't want to feel anything. I want my mind to shut up long enough for me to figure out what the hell's going on." She sucked in a breath. "But that's not going to happen any time soon," she said as she went to walk away.

Cashton only had hours before he had to go back to the Veil, and she wasn't going to wait until he came back to figure out if he knew he was being coupled with a powerful coven leader's daughter, and if that was the reason King hated him so. No, they were going to have nice chat before he went back.

Before she could even move, Talon's hands gripped her waist.

"What, Talon," she asked, wanting to escape his knowing stare that she felt peering past the angry shield she had in place. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

Her gaze moved to the mirror, stared at his reflection just behind her. Those dark eyes of his were full of far too many emotions at once. "I want my woman back."

She swallowed somewhat nervously, not wanting to go down this road tonight. "I'm right here."

"Are you?" he said as his hands moved up her sides again, sliding under her tank as they did.

She gasped when they pushed her bra up, when his thumbs grazed her nipples as his hands squeezed. Reveca's eyes became hooded as she watched the reflection of him touching her in the mirror. Watching—something about that made it all the more erotic, provocative. She was forced to see what she surrendered to him, able to see that the pair of them had mastered this seduction, in every way, long ago.

His lips met her neck and she gasped, feeling flames. When Talon was all there, when he let himself go, his touch was so hot that at times, even with Reveca's immortal status, with her knowing what to expect and how to channel it, it caught her off guard.

"Not touching you is torture," he rasped against her neck as one of his hands slid down her waist and began to unclasp her belt, unfasten the button. The zipper fell as his powerful hand slid down her stomach.

The second his fingertips reached that tiny ball of nerves nestled in the heat of her, his lips stopped. He lifted his head and watched her reflection.

"You know I'm a jealous man, Reveca," he said as her head fell back to his chest, as his touch started to steal her breath, as she even dared to let her own hands move up her sides, enticing him, touching herself, daring him to lose that calm he liked to have as he waited for her to become completely unwound, soaking wet, and aching.

His fingertips continued to glide against the heat of her. "I don't share." Her eyes flew open clearly hearing the accusation in his tone. Anger. That was her defense. Her body may have already surrendered, but she was pissed that he would start this fight now.

"Right now you are giving me this," he said as his fingertips moved across her clit once more then slid down and sunk deep within. "But you're not letting me in anymore," he said as his lips moved across her temple.

"I am," she breathed. She meant for that to sound harsh, but it was anything but. Talon could always do that to her, manage to make her body a slave to his, touch and tease until the point where her mind finally gave in.

"I need it all, Reveca," he said as his lips moved down her neck once more.

Both his hands lifted and then tore the tank from her, baring her chest which was just barely restrained by her bra to begin with.

He reached for her hands and braced them on the dresser. "You be a good girl, and keep your hands right there," he said as he gave her a wink in the mirror. The fact the he called out that she was purposely trying to get him to lose his control a second before sent a sizzle right through her body.

When he had this much command about him, this calm, that hunger in his eyes, he could make her forget anything.

Talon pushed her shorts and panties down past her hips, to the point where they could fall to the floor on their own, then he leaned her forward. His kiss began to slide down her back as his hands slid around and toyed with her chest, squeezing one moment, caressing the next, before falling down her body.

Her breaths became fast and heated long before she felt his kiss slide across her ass, dare to nip at it. Long before he spread her legs and she felt the sweet sensation of his lips caressing the most aching part of her body.

It was all that she could do to stand. She felt pure fire—and he was in control, knew exactly what rhythm would drive her up the wall, what she liked and didn't. He enjoyed making her wait for what she wanted. He'd bring her to the edge then glide his tongue away, a tease, one that nearly infuriated her.

Talon reached his long arm between her legs, let it slowly snake up to her chest. In the reflection of the mirror she watched as he all but owned her in that moment.

"Talon," she moaned as she felt herself build, felt her legs began to shake. Tease or not, he had hit that mark enough times that she was on the verge.

"Let go," his lips hummed against her flesh.

She shook her head no, even moved her legs together around him. She wanted to stay on that edge, and when she fell over it she didn't want to fall over it alone.

He knew that. This was a game to him, that part of it anyway; she wanted to cum with him, like always. Not alone, never alone. That was just her deal and he liked to make her miserable about it, blissfully miserable.

That long arm fell from her chest, his lips eased away from her only to surface at the base of her spine and glide upwards as his hands slipped down, once again daring her to let go.

As he rose, Reveca realized he was completely dressed, Kut and all, as she stood all but nude before him.

She tried to turn but his strong hands held her in place.

"I need to touch you," she said with a pant as his hands grazed across the hard peaks of her chest. She kicked her way out of her shorts which were at her ankles.

"Need or want," he asked right as his hand slid down her stomach once more, right as his fingertip began to taunt the edge she was doing her best to cling to.

She could feel the hard length of him pressed against her back.

"Want," she said as soon as the thought registered.

"I'm not convinced...a bit too much delay," he said as his fingers slid further then dove inside swift and hard. The moan that left her sounded more like a shriek of shock. Flames, the boy was flames.

"Talon, let me touch you," she nearly growled as she turned in his arms, breaking the seductive hold he had on her.

He stood still as a statue, letting his dark eyes rain down on her as she pushed his kut from his shoulders, as she went for his belt, finally freeing him. Her hand slid down the length of him as she lifted her eyes to meet his. She knew exactly how to touch him, too, what he could and could not handle, and with each glide of her hand she was proving that.

"We still have fire, Reveca," he said with a hiss.

She didn't respond. Instead, she went to kiss his stomach, went to repay every favor he'd given her, but he grasped her arms, pulled her up then let his lips crash into hers. When he pulled away his eyes were distant. "You're not here. Your mind is a million miles away."

Frustration. She owned that emotion right then. "It's a million miles away because I'm waiting for you to cum with me. If you don't shut up I'm going to let go." She gripped the length of him. "Then at least one of us will walk away satisfied."

His jaw clenched. She'd hit a nerve, but that was exactly what she wanted to do. Tick him off.

He turned her, braced her arms on the dresser. His hand urged her legs apart seconds before he pushed himself deep inside, ensuring his thrust was quick and to the point. One hand reached around her waist and teased the heat between her legs as the other rose to her chest.

"Watch us," he demanded.

When her eyes stayed closed with pure ecstasy his hand broke from her chest and reached for her chin lifting it up. "Watch," he commanded.

And she did.

She watched his powerful body move at a rapid rhythm against hers, watched as every touch and every thrust brought a raw ache to her. Watched as her lover owned and ruled her body just as he always had. Thrust after thrust, the way he'd hook his hips so he could get nice and deep, how he only gave her a second before he'd moved again.

All at once that cliff she had been avoiding swallowed her whole. She felt her entire body convulse, her legs shake, the sweet agony of release shake her to the core.

Talon didn't stop, every thrust extending her orgasm to the point where breath was hard to take. She couldn't stand on her own anymore, it was his strong arms that held her against him. He took his time but he followed her. Hearing him grunt out a curse as his hands clenched her waist was pure satisfaction for Reveca. Made her feel like she took back some of the power she always surrendered to him.

Together they slid to the floor, both panting, covered in sweat.

A second later she heard a low chuckle come from him.

She elbowed him. "Angry sex was always your favorite," she said as she let out a long, deep breath.

That next second he was on top of her, staring down. His hand reached to caress her face. "The mood you've been in lately—I knew that was the only way I was getting any."

"I'm not amused," she said trying not to smile as her eyes searched his.

"No, but you're satisfied," he said with a boyish smirk.

She slapped his shoulder.

His lips fell to hers, and he took in a slow sweet kiss. When he pulled away he looked deep in her eyes. "I mean it though, Reveca...I don't share."

"I told you I was spelled to lust after Zale...that's long over. The second we find Evanthe he's getting the hell out of our town."

"What?" she asked when his stare never faltered.

"I'm not worried about Zale. Spelled or not it was very clear back then he can't handle you, can't satisfy you."

Reveca shifted out from under him, yanked on her panties and shorts and went to find a new tank.

"How do you know him?" Talon asked after a moment.

King. The notion of him was right there in that room, standing between them. He was the sting in Reveca's energy, the guilt that she didn't know what to do with that was hanging in the air.

"I don't."

"You're lying," Talon said as he moved his hands behind his head giving himself a pillow—looking sexy as hell with his shirt lifted up, his jeans still wide open.

"I don't know who that is," Reveca said as she let her stare move over Talon. He was a miracle. She knew that. Not only was bringing him back a miracle, but also bringing back a man that could put up with her endless rollercoaster of emotions for ages and still satisfy her like they were new lovers made him a miracle. On top of all that, he was her best friend.

Reveca had to wonder if the reason she was having such a hard time right now was because she had shut him out.

"But you have crossed his path," Talon said with a playful groan as he watched her cover her chest with a new tank.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't want to talk about the fact that your sister sent you after him, that you avoid him like the plague."

"Talon," she growled as she jerked her belt into place.

"I just want to know who he was to you."

"A soldier. One that died for no reason."

"Before time was recorded. In your homeland," Talon said as he put the buckle on his jeans back in place.

"What did he say to you?" she asked.

"What you just said, nothing else. I'm not a fool, Reveca. I know the look in a man's eyes when he wants a piece of ass and I know the look in a man's eyes when there's history there."

There was a hint of jealousy in his eyes, a hint of pain, but most of it was confidence, confidence he deserved to own. Reveca and he had been through a few of these jealousy tiffs. They all ended the same way. Where no one else really got them, satisfied them the way they did each other.

"It's an extraordinary brief history, Talon. He knew a girl. You know a woman."

A dark chuckle left him. "Then why are you avoiding him?"

"I'm not."

"You are," he said with a lifted brow letting her know that was a red flag, a sign of guilt at least.

"Talon."

"Reveca."

She let out a breath. "I've got enough to deal with right now. He represents a world I can't see any longer and it pisses me off."

"Someone you knew briefly represents the home you lost," he repeated with a wink, calling out her BS.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to be honest with me...did you love him?"

Reveca felt the wind knocked out of her. Felt her energy turn defensive.

"That's what I thought," Talon said as his dark eyes moved over her.

He hesitated, then he stood, grabbed his kut and pulled it over his shoulders.

"Where are you going?"

"To work. To save a few dozen addicts, bring you back a witch, and apparently set a Rogue free for Zale to collect."

"You're not going to come in here and have an angry fuck, tell me that you in your all-knowing way figured out I know King, and then just leave."

"Why not?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

She glared in response.

"Vec, you and me...we've been doing this for a while. I'm not going anywhere, and as it stands now you're too scared to go anywhere."

"I'm not scared of anything."

"You're scared of the unknown, and as long as you have lived, that's not much." He moved to her side and pulled her against him, lifted his hand to her face, careful caressed away the loose strand of hair lingering there. "I'm always going to be there for you, and I'm always going to do what I know is best for you. Right now, that's you and me. We're going to get through this war just like all the others." He squeezed her waist. "And now that you know I'm aware of our mystery guest's background you'll be able to focus on the task at hand instead of trying to hide that from me."

He leaned down and let his lips graze against hers. "I'll see you after work," he said with a wink. As he walked past her he made it a point to slap her bottom.

She yelped then glared over her shoulder when she heard him laugh.

Reveca wasn't surprised that Talon had figured any of that out. The man had watched her too long to not know when something was bothering her.

One thing Reveca knew was that she had to find a way to stop this hum, this connection King seemed to have with her. She had to understand where the hell he'd been and what the hell that had to do with the war at hand.

She felt her stomach flip, felt sick all at once knowing there was one sure fire way for her to get mad enough to fearlessly approach him with any of those questions.

She had to see him as the ass he was.

Holding her breath she charged out of her room, stalked down the hall, cursed herself when she felt that hum all but reach through the door at her.

She squinted her eyes closed and held in the urge to be sick when she heard Gwinn giggle again.

She flung the door open, ready to see King loving a girl that was just as naïve and innocent as she was when they first met.

That's not what she saw.

Gwinn was on the floor with her legs crossed, dressed in pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt. An array of candles were before her, some lit, others not. King was perched on the window sill, staring down.

"I did it, Reveca!" Gwinn said as she looked over her shoulder.

A somewhat shocked smile came to Reveca, and she managed to pull forth a sweet tone. "I see. Good. You found the rush."

"King said it was all about emotions, that I had be excited, had to feel exaltation. It took me awhile but I got it."

Reveca's stare moved to King's. She didn't find any ease there; no, it was like he could see everywhere Talon had touched her moments before. A sizzling sting engaged that hum that lingered near her in his presence.

He had no right, she thought to herself. No right to look at her like that. They'd lost each other long ago. They'd both clearly moved on. Yet at the same time she felt guilty, guilty as hell, like she had not only just cheated on this connection she had with King, but had been for ages.

She couldn't handle that. No, she couldn't—she wouldn't—see what her and Talon had as torrid.

Reveca leaned her head back, trying to keep the tears at bay and said, "You and me...we need to set some things straight."

For the first time in a long time Reveca felt fear. She was terrified of the emotions that were swelling to the surface of her soul.

He was destroying her.

She knew he was.

He was taking her back to another life, one where she had hope, happiness, to when she believed in the impossible.

In the dim gleam of the room she watched as his ice blue stare leisurely dipped to Gwinn, then slowly rose to meet Reveca's haunted gaze.

"That, we do sweet."
Episode Four
Chapter One

Mercy. Compassion for those under your power. Kindness you deliver as you ease their troubled thoughts. These were things Reveca knew King would not offer her, not if any part of Kenson was still within him. Kenson had no issues telling someone like it was. He did, however, have issues conveying his personal feelings, emotions that he feared because they were mysterious to him. He feared them because they represented something he could lose, that would weaken him, force him to bend to the will of others.

Though Reveca and Kenson's time was brief compared to her long stay in one existence, it felt like lifetimes to her twenty-year-old soul, and in that span of time he waited until the very last moment to tell her how he'd felt all along. He'd deprived them the bliss of that emotion then.

Reveca was doing her best to drown her unwarranted guilt with anger. Telling herself over and over that she did all she could—she fought for him and they still took him. He was the one that was weak. He's the one that managed to find a way back to her, or to at least see her, only he saw the wrong sister. He was too weak to see past that, to look a little closer and understand some greater force was playing him.

And it was him that moved on to some unknown life that she wasn't sure she was ready to understand.

Before King even had a chance to rise from the windowsill, before either of them had a chance to stifle the tension in the room, for Gwinn's benefit alone, lights flashed across his shadowed image.

