Aftermath
Copyright © 2015 Jamie Magee
All Rights Reserved
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.
Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the right to resell, distribute, print or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload this book to a file sharing program. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
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authorjamiemagee.com
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Other Books by Jamie Magee
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
EDGE SEASON THREE (if you have began this series)
Resurrection
*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
Resurrection
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
“But the worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself; you lie in wait for yourself in caverns and forests. Lonely one, you are going the way to yourself! And your way goes past yourself, and past your seven devils! You will be a heretic to yourself and witch and soothsayer and fool and doubter and unholy one and villain. You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame: how could you become new, if you had not first become ashes?”
― Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
For Tyra Stevenson...thank you so much for your vibrant feedback and love for my characters.
Season Three: Volume Three
Episode Nine
Chapter One
The tight, sticky, horrid reminder of the latest hell that had engulfed Talon covered his hands and arms. He could feel how hard and crusty his kut and t-shirt had become. The smell of iron, and of a life long gone was the most nauseating sensation he could ever recall taking into his senses.
Why had blood never smelled this bad before?
His dark gaze stared into nothing replaying it all. It wasn’t real, one part of him would say. Then he’d drag all the strength he had left into his being and force himself to look down at his hands, to tighten them and feel Reveca’s blood tear at his flesh.
The look in her eyes, the fear, and the fight he hated himself for seeing was the coldest haunt he’d ever crossed. It was the last way he wanted to remember her, a failure that would never let him remember how good it once was between them, the glory they led.
He blamed himself.
Talon had spent eras blocking and protecting his female from anything or anyone who so much as looked like they could flare any degree of fear within her. Even when she swore she didn’t need him, he was there. At least part of him was— one of the Sons was always there keeping her safe and Talon in the know.
One by one the enemies of the old worlds flashed in his mind’s eye. Each enemy was ripe and fresh now that they had crossed his path hours before. Talon could remember them all as mortals. Some as boys. He remembered their death and the transition that was worse than a thousand demises. He’d read the look in their eyes then, the vow of revenge they made to the Gods they honored. He’d heard their prayers and watched their ceremonies with great interest. It was one of many times Talon reflected on the philosophy behind balance, and why it was such an easy concept to understand and the hardest to clench when in pain.
More importantly, why true balance was as elusive as well deserved karma. No matter how Talon hashed out what had occurred, and what was deserved because of it, he knew his emotions, and the emotions of those across from him would always shroud where the true lines of right and wrong would be, forever hiding where rightful vengeance would prevail.
The dead were celebrating somewhere tonight, proud that even though they were forgotten by history, they had found vengeance tonight. Talon was slowly sinking into a pit of misery that would never allow him or any of the Sons to be the same again. They’d be the Sons before Reveca, and after Reveca, but never who they were when they all arose that morning—certain they would always prevail no matter how bleak the circumstances.
It is said that a mother finds immortality when they have a child, gaze into the eyes of the generation they brought into the world. A child finds mortality when they lay their mother into the soil of the earth.
No immortal wants to see the possibility of mortality; they never want to hear that their biggest fear is a grim reality. Worse, they do not want to spend their long days contemplating what awaits the souls who defied nature and left the Reaper in their rear view for so long. Was there a wicked purgatory waiting on them? Something worse?
Every one of the men and women who had followed Talon and Reveca across generations would wrangle with these dark revelations, and Talon would be damned if he knew how to ease them. What promise could he make? Could he say she went peacefully? That she was at peace now? Could he spout some bullshit about how they should celebrate her life and not grieve? Fuck no. He could not and would not lie to his people. Even if he wasn’t strong enough to speak the truth...
His fists tightened as the memory of the battle roared in his thoughts, the sound of the clamoring swords meeting flesh... No mercy, no honor. Every one of those fucks made sure they had their stab at her. It didn’t matter that was she was gone, already fighting her way in another hell, they stabbed and roared relentlessly.
Talon could still see their faces. His mind kept flipping back to the last time he had seen them—the pain in their eyes had only become richer.
They should’ve slayed him. He should’ve been the one
taking the beating. Every fucking one of the beings who were present tonight were souls he’d slayed with spelled weapons given to him by a witch who had better days, and better reputations. He thought he was given them peace when he put them down. Tonight, they clearly showed him peace never came. They were in hell waiting for a chance to state their wrath.
