Dark Lure: Immortal Brotherhood (Edge Book 2)

  “Nope,” Bastion said, turning to walk away. He made it fifty yards that time then looked back.

  It took more focus, more pull. It took Thrash letting the chain on his beast have even more slack, but he pulled.

  Bastion was not only right before him but nearly fell on top of him because Thrash’s pull was so hard.

  Thrash caught Bastion before he swayed. They both tensed, understanding they were in some awkward guy embrace, but then something happened with Thrash’s beast; it settled, it felt a calm it hadn’t in forever.

  Thrash lost the tension in his body and pulled in his son in for a sharp hug, even patted his back once.

  Bastion stepped back, they both cleared their throat, pulled their shoulders back. “Okay, now that the awkwardness is gone, pops, let’s make this hard.” And with that Bastion took off in a jog.

  That game turned into some odd magic-grown-man-brute-hide-and-seek game, where Bastion went further and further into the Boneyard, hiding behind everything he could think of.

  It wasn’t always easy for Thrash. A few times he outright just couldn’t find Bastion and strained to end the game but Bastion would taunt him, ask if he always quit when it got hard. Thrash would curse and they’d go at it again.

  Because Thrash was pissed, the very next time he always pulled twice as fast with next to no effort.

  Thrash tried to learn from that, but his hang up was that it meant giving more and more slack on the chain he clenched his beast with. What he held back, that part of himself that was just a bit too dark, too mean to tempt. He had to force himself to trust that he could control it, knew when to turn it off and on.

  Bastion was jogging to find a better spot, one that would test Thrash a bit more, when he came across piles of sticks, a few feet high and in a straight line. There were three piles of them. There were clothes, broken pieces of furniture, necklaces, and just random stuff, but deliberately placed.

  Bastion’s curiosity stopped him. He was crouched down, slowly circling the sticks, trying to link the randomness. His feet were sliding through the thick ash, which told him more than a few fires had occurred here, when his foot tapped against something. When he looked down he saw a cloth laying in the ash. When he reached to pull it aside he saw the grip of a small gun. He picked it up then the cloth next to it. He recognized the scent, the wolf in him did, and he remembered the story, the rumblings of why they took Reveca away, the twenty-two they were looking for in the raid before that.

  He could feel Thrash’s energy pulling on him. For the last few times Bastion had fought his pull, something only a trained, natural witch could do, or rather sense was occurring—he was doing that to strengthen Thrash’s skill. At this point, Bastion was sure that even though he was miles away from Thrash, he’d still be strong enough to find and pull Bastion to him.

  Bastion shoved the twenty-two and the cloth deep in his pocket, even adjusted the way his loose jeans hung on his hips then gave in, let Thrash pull him across the Boneyard to his side.

  “Are we done now?” Thrash said with his arms crossed.

  “Yeah,” Bastion said with a lift of his chin and an innocent grin.

  When they started to walk back toward the garage Thrash asked, “How far were you that time?”

  Bastion ticked his head back toward the river. “Over there with some weird piles of wood, but…I fought you for a second so I might as well have been across town.”

  Thrash tried not to, but the slightest of smiles came to him. It faded though because he knew the one person he’d want to tell about mastering that skill was gone, lost in the pages.

  “What is the deal back there?” Bastion asked.

  “What? Your mom doesn’t still have one? That’s a cleansing pile.”

  “Do what?”

  “Bad energy. Sometimes you have to get rid of it.”

  “So you burn your shit?”

  Thrash laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know, man. I just know cleansing. Look, this life is on the edge. It can be intense. Stuff happens and you need to put it behind you, or at least right then you do.”

  “So I get pissed at you, I take your shirt then burn it, and you go away.”

  Thrash shook his head and shot a wry angled glance at Bastion then said, “No, you burn my shirt and what’s between us, the tiff, falls to ashes. Still there, but not in our face, only a foundation for the next go round. It gives you room to cope.” He elbowed him. “That shit you did today in the lounge—you got to watch it. Remember what I said about a mortal world, always on stage? You want revenge you have to say so, stake a claim. And when you face it we’ll all be there with you.”