Red and blue ones.

Right then Reveca heard 'dinner is ready' echo from her phone.

That didn't concern her, not nearly as much as Gwinn's reaction. Pure panic overcame her. She stood from her relaxed position on the floor, knocked over lit candles in her fright as she rushed to find a place to hide.

Reveca charged forward stomping out the flames. King approached Gwinn with his hands lifted in a peaceful gesture, with a sweet smile on his lips. "You're fine," his deep velvet voice promised.

"No, no, no," Gwinn said reaching to grasp her head as if the worst headache in the history of headaches had just assaulted her. "They're going to hurt me," she wailed. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to find her breath.

"No one's taking you, I guarantee it," King said as he slowly approached her.

Gwinn trembled, looking all around at the flash of blue and red lights that were illuminating the room.

The second King touched her, pulled her to his chest, she grasped him as if he were a life force, buried her face in his chest and began to cry.

Reveca pulled the drapes closed with a glance. The darkness seemed to calm Gwinn down even more. Or it could have been how King's hand was slowly easing over her head as if she were a lost child that he wanted to feel safe.

"Keep her quiet in here," Reveca ordered, as she turned and left the room.

The second she got to the hall, she saw Thames and Echo running up the stairs, shedding everything they were wearing. They rushed down the hall to Thames's room, one that faced the front of the home.

Thames pulled out uniforms from his closet, tossed Echo one. Each of them could shift into any appearance but they could not shift their clothes.

It had been a good six months since the Boneyard had been raided but the boys knew the game plan. They'd shift into a close enough resemblance of other officers so that they could blend in. They would make sure any and all Sons in the Club never made it in the van. Others, ones that were just passing through, they would. But the boys would do their best to keep anyone who was in hiding safe and sound. Those that did end up in that trap, the Sons would find a way to get them out within a few days' time.

"Who has warrants?" Echo said as he started to pull his uniform on.

Thames shouted out a list of names of those in the Club that were treading a dangerous line with the lawmen and those that were just hanging out or passing through. Most of the charges were disorderly conduct or assaults; a few were more serious.

The Pentacle Sons didn't ask you to reveal too much when you passed through the Boneyard, but they always asked what your history with the law was. They wanted no surprises, wanted to be able to cover up anything that came their way.

"On parole? Probation?" Echo pushed.

Everyone on the lot was armed. They would be even without the run they had planned tonight. But still, if you were in the system you couldn't carry. No doubt that was something the lawmen were counting on. They always did this, would swoop in, hope their stupid reason would stick or they'd find at least a few to take in. And out of those few they hoped to twist them—amp up the already inflated charges and push those in custody to turn on someone else.

Sadly, in some cases they did manage to catch someone who had a lot to lose, who was staring at three strikes. The idea of time, it could mess with anyone's mind. At the same time, the idea of turning on the Sons was downright suicidal.

"Most of those guys are in the lounge," Echo said as he listened to what Thames said. "They haven't gone in there yet," Echo said as his sharp gaze moved across the lot.

The lawmen always wanted you to think they had free rein to go anywhere with the piece of paper they would wave around, but that was far from true. The fact that they'd not gone in the lounge as of yet was a good sign. It meant as long as they didn't see anything that would give them cause to enter they were left outside like a stray dog in the rain.

Reveca was betting the partition between the garage and the lounge was pulled long before the police cars made it to the front lot.

"What they hell is going on?" Reveca demanded as she watched Thames stare out the window as he dressed. They were trying to figure out which lawmen to shift into. They had to pick someone who was in charge, which the other officers would not question. At the same time they had to figure out how to proceed so that the officers they shifted into didn't see them, and if they did...well, Thames would deal with that later, push a different point of view into their mind, make them remember the night a different way.

"They came out of nowhere. We didn't even hear it on the radio. Made everyone in the lot put their hands up, have a lot of them on the ground," Echo said.

Thames was staring out the window as he pulled the last of his uniform together. "Those two," he said to Echo.

Echo looked down and nodded. Right then they both morphed into the images of two officers in tactical gear downstairs.

Just then, a pounding on the front door began.

Echo and Thames rushed past her. Reveca calmly walked out behind them, then nodded for them to go down the back stairs that would lead them to the kitchen, then down to an old crawl space that was used as a refrigerator back in the day before electricity was a must, finally outside. There, hopefully, with the help of any of the other Sons in the life that had not already been seized, they could find a way to take action and control who was being put in the vans.

The pounding on the door sounded two more times before Reveca made her way there.

She let a slight expression of shock come to her as she took in the scene in her front yard: the twenty plus police cars with their lights flashing, the tactical vans, and the undercover cars. In the distance she did see more than a few bikers laid on the ground, with their hands behind their heads, being searched. The officers were collecting masses of guns as they patted each of them down.

"Blackwater," Reveca said with a narrowed stare on him. He stood on her front porch with a smug grin, his suit nice and damp from the sweat he was clearly drowning in. Behind him there was host of other lawmen.

"Miss Beauregard, I'm speaking to you as a courtesy. We have a warrant," Blackwater said flashing a piece of paper in her face.

Reveca kept her placid expression as she reached for it. Blackwater held it back.

"I have a right to see that. Are you denying me that right? I want to be clear on my account of this evening when my lawyer asks me."

One of the men in a suit next to Blackwater nodded for him to hand it over. He must be the guy that makes sure their corrupt department doesn't get sued.

Reveca's eyes glided over the warrant in an unnervingly calm manner. "You have a warrant to search Holden's place of residence."

"And anything in plain sight," Blackwater said with an arrogant grin.

"Holden didn't live here, or the garage that your men are invading, or in the lot where you're holding innocent men at gunpoint."

"That a fact?"

"You know damn well the home he lived in was at the edge of this property, in a shotgun swamp house."

"I must have forgotten. Well, nevertheless, to get to that portion of your property we had to come through your front gate, and when we came in your front gate we saw armed men drinking."

"On private property. They have a right to carry."

"Do they? Well we weren't sure about that. Always erring on the side of caution, we felt the need to ensure our officers' safety."

Reveca pointed to the right of the property, to the very few distant lights in the darkness. "Do you need me to walk you to Holden's place?"

"You can direct my officers. They can search and you and I can go over the reason I have this warrant, if you would kindly invite me in. It's awful hot out here. A nice cold drink may squash all this tension."

"You want me to invite you into my home so you can pretend you saw something in plain sight then rip my belongings to shreds. I think not."

"You got something to hide, Miss Beauregard?" Blackwater said as a smile slithered across his face.

"No, I've been pretty clear on my obvious lack of trust in a police force that has managed to sweep my mother's murder under the rug."

Blackwater went ridged. On the inside Reveca was grinning. Sometimes she thought Blackwater thinking he killed her, or rather her mother, long ago, his betrayal, was the best gift Blackwater had ever given her. The guilt on his face and the fear that he would be discovered was so evident each time that Reveca threw a comment like that at him, that she had no idea how the man had not openly confessed at this point. But then again, he was a testimony to how wicked humanity had become.

She looked to the man just beside Blackwater. "Are you a commanding officer?"

"I am," the older man, who looked to be about two seconds away from retirement, answered.

"Maybe you can help me then. Blackwater likes to tell me often that my mother's case is open and active but I have seen no new leads come to light. What do you know about the man that killed my mother in cold blood? Where did you get with that theory that my mother knew her killer, that she may have even trusted them?"

"Miss Beauregard, right now, we are actively investigating a recent murder. You, of all people, should know how important it is to collect all the evidence needed before the case grows cold," the man said.

"You're actively investigating a murder that you have a solid confession for?" Reveca said as she lifted one brow.

"There are other variables that we have not disclosed to the public, Miss Beauregard. We have a confession that fits part of the crime scene but no weapon. Holden gave us permission to search his property for the weapon. He can't seem to recall what he did with it after the murder."

"The murder of a dead man," Reveca said with an easy smile.

"We do have clear evidence that he was around Newberry before he managed to break all the bones in his body. Holden is unclear how that could have happened but stated he was unequivocally at the home that night and days before he shot the vic's corpse."

"Really?" Reveca said with genuine shock. She wasn't exactly sure what Thames had pushed into Newberry's mind but at the same time it would have been odd for him to plant memories that could be disproved.

"Would you like to lead us to the swamp house, or for us to knock the door down?" the commanding officer asked.

"I'd like for your men to let my guests off the gravel ground. I'd like for them to stop looking through the windows of my garage...again, is that legal? Hell, it doesn't matter. I will just show the security footage to my lawyer and let them sort out all the technicalities."

"If they're convicted criminals, and they're carrying, then they're going to be taken away. If you're confused as to why, I'm sure whatever overworked lawyer you have will explain why," Blackwater said.

It was infuriating. It really was. For anyone to stereotype any group of people. Yes, they were bikers. Yes, they were men and women who loved to live on the edge of life and who were intelligent enough to question unlawful authority. But that was the extent of what they all had in common.

Like any group of people there were some that had been down a dark road, made mistakes, crossed too many lines with the lawmen. Hell, they even got off on that. The deal was though, that even though several were armed in that lot, even though more than half had volunteered to be a distraction this night as Talon and the boys saved those girls—most of them were just red-blooded Americans. At best they had a few speeding tickets and defended the rights that, in their mind, became fewer and fewer with each generation.

Their definition of a party was hanging out with their family and friends, with good food and fast jokes in abundance. In Reveca's mind they were saints of this current population of humanity. She saw them that way because they didn't judge, they didn't turn their backs on those that had a hard life and made wrong choices. If you respected them, you'd get that in return. That was a law around here. That was the reason the Boneyard was a place that everyone that loved the life made a point to travel to annually, if not more often.

Reveca glanced to the lot. In the chaos she saw Thames and Echo, masked in the image of the other officers, somewhat roughly throwing men into the back of a van.

Talon and Judge made their way out of the lounge. They were both instantly searched, and when no weapons were found on them they were allowed to pass. Both made their way to Reveca.

"This way gentleman," Reveca said stepping off her porch.

"Maybe we'll have that tall glass of tea when we're done," Blackwater said as he walked beside Reveca. The other officers were a few paces before them. "Then we can talk about how you wouldn't have had to be caught off guard like you were tonight if you and I had found a way to work together."

"I'm not caught off guard."

"Surely you had some plans we ruined this evening."

"Another boring night in the Boneyard, Blackwater. I don't know what fantasies you jackoff to when you think of my business, but it's nothing more than a hangout for bike lovers."

He laughed. "Then it must have changed from your mother's time. Back then, sex, money, and power ruled this place."

"And you know this how?"

"I observe well."

"But surely never participated," Reveca said as Talon made his way to her side, and let his fingers lace through hers.

By the time they reached the swamp house, other cop cars were parked out front; lights were shining on the home, or rather shack.

"Would you like to open the door, Miss Beauregard?" the older officer asked.

Reveca, Talon, and Judge had stopped a good hundred feet away from the swamp house, let the others move closer, close enough that the older officer was ticked that he had to walk all the way back to her.

The grass was thick, tall, and damp, not fun to tread through, and it sure as hell wasn't fun to think about what might be lurking within it.

"You want me to walk up to a swamp house that has its back half literally sits on the swamp, a house that no one has been into in weeks—at night? I think not." Reveca said with a wink.

"We'll knock the door down," he threatened.

"Knock the whole damn thing down."

"You don't care about your property?" the officer pushed.

"This dump should have been knocked down and rebuilt a decade ago."

"But instead, you let a guest of yours reside there," he asked with a narrow stare.

"Holden is a nasty son of a bitch. We never wanted him here in the first place. It was clear to us that he was a twisted psycho. Unfortunately, we are too hospitable to ask people to leave so we do so by dropping hints, like giving them a shit hole to crash in. Oddly, Holden liked it. Must mimic where he came from before he surfaced here."

The officer shook his head, nearly smiled. Reveca could see the irony flashing across his eyes. Clearly he didn't care for Reveca talking about an undercover comrade of theirs the way she was, but he couldn't say that. Couldn't say that whatever evidence Holden had managed to get on the Club was now null and void thanks to his confession.

That notion, and the notion that Reveca had managed to put two more officers in the hospital with that 'accidental' car crash the other night, was surely what inspired this raid. They were striking back. Men. They always needed to protect their pride.

"Knock it down," the officer yelled as he stared at Reveca, and then turned to help his men.

"This is bullshit," Talon growled under his breath as they all watched the door crash down, saw flashlights moving in and out of every room.

Reveca had whispered a few words across her lips; she was calling a fierce storm into existence. She not only wanted to make this raid as difficult as possible on them but she needed it to speed things up. She only had a few hours before she had to get Cashton back to the Veil.

"Looks like whatever witchling you wanted me to bring home, babe, is going to camp out a few more nights with whatever nut jobs have her."

That idea flipped Reveca's stomach. In her mind they had already been there long enough and the last thing she needed was to wait for someone else to come out of the fog of a trauma to give her a lead.

Lawmen. She had to wonder if they would even care if they knew what damage they had done with this meaningless raid.

"They don't have anything," Judge said as he stared down that commanding officer, diving into his thoughts. "This was a hail Mary, they barely got it past the judge and if they come up empty-handed all their asses are in a sling."

"Which is why they are making arrests for the hell of it," Reveca said as she saw the van in the distance pull out. The loud crack of thunder and flash of lightning was doing just what she wanted it to, causing them to rush.

There wasn't a doubt in her mind that Thames and Echo had managed to free all those in the Club from making it in that van. Those in it, they were those that were just passing through. They were the sacrifice that was needed this night. Now the Sons would ensure their stay in the system is brief—that act built their allies and ensured that the news hit the streets that being on the good side of the Sons was the only place you could reside and hope to survive.

At this point the officers were throwing anything and everything they could out front to be searched.

"Son of a bitch," Talon said as he stared at the army green duffle bag that had landed next to a few other bags.

"That solves that mystery." Judge said with a shake of his head.

"What?" Reveca asked.

"Babe, we don't need that bag to leave here," Talon said keeping his dark stare locked on it, refusing to let anything break his line of sight, or concentration, including explaining himself just then.

Reveca pulled in a deep breath, let her eyes close just slightly then started to whisper a spell, a prayer, an invitation.

Moments later, four alligators crept out from under the house.

Reveca met their stare to offer a silent thank you, and let the gratitude for their presence swell within her.

Right then, before anyone could even understand what happened, the gators attacked the pile that was on the ground. They took the very bag that Talon was staring down in their deadly jaws and fought over it as they pulled it toward the bank.

