Disloyal Souls: Immortal Brotherhood (Edge Book 8) Page 14

  Dust reached his hand out to the side as a grimoire soared there from the top shelf. Once he looked over it, he sat it down on a side table then held his hand out for another.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea to ignore me?”

  “You’re not ready to listen. You’re not front and center right now. Might be better for you to go back to your master for now.”

  “Fuck off.” Master my ass, brother maybe. King’s legit.

  Dust sent the book in his hand back then reached out for another. “I know what your emotions are because both my parents are members of a Throng. By default, I sense emotions too.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Before today there were no Throngs.”

  “There’s where you are wrong. There was always a Throng, just not a functioning one. Still working on that aspect.”

  “I knew it,” Dagen said after staring down Dust. “Scorpio is your sire. Isn’t he? What was that cock block he was pulling with Adair a while back? Did he not approve and took one for the team?”

  Dagen was not a ‘beat around the bush’ kind of guy. He knew this asshat was a descendant of the Throng Dagen was just notified he was in. Basic process of elimination told him who was Mom and Pop to him. He figured something was up between Scorpio and Dust. They treated each other differently than the rest of the crew.

  Dagen may be all about one’s emotion, but he was gifted at picking up which ones were strumming through those he was around. Scorpio was pushing some serious buttons when it came to Judge and Adair, but his heart wasn’t in it. Not the possessive ‘she is mine’ one anyway.

  Dust was the only other male at the Boneyard that dared to look at Adair like she was something more than any other female. Dagen couldn’t figure out who Scorpio was trying to piss off, much less why. He honestly didn’t give a fuck. His job was to protect Adair. Who she wanted to hook up with was her business. Because yeah, when Dagen started his day out, sex was a means to an end. It meant nothing.

  Now it was a regret wrapped in sin in his newfound perspective. Which fucking sucked.

  “Scorpio was looking for a connection that wasn’t there.”

  “You were checking it out, too,” Dagen pushed.

  “I can’t explain this to you until you understand what you are.”

  “Fucking try me,” Dagen demanded.

  “Talon is born of a Throng. It doesn’t matter that he is on the outs with this truth. Ambrosia was not only born of Throng, but she devoured her Throng to gain power.”

  “Nothing groundbreaking here, man.”

  “Adair is their daughter. She and I are both children of the last Throng. We’re the last hope, the greatest asset. Even if your Throng falls apart, as long as I exist, there is hope I will find the rest of my Throng.”

  “Adair and you. I tell you what, that girl’s pedigree is getting a bit heavy,” Dagan baited. He knew Adair was a witch, more than likely had some kind of Voyager vibe in her, and more importantly, she was born with King and Reveca’s essence, making her a Dark Angel as well. So far, she’d only acknowledged the witch part.

  “I recognize her for what’s in her blood, but no, she’s not connected to me.”

  “So much for a last hope.”

  “She carries a seed. If not Little Dove, another child, or even generations down the path. Adair is a hidden survival. Nature always protects itself.”

  “Good to know,” Dagen said entirely too coldly. Old habits die hard.

  Dust stepped up. “If you are true to your loyalty to King and expect him to rise with other sovereigns and save this universe then this news should be a gift, not a curse.” To answer Dagen’s perplexed expression he went on. “Without Throngs it will only be a matter of time before King, or any others rising with him, becomes their predecessor. The lust for emotion is too great. Even with the best intentions and the most tested lifetimes, they will fail.”

  Something settled in Dagen’s chest as he digested this explanation. He still felt like an outsider to his people. He had no idea how he was going to reconcile with Zosime or reconcile with the justified death of Reveca, but he had gripped a degree of peace with this explanation.

  “See, that is why we don’t rush. You need time to understand this.”

  “I don’t have any time, and you know it.”

  “Zosime will not understand you,” Dust warned. “In a real way she has only had twenty years of life. This surge of power you all shared educated her on the ages of time but it’s a maddening dream to her, unbelievable until she sees with her own eyes. Even then, it will take time. Culture shock is a gross understatement of what she is going through.”