  Bastion nodded once. Then glanced back at the piles in the distance.

  Chapter Three

  Reveca had the rug in her room pulled aside and the candles burning within the marked pentagram. She was at her dresser, staring into the mirror, deep into her own eyes. Her mind was replaying all that she knew of this hell, of her past. It was slowly thinking through every plot and ploy she had set in motion thus far.

  She did feel like she had her second wind, one that was stronger than it had been in recent memory. She wasn’t sure if that was giving her clarity or hazing a truth she didn’t want to embrace.

  One. Long. Deep. Breath. That act was pulling the hum, King’s energy, within. She was doing as Talon had said, using the weapons before her, using it to strengthen what had been weak for far too long. She was claiming her birthright in the bloodline that had bore the Dominarum Coven. A power she had hidden from in the mortal world; in the world, her Club which she and Talon had built side by side.

  Her body was tingling, had reached an odd high, one that made her gray eyes shimmer and glisten with tiny rays of light. Then there was a tap at her door; a thought from her opened the door wide.

  There Judge was standing dressed as he always was, a sleeveless black shirt, his Kut, loose jeans, a belt with the club symbol as a buckle. That same symbol was on the thick ring he wore on his right hand. His blond hair was waywardly tossed back, and his firm jawline had the beginnings of a beard that no one could really see for how blond it was. He would shave it away the first chance he got.

  Next to him was a man, if you’d call him that. He reached Judge’s six-three height, but his face was thin, sickly. Dark circles were present under his sunken bloodshot eyes and his hair was long and oily, pulled back. His dark shirt was rank with B.O., and his jeans were dirty. Overall he smelled like a stale ashtray—that mixed with the B.O. and liquor caused a rank cloud of stench that hovered near him and was now impaling Reveca’s room.

  Reveca furrowed her brow, nearly smiled. “You gotta be kidding me.”

  Judge cracked a sneer as the other guy turned in a circle. “I’m rocking this.”

  “You need ten showers when we get back or you’re never going to get laid again,” Judge said, trying to hold his breath between the words.

  It was Echo. He had shifted.

  “Whatever, this is what Knight said the dude looked like. Gotta play my part.”

  A playful shiver ran down Reveca’s spine. “So gross.”

  “Ah, you love me,” Echo said as he moved forward, holding his arms out for Reveca to come to him, to give him a big bear hug. He nearly caught her too, but only because she was laughing and trying not to breathe at the same time.

  That’s what she loved about her boys. They always knew how to get her out of her funk, no matter how deep it was. She wanted to laugh, wanted to feel this revenge she had planned.

  The conversation with Talon hours before was still bothering her a bit. Calm was never good with Talon. It meant he knew more than he was saying. But she had told him everything, so she could only assume the omen Evanthe had promised along with the guilt Reveca still felt was throwing her gut instinct—making her worry when there was no cause.

  “You sure we can do it this way? It would be way more fun going in with guns blazing, bikes roaring, putting the message out there loud
and clear,” Judge said.

  “It’s got to be quiet. Our wrath will be delivered when it’s due. Soon,” she promised.

  The boys nodded, then made their way to the circle and sat down. Judge made a face as Echo kept waving his arms trying to fan his stench around just to piss him off.

  “Where the hell did you get that shit? How can anyone stink that bad?” Judge asked before a slew of cuss words.

  “You don’t want to know,” Echo said as he bounced his brows up and down.

  Reveca was biting her lip, trying not to laugh as she took her place in the circle. Between them she laid out the images that Knight had printed for them—the exact location of where the witness was. Across the image was the dirt just before the building, tiny rocks as well.

  She closed her eyes, breathed in—easier said than done, but she did—and pulled the hum down into her core. She thought of all those she was protecting, all those in the path of the destruction Zale had made and asked a power she respected, had gratitude for, but would never really understand, to deliver her this hour.