The officers started to cuss, even pulled out their guns. Reveca had cast an energy net around her slithery friends. It was doubtful that any of those wayward panicked shots hit a fatal mark on the gators. All the same, every bullet bounced off them as they charged for the bank just beside the home. The largest one still had his catch, the strap of the bag in his massive jaws.

The infuriated officers chased them, shot into the water over and over.

Talon and Judge started to laugh, a bend over try not to cry laugh, which earned them heated glares from the officers.

"You must have found Holden's stash of non-perishables. Sardines maybe?" Talon said when he managed to halt his laugh.

The officers blew him off and went back inside determined to find anything else they could, even if it meant doing as Reveca said, tearing down the house.

The storm was building on the wind. The lightning was near mesmerizing as it spider-webbed across the sky.

"What mystery did you just solve?" Reveca asked.

"We didn't," Judge said. "Just figured out we shut down that clinic for no reason."

Reveca looked up at both Talon and Judge. Most times she didn't know much about what the boys did with the scripts or what went down. The plan was to always keep her free and clear from it so she could get them out of trouble with conventional or less conventional ways if it ever came to that. She knew the process though, and in most cases, from sitting in Church, she knew if something went way wrong.

The filled scripts were taken to a sterile house, or clinic. Educated, trained mortals sorted the meds and repackaged them. Basically, the Sons would find a pharmacist that would rather make four times what they were making at Walgreens and only work a few days a week. Fast, easy cash.

The Sons never really touched the scripts, they just managed the process. They'd stop by the clinic as the drop was loaded, and then they'd be there for the buy.

There was more than one sterile house, more than one truck, more than one everything, and the order that the Sons would utilize the houses and trucks would change often. So often that it never really seemed odd to others if a truck or bikes were around a drop point or traveling down a back highway. It was too random for attention to be drawn to it.

Just as randomly, they closed down clinics, let the pharmacists go, and found new ones. They did that for several reasons. For one, it changed things up; it also allowed no one to get in too deep. The educated mortal pharmacist could do this gig for hot second, pay off their student loans, buy a house or car, then move on with a legit life—all ties with the Sons severed. In most cases their memory was also washed.

Maybe three months ago, drops started coming up short at this one clinic, a rather new one.

"Holden never went to the clinics," Reveca said with a furrowed brow. As far as she knew that was the truth, and the idea that Talon would let him near one didn't sit right with her.

One thing about Talon was, at times, he became bored, too, would kick up dust, dare someone to charge him. He'd promised her he'd never do that with this deal they had set up, knew it meant a lot to her to help others.

"Right," Talon said putting her hand in his, squeezing it. "That's why I didn't think he was the reason we were short on the drops. He was a last leg escort and always left with the other guys."

Some of the Sons would linger on the side of the highway, wait for their truck to pass by. A few would ride out before it, while others would linger behind it. Depending on how long the run was, they would pass off the lead a few times. At the end of the path the truck would be parked in the swampy brush and left there. At the same time, other Sons, usually Talon, would meet for the exchange of money.

"So how did he get a bag of repackaged scripts?" Judge asked.

"I don't know. That was one of our bags, though." He glanced down at Reveca. "We'll have to figure out what's inside of it."

"You think he was working for both sides?" Judge asked. "You think he was trying to get the buyer and not us? Took that as evidence against them?"

"If we never came up short I would believe that," Talon said. "But we did. If he were setting them up they would have been short on their end. He could have been just trying to set us up for a raid and never got around to it."

"I hate him," Reveca breathed.

Talon put his arm around her, pulled her to his chest, let his lips touch her temple. "You'll have your revenge, somehow, someway."

"Running low on time, boss," Judge said as he looked back toward the lot. Most of the cop cars there were gone, or making their way to the swamp house. The rush of the night was starting to fade but they would surely linger a bit longer.

Right as he said that, a violent crash of thunder nearly made them all jump out of their skin.

"You see anything?" Talon asked Judge.

Judge's gift was complex. Most times what he saw was more like what he felt, a gut instinct. Getting in someone's head, that was harder than he'd like it to be. People have natural barriers up around their thoughts. Sometimes those barriers are lies they tell themselves, others it's just the way they think that affects what Judge can see.

When he looked, really looked into someone's mind and dug around, it would give him wicked headaches, so bad that sometimes he'd have to get over that just to remember what he saw. It wasn't as bad for Thames. He pushed thoughts in most times, didn't try to see them through the person's point of view.

Talon was sure one of those headaches of Judge's was coming on now. The way Judge was squinting his eyes, as if the absent sun was shining on him, was a warning sign. Judge's gift always gave the Sons an edge, and it was one they tried not to push unless they had to.

"They found Black," Judge said with a near silent groan, doing his best to block the pain he was feeling.

"Found or planted?" Reveca asked.

No matter what his answer was, that discovery just pushed the Sons further into this hell. It meant that the Sons were the last one invited to this party, that the lawmen, either undercover or in the wide open, knew of a drug that the Sons were oblivious to until recently. The lawmen were always the last to know about a drug. Knowing that made Reveca question how the Sons had missed something so obvious.

"They legit found it there," Judge said as he let out a long breath. "They've heard rumors about it but have never seen it," Judge said and smirked. "Suit man over there is rather ticked that Holden never told him about it."

"Can we get that?" Talon asked Reveca just under his breath.

Reveca wasn't sure, but she was going to try. Her gray eyes searched the tree line carefully. That same plea she sent out to her slithery friends was sent above to her feathered ones. She heard a crow squawk along with the thunder and smiled. "Possible," she said to Talon.

Talon put his hand on Judge's back, gave him a proud pat. "Head back to the house. Get Thrash and Shade to get the boat ready if they haven't already." Talon looked up. "It looks like it's going to pour any second. It'll be hard for anyone to see Reveca leaving."

Judge nodded, stared forward for a second then started to make his way back like he didn't have a care in the world.

Reveca and Talon waited for a moment. When the wind picked up they started to make their way back, too. The point was to lure Blackwater out; he was the one that was holding the evidence of Black. He was the one that would want to rub that in Reveca's face.

"Miss Beauregard," he yelled over the thunder.

Reveca kept walking, keeping herself in Talon's embrace, basically pretending that she was frightened of the storm that was due to rip open the skies at any moment.

"You need to see this," Blackwater said keeping his pace just behind her, looking rather desperate about keeping up with their long, quick strides.

Reveca let him follow until she was merely a short sprint away from her front porch then turned to face him. The wind whipped her long hair off her shoulders, and her eyes shimmered with the erratic lightning.

"You have assured me countless times that your club is clean, that you have nothing but drinkers and smokers."

"And?" Reveca said with a glance above. She wasn't looking at the sky, no, she was making sure the watchful eyes of her feathered friends were clearly on her.

"Do you want to explain this?" Blackwater said as he opened his palm. There he displayed a small clear bag. Two black pills were in it, small, round, nearly flat.

"What's that? Expired aspirin?" Reveca asked purposely flinching with the latest eruption of thunder.

Blackwater didn't have a chance to answer. Three crows soared down from above. One took the bag, and before Blackwater had a chance process that, another landed on his shoulder and bit his ear, and the other landed on his near-bald head.

This took place within a matter of seconds, and as it happened, the sky opened up and thick sheets of rain started to pour down.

Reveca ran, with Talon at her side, to her porch...grinning ear to ear, sending her heartfelt gratitude to the feathered friends that answered her call.
Chapter Two

By the time Reveca and Talon reached their porch they were both drenched from the rain.

She wanted to laugh, wanted to let that joyful emotion break free from her, knew it would be good medicine, exactly what she needed to shake off how uptight she had been for days, but she held it in. Tried her best to look like a ticked off, soaked girl.

Talon snaked his wet arm around her waist. Against her ear he said in a deep seductive whisper, "Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you call power forward. When that gratitude shimmers across those eyes of yours."

Her elbow playfully jabbed back into his gut. He was making it hard for her to look put out at the moment.

Talon's fingertips edged under the rim of her jean shorts, just barely. "Too bad you have to take Cashton home. We could have fun in this storm, just like the old days."

"You are insatiable," she said as she stared forward.

"Me? Ha! Calling the kettle black. We got the angry sex out of the way, now we can go roll around out there in the field, get nice and slick, dirty as hell. I want to hear you laugh just before you cum. I want to see my woman one with the nature she adores."

She had to bite her lip. Hard. That twist of emotions was ripping her gut into shreds. Before this hell started tonight she was ready to face King, get a few things straight. Tell him that it wasn't her fault that he had been absent for ages, it wasn't her fault that she had no choice but to make a life.

She planned to demand that he tell her exactly where he had been. She had to hear his sins, had to have them as a weapon, one she could use each time she felt this guilt build up.

Talon wasn't acting any differently than he always had. The pair of them had always been wild. They'd had every kind of sex there was in every place you could imagine, but that was only a fraction of the time they spent together. He was more than a lover, always had been. Therefore she should not have this sick feeling crawl up the back of her throat when he joked and taunted her to go down well-traveled paths with him once again.

She never had a chance to offer a comeback; Blackwater was storming up to her porch.

With her enhanced vision, Reveca could see through the night, see through the sheets of rain, all the way back to the swamp house. The other officers were packing up as fast as they could; some had already pulled away.

Blackwater wasn't even trying to act like he wasn't utterly pissed.

Blood was coming from small cuts on his head and his collar was ripped.

"What did you do to piss Mother Nature off?" Talon derided. "What did you do, take a bath in bird seed?"

"You want to get me a towel?" Blackwater said with a glower.

"No, I don't," Talon said as his arm tightened around Reveca.

"You afraid your woman is going to say something about you? Flip on you? Do you think your presence keeps her in line?"

Talon laughed hard, so hard that he did let go of Reveca for a second. "You have got to be the stupidest lawman there is! Do you seriously think that anyone tells Reveca what to do or when?"

Blackwater shook his head. "Her mother was much the same." Blackwater puffed out his chest. "Her mother was also well known as a witch amongst her inner circles."

"You got a point, Blackwater?" Reveca said coldly.

"I do," he said with a glare. "Like mother like daughter. Twice tonight wild animals saved this MC from immediate arrest, destroyed leads that would shut this entire organization down." He pursed his lips. "That drug, it's hot right now. Brand new. Said to make a man invincible, triples their strength—enough so that one good embrace could shatter bones if they're not careful." He stepped up. "Odd, isn't it? A new drug out. One that was found here, and there is a murder that has a victim that suffered from such bone breakage."

"How is that odd? You came here looking for a gun. Seems like what killed your victim was the internal damage. You found your weapon."

"No, I didn't find shit. Your birds took it."

"My birds?" Reveca repeated just so he'd hear how stupid that sounded.

"Yes. You used whatever hoodoo magic your mother practiced to cover this up tonight. That's fine though, because right now, you have two choices. Either you let me in on this, fifty percent of all your profits, or I'm arresting you on the spot for tampering with evidence. And from there I will build my case, and keep adding to the charges that I care to dream up."

"I didn't tamper with shit."

"And I have claw marks on my head. Now, you tell me what is more believable—a bird snatching evidence from my hand or a desperate woman not wanting to go to jail for the first time in her life."

Reveca just glared, didn't let one iota of an expression come to her. The only movement she made was clutching Talon's arm which was now back around her waist. She knew he was ready to punch Blackwater, rip him in two for even considering threatening Reveca in his presence.

"That's right, girly," Blackwater said. "I got your number. I'm sick of this cat and mouse game. Your mother and me did good business together. She made the money, I kept the law off her back. If you're going to use your mother's tricks then you are going to play the game the way she did. We are either together or I will bury you so deep in the system that you'll never find your way out. Then, while you're rotting away, convicted of every false crime I tack on to you, I will partner with the next bitch that runs this outlaw organization and become a rich man."

Blackwater looked over his shoulder at the cop car that was creeping closer, doing its best to see through the rain.

When he looked back to Reveca a sick, accomplished grin was on his face. "One of those pills goes for three hundred dollars on the street. It's rumored the price will only go up now that supply cannot meet the demand. You tell me, Miss Beauregard, do you want to be rich and free, or do want to rot. Or even worse...do you want to meet your mother's fate? She got in over her head, and apparently you are far past that point."

Reveca let the threat linger for a moment. She wanted Blackwater to enjoy his last minutes of triumph before she ripped it away, before she forced the man to live out his meaningless days of life wrapped in paranoia.

"You're right, Blackwater. Like mother like daughter."

A grin full of greed spread across his face.

"My mother liked to cover her tracks, liked to make sure that she was always protected."

"Clearly she sucked at that," Blackwater said with a sneer.

"Well, she was shot in a back alley, only a block away from your home, but that is not my point. My point is that she protected her home. That if she had died here, inside or out, there would have never been a question as to who the sick bastard was."

The grin on Blackwater's face started to fade. His beady stare moved rapidly across Reveca.

"You going to ask me why?" Reveca asked.

When Blackwater didn't say a word Reveca glanced up at Talon. "Babe, show him."

Talon let go of Reveca, kept his glare on Blackwater as his long arm reached for the porch light that was just above. He spun the bulb until a wire fell down, one with a blinking red light at the end of it.

"Smile for the camera, Blackwater," Reveca said with a calm smile. "This is one of over a hundred, all equipped with sound." She stepped closer to him. "You arrest me for tampering with evidence and one of my boys will show up with the footage of the field. They will show all your lawmen buddies how your old ass was attacked by wild crows. Hell, they might even leak it onto YouTube just to ensure that your humiliation, as a poor excuse for a lawman, goes viral. Well known."

Reveca nodded to the police car that was waiting on Blackwater. "Maybe, just maybe, they'd feel inclined to share your recorded threats with your lawmen. No, they wouldn't, because there is no telling how many of them are just as dirty as you. I bet you never let the good ones, the ones that really want to serve and protect, hold any rank, have any clout. Nope, they're going to have to wait for you to die before they get their shot, and chances are when you do die they will have figured out being corrupt is the only way to make it to the top..." Reveca pulled in a deep breath. "No, they would not give that evidence to the lawmen. Maybe the DA, the governor...so hard to know just who to trust. Might be better to broadcast it on every media outlet there is, start an online social media war—one that will have all bikers looking like saints. One that will make your meaningless raids impossible because each time you look our way some reporter looking for a solid byline will be so far up your ass that walking is impossible."

Reveca tilted her head. "Or...you can go tell your boss that an alligator took a bag of evidence and a crow took your little baggie of expired aspirin. Tell him shit like that happens when you raid swamp property. He'll laugh, you'll get some shit, but you'll have a job, you'll have some pride left over—be a free man."