  “I’m not worried about what she saw, but what she felt.”

  Dust dropped his stare. “Which is why you need to feel a little less exalted when you see her again.”

  “She did feel it all, didn’t she?” Dagen asked across a pissed broken tone. He wanted to be wrong about this blunt fact.

  “You know she did.”

  “Does she understand how I got there?”

  “She’s going to have a harder time understanding why you are not openly willing to revenge her death.”

  “I know what this fucking is,” Dagen said pointing at him as he began to circle his prey. “You’re trying to turn me. You know my head is fucked up. You heard what King said. And now you’re going to bat for Mom and Pop. You want revenge and are going to play my situation to get it.”

  A half grin emerged on Dust’s lips. “I’ve had a long life, maybe not as long as yours, but long enough. I wasn’t there when Reveca committed the worst of her wrongs. I cannot justly say she has done anything to deserve my wrath, not yet. By all means, you know Zosime far better than me. There are, at best, a few paragraphs about her in the text I’ve read. I’m only stating cause and effect. I’m putting you on notice and telling you that you should question every step you take and consider the emotions of others before your own.”

  When Dagen said nothing, Dust added. “It’s our gig, the Throngs. And empaths.”

  “Listen to me. I need to see her. What happens will happen. Until I do, for all I know I’m suffering from a really fucking twisted spell.”

  “When you see her there will be no going back.”

  “What happened to you giving me some escape key?”

  “Not what I mean. When you see her, she’s real. And whatever bond you think you have now with her will be amplified by the multitudes. Good or bad, you’ll have to deal with it.”

  “What choice do I have?”

  “You could change your course now, let her sense how you feel, build trust that way.”

  “Change my fucking course—what do you think I am, a male whore?”

  “Not my business.”

  “Right, then. So, I need whatever care package you can set me up with, and solid directions.”

  Dust stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, and then spoke. “Did you really not know, all this time, that you were out of place?”

  Dagen shot his eyes up, in a short attempt at an eye roll. From day one, Dagen had sensed the revenge plot King was working through. On the same day, he vowed to honor him, not Revelin. Dagen was out of place, on purpose. Did he think the feeling of being so was richer than it should be? That depended on the day of the week and the shit Dagen was dealing with.

  “My business.”

  “Look, I don’t get it. Right now, I’m an overly educated immortal who senses more emotions than he cares to. I’m bored with the stimulation. I don’t know if it will be different when I finally do connect with my Throng, but it would be nice to know if the bond is aways there and ignored when needed, or something that has to be ignited.”

  “You’ve got awhile. You’ll figure it out.”

  His eyes smiled. “You think I gotta wait for all of you to spit out babies or some shit? You don’t get it— Adair holds a seed for a Throng, not mine. Just like I hold a seed. For all I know my Throng is walking this earth now, and
I just can’t figure out how to reach them.”

  “What does Scorpio say?”

  “We don’t speak about this, not in so many words and not at all over the last decades.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, man,” Dagen said. “If your people are Dark Angels like me, they’d only have a clue about this when they were starving, but when that happens, they are too ravenous to understand shit.” Dagen jutted his chin up. “Which is why we never starve. We need control. To be satisfied. It’s our power.”

  “Good enough,” Dust said as he walked away, doing as Dagen demanded, and began to pack a care package of grimoires.

  Chapter Two

  There are many moments that are disturbing in life. Naturally, longer lives have more chances to find odd discomforts. There were two that stood out to Scorpio. The first was when he looked in Toril’s eyes just after Reveca had violated his vim and forevermore changed him. The second was now appearing at the gates of the Boneyard.

  Home will not always be home. Who you are and who you will be will always be at war. The state of change is so constant that it seems as if it’s not occurring at all. Then one day, reality strikes you.