When those men died, Talon remembered feeling his soul ice over and time had paused. The tiny voice in his mind promised him he would answer for this sin ten-fold. It fucking sucked being right— even worse, almost right.
Talon could remember confessing this fear to Reveca as they both lay glistening with sweat by a roaring fire as the cold winter snow fell silently outside. He could still remember how the furs felt against his skin, the way the fire reached deep into his gray witch’s eyes as she stared into nothing.
“We delivered the peace I had previously denied them. If they wish to return the same to us, I welcome them,” she whispered as her lips fell on his chest then slowly worked their way up his neck as her long, lavish legs straddled him. Once inside her, the demons he’d entertained faded, but they always came back the moment she was sleeping in his arms and he was alone with the haunts of his past.
To put Talon’s fears to rest, he promised himself honorable men would deliver him an honorable death. There was no greater desire for a man like Talon. Day by day, time shaped and reshaped who Talon and Reveca were. Legends and myths died as new generations marched on into an unseen future leaving the ghost in the past that was always left unspoken.
And now here he was, looking back at a haunted era on the night he least expected to face it.
Illusions do not feel this real...
Illusions were exactly what Talon assumed he was fighting when he left his Boneyard. The risen dead? Whatever. He was the risen dead, and if there was another fuck out there bringing back assholes who only wanted to die with honor and victory, then Talon would deal with them. But he doubted it.
Not a single blade had struck Talon.
Not one.
The blood he thought was his was Reveca’s. The pain he had winced with, roared through, was Reveca’s.
The haunts had banked and defended themselves the way they did in their mortal lives, but nothing Talon did brought them harm either. It was like he was the ghost— like he was the one haunting with a vengeance that was long overdue.
Saige’s cries, the shredding of her emotions was the most wretched grief he had ever sensed. Her pain woke Talon from the stunning reality he was in once Reveca and her murdering haunts vanished. At first, his steps were slow and unsteady as he made his way across the fog-covered swamp.
He’d failed Saige.
Years upon years, every time he looked in her eyes it pained him, and it was for fucking nothing. Talon had broken Saige a thousand different ways. On purpose, for spite, in ignorance, and by accident, she endured it all with the stoic grace of a goddess. Her only demand of him was to protect her sister. When it mattered, he hadn’t.
Talon’s fists balled as he felt her grief-stricken emotions and the rage of his men slug Talon in the gut over and over. The darkness in him blamed Saige for all of this. Why would she do this to him? Why would she send him to Reveca over and over, force compassion to grow, when she knew it would destroy all of them?
If it weren’t for Saige, this sorrow and emptiness would have never found Talon tonight. Yes, he would’ve grieved for his female’s twin, but not this deeply; not if Talon had it his way. Reveca would have only been a sister, not the woman who filled his bed and stood at his side. But Talon did it Saige’s way. He let the pair of them suffer, and he built a life that was shattered now. His sorrow should’ve never been this rich. Pain this wretched, fear this raw should have never been delivered to his people.
Yes, he blamed Saige. How could he not?
When Talon reached Saige, his dark stare was venomous, his words were prepared and as sharp as steel daggers. He would not accept this blame. The grieving female had made it her life quest to destroy him, and she had finally succeeded. Fuck. Her.
Then he saw Saige...
Judge and Jamison were the only ones with her. Judge vanished to join the chase for Akan long before Talon ever reached Saige. Jamison was struggling to hold Saige, but his emotion was just as rich, just as disbelieving.
Jamison made it all real. Never before had Talon seen this male expel any rightful emotion.
Tonight, he grieved.
With Talon’s heart thrashing around in his chest he exploded forward and stole Saige from Jamison. Once he had her, the fight in Saige stopped, but the soundless sobbing didn’t.
Talon moved forward but then stopped. He could sense his legions searching the swamps; he could still smell the dead. What confidence he had when it came to defending a female he loved was shattered. He stepped back, then stopped. Where the fuck was he going? The safest bet was his kingdom, but he couldn’t go there. He couldn’t show up drenched in Reveca’s blood.