"And what happens to that footage of yours if I do?" Blackwater said glancing up.

"That stays with me. It stays nice and safe—just as long as you answer my questions when I ask, let me know of any and all developments within your department that I might find interesting."

"You bitch. How do I know that camera even records?"

"Do you want me to email you a copy? Business or personal account?"

Blackwater's glare was only broken by a violent crash of thunder which made him flinch.

"It's getting bad out. You might want to find shelter," Reveca said. She raised her chin slightly as he started to turn. "Blackwater." He turned. "You miss Mom yet? Is this how it worked with you and her? She held something over your head and you danced like a puppet?"

He didn't answer. Instead he jogged to the car that was waiting for him.

She let herself smile then, loved how the tables had turned. Back in the day, she had mercy on Blackwater. A young cop just wanting to give his family a little more than he had growing up. She was fine with paying him, fine with him thinking he was the big man in charge. But then he became arrogant, too boastful. He had no gratitude. Therefore, this time around they were going to play the game this way. He wasn't going to get shit from her, but he damn sure was going to dance.

"Have Knight send that footage to him just so he knows that was not an empty threat. Put a virus with it, have it disintegrate the second he watches the full length."

Talon smirked. "Now she listens to me."

Talon had told her long ago to throw that threat at Blackwater. This wasn't the first time he had pushed Reveca to let him in, but it was the first time he was that bold and clear cut about it.

"Had to save that for something good."

"Sexy, dangerous, and smart. You're a triple threat," Talon said as he urged her to go in.

Reveca charged through the bottom floor of the house all the way back to the kitchen. Right as she got there Echo and Thames were walking in the back door, both soaked, both stripping out of their uniforms as if it were a disgrace they had to get off their backs.

Echo nodded to Reveca to tell her their part was good. He'd stripped down to just the slacks now, and clearly wanted a drink before he found his way back into his jeans and kut.

He opened the fridge, pulled out a long neck, popped the cap and downed half of it before grabbing two more and taking one to Thames who was sitting on the island in the center of the kitchen, shirtless with his belt undone.

They were exhausted. Shifting, staying in that image and not changing took a lot of mind power. The adrenaline always helped them through whatever fight they were engaged in, but when it was over, they had to settle for a minute, take the edge off.

Judge came in and nodded at Reveca, letting her know her boat, her guards, and passenger were ready when she was.

Reveca pushed open the window behind the table. A gust of wind blew through, moist with the unforgiving rain.

She went through the cabinets and found a justifiable trade, a few slices of bread. As she was making her way back to the window three crows landed there and stared in, twisting their heads rapidly to take in the view. The one in the center had Reveca's prize.

Reveca fed the one on the right, let her hand run down his saturated feathers, then did the same to the one the left. Those two flew away. Reveca had saved two slices of bread for the center one. She held out both of her hands one with bread and one ready for the exchange.

The crow moved side to side in pure excitement. It dropped the bag in Reveca's hand before taking the bread from her other.

Reveca cupped the bag, shoved it in her pocket and gave her feathered friend a nice long pets as he devoured his bread then went for the second slice. Once he was done the crow squawked so loud that Reveca almost flinched. His task service completed, he flew away into the night.

Reveca closed the window and turned to the boys. She slowly pulled out the bag, let her nail run across the near flat pill before tossing it on the counter.

"What is that?" Echo asked before he downed the last of his second beer. His eyes were nice and glassy. He was coming out of his shift as smooth as glass, just the way he wanted to.

"Black," Talon said as he made his way to the counter and picked it up. "Three hundred dollars a pill, and apparently our friend Holden was a user."

"I never saw him use any enhanced strength," Reveca said. "The night I took him down it was simplistic. I would have noticed if his old ass was stronger than he should have been."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Echo asked.

"It enhances you," Talon said. "Supposed to make you feel invincible and apparently gives you added strength."

"That?" Thames said. "Looks like an expired tic-tac to me."

"I bet it dissolves," Talon said looking at it closer. "Goes right into your system."

"Can you get one of the clinic docs to look at it?" Reveca asked.

"Yeah, in a few days. We gotta lay low for a minute. Let this raid settle."

When Reveca looked down he reached for her. "Just give me a few more nights then we'll take care of Gaither."

She nodded once. "Get Knight right on that footage." She glanced to Thames and Echo. "You guys did great tonight."

They both grinned.

She went to her cupboard, which would look like a king's ransom in spices to anyone from the outside world, and pulled a few out, grabbed a glass of hot water and spun her concoction together. As she made her way to the back door she set it down in front of Judge. "How bad is the headache?"

He grinned boyishly. "Not bad now. I was just looking too deep into too many. As soon as I figured out who was in charge it was easier."

"That will fend off the pain." She glanced back to the kitchen. "You boys might want to make our guests feel comfortable, get some good music going, drinks flowing. Let them all see this as a victory. We need to wash out the bad energy this started."

She met Talon's dark stare. "We'll try to be back before dawn."

"Stay in the river, eh? I don't want Crass to get excited when he sees you and think we have something we don't."

That was a risk, but Reveca was hoping it was a minimal one. Time was something that only the living acknowledged. She was hoping that to Crass it would feel as if she just left him.

Reveca nodded then pushed her way outside. She used her energy as an invisible umbrella and casually walked through the fierce sheets of rain that no one could see through on this pitch-black night.

It wasn't a short walk by any means; the river was nearly a mile from her back door.

Not long into her walk she felt that hum that had become a constant in her life heat up, felt it blanket over her as if it wanted to further protect her from this grueling night. She glanced over her shoulder. On the back porch, on the third level, she saw King.

As usual he was stoically calm. His eyes, those blue orbs which were so clear that they nearly pierced through the night like the beam from a lighthouse, landed on hers. He gave one nod when he read the question in her eyes, silently told her Gwinn was safe and sound now. Calm.

Reveca drew in a deep breath, took in his image, let herself drift back to a time when she was his, when he was hers. Doing that seemed to settle her erratic thoughts. It calmed that twist in her gut. She couldn't think past that though, couldn't figure out how to bring him to her present...or even if she wanted to. That would invite too much hell she couldn't deal with right then.

She'd have her conversation with him. Even if it shredded her into a million pieces, they were going to have a talk as soon as she returned.

She turned without an expression and continued on her path. Somehow she allowed herself to feel at ease. She now had Blackwater as a puppet. That would only help her with the mortal side of this drama, but it was something.

Zale, he was an issue, which brought up too much tension, but he had far too much respect or fear for Jamison to cause too many waves.

This drug, and the asses behind it, the Sons would catch up with them. Having a sample was step one. They could figure out how it was made, then where, then who was behind it. Step by step this mystery would unfold and those that decided to stir the pot of peace, and rain down hell on all the little mortals would be dealt with. Served up on a platter to Crass; hell, Reveca might even put a bow on them for nothing more than kicks and giggles.

Once she reached the large fishing boat she saw Thrash at the wheel. Shade and Cashton were lifting buckets onto the back of it, buckets full of the payment the gators would get if they brought Reveca the prize they had claimed before.

Reveca boarded, let her energy fall from around her, not needing the umbrella of it now that she was under the roof of the boat. Plastic sheets were on each side blocking most of the rain, what did make it in felt refreshing.

"Ready?" Thrash asked from the helm.

Reveca nodded as she settled on the cushioned bench. Shade untied the boat and made his way to Thames. He had been avoiding Reveca. That was her fault, though. When she had spoken to him over the past few days she'd asked him about how he died, which he couldn't remember. Judge had spent far too much time in that boy's head trying to figure that out years back when Shade arrived, a gift from Evanthe. It was all blacked out. Shade had no clue where he came from.

Reveca was doing her best to get him to remember if he knew of any similarities in his path and Gwinn's, even something as simple as being adopted. He'd nearly growl and would tell Reveca he had no idea why that girl made his insides hum, then storm away, pull some easy girl into a small space and try to fuck his way to a clear head. He always looked worse for the wear when he'd come out of those small spaces. Some glazed-eyed girl humming with satisfaction would stumble out, and he'd come out looking like he wanted to either murder someone or puke, one of the two.

Reveca had even asked Talon to talk to him, tell him to find some other release that wouldn't fill him with as much grief. Talon just shook his head, grinned. Told Reveca that Shade was the type of guy to do exactly the opposite of what he was told when it came to his own affairs.

Cashton sat down next Reveca, even extended his arm around her. He was solemn, but he normally was on his trips back to the Veil. That always brought an ache to Reveca in the past, even tonight, not knowing if she had given him some misplaced trust didn't falter Reveca's dread of taking him back to the prison of death.

Silence lingered for the first while; the noise of the rain was too loud to speak over anyway.

About ten minutes in, Shade made his way to the back of the boat. Cashton stood to help him. Reveca wasn't far behind them.

Shade shined the lights on the black water. They could see nothing.

Reveca calmed herself, took in a breath and sent that same request she had used before, a call to nature.

A moment or two passed before they saw the air bubbles that were nearly completely masked by the downpour.

Cashton tipped over one bucket. The prize—whole, ready-to-cook chickens—fell into the water. They barely had a chance to splash before one of the gators emerged.

When a second gator rose, the bag followed him. Shade carefully used a long pole to unhook the strap from the gator's massive teeth. When he had it Cashton dumped the next bucket into the water.

The second Shade pulled the soaked bag on board, Cashton dropped the last of the buckets in.

The gators stopped their pursuit and devoured their prize. Reveca stared in their direction, letting that gratitude linger in her energy. When she saw them thrash then dive she grinned and turned back to face the boat.

Shade was going through the bag. Its contents were ruined, but it was indeed repackaged scripts. When he dug a little deeper he pulled out a handful of little clear bags that looked like they had drops of black mud in them.

Way more than a sample of the drug Black.

Reveca felt anger swell in her, but pushed it aside. She'd deal with it when she got back. She had no doubt the Sons were capable of retracing what Holden had been up to.

With this bag, they now knew exactly who had worked on these scripts. Each person was required to stamp the product they touched. That was the Sons' insurance policy. They always had their fingers on the pulse of their business.

Shade ran his thumb over one of the bags, then turned it. What he saw there caused rage to slide over his body as every muscle tensed.

Horns.

The drug Black was labeled with horns.

The Sons dealt with scripts. Their mark was the clean professional result. The drugs they pulled from the streets, from those gangs, they liked to mark their inventory, liked for their customers to know who to approach for more.

"Devil's Den," Shade seethed.

Shade was a first generation vampire, but he didn't feed off of blood, he fed off energy. He told the others every emotion had a different taste, satisfied you in a different way. He hated the taste of fear which was exactly the emotion the Devil's Den produced in their territory. He hated it because when he consumed it, he saw exactly what they did to draw forth that emotion. Scenes of the agony that gang brought to the streets would flash through his mind as he inhaled, as he sucked the very life force out of his victims.

Unlike what the storybooks had led generations to believe, Shade didn't have to have that nourishment on the regular. He didn't even really crave it, and he didn't have to take a life to feed. But he did when it came to the Devil's Den. It was an easy death to cover up, looked like an overdose, a reaction to the drugs that were already in the system of his victims.

The last war with the Devil's Den had messed with Shade. He was the main enforcer in that situation, the only one that could kill that way swiftly, the only one that would not leave any connection to the Sons. That war, seeing all he saw, it brought fierceness to Shade's baby face, made him harder.

He was only vaguely over that, could go a few days without seeing one of those scenes pop up in his head, was having a good time getting his kicks off, then Gwinn appeared out of nowhere, literally.

She appeared, and as he watched her try to come out of that transition, as he watched the torment she clearly reenacted every few hours, he remembered all he had seen. He sat at her bedside and daydreamed of how he would suck the very life out of the bastard that put her through one second of that.

In his mind, he had linked the torment back to the Devil's Den. He'd linked it back before Gaither was even mentioned, simply because he knew what those fucks were capable of. Now this. Shade was ready to come unglued. He wanted off that boat, wanted to march right up into every lair he could find, suck them dry one by one until he found the memories that would show him who had the bright idea to cross the Sons once again.

"They're dealing this," Shade said as he looked up at Reveca. He pushed his glasses off his eyes, set them on his head. His electric blues were glowing with emotion. The centers had the faintest hint of lavender.

"You're sure that's an original label?" Reveca asked. "You don't think Holden was setting them up? Clearly he was twisted deep into something. Stealing this bag alone says that."

"Being an undercover stated that," Thrash said from the helm.

"It's legit. This is coming from them. They're daring us to come after them," Shade said as he balled his fist. "We kicked them out of those neighborhoods so they found a more expensive drug to cover their loss."

"A drug that is connected to a mortal that clearly died by his own product," Reveca pointed out.

"You think that man was the cook?" Shade asked.

Reveca shrugged.

"Your sister—she kill him? Who did?"

"That information wasn't clearly shared."

Thrash had let go of the wheel and walked to the back of the boat just to look at the package himself. The way he locked his jaw, the anger Reveca saw there, confirmed it was legit.

"To do this they needed a cook, someone with the knowledge to do so," Thrash said.

"With the knowledge of immortals, and a book of shadows," Reveca confirmed. "That was Newberry."

"So the Devil's Den would not have killed him."

"I don't know," Reveca said with a heavy sigh. "I've heard from more than one source that Newberry did go to the police and try to get their attention. Maybe the Devil's Den got wind of that. Maybe they decided if they picked up enough dime store witches they could read Newberry's recipe book and figure it out. Might be why they're sloppy with who they take. Using stupid addicts seems like something the Devil's Den would be foolish, and greedy enough, to do."

"You're missing the point here," Shade said "This was Holden's bag. It was loaded with our scripts and the Devil's Den's hot new sale. And we framed him for killing that human even though he killed one of ours—our fucking gardener—in cold blood. If he was a cop doing his job he would have been knocking on Newberry's door and not Grandee's."

"You think he was a crooked undercover?" Reveca asked.

"Nothing about that man was ever straight. I don't know, boss," Thrash said. "This whole deal is dirty. Dirty as hell."

"We'll get to the bottom of it," Reveca said as she remembered that she was going to have to ask Thames exactly what he pushed into Newberry's mind. If he didn't push anything in there that had Holden at Newberry's days before, then that was a solid memory, one that would just twist this all the further.

Thrash nodded and went back to the helm. Shade threw the bag in the trap door where the fish should be stored then made his way back to Thames' side.

Cashton settled next to Reveca once more. "I'll tell you no trip out of the Veil is uneventful, but this one, it was for the books. I'm halfway scared of what I'll come back to."