  Eons ago when Scorpio approached the only soul he had left, the woman he loved more than his life, he’d never felt colder. Toril gawked at him like he was a stranger. Worse, the energy had changed. Where he once felt free to be himself, good and bad at once was foreign to him. He was a stranger in his own house.

  Once again, he was a stranger in his own house.

  It was near dusk at the Boneyard which only seemed poetic to the deep thinker Scorpio had become. He may have lived with a true, private, agony the entire time he was a Son. But he had glory too. He had moments when he felt bonded, connected, as deeply as he did to the tribe that had reared him. It was home, an anchor to return to when nothing made sense.

  He’d only taken one step forward before the quiet chatter in the bays stalled out. The music in the lounge was still pounding. He could smell the food grilling out back, and hear the lazy laughter of riders telling tall tales, some truer than others.

  Steele was the first to take a step toward Scorpio. Knight flanked his right, Echo appeared at his left. It was almost fitting for Steele to lead this approach. In the early days, Scorpio had taken him under his wing. If there ever was a Son more at risk for becoming a Rogue, it was Steele. He wanted to die. Reveca bringing him back dishonored his Gods and assured Steele he would never see the woman or children he was grieving again.

  His natural aggression coupled with the spirit of a wolf made a dangerous combination. Steele pushed every button he could when it came to Reveca and Talon. To the point where Scorpio was sure he’d be standing over the lifeless body of Steele in no time.

  This all occurred when Reveca was quick to end any ‘mistake’ she felt she had made. Scorpio blamed himself for it. She couldn’t have him, so she strived day in an out to make him fear her and respect her power. Her greatest tool was the weapon of life and death.

  All Steele needed was control and reward once he had displayed it. His odd taste had made him one of the most charismatic dominatrices on the planet. Scorpio would never take credit for turning the male into a dom, he simply introduced him to an elite member of a private club. The rest was up to Steele, no one else. In the end, the practice taught Steele it was the submissive who was in control, not the dominant. A lesson that helped Steele and Scorpio alike settle with the disposition of their life.

  Steele had only been back with the mother chapter for a few years. He’d never say it aloud, but Steele sensed the air changing. Reveca always emerged from her down times with a thirst to kill. Scorpio was overdue for another lashing. Steele was the one that told Scorpio about King showing up. Scorpio knew then it was only a matter of time. Knowing and accepting are two entirely different things.

  Steele crossed his arms as Echo and Knight glared curiously.

  “Isn’t it Thursday? Do you not have somewhere to be?” Scorpio quipped knowing Steele had a routine he never varied from.

  Steele cracked a sardonic grin. “Been weeks.”

  “Not good,” Scorpio said giving him a once over, he could feel the tension in this male and had nothing to do with Scorpio strolling through the gates. If anything, Steele was relieved.

  He surely thought Scorpio would squash any bad rumors going ‘round with a few words and that life would make sense again.

  “Where have you been?” Knight asked. “Besides off the grid.”

  “There,” Scorpio said easily agreeing no grid was near him.

  “Not right,” Knight bit out. “You gonna pull some martial law shit you better at least have a fucking phone on you.”

  “Couldn’t be helped.”

  “Can’t be helped now either,” Echo spat not bothering to hide his disgust.

  He wasn’t wrong. Scorpio was sure by now the boys were in the know that Talon wasn’t hurtin’ for nothin’ anymore. Whatever grounds Scorpio had when this drama started were gone. Which basically meant nothing until one of three things happened.

  One, all of those who were at the original vote are present to pass a vote to cease the action. Two, Talon and Scorpio go to battle. Or three, Scorpio surrenders his control back to Talon upon Talon’s request.

  With Shade and Thrash MIA, option one was out. Option two would be the last one Scorpio would expect to happen. Option three made the most sense until how stubborn both Scorpio and Talon were was put on the table. Even without the stubbornness, there was a matter of reckoning between them.

  “He’s not here?” Scorpio asked, glancing around the Boneyard. Reveca wasn’t either, but pointing that gem out would only spark more of the tension he was trying to ease.