Talon couldn’t go anywhere Reveca had ever been. He just couldn’t. Talon was glaring at the dark fog when all at once it vanished, and he was glaring down an entirely new set of trees. He blinked checking his clarity. All the smells he was standing in the middle of before were now just clicks away.
When he heard desperate, far too unbalanced words to his right, he glanced there absently to see Jamison speaking to the thin air. It was then Talon started to believe all of this could be a twisted Zen.
Had he really died? Was that it? Did Ambrosia kill him and the dream of her death, his victory, followed by the morning of his one true mate coming to him been real? It was fucking possible it wasn’t.
He and Saige never came back ‘round to each other as easily as they had when this day started. They always had a year or so of eye fucking before either made a move. The other shit? A Throng? Being the governing power that would keep assholes like King in check once they rose to their high and mighty thrones? Yeah, that was a fucking wet dream in and of itself. The perfect revenge delivered to the asshat who twisted Talon’s world on a dime—it would be King under his command and will...
Jamison nudged Talon forward, and when he did the world around him changed again. It was still a swamp, but the enemy was close, and there was a fucking mansion in front of him made of logs. It was hell, it had to be.
Scorpio and Dust’s scent was so rich there that Talon was positive they were both breathing down his neck. A hell full of traitors. Fucking perfect.
“Everywhere but here is compromised for the pair of you right now,” Jamison said as he ticked his head for Talon to go on. Before Talon made a move, Jamison vanished into thin air. Talon stood there with an absent look on his face holding a woman who was so far gone that he doubted she would ever recover from the pain. He’d never known Saige without Reveca, which made it easy for him to feel the absence she felt and to understand that losing a twin was a pain no words could touch.
For the first time ever, Saige had found mortality, she felt the possibility of it snake around her soul. What was worse, Talon was sure the lashing and fight he heard and saw Saige go through was not Saige’s fight, but her mirroring what Reveca was doing wherever she was now.
Talon should be there, he should be standing in judgment right at Reveca’s side, taking the same punishment. It was unjust for her to answer for his failures and broken promises. It wasn’t right.
Talon took one labored step and then another. When he reached the door and kicked it in, he found a familiar scene. It was the remnants of a spell that had been cast. The lingering odor of sage told him whatever happened there, it wasn’t an easy bout.
Room by room, with Saige in his arms, he searched the place. He was looking for Scorpio, for Dust. More importantly, he was looking for fucking Dagen. The asshole who didn’t show. The asshole who was loyal to the fuck who didn’t show. Almighty fucks!
They were nowhere. Unable to think with Saige still in his arms, he found a room and laid her on a bed. When he
saw the stains of her sister’s blood covering her, he laid the dark blame that was swimming in his head at this female’s feet.
Talon had taken bold, powerful steps out of the room and descended half of the first flight of stairs before he stopped. Where the fuck was he going? What was he going to say, what was he going to do? Not knowing, holding a blank slate for the first time in his life he eased himself down on the steps then began to slowly close and open his fists feeling the blood dry on his body.
Over and over he replayed it all. The faces, their stories. All of them were not there. He knew that he and Reveca had killed far more over the eras. Did that mean more were to come?
They had hurt people they didn’t realize they had hurt. It was the way life occurred, wasn’t it? A reaction to an action and so on, then some unlucky fuck who can’t hold on to one degree of optimism is struck.
Why them?
Why tonight?
Where the fuck was King?!
When the door creaked open, the only response that came from Talon was a low growl. When it opened wide, his breath froze and doubt slithered around him promising him his sanity was dancing with the Reaper.
The moon was behind her, but he could see the blond hair, he could see the tal,l lean frame, the proud shoulders. He could feel the determination and waves of untested power waving off her and calling out to the warrior in him to rise.
Talon trembled as the last shred of his sanity slipped a bit further. As he stared at this being, he had to question if this was a fucked up test. Maybe it was some kind of twisted proof that no matter what he thought he wanted or needed in life, he was meant to break the female’s heart who grieved one floor above him. He would always be the whipping boy to the one before him who had defied all laws of nature once again.
Was this a choice?
Chase this apparition, or fall to the bedside of Saige and beg for her to make this all make sense again? Was it one or the other? Was this the call to judgment and death?