Reveca stared up at him, remembering every time she brought him from death and returned him, remembering how he had always been there for the Club. He was a good guy. That's what her gut told her, but right then staring at him all she could think about was how she was nothing more than a pawn in an escape from a prison. That for all she knew he and her sister, along with Jamison, were having a grand ol' time using her like some taxi driver.

Trust was something Reveca didn't have very much of, and right then, Cashton was dangerously close to losing what little she had to offer him.

She turned to her side, crossed her legs before her and stared at him. "Right now, you and I are going to have a conversation...and it would behoove you to be nothing less than honest with me."
Chapter Three

Very little could rock Cashton's calm. He had seen too much. Both inside and outside of the Veil. He knew that panic didn't get anyone too far, and that when you thought you had seen the worst, something would prove that theory wrong. Therefore, his easy wit, cunning smile, calm mood, and teasing humor were what he used to get through each day.

He never let anything get too thick around him. In most cases he clung to his own personal Zen bubble, one that he wouldn't let many penetrate. If anyone was in a foul ass mood for no reason, like that King guy, he would just go about his way. Let a chord of music play through his mind, think of some wit-filled lyrics that would ease away the tension around him. That was just his way.

Right now, seeing how dim Reveca's eyes were, how tense she seemed to become and hearing the threat in her tone, ruptured that Zen bubble. Instantly.

She was the first that he trusted outside of the Veil and that took some time. At times, as warped as his mind was, he wasn't even sure he was out. Not with all the mystical things he would see around the Boneyard, the Sons getting reared up and pushing each other across the room without even touching—using their energy to do that. The way he would see Reveca call any element into play with a thought, the way nature would bend to her presence.

Then it was the other things, technology. It seemed like some twisted fantasy to him. He couldn't figure out why anyone would sit for hours before a box and watch other lives, lives that the Sons told him were made up, all fiction. He didn't understand phones; he sure as hell couldn't grasp the computer screens that were wall to wall in Knight's room.

The only way he managed to take in anything was with music. He listened to the sound, heard the lyrics, and they taught him about the world he was in.

Talon had used that love of Cashton's to adapt him to the modern world. Would tell him to listen to a song, and then link it to what they were doing. The first time he did that was with an old Bon Jovi song – the lyrics 'on a steel horse I ride,' explained to Cashton what a bike was, how it was freedom. From that point, Talon taught Cashton to ride. Nowadays, Cashton could work on his own bike. If he put his mind to it he could probably build one.

His vice was music though. Inside and out of the Veil it was how he coped with it all.

Right then his fingertips were playing a silent song on his leg. It wasn't a nervous gesture—he did it constantly—it was just how he focused on what was going down.

He had no idea why Reveca would be looking at him like a modern day Judas.

"You know once I figured out what Lord of Death had you, once I made it to where you lurked and asked those around where you were, the first old haunt I found told me, 'Oh you mean the fallen one. The undead. Son of the Gods.'"

Cashton looked down. He hadn't known that, but it didn't surprise him. Not long after he first landed in the Veil he spoke of things like that, was looking for a way out. His friend Charlie who had found him in the Veil, had told him it was best not to say such things. That the dead were crazy enough without building into their myths.

"You told me you didn't die and l left it at that," Reveca said. "I didn't ask you about the rumors that were heard that night." She nodded her head back toward Thrash and Judge. "I didn't question you about what those two would hear when we make these trips."

Cashton just stared.

"Where were you before death imprisoned you? I only want the truth."

"You wouldn't believe my truth."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I have heard you cuss your sister's faith."

"A sister you don't know."

He nodded once to agree. He did it so easily, without thought, which was twisting Reveca's mind. He was either a skilled liar, or speaking the only truth he knew.

"The faith of Rapture," Reveca said, "the faith that there are royal Gods that come from the almighty Creator, and that Creator is aware that his sovereigns are not doing a just job so he has beget new kings, ones that will slay the old and bring forth Rapture, bring forth balance."

"That would be the one."

"You believe in that? What does that have to do with your descent into death?"

He hesitated. "Did your sister ever tell you of a dual reality?"

"My homeland was in another dimension. I am well aware that there is more than meets the eye, in both life and death."

"I meant a dual universe. One where there is a dark side and there is a light side. Where the light is insanely different from the dark. Time is different, life spans are different. The skies, moons, even the sun—nothing is the same."

"You're reaching deep, Cashton."

"Fire," he said looking to her hands.

Reveca furrowed her brow in question.

"If you can make fire I will show you something."

Reveca wavered, realizing this was far off the topic she wanted to discuss with him, but then she let the glow of fire come to her hands.

Cashton glanced to the front of the boat, ensured himself that Thrash and Shade were far too focused on their conversation to pay him or Reveca any mind, then he turned in his seat, lifted his shirt. "Glide it across."

Thinking the boy was insane Reveca did as he asked. Next to nothing really shocked her, but what she saw did. What she saw took her back to when she was a girl. When she spied on her father's meeting hall, the night he had let Lorecan into their village, the night Lorecan stated who he was.

It was a crest. One that glowed just beneath the skin. It could be seen when fire was close. It did indeed look like two universes side by side, inside of spinning rings. What looked like planets were on each side. Veins reached across and connected the spheres, and there was a mix of triangles and other random symbols inside this crest. One line divided the two sides, one line with a bright star within it.

When she had seen Lorecan's she was too far away to take in the details of it, but she was sure that though these were similar, there were clear differences, too.

She pulled her hands away and let the fire fade. The second Cashton felt the heat leave, he let his shirt down and faced forward. It took him a second to met Reveca's eyes. She was the first he had shown that to. He wasn't sure how'd she take it, if it would make her think of the faith she despised and push her to see him as some kind of devil.

"And that means?" Reveca asked quietly.

"It's my family's crest. I was born of The Selected."

Reveca bit her lip, glanced to the side. "Do you know a Lorecan?"

Cashton shook his head. "I mean I might. All of that is a dream. There are only a few anchors I hold on to...my family...why I came here."

Because of her childhood, because what he said mirrored cold remarks that King threw at him when they first met, because that old faith kept getting thrown in Reveca's face lately, she decided to entertain this thought. "What happened?"

Cashton let his head fall back on the bench and stared into space before he spoke. "I remember looking through this fall....a fall of water....just before an emerald sea. I was being trained, trained to pass it...to come to the dark world and heal it."

"To be a God slayer?" Reveca asked with a lifted brow remembering that was exactly what King had called him.

"No...I don't think." He drew in a breath. "When I looked through that fall it was like watching your televisions. Life would move so fast...you could look forward and back. You'd see the destruction and there was nothing you could do."

"So your plan was to dive in?"

Cashton turned his head and let his eyes meet Reveca's. "I never have a plan. Plans mess with my Zen, put a marker on life; they tell you that you can feel that ease at this time and only this time. I don't like it."

He stared for a second then went on. "Some of us...we had different crests. They were training us differently, keeping us apart. It was an honor to be a Selected. To stand at that border. But at the same time it felt like a death sentence. When I remember it...I remember the burden."

"And they delivered you into the hands of the Veil, these people you come from, in this other reality?"

Cashton almost laughed. "I'm not smart enough to make this up. Now you know why I kept it from you."

Reveca wasn't about to validate his home, tell him she had met one of these Selected, that they were there when her hell began, there when she lost her first love.

"Why did they send you? Are you telling me you are meant to slay the Gods of my sister's faith?"

The idea of that was insane. How would one even find a God? Reveca had tapped into dense power, pulled from it. The dawn she had lost Kenson allowed her to brush up against something even more powerful than she could imagine. No soul, mortal or immortal, from this dimension or another, could possibly tap into that kind of power in Reveca's mindset. It had to be a ruse, some kind of distraction from the real story, the real threat. What that could be was lost on Reveca, just as lost as the faith she let die long ago.

"I don't know." He pursed his lips before he spoke. "I mean that. I had this dream—at least I think it was a dream. It was so vivid, showed me this great master plan, sometimes I think it asked me if I accepted the call. Then it showed me her, this innocent girl. The sight of her—that's when I knew what life felt like, when it had purpose, when I cared about the charge my birth had given me."

He narrowed his eyes as if he were trying to bring back the details. "It's vague but I think I awoke from that dream, remembered the last fading thought of it, then charged my way to that fall, went without warning or even help." His eyes met Reveca's. "The next thing I remember is the Veil. I was there awhile before I started to remember things. I'd manifest every material thing I recalled; built a home, furnished it—it was just a shell though. I couldn't manifest the people I saw in my dreams, but that home, it helped me remember them. Slowly it started to come back, and when it did I made my foolish argument to everyone that would listen. Telling them I didn't die, that I was trapped, had to get out. They all laughed, thought I was just insane, said it was normal, that everyone thought that. Told me to ride the high of it all. I tried."

"What was the master plan? What did you recall of that dream?" Reveca pushed.

"I don't know, not here anyway. In the Veil, in that house, if I use it as an anchor, I can recall a few things, the lessons I was taught, even parts of that dream. Outside of it, here, it's like trying to remember what I did after a blackout drunken night; pieces, flashes but never the whole picture."

"And you have no idea why Saige wanted you out?"

Cashton sat up a bit. "I've wanted to ask you to meet her for a while, see if she is somehow an anchor I need here."

"An anchor?"

"I meant it, my memories come in and out of focus. Being around something familiar makes them last, deepens them."

"Cashton, we've been doing this for years. Where do you go when you leave? This is where I want the brutal truth."

He heard the threat in her tone, but as far as he knew, he had nothing to say that would be brutal to either one of them. He even thought that the teasing he endured from the other Sons had inflated her imagination.

"You know for the first while I stayed with you guys, would ride with the guys, just an open road and a bike." Reveca nodded doing her best to remain patient. "Then about a year or so ago, Steele took me to a bar where they had live music. One of the guitar players got too drunk to play. Steele thought he'd be an ass and volunteer me." He laughed. "It did suck at first, but then I learned their songs. They told me when I was in town to play with them. I did. I'd go and just play for hours." He bit his lip, tried to stop a smile. 'Then one night, this group of kids came in, barely twenty the lot of 'em." He glanced to Reveca. "For the first time in my life I froze on stage, felt sick, sick as hell."

Reveca's furrowed brow questioned him.

"It was her. That girl that I could remember in my dreams."

"The dreams on the other side, the reason you came here?"

He nodded. "I was sure of it. There was this hum that centered inside of me, this calm that was somehow electrified eased over me. Relief. I felt that."

"And?" Reveca said when his pause was too long.

"And that night I just played. I played and she danced. That went on for a while, months. Sometimes when my stay didn't stretch across a full weekend, I wouldn't see her and it would kill me.

"The last holiday though, that changed. She came in one night but the light wasn't in her eyes, it was dim. She was smiling with her friends, but it wasn't a real smile. All of them were crowded around her, determined to make sure she had good time, was distracted.

"One of the girls with her pulled me off stage and introduced us formally. Made some joke about how we had stared at each other long enough. I think that embarrassed her. If it didn't, when the band started to tease me it surely did. She turned crimson just before her friends pushed her to dance with me.

"The second I touched her...my life was made. I can't really explain it. I saw this glow, one that was meant for only me to see, come from her skin in that dim bar.

"She pulled my kut, squeezed it in her hands, and said, 'You have a bike.' I nodded and she told me to get her out of there."

"Those damn kuts, they're like catnip," Reveca said with a wink. She was still not sure how much trust she should give him, but her gut was telling her he deserved it all.

Cashton laughed, a deep meaningful laugh. "Maybe." He shook his head. "We rode. For hours. It was freezing but every time I stopped she told me to go on. She buried her head against my back, and held me. She was running from something, some kind of pain. And I knew it.

"When I dropped her off that night her friends were waiting. I'd spent hours with her and we had barely said a word.

"I had to leave after that night, and when I came back it was a few nights in before she showed up at the bar, and she didn't show up until the end of the set. She nodded her head toward the door. She wanted another ride and I wanted to feel her cling to me."

"Did you talk to her that night?"

"Not really, or the few times after. It was more of the same. Once the holidays were over, well into the first of the year, that grief she had seemed to fade, like whatever was making her mourn had passed. We started stopping on our rides, by the river, any other stop we could find on the highway. We talked about current things. Or she did. School, her friends. I listened."

"She didn't ask why you vanished for weeks at a time or how you ended up with the Sons?" Reveca said with a lifted brow, clearly telling him that should have struck him as odd.

"A little, but not much. We both have these barriers. She has this past she doesn't want to talk about, and so do I. So we stay current."

"You think this girl is some kind of soul mate to you, she makes you hum, you see her skin glow, but you don't tell each other anything—there is no depth, you're not sharing anything?"

"I don't think, I know, and I'm just taking my time with it. Each time I'm back it gets better. I finally figured out where she lived, well, where she lives when she's not on campus. We've hung out with her friends a few times, nothing heavy. I'll figure out how to ask her what she's getting over." He rushed his fingers through his hair. "Each time I go back to the Veil, walk around that home, I try to remember if I already know—if I saw her going through some hell and that's why I charged through, if that is why I'm stuck here."

"This girl. Are her eyes like diamonds, blue and gray? Does she have long, dark hair, one long strand of blonde on her left side...small...tends to smile and have a lot of energy?"

Cashton looked to his side swiftly. "You have been stalking me."

No, but she was sure Cashton and maybe this girl had been set up, and it was made to look like it was some kind of fate. The Sons only went to bars that Jamison owned. That way if there was any trouble, anything at all, Jamison could cover it up.

Saige asking Reveca to harbor Cashton, all but promised that one night Cashton would show up in one of those bars with the boys. From there Cashton was given a reason to surface on the regular, a place to play. No doubt Jamison's daughter, at her age, would also surface in the bar he was in. Made to look random, in reality anything but.

Reveca moved her head side to side. "You heard us speak of Jamison."

"Coven leader," Cashton said. "Everyone thinks Saige is his sister but she's yours."

Reveca let her stare tell him yes. "And he has a daughter...Raven. One I just described to you. I don't believe in coincidences."

"Neither do I," Cashton said with wide eyes. "What the hell does this mean, Reveca?"

"I don't know, but we're going to have to figure it out. Saige is just as powerful as me but in different avenues. She could have figured out that you are this girl's soul mate or whatever, used some locator spell to find you."

"Why?"

"Coupling. It's a powerful practice in my old world. It's not odd for Jamison to want to seek that out for his own daughter."

"He knows I'm from another reality though?" Cashton said.