  Reveca reached her hands out and felt both Judge and Echo take them.

  She set her intent, pulled with all she had, felt her soul vibrate, felt wind lick through the air, the heat of the candles which had expanded, and lifted around them.

  Then all at once Echo’s stench had company. It smelled like they were in a dumpster on a sweltering day in New Orleans.

  Reveca’s eyes flipped open as she felt herself being pulled up. Both Echo and Judge were there and not nearly as wobbly as she was. Her energy had pulled them forty miles away.

  They were in an abandoned apartment building which had been condemned years ago. Squatters assumed that meant free rent, a roof over their head.

  Litter was all over the halls: beer bottles, needles, along with fast food bags and cups.

  Judge nodded for Echo to go on as he defensively stood before Reveca, shielding her. Reveca was pulling in deep breaths with her eyes closed, trying to find her center, to gain her strength back once more.

  A minute later she was sure the shaky feeling was fading and her energy was coming into focus once more.

  There was no one near them except for Destiny Rimes, the witness.

  Overall the building had nine others they could sense. The other eight were on other floors, and from what Reveca could sense they were out cold.

  Echo knocked on the door, then banged, even leaned his head near the peep hole, made it look as if he were trying hold himself up. “Des,” he yelled in a voice that was not his. He pounded again.

  That’s when they heard the locks start to twist, the door open, then close as a chain was removed, and open once more.

  Standing before Echo was a girl with dark roots, which reached her sunken cheeks. The rest was oily and bleach blonde.

  Thick mascara was running down her eyes, which were bloodshot, and she was stark naked.

  “Where the fuck have you been, I’m so low,” she said as she pulled him in then closed the door, locking it back.

  In the center of the room there was a mattress with dirty sheets all in disarray. There was a small kitchen to the side that looked even smaller because of all the fast food trash and beer bottles on the counters along with swarms of flies.

  The apartment was hot, so hot that it baked the stale stench.

  “You’re not getting shit till I get paid,” Echo said, looking down at the bony girl. “I don’t see any cash on you.”

  “Maybe you need to look a little deeper, inside,” she said with a weak exhausted smile as she swayed toward him.

  Echo caught her arms. “Not this time. Shit cost money.”

  “I got money coming,” she said with a nod to her laptop. “When I charged it this morning down at the awful waffle I found two more emails they sent. They’re desperate. I’m meeting them tomorrow.”

  “You’re fucking with the wrong people.”

  She moved her head side to side in an indolent sway. “Nobody fucks with me. I know shit, too,” she said with a nod to her wall, where she had spray painted not only pentagrams but other mystic symbols. Beneath them were candles, voodoo dolls, and names.

  “Get my money or I’m out.”

  The girl swatted her hand then moved down the dark hall that led to the bedrooms she clearly wasn’t using.

  Echo leaned back, opened the door. An invited guest, inviting another.

  That is the issue with dime store wannabe witches. They don’t understand that there are loopholes in every spell. You have to be beyond precise when you protect yourself. Evil will find the one hole that you left open.

  Reveca would never call herself evil but right then, she was going to be evil to this girl.

  Once they were in, Judge moved every lock back into place before making a face at the room around him.

  “Told you I was on point,” Echo said in a quiet tone that was a second away from laughing.

  Reveca prowled the room, looking over the magic this girl was trying to use and understanding why it was so easy to get in her ‘home.’ Seeing the disgrace to the craft before her made Reveca feel better about this near silent kill. She, too, like the boys, wanted to use this girl as a message to the world to not fuck with them, but they had other fish to fry just then.

  At the very least Reveca was going to enjoy making it look like this girl not only died by her own hand but give all the little wannabe witches a message—power is a gift, not a toy.

  Destiny made her way up from the back hall clutching rolled twenties.