  “Nah, out with Taurus and Temple.”

  Scorpio cracked a half grin. “Glad to see him back.” No one ever knew why Reveca shielded Temple the way she did, there were even wild rumors he was a lover of hers long ago. The rumors never lasted long. Even though Temple had his quiet simple ways, it was no secret he was a talented witch. The kind you do not fuck with on your bravest days.

  Reveca prided herself on teaching a few of the Sons how to conduct magic. But it was Temple who made her lessons speak. Seeing a guy like Temple, not a rich dude like Jamison, or an asshat like Zale, gave the art more reason to be desired.

  “And Dust.”

  Echo’s grin was a bit mischievous, even though his emotions were leaning toward anxious confusion. “Never came back from our ride out last night. Might be chillin with the witches, could’ve gotten snagged by shifter fucks posin’ as the law.”

  “You seem mighty concerned,” Scorpio added sarcastically.

  His image hazed a bit, a classic shifter sign that he was battling with rage, among other things on the inside. “Look, I fucking take care of my own. But I sure as fuck can’t take care of someone who can’t communicate. Dust hasn’t dropped a single order since the vote. Keeps to himself.”

  Scorpio glanced back to the riders pulling out. “Is that why the lockdown is being ignored?”

  “No one is ignoring shit,” Steele said. “Talon has been texting in orders. This Club has to earn. Our takes are just sittin’ out there. A few surprise visits will change the tide.”

  “And if you get taken in?” Scorpio chided.

  “Then we will get out,” Knight said with a sneer as Echo laughed sardonically.

  “I’m sure Shade thought the same thing.”

  “Shade wasn’t thinking shit but to protect his female, and rightly so. Let ‘em take me to where they have them. We’ll get out.” Steele kicked his chin up. “You wantin’ to override Talon’s orders, call those riders back?”

  It was a test set out for Scorpio to fail or pass. Earning was a priority. It took money to show power in the world they were in. In the modern era, the Sons had taken to a way of earning that would leave the blameless better off. It wasn’t always the case. Old habits die hard, and men with nothing to lose care litt
le for Karma. If Scorpio took the right of anyone to earn their way, then he was just as big of a threat as Reveca made him out to be.

  Before he could reason the perfect answer that would both underline his authority and honor the right to earn, the distant roar of bikes was heard. More importantly, Scorpio sensed Talon approaching at speeds well over one hundred miles per hour. His spirits were high, higher than they had been in a long while.

  Scorpio turned and watched with the others as Talon and the others appeared, roaring into the lot on their bikes.

  And so it begins, Scorpio thought to himself.

  ***

  Talon had kept busy since he’d left Mathis hours before, with a handy little flash drive filled with both the old and new files of the Sons long forgotten enemies. The list of bullshit Talon had to discuss with Reveca was only getting longer. It was his job to kill these fucks. At the very least she could’ve made sure they went to whatever hell sick fucks go to when they do die.

  Talon had to see this shit with his own eyes, which wasn’t hard to do if he was keeping up steady rounds, letting his face be seen. All territory on the entire globe had been fought over and changed hands more times than history could ever record. Cities like NOLA were no different. Even these assholes that were above ground again, they would be looking to take back what the Sons officially claimed.

  Talon not only felt brand fucking new, but he also felt like a human lie detector test. He didn’t even have to ask a single question. Sensing emotions told him all they needed to know. Talon’s last stop on his victory tour was an old forgotten, basically hidden slave graveyard deep in the swamp. He wasn’t looking for empty graves, but the power Temple needed to get the Sons back on the streets again.

  Talon hadn’t spent his entire mortal life wrapped around one witch while pining for another without picking up a thing or two. A few decades back, when Reveca made it clear she didn’t want to pack and move on, something they had always done to shade their immortality, she came up with a way to get people to see an illusion when they laid eyes on the immortal Sons. Their minds would show them an aged version, not the barely twenty-five-year-old looking men they were.