"Somehow I don't think that would be a farfetched idea for him to grasp," Reveca said thinking of Lorecan, her past with Jamison, and Saige. "Not as far as it would be for me to grasp. It's not my faith, Cashton."

"You don't believe me."

"I believe that you believe this. And that's just fine. You just need to know that you're dating a wickedly powerful coven leader's daughter. That comes with way more hell than the Sons could ever bring your way."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean others, enemies of the Sons, saw your bike out in front of Jamison's house, and they are capable of creating mirages. I would hope that Jamison has prepped Raven for that risk, but it might be best if you and this girl have some kind of code, some way for her to know it really is you before she takes off with whoever."

Fury washed over Cashton's expression. "Someone will come after her?"

"Cashton, I would wager that someone has come after her for her entire life. It comes with the territory. Jamison will protect her, I'm sure."

"How long have you known I was dating his daughter?"

"Not long, and Cashton you're lucky that I afforded you this opportunity to tell me about it. If you were anyone else I would have struck first."

"You don't want me to see her?"

"I didn't like being in the dark, a pawn. I didn't understand why you just wouldn't tell me that you were in tight with Jamison and Saige. Now it's clear to me that you're blind, too. For all I know that girl is as well. That's how Saige works, how Jamison works. They know there are troubled waters and let people walk right into them. State it's for the best, plays into some divine plan that never comes to light. Ever."

"You trusted me," Cashton said with an easy smile. Hearing that was like earning some badge of honor.

Reveca pushed him playfully. "Thin line," she said as she stared at him. "Cashton, I think I'm going to help you figure out whatever you forgot."

His eyes went wide with surprise. The blue in the centers of the dark pools nearly gleamed.

"There is no reason for Jamison and Saige to have all the answers."

"If I knew you could do that I would have asked you forever ago."

"I can't, but I know where to send you."

Reveca glanced around to see how close they were to the wall of energy that would lead them into the Edge then to the banks of the Veil. She made it a point to ensure that Shade and Thrash were still focused on their own conversation, too.

The pair of them knew better than to repeat most things they saw or heard when they were around Talon and Reveca alike, but at the same time, putting them in the uncomfortable position of having to remain silent was something that Reveca didn't want to put them through.

She met Cashton's stare again, and in a low tone she began to speak. "In all your time in the Veil have you ever heard of witches?"

"Dead ones?" Cashton asked as if that were an obvious question. If it ever lived then it died, which meant it was in the Veil.

"The real deal ones. I've heard rumors that some Lords of Death linger near them, that some even use them."

"That's true, but the ones I know of linger near Escorts."

Reveca felt the wind knocked out of her. First he backs up her sister's faith and brings back to life the fact that Lorecan had a similar story to Cashton's. Only his had a planned descent into the living dark reality, and a planned escape that he took without one backward glance at Reveca's sister or the child he left her with. Then Cashton speaks of Escorts. Those same beings that Thelma Ray was trying once again to get Reveca to believe in.

"You've seen those?"

Cashton shifted in his seat, let a level glance soar past her shoulder at the guys, then met Reveca's stare. "That Charlie friend of mine, people say he's one. I don't believe it though. I've never seen him feed, never seen him pull any dark energy into him."

"He claims to be one?"

"I've asked him, and he says we all have to play a role in the Veil, but we can never forget who we are. I know of dark angels who escort vim. They don't stay long. It rather pisses the bloody hell out of the dead. Dark angels pop in and out like they don't have a care in the world. Phoenixes do, too."

Reveca bit her lip. "You've seen them."

"Heard of more than seen, but yeah. There are all kinds of beings in the Veil, that's what makes it unnerving. The thing is, at times you can't tell who really is what they claim to be. In the Veil we can manifest rapidly. Illusion is so common that anything is believable, yet you never believe anything because of it."

"The witches, if you want answers you're going to have to find one in particular. You have to be careful when you search for her. She trusts even less than me and if she thinks you're looking for her you'll never find her."

"I thought you knew it all?" Cashton said seriously. The look on his face was similar to a child discovering the tooth fairy was a fraud.

"I know the Edge. I know the outskirts of the Veil. I have heard stories of its depths, seen a few things that would make me believe anything. The faith of my old land promised almost everything that you have mentioned." She lifted her chin. "Those were ideas I set aside long ago, thought they were before their time, especially since I was the one creating supernatural beings."

Cashton nodded, did his best to change his expression.

"One of the originals, from my home, her name is Windsome. Her hair is dark as the night, long and thick. She has dark eyes, so dark you can't see anything in the blacks of them. She tends to mask her eyes, thick liner, but she has ivory skin. She loved masking her lips in every odd color she could come across. Purple was her favorite."

Reveca glanced over her shoulder once more then back to Cashton. "She asked me to deliver her past the Edge long ago. She felt called to practice within the Veil.

"She can spell you within the Veil to help solidify your memories. She may even be able to help you with finding a permanent way out, even if that means you returning to where you fell from."

"I'm not going back," Cashton said as anger flared in his blue eyes. "Not alone."

"Okay, but she can help. I'm sure of it."

"Why now? Why would she help?"

"Now, because I'm aware of your path, because I know that every deal that could be made on mine and Saige's side to get you out has been made. I'm powerless to bring you back from the dead like the other Sons because you never died. We are at the mercy of temporary spells. She'd help because she is in my debt, and I have yet to collect on the favor."

"You're giving me this favor? One you've held for this long?"

"I am, but I want more than this from her. I need you to ask her if any mortal is reaching into the Veil for power, if they're pulling that out—if a human is. And if so, I need to know who."

Cashton nodded once.

"I'm going to put a sphere of energy into your wrist. It's going burn, you're going to hate it, but you have to hide it until you find her. When you do, let it out and she will see this request."

He gave her a quick nod to agree, then glanced behind her. "We're almost there," he said as he handed Reveca his arm.

When she took it, she dug her nail across his wrist, quick and deep enough for it to open for her. She clenched her fingers over it, closed her eyes, and composed her prayer, asked her old friend to guide Cashton, to guide her, to tell her what she needed to do to protect the life she had built. Reveca felt a surge of energy leave her, heard Cashton hiss.

When she opened her eyes she saw a glow under his flesh. She kept her fingers over it, held it in place as the boat churned forward.

She kept her eyes on Cashton as the curtain of energy that lead into the Edge passed them by. Right then Cashton was still clear, knew where he was and where he was going.

They stayed that way, never moving as they eased through the water toward the Veil. Reveca could feel the energy dulling, seeping into a hiding space inside of Cashton, but she kept his flesh hidden. Had to. All along the banks were souls.

They had passed where GranDee's home was long ago, hidden by the night and the rain. Now, inside this Edge of death, souls were following her lead.

There were several in the Edge that Reveca had mercy on. Those that had pleaded with her not to go into the Veil, to allow them to reside on the brink of life, witnessing it and death all the same. Those that stayed were given a job. They would gather souls for nights like this, and they would also ensure that those that wanted to pass, between these times, were guided to the Veil's borders where death would consume them.

The souls walking along the bank were either chosen or chose to move through this passage by Reveca's people. They were so new to death though, they would recognize that power she had given Cashton—they would seek it.

By the time they made it to the dock that led to the Veil, there was no trace of that spell or energy inside of Cashton's flesh.

She let him go slowly, stood, and gave him a firm hug. Thrash and Shade stepped to where he was, shook his hand then pulled him in for a one arm hug and promised to see him on the flip side.

Cashton gave Reveca one last look, surely telling himself not to forget what she said, then made his way to the dock. By the time he reached the end of it he blended into the river of souls that were all on his path.

That was how he got in, masked. Getting out was much the same, only when the souls poured in he crept out, and when he did Reveca's energy concealed him until they were far away from the border.

"This always bums me the fuck out," Thrash said as his forlorn stare tracked Cashton until the Veil took him in.

"We get him back...that's something," Reveca said as she sent every protective thought to the boy that had accidently become one of hers. It was something, Cashton was the only one that she had ever known to come back from those depths. Wait, no...there was someone else, and that conversation would be waiting on Reveca when she docked back in the hell that was currently her reality.
Chapter Four

Even with enhanced vision, with the skill of traversing the mysterious waterways, the trip back was grudging. Reveca had no choice but to ask the rain to continue on for it was a shield, a mask they needed. They needed it to hinder any watchful eye that would be focused on GranDee's property as they were passing, or the Boneyard when they arrived. Yet because of the flooding it was now hindering them. It was hard to see submerged logs, or anything else for that matter, which meant the boat became bogged down more than once before they made it to the wider berth of the river that was close to cresting.

It was well after dawn before they returned, but it would be hard for anyone to tell that. The skies were still dark, and the fog was thick, thick enough that seeing more than a few inches in front of your face was the best anyone with average vision could hope for.

Once the boat was docked in the slip, it was set up to look as if had not been moved in some time by placing a torn tarp over it, broken tree limbs, random leaves. Once that was done, Shade retrieved the bag their gators' friends had returned, and the three of them made their way to the garage.

That time of day, that early, only those in the life were up and lurking. Without the drama of the night before, without them all waiting for Reveca to return, it might have been a different story. Even though sleep was not required, going to your own room, alone or with a partner, and easing into a calm state was the norm.

When they reached the lounge it was easy to see that Talon and the others did as she said. It looked as if the party of a lifetime had ended just hours before. Men and women alike were passed out on the couches, in the booths, on the tables, even across the bar.

Some literally looked like they had passed out seconds after lust had claimed them. What clothes they were wearing were barely in place. The energy had been cleansed; there was no dread in the air, no anger or sadness. Just the lingering feeling of a good time, the kind that would take a full day or so to overcome.

Judge, Echo, and Steele were moving through the lounge with trash bags, pulling empty longnecks from sleeping hands, picking up even more from the floor, the bar. They were dumping ashtrays, wiping down where they had been, all around the sleeping bodies.

Clean. That was a practice they all knew that Reveca demanded. She didn't care how wild any party became as long as the room was cleansed afterward.

There wasn't much more the boys could do until their hungover friends awoke.

Reveca nodded for them to follow her back to Church.

The hallway there also reflected a wild night. More couples were passed out half naked, clinging to one another. All the doors that led to the makeshift hotel rooms were closed, occupied signs were hanging from the knobs.

Inside Church, Reveca saw Talon leaning against the mantel on the back wall. It was a rather large fireplace, eight feet across and black. The Club's symbol of a pentagram with a snake around it was at the head of this mantel, and the bodies of massive, black iron snakes were what it was made of.

He had a roaring fire going. This time of year, even deep in the winter, that would be odd to most. It never really got cold enough to need that much heat.

But Talon had fire in him, the Phoenix that helped Reveca rebirth him every couple hundred years. The power of fire mesmerized Talon. He'd stare into it for hours, and sometimes even let his hand run through it as he would close his eyes and breath in, as if the supremacy of the element was gliding into him.

That practice was his way of taking a time out, him reaching that place where you turned your thoughts off and just listened. It was his waking dream.

He was so deep into his connection with the fire that Reveca and the boys had made their way in, placed the damp bag in front of his seat before he looked up.

Talon barely glanced at the bag before he made his way to Reveca, before he slowly gathered her in his arms and breathed her in. "I hate these runs," he said against her neck. And he did.

At first she'd let Talon come, felt safer with him there, but him being that close to death, her knowing that only a few words were holding his immortality in place made her a coward. Her paranoia that death would swallow him whole without warning forced her to make up every excuse in the book for him to stay behind. Lately, it was that he was needed at the Boneyard, needed to guide the Sons through any upsets that could spring up at any moment, much like the raid the night before.

"The flood of souls keeps us all far away from the pull of death," she assured as she squeezed him against her.

She looked back. "Did you see your gift?"

Talon let a low chuckle out as he reached to let his fingertips trace across her cheekbone. "My woman, witch by day, gator trainer by night."

"You're not going to like this, boss," Judge said as he stood over the bag, which Thrash had unzipped.

Talon looked over his shoulder then made his way to his throne.

Most of the scripts were repackaged. Cellophane had been wrapped around the bulk meds, but they were still ruined.

"Are those that had hands on that still with us?" Reveca asked sliding into a chair. She was tired and she hated that she smelled like the river.

Talon was looking over the meds nice and slow. His dark stare moved to Thrash. There was something in that stare that Reveca couldn't read, but that was nothing new. Thrash and Talon had been side by side since birth. Every war they had ever fought was together, both immortal and mortal. They could often say a thousand words with one hard stare like that.

If Reveca really wanted to know she'd ask, and in most cases, Talon just told her they had seen something coming, then went through a long combat story that Reveca could care less about.

"Well?" Reveca asked again.

"Only a few are left. When we shut down the clinic we let everyone go that had worked on the shipments which were short, but we had just brought on a few more medical people. We moved them instead and haven't had a shortage since."

"Which means you either scared them or let go of who could have helped Holden," Reveca said, getting a nod of agreement from Steele, Echo, and Thames.

"We'll have to look into it," Talon said with an unreadable stoic expression.

"This is going to tick you off," Thrash said reaching in and pulling out the bags that were nothing more than black water now, ones that had horns stamped on them.

"They have a death wish, don't they," Talon said letting his sharp stare lift up to the boys around the table.

"No doubt asking for attention," Judge agreed.

Talon reached in the pocket of his kut and pulled out the bag the crows had brought back.

The thing about asking nature to help you is that often they don't know how to, or can't, be tender. The part of the bag where the stamp should be had been ripped by the crow's beak. If the gators had not completed their part, the Sons would have no idea who was dealing at this point.

"Zale told me this drug was popular at his home," Reveca said. "That is a long way from the Devil's Den, and though they're a fierce mortal gang, they barely have connections across the states, down south. Have they made allies we don't know about?"

Knight shook his head. "I would've seen that somehow. I'd know if any one of them left on the regular, so would our lawmen buddies."

"Then they were approached," Talon said. "Someone knew of our issues with them, knew we had severed their business, and had knowledge of how to make this drug."

"Do we really think that old mortal fuck was brave or smart enough to do that?" Thames asked.

"Doesn't make much sense to me," Reveca said. "Why would he go to the police or whomever and try to take down Jamison BellaRose then turn and partner with a gang?"

"Money. The man wanted money," Knight said. "He began as a mythologist, but a closed-minded one who tried to disprove old myths. He even taught a course along those lines for a time. Somehow he got ticked at Jamison. Seems like his first plot was to sell him to some government scientist, to test him. He even went so far as to call him a national threat. They laughed him off. He tried to accuse Jamison's establishments of selling hexes and such. Basically, he accused them of fraud, and he was laughed off again. That was years ago and now this. He could have found a way to sell his knowledge or exploit it."