  “Holy shit you’re here!” she said with laugh. She gripped Echo’s shirt. “Told you babe, look at her, like, it looks real to me. Fuck a video, next time we’ll just make sure there’s a crowd, too.”

  The girl looked over Reveca nice and slow. “Shit, this drug rocks. You even look thicker, stronger.” She met Reveca’s eyes. “You got my hit. I either almost shifted last night or had a fucked dream.”

  Reveca lifted her chin slightly and the girl gasped as Reveca squeezed her with raw energy, then lifted her, suspended her in midair.

  Judge started to slowly prowl around her, looking deep into the girl’s mind. He was going to see exactly where she was plotting to take this course she was on, who she was working with. That information was going to help the Sons botch the next murder that was set to frame Reveca.

  They were not going to set up alibis with anyone, play these games with the lawmen. They were in control. If they knew who was going to be taken out next, then they could stop it. They were about to become some knights in shining armor and save that soul’s life.

  That would get them to the next step, and no doubt let the one behind all this know they’d awakened the wrong beast.

  Reveca looked up at the girl. “You blackmailed my Club.”

  Fear struck the girl’s eyes all at once. She started to whisper words across her lips, but Reveca lifted her finger and she stopped suddenly. The power to move her lips was no longer one she had.

  “You calling on a defense?” Reveca asked without an expression as she slanted her head slightly.

  “Something like this?” she asked as black smoke appeared out of nowhere. Whispers, dark and sinister, were coming from it as it snaked around the girls bony, nude body.

  The girl glared. What fear she did have was fading.

  “You think your skank ass can control this?” Reveca asked as that cloud moved all around her as she twitched in the air.

  “I don’t think you can. Go ahead, overpower me.”

  Reveca felt the girl try. The effort was like sensing a fly landing on your arm and swatting it away.

  “You see the body is a temple,” Reveca said. “Purity invites power within.” Reveca glanced around the hot, foul smelling room. “You have to cleanse your surroundings.” She tightened her stare on her. “And you have to have respect.”

  She paused before she went on. “It’s not just words,” Reveca said as she looked over the wall with the spray pa
int, down to the dolls on the floor where low burning candles were doing their best to stay alive in the sea of wax around them.

  “This for me?” Reveca asked glancing up at the girl.

  Her eyes glared but that was all.

  “Ants across my body,” Reveca said with weak furrow to her brow. “Like this?” she asked when she glanced back to the girl who was now covered in tiny black ants.

  She convulsed in the air trying to fight.

  “This one is fun, too,” Reveca said, looking to another script. “Snakes as my hair.” All at once the girl was sporting Medusa’s haircut, each snakehead licking her face.

  “What else do we have here,” Reveca said. “A strike to the hands, legs…were you crucifying me like this?” Reveca asked as the girl’s body mocked a crucifixion in the air. “Did you mean to stab my heart like this?” Reveca asked as a manic bellow came from the girl’s chest.

  Reveca took two steps toward her, but by the time she reached her all of the enchantments she had laid upon her were not only gone but had left no trace of their existence.

  “Illusion spells, one for you and I to share yet only you will sense—it’s meant to drive one mad.” Reveca lifted her upper lip and nearly smile. “Are you mad yet?”

  Realizing the girl could not talk Reveca gave her that option back. Her choice of words were, “Fuck you, whore. You’re already dead.”

  Reveca laughed. Echo and Judge both became defensive all at once, rage washing down their visage.

  “You have no idea how right you are.” Reveca let the girl digest those words for a few seconds then said, “Welcome to my world,” and with that Reveca pulled, dragged the girl’s very soul from her body and sent it soaring to her Edge.

  Echo caught the body before it fell to the floor then laid it across the bed.

  Judge went to the laptop, then the phone that was beside it, doing everything Knight had instructed him to do, sending files, erasing files.

  Reveca was doing her best to stand strong, to not let her boys see her sway. If she was doing anything today it was testing her limits. Ripping a soul from a body, one that was alive and fighting, was twice as hard as manifesting three people across town.