"He was no scientist though. He could just read spells. It takes someone with some kind of scientific knowledge or training to cook this," Talon said.

"Once you have the recipe it doesn't," Reveca said. "From that point, he just needed fools to make it and sell it—and if he managed to get people to do that then he was basically hiring hunters to seek out immortals. They were doing so to make the drugs, he was doing so to gain power, to throw it back into the face of all those who'd laughed at him."

"Contacts overseas?" Judge questioned.

"I'm sure. There aren't many myths to disprove in this young land." She glanced at Knight. "If you can back track everywhere he traveled over the last decade or so, we might be able to figure out who his partners are."

"And until we figure that out we are stuck cleaning up the result," Talon said. He glanced at Reveca. "We need a few days between this raid and when we go and take that house down. I still want eyes on it at all times. If they look like they're moving anyone or anything then we go, deal with lawmen afterward."

Everyone in the room knew that was the only choice they had, but they were not happy about it. Thames and Echo had told them that sweat shops had better conditions than what they saw when they shifted and did their recon.

"What about Evanthe?" Thrash asked. Thrash would never admit it aloud but the idea that she was missing was ripping him up inside, causing that inner beast to be quiet less and less.

Evanthe had helped him the most with his balance as an immortal. There were hardly any words between them, even after all this time, but each time she came near the Boneyard she'd see him, and say, "My warrior friend, you look as if you need some tea." And she'd set a thermos before him, would let her delicate hand run down his broad arms which were sleeved with tattoos. Her touch would always make Thrash tingle in the oddest way. Then she'd leave. That tea, it calmed that beast in Thrash, settled his thoughts, allowed him to focus on other enhanced elements, grasp who he was.

"Zale may be a bastard, but if he gives a damn about anyone it's his twin. I'm sure he has more leads than we do." Reveca met Thrash's stare. "She's fierce. I honestly think, even with whatever spells they have at their fingertips, they could not hold her unless she allowed them to. She's trying to stop this from within. I'm sure of it."

"Zale is not going to share shit with us, that's why we have to make this run as sharp and clean as possible," Talon said as he looked at Thames and Judge. "You two need to make sure you're ready. You're going to have to dive into a lot of fucked up minds nice and fast and get whatever knowledge you can."

They both nodded in agreement.

Talon grabbed a box of meds and tossed them in the fire behind him. He was going to destroy the evidence nice and slow, stare at those flames and seek the answers he couldn't understand now.

"I'm going to clean up and check on my witchling," Reveca said as she stood. The other guys were starting to mull over what was known of this war and Reveca could not bear to hear the same facts over and over, not when their hands were tied for the next few days.

The fog was still hauntingly thick as Reveca made her way back to her home, the remaining evidence of the hours of rain from the night before. With each step she took she thanked the nature that had protected her and her own once more. When she felt the wind brush across her shoulder and kiss her face she grinned.

This was her faith. Not some Gods she'd never see, not myths that were coming to life more and more each day, not a dark or light power that could not be explained. But the Earth.

Mother Nature was her religion. It was where all power, all things that deserved to be worshiped, existed in Reveca Beauregard's mind.

As she showered, rinsed the thick aroma of the river and the clinging humidity from her body, she thought over her night, everything that Cashton had said, how it mirrored so closely to what she knew as a child.

It was terrifying to sense a faith you had let go of consume your life, to have every sign point to its truth.

Reveca slid a short silk robe over her moist body. She wasn't ready for the restrictions of clothes just yet. Her hair was down, gently dried with a towel, and slowly curling in the long waves it was known to stay in as it tried to dry further in the humid air.

That hum, it greeted her before she ever reached her shower. Even though it infuriated her, it also gave her a welcome calm. Allowed her mind to keep mulling over all that she knew, allowed her to keep searching for a reason her sister had sent her to death to retrieve two different boys, ones that could not be any more different. She had to wonder if that played into her other hells or if it was unrelated, simply occurring simultaneously.

Slowly she opened her door and padded down the long hall to Gwinn's room.

She knocked softly before she entered, and when she opened the door slightly she saw Gwinn, wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the wide windowsill, staring out at the thick fog that had not lifted, only grown darker as the day moved on.

"Are you okay?" Reveca asked when she reached her side. She let her hand run across Gwinn's head as if she were a lost child. She looked so weak, like she did those first few days after she finally awoke. Not figuring out how to care for this girl was driving Reveca mad. It had never been this hard to get anyone to latch on to this new life.

"They're back," Gwinn said.

Reveca followed her gaze, through the fog that no mortal could see through, and she saw rather small fishing boats with lawmen in them, searching the bank as well as they could in the current conditions.

"They're looking for something the gators took from them last night. They'll give up soon enough."

Reveca sat down on the windowsill beside Gwinn, nearly smiled before she spoke. "This is going to sound like irony coming from me, but in most cases, one should not freak out about the boys in blue. They're meant to keep you safe."

"They keep you safe?" Gwinn asked.

"I keep me safe. Look, there're bad eggs in every crowd. The Sons seem to attract those at times. But for every bad one there are ten good ones. The entire force is not corrupt, only a few, and eventually karma has its say."

Gwinn kept her stare on the distant boats.

"But I have a feeling that you came across some bad eggs with blue and red lights. You want to tell me about that?"

Gwinn bit her lip before she spoke. "I don't really remember...it was just panic. Then that headache. Nothing had ever hurt that bad before."

"Did it give you any visions, any memories, even little flashes?"

"Too many to understand. I don't even know if was the lights, or just the idea that cops were here."

"It's not something that came from foster care, some memory about being moved from home to home?"

"That was sad, not scary, not like I felt last night."

Reveca let silence linger for a moment.

"King helped calm you down?"

Gwinn smiled slightly. "He's familiar. Something about him is. I don't know what it is but he just...I feel saved around him."

"Like faith saved, redeemed?"

She shook her head. "Saved, out of danger, like no one can hurt me." Her eyes met Reveca's. "I feel that way around others here, too. It's different with King though, almost fatherly. I don't know how to explain it. He just understands without me having to explain."

"Did you tell him that? Ask him about it?"

She shook her head, blushed. "I'm sure he's going to avoid me for awhile. I cried. A lot. On his shoulder last night."

"You're all right, right now?"

Gwinn nodded right as there was a tap at the door and then it opened. It was Shade. The expression on his face when he saw Reveca mocked a child who had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In his hand were two steaming mugs.

Reveca patted Gwinn's leg then stood. As she passed Shade she let her hand run down his arm.

Once in the hallway, she stood frozen with fear. She knew she needed to talk to King, that she was avoiding it, but the way he made her feel, the vast unknown that clung to him, the threat of what that would do to her life was near paralyzing.

She looked to the stairs, the ones that led to the third floor, where his room was, and made herself move that way.

Judge, Knight, and Steele also had rooms on this floor, but their rooms were open. They were clearly still in Church helping the others prepare for a perfect run.

The door that led to King's room was just slightly ajar. It took all the will in the world but she pushed her way in. To her amazement, the aged door didn't creak and announce her arrival.

Common sense, that sense that told her she didn't need to give the wrong impression to anyone inside or outside of this room, had her leave the door as ajar as she had found it.

It was a large room, but there wasn't much in it beyond a king-size bed that centered it and a few chairs. The double doors leading up to the third story balcony were open.

Framed in the center of the doorway was King. His shirt was off, and his jeans were hanging just so around his lean hips. His back was to her, arms were braced on the rail, and his head was low as if he were in deep thought.

Reveca stared for a moment. His skin was so pure, not one tattoo stretched across the taut muscles of his arms or his back. It was so different from what she was used to around the Sons.

She watched him breathe in, the muscles in his back tense.

Reveca made it to the doorway; silently they stayed like that for a moment, his back to her front, several feet between them.

"Where have you been, what did they do to you?" Reveca asked so quietly that she wasn't sure she said it at all.

King had been on that porch all through the night, in that one position. He was tracking Reveca, her energy as she moved farther away, then found her way home.

He wasn't sure how he was doing that, he wasn't sure about a lot of things. And when he felt her approach him, come into his lair, he started to tell himself to calm down, to choose his words and actions carefully, to be gentle, but then the truth hit him—he wasn't as powerful as he once was, he didn't have to tell himself to be careful any longer.

Her direct question sliced right through him. His reaction came before thought had a chance to register.

One moment Reveca was standing in the doorway on trembling limbs, then the very next, a surge of energy encased her and she found herself in the room, against the wall, King's massive body before hers, his forehead against hers, arms pinning hers to the side.

"I'm not him...not anymore," He said in a deep husky voice. He slowly unclasped his hands that had her pinned against the wall, then reached for her face. He leisurely let his hands cascade all the way down her neck past her shoulders. That robe of hers never stood a chance. It fell open all on its own, baring her nude body.

A hiss left his lips and desire filled his half-mast eyes.

The second Reveca felt his hands rush across her chest she let out a shocked breath. The hum was so deep, and it shot right to her core.

King's breaths were steady but hot against her face. Slowly, he let his hands glide down her sides and she would be damned if there was anything she could do to stop him.

He wasn't overpowering her, it was the fact that her mind, body, and soul didn't want to be anywhere else but here, in front of him. Every part of her was humming. That sharp emotion of exaltation was claiming her. It was like coming home, an indescribable sensation you felt when you had been away for so long. Past and present colliding...when you realized how much had really changed.

Right as his hands reached her hips, as his thumbs dared to dance across the part of her body that was all but begging him to engage, his lips fell against hers, framed them just so. Then he spoke, teasing the flesh of hers as he did. "I want to be, but I'm not," he said as his hands rose and moved across her once more, as his lips melded briefly with hers. Just as she glided her tongue against his, felt the scorching heat of him, inhaled him and arched her chest forward unable to hold herself back from the pull between them, he let out a hiss. The next thing she knew he was across the room, sitting on the edge the bed, his head down, and she was against the wall, open, bare to him and hating herself because she didn't want him to stop.

It took her a second, but she pulled her robe closed, tied the knot of the belt as tight as she could around her. She stared at him, the invisible weight that seemed to hang heavy on his broad shoulders which were sculpted sharply with thick muscle.

"Who are you then?"

Slowly he looked up at her. His eyes which were like diamonds glinted, and that glint was malice. His jaw clinched and his upper lip nearly twitched before he spoke. "Evil."

The word sent a chill down her spine, simply because she knew it was more than a word to souls like her and King. It was real.

"I've brushed up against evil, and you are not that. Who took you that dawn, how did you come back—how did you see Saige with Lorecan and think that was me?"

King didn't answer for a long moment, his mind whirling in every direction. In all truth, before he landed in the custody of Crass, before that death opened him wide up, he didn't know a Reveca. He didn't know of a death on a battlefield in another dimension.

Maybe somewhere deep inside he did, maybe from time to time he would feel an agony that he couldn't explain when he was with another woman, saw one that dared to compare to Reveca's shape and statue, but all of those thoughts were fleeting at best.

With Crass though, his mind was not focused on what he had just lost, but at the beginning of his creation.

He'd seen his parents, his brothers, remembered the brief life of ease before he found the love of war, the desire to change all that was wrong in the world he resided in. Then he saw Reveca, her innocence, remembered every breath with her, how he held back, wanting to savor her. That made the hell he was in all the worse, the guilt he was feeling unbearable, because his mind was constantly pushing forward, showing him what he did after he left her, layering every sin like bricks on his shoulders.

When he first saw her before Crass's throne he was sure it was trickery, that Crass had seen into his thoughts and was trying yet another avenue of torture. Seeing Cashton by her side made it all the crueler.

His woman next to his assigned. It was too much to take on. When they edged away from Crass, on that waterway he started to believe that she was real. He didn't want her to be real, he wanted her safe in his past. He wanted to think she was happy, had a family, had moved on to some great beyond. That kept her safe.

Instead, he saw how fierce she had grown. His days at the Boneyard, what he heard, the small comments that came from her and others, led him to believe she had no choice but to be the way she was.

This new Reveca didn't make him want her less. If anything it made him want her more...but that couldn't happen. Not now. Not ever.

"A king," he answered finally. "A God."

Not this again, Reveca thought to herself, unsure as to why her sister's faith was assaulting her at any and all angles. "Why you?"

King tilted his head to the side, anger engulfing him. "Because I was a warrior. Because I fought for change. Because I used exaltation as a power, as a gift."

"He punished you?"

King laughed darkly, met Reveca's confused stare all at once. "As a reward." He lifted his chin. "The power he gave me...it's more than you could imagine."

"Magic?"

"More so—godly power. I could go anywhere at any time, one blink of an eye. I could understand and engage instantly. I was all knowing, all seeing, and stood at my sovereign's side."

Reveca swallowed the anger she was feeling just then. Even if she still had the faith her sister had she would have lost it then, that God killed her Kenson, in some real way he did.

"All this time."

King's stare told her yes. He stood abruptly. "Time. What is that? How can it be measured, really? There is no time when you feel that much power, and when you settle with that power, when the edge wears off and you can handle the sensations charging through your soul. Even then time has no merit. When you descend and walk with mortals, when you lurk with the dead, when you glide through the dreams—or nightmares—of others...it has no merit."

Reveca was quivering on the inside, being this close to and alone with him, knowing that seconds ago she would have given herself over to him, was causing that. Yet on the outside she looked calm, balanced, like the woman she had become.

Instead of believing him, she was trying to connect the dots. Trying to figure out why Saige knew he was with Crass, why she sent Reveca for him when clearly she knew that Cashton and King had some wicked past. She had no doubt that death had twisted King's point of view. He believed what he was saying, that much was clear, but that didn't mean anything. It just meant something or someone showed him enough, made him feel enough to believe it.

"How did you end up with Crass?"

King moved his fingers through his dark hair, hair that was growing out, daring to curl around the base of his neck.

"I'm not clear enough on anything to tell you that."

That statement backed up Reveca's theories; his mind had been warped. She even halfway believed her sister planted those notions in King, that it was some backward way of hers to draw Reveca back into the fold. "You're awful sure that you're not Kenson, that what we were died with you that dawn. So why not this?"

His icy glare shot to hers, and his hand dropped. He prowled one step closer to her, and as he did so, that hum assaulted Reveca. Made her feel like she was seconds from having the most shattering orgasm of her life. "You want there to be an us?" he smirked. "Damn sure could have fooled me."

"I have a life."

"Debatable."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you were meant for more than to be a mother hen."

"I sure as hell wasn't meant to preside over the Edge of death, meant to live out my life constantly seeing life end and pass on. But that's where your death landed me. I got out, I made the life I wanted. Freedom. That's mine. You have no right to criticize me."

He narrowed his eyes. "Reveca, the power I had, it was a power that someone like you would handle with grace, not the way I did. Not the way my sovereign did. You keep your lust at bay and hold gratitude within your soul. You defend the weak, and dare the danger."

"It's the way I was taught," she admitted, knowing damn well it was him that gave her that lesson.

When he didn't say anything she pushed for more answers. "If you don't know why or how you ended up with Crass then surely you know why you hate Cashton."

King smirked then lifted his chin. "I do."

"Why?"

"He was born to kill me."

"God slayer."

King let his eyes say yes.

"But you are already dead."

"No...no I'm not."

Reveca furrowed her brow in question.

"I'm depleted. I'm apparently in hiding."

"Hiding from an assigned—who by the way has no idea that he is—but my sister sent me for you to bring you face to face with him. What? Was she just looking for a good show?"

"See now, that doesn't make much sense, does it?" King said sardonically.

"Your grudge against him is personal."

"As if death is not personal."

"It's about a girl."

King just stared.

"What? You think I'm stupid? Think that I don't know that with all that power you claim you had that you didn't slide into the heat of some girl, more than likely more than you can count? Maybe one of those meant something to you. More than I did."

The next thing Reveca knew he was just before her. His face a mere inch from hers stole her breath. "Do you honestly think that anyone could mean as much to me as you?"

Once Reveca found a way to speak, the breath to do so, she said, "She meant something." Reveca was holding her resolve by a thin thread of nerve. She had to believe they were fighting over a girl, that it had nothing to do with an outdated faith.

King shook his head stepped back. "I don't know why Saige let me out. But I know you have a war on your hands."

"Nothing new there."

He stared deep in her eyes before he spoke again. "No one can know I'm here. Ever."

"Who are you hiding from, King?"

"Men I want to keep alive. People I want to keep alive."

"All those people and reasons you're not clear enough to tell me about."

"No. I'm not clear. I have an instinct and it's telling me what I just told you."

"That I'm at war."

He cussed under his breath. "It's telling me that whether you're mine or not, we have the same soul. It's telling me that I can't have you now or ever, that what I was is dead. That I was changed. Fell from some grace. Stepped out of clear cut boundaries and was stripped to nothing. It's telling me that I did care about people, that it was my job to lead them and protect them. And the only way to continue to do that is to stay dead, as you say."

Reveca didn't hear much past the part of him basically saying that he loved her and always would but the words were seeping in; she was making herself focus.

"I can't protect the ones you care about finding out you are here unless you tell me who they are."

The cold stare he gave her made it clear that wasn't going to happen, not today.

Finally King spoke. "Gwinn. She was in the custody of Escorts. Her scent is rich with theirs."

"Let's pretend I believe in those souls, in this faith that your warped mind is telling you that you are a part of. Let's also pretend that someone else has already told me that bullshit. I don't see how that matters. These fictional beings brought her to GranDee. What happened after that is the mystery."

"You think I made this up? This hell?" King asked as a look of disgust came over him.

"I know that death, that someone like Crass, could plant any thoughts into one's mind. You've only been out for a few weeks. I know that you have advanced far further than you should have in that time, but clearly your damage is on the inside."

He leered. "Then I guess telling you that Gwinn is an Escort is a waste of my time. I shouldn't tell you that you're starving her."

Right then the rumbling voices of Judge and Knight filtered up the stairs.

Judge barely knocked before he pushed the ajar door open shouting King's name. He froze as he took in the scene; King half dressed, Reveca in short silk robe.

It didn't look good.

"Um, that part for the Firebird just showed up. I was going to see if you wanted help with it."

King kept his stare on Reveca as he said, "I do. We're all done here. I'm too insane to have a conversation with Reveca just now." With that he winked, turned and grabbed his shirt from the bed then stormed out of the room.

"I, uh, I didn't meant to interrupt," Judge said quietly glancing down the hall, clearly wondering if Knight had seen what he had. The relief in his blues eyes said that was not the case.

Reveca made her way to him. "You're close with King."

"Yeah, I mean he's all right."

"Talk to him. A lot. I have to know what is real and what is not in his head."

"Okay, boss," Judge said with quick nod as he left.

Reveca hesitated for a second trying to find balance, find a way to believe King. Understand him. She had to figure out how he ended up with Crass. She had her suspicions, and each one led her back to her sister and Jamison pulling the strings behind the curtain.

She left King's room and marched down the hall to Knight's room. Years back, Raven BellaRose had found herself in some dark danger that Jamison and the coven were protecting her from. They even reached out to Reveca to ask for help from a distance. Reveca was going to research the story behind that, figure out what she missed when she was drunk on power.

If she figured out that Saige was the reason King was the way he was today, that once again she knew he was going to be slain and allowed it, she was going to lose her shit. Reveca was sick of these games.

No one ever crosses one of her own and lives to tell about it. No matter who they are.
EDGE SERIES READING ORDER

Alphas Rise  
Dark Lure  
Sacred Betrayal   
Risen Lovers  
Fall of Kings  
Queens Rise

Stolen Son

Disloyal Souls

Aftermath

COMBINED WEB OF HEARTS AND SOULS READING ORDER:

Insight  
Embody  
Image  
Whispers of the Damned  
Witness  
Vital  
Vindicate  
Synergy  
Enflame  
Redefined  
Rivulet  
Imperial  
Blakeshire  
Derive  
Emanate  
Exaltation*  
Disavow

The Witches   
Revolt  
Scorched Souls

*If you are a fan of Adult Paranormal Edge can be read with the Web of Hearts, before of after Exaltation--the stories share the same characters.

INSIGHT READING ORDER:

Insight   
Embody   
Image  
Vital  
Vindicate  
Enflame  
Rivulet  
Imperial  
Blakeshire (Drake's Story)  
Emanate  
Exaltation  
Disavow

SEE READING ORDER:

Whispers of the Damned   
Witness of a Broken Heart  
Synergy of Souls  
Redefined Love Affair   
Derive (Aden's Beginning)  
A Lovers Revolt   
Scorched Souls

EDGE SERIES READING ORDER

Alphas Rise  
Dark Lure  
Sacred Betrayal   
Risen Lovers  
Fall of Kings  
Queens Rise

Stolen Son

Disloyal Souls

Aftermath

CONTEMPORARY NOVELS

Deploy

Disengaged

Impulsion

Friction

EDGE SERIES READING ORDER

Alphas Rise  
Dark Lure  
Sacred Betrayal   
Risen Lovers  
Fall of Kings  
Queens Rise

Stolen Son

Disloyal Souls

Aftermath

Special Note:

Edge is part of the "Web of Hearts and Souls," a massive story where more than one series connect. The series can be read pertly or together.

EDGE SERIES READING ORDER

Alphas Rise  
Dark Lure  
Sacred Betrayal   
Risen Lovers  
Fall of Kings  
Queens Rise

Stolen Son

Disloyal Souls

Aftermath

COMBINED WEB OF HEARTS AND SOULS READING ORDER:

Insight  
Embody  
Image  
Whispers of the Damned  
Witness  
Vital  
Vindicate  
Synergy  
Enflame  
Redefined  
Rivulet  
Imperial  
Blakeshire  
Derive  
Emanate  
Exaltation*  
Disavow

The Witches   
Revolt  
Scorched Souls

*If you are a fan of Adult Paranormal Edge can be read with the Web of Hearts, before of after Exaltation--the stories share the same characters.

INSIGHT READING ORDER:

Insight   
Embody   
Image  
Vital  
Vindicate  
Enflame  
Rivulet  
Imperial  
Blakeshire (Drake's Story)  
Emanate  
Exaltation  
Disavow

SEE READING ORDER:

Whispers of the Damned   
Witness of a Broken Heart  
Synergy of Souls  
Redefined Love Affair   
Derive (Aden's Beginning)  
A Lovers Revolt   
Scorched Souls

Acknowledgements

Over the past four years I have published sixteen novels and each of the acknowledgements are moved from one novel to the next. That wasn't done to take short cuts, but because on this journey I have been blessed enough to keep the same souls at my side. I wanted to take the time with this acknowledgement to state how precious they are to me.

To my Creator, for I know this passion comes from a powerful, enigmatic source that humbles me with its constant greatness.

My husband, no doubt, deserves some kind of medal! The man is there from the first instant the idea is thought to life, through the long days of writing where I slip into another world. He manages the blessed life we have built, taking care of our little ones, making sure that there is some kind of substantial meal on the table for each of us. He's a saint when it comes to telling me what day of the week it is, and letting me know that dawn is approaching and it might be a good idea to get some sleep. He understands that music drives me and is just fine with the same song playing on repeat for days until I have the scene trapped in words. He's use to having a conversation with me and in mid-sentence I stop and rush to write a line down. There is no doubt that he didn't sign up to share his wife with the fictional family that always dances in my mind, but he rocks it all the same. I can't tell you how amazing it is to have someone want your dreams as much as you do, someone that never lets doubt creep into your mindset.

My children, they make me smile every day. They are now to the point where they're all for naming characters, dancing to that same song that plays over and over. They love to joke about 'moms bubble' they know that mom dreams wide awake and tease me when they have to pop that bubble to tell me something.

I always tend to write the first draft of any story with the 'door closed' not telling anyone but my family what I'm working on, yet there are a few that are there the second I open the door and walk with me through all the drafts of the story.

This massive story, that grows each day, was a different experience for me. I'd 'open the door' after each episode and pass the story off to two beta readers that have always been at my side. Steffini Walker was there, at a book conference, when the idea to write this story that I had been putting off for a better part of a year, in this fashion came to me. It was her excitement for serials that encourage me to explore this classic style. Sabrina Wells was side by side with Steffini encouraging this adventure. Each of these ladies read the harshest of drafts, gave honest feedback and emotion, and each word drove me forward all the faster. The Pentacle Sons became an addiction, people we knew, a world we all visited often. The spontaneous chats at odd hours, the music and images that we passed between the three of us made the story so tangible. It was a rush, no doubt, and though I have enjoyed working with Steffini and Sabrina on each of my novels, some how this story was different, they walked with me as I went down a path that is so drastically different from the ones I had traveled before. I couldn't have asked for better friends in this world, finding people that get you, that you can still manage to surprise once in awhile, that is priceless. I love you girls!!

Editors, they come in all shapes and sizes, each with their very own style and outlook on the words they're reviewing. I struck gold with mine, and I mean that. It is hard to find someone who can not only edit the horrid mess I leave behind in my creative rushes, but to also find someone that can strengthen your story and not alter your voice. Someone who is not afraid to tell you exactly what you need to hear good or bad, to fortify your daydreams into words. Todd Barselow is a saint and I count my lucky stars each day that I found him in this crazy publishing world.

Graphic designers are one of the unsung hero's of the publishing world. Which is sad because they're the ones that give your daydreams a face, they bring the emotion and definition to your work that readers new and old will recognize over time. Emma Michaels is another gift; she not only helped me find the image for my debut novel, Insight, but also has been through each of my covers since. She has a way of understanding exactly what I envision and does not rest until that vision is there before us both. This cover was far different from the others, it had to be more than an image that may or not change over the course of time, it had to be a logo, a brand, something that could be identified with this story for seasons to come. Emma rose to that challenged and I have to say this is one of my favorite covers, it's almost as if she saw the emblem in my mind clear as day and worked until it was created. Emma you are amazing!

Beyond my first draft betas I have others that are just as amazing. It's their truth that makes them that way, how they are not afraid to tell me what they like and don't, how they don't bat an eye when I hand them a contemporary story, a YA story, or this story, they read each with an open mind and their feedback is priceless, and there is not a doubt that it always mirrors the feedback my readers will give me once the story is published to the world at large. I can't thank Jamie Love, Michelle Dain, Crystal Meyer, Jennylynne D'Andrea, and Alysia Kurtz enough for walking through the final stages of publishing with me each and every time. Thank you girls for sharing my daydreams with me!

Readers. I swear to you, to this day it blows my mind that there are people on this earth that I will never have the chance to meet that have shared these stories with me, people who get it, who leave reality and step into my daydreams with me if only for a moment. You humble me. I can't stress that enough. Thank you so much for taking a chance, giving up your time, to read my work.

Writer buddies are amazing and I can honestly say that the inspiration to write this story in this fashion would not have come unless I was blessed enough to meet an remarkable group of authors. Lila Felix had tried to sway me into this style for some time, she told me and I quote "this style puts the fun back in writing," what she meant was that it was a rush, a challenge. The challenge of writing a novel, beginning, middle, and end had been met more than once, this was a new level, and it would be a blast to conquer it.

It wasn't until I went to a book conference and watched Lila on a panel with Rachel Higginson speaking of serials that I really got it, I understood it wasn't a small short story, it was massive. Rachel Higginson, after the conference, spent long hours on the phone with me explaining the arc, how you needed more than one for this story. Her support didn't stop there, at least once a week she would check in to see what episode I was on, and always encouraged me forward – she understood the addiction I was in the middle of.

Shelly Crane, the text messages that came to check on the story was priceless, and her feedback after the first episode made my day.

As you can clearly see, people often think that writers have solitary lives, and in some real fashion we do, but more so than not, the story you are reading was impacted by not only those that walked the publishing line with the writer, but the world at large. Inspiration is everywhere, in every dark and positive moment, in every song, drive, commercial, everything is inspiration, life is beautiful, even the dark stressful moments are. You just have to find that beauty and thankfully I have outstanding people in my life that ensure that I notice each of them.
About the Author

Jamie Magee has always believed that each of us have a defining gift that sets us apart from the rest of the world, she has always envied those who have known from their first breath what their gift was. Not knowing hers, she began a career in the fast paced world of business. Raising a young family, and competing to rise higher in that field would drive some to the point of insanity, but she always found a moment of escape in a passing daydream. Her imagination would take her to places she'd never been, introduce her to people she's never known. Insight, her debuting novel, is a result of that powerful imagination. Today, she is grateful that not knowing what defined her, led her on a path of discovery that would always be a part of her.

The fun Bio: I'm an obsessive daydreamer. Lover of loud alternative music. Addicted to Red Bull. I love to laugh until it hurts. Fall is my favorite season. Black is my favorite 'shade.' Strong believer in the saying: there is a reason for everything, therefore I search for 'marked moments' every moment of every day...and I find it.
