47. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Celeste
Joy energized her like jet fuel. The moment Celeste teleported back to Ontario, she found Zeke and sent out a call to the other lieutenants to gather where their sovereign was.
He stood on the front porch of their home, a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice still in his hands. More than once, she’d passed by the room and overhead Zeke reading to Nina. It had been her favorite book.
Dusk was just beginning to darken the eastern sky. The humid June night whispered of the heat yet to come. As she drew closer, she could almost feel the headache he was fighting, yet another sign his psychic reserves were dwindling.
Zeke knew he was losing the battle. Beneath the strain of hosting a sprawling psychic network and mourning the loss of his mate, he’d come close to the edge. Despite the tragedy of their circumstances, Celeste had never been happier to share news.
“Sovereign—Isaiah’s awake!” she gushed. “There’s hope for Nina!”
He perked at the news, and she went into his arms, clinging to him with every ounce of positivity she could muster.
“Is he okay, Celeste?” he asked. “Is he himself?”
“Yes, sovereign. He’s sane and behaving normally.”
By now, several of the other lieutenants had teleported to them, immediately catching wind of the conversation.
“We have to talk to him, Celeste,” Zeke said, desperate. “Will you—”
“He’ll receive us now, sovereign,” she replied. “Isaiah has opened his home to the ones Key originally spoke to.”
Zeke nodded, understanding the urgency. “Tzuriel, maintain the territory. Kaien, Remmus, grab your mates and meet us there.”
Without delay, Zeke teleported them into Isaiah’s territory.
A quick glance around told her that many of the others were already there. The vampires and their mates, wolves, the Elementals, all of them must have been teleported in by Raeths of Isaiah’s own clan or Nero’s.
Now that her shock at seeing Isaiah had worn off, she recognized what she’d missed before.
Obviously exhausted, Isaiah had lost a considerable amount of weight. Fatigue clung to the Raeth like a bad sunburn, and every inch of him looked weather beaten. Reluctance shadowed his face when he caught Zeke’s stare, but to his merit, Isaiah didn’t cower at the intensity he found there.
The moment Zeke began advancing on him, his lieutenants pressed forward, ready to defend their weakened sovereign with their lives. If she hadn’t been shocked at her sovereign’s actions, she might’ve taken offense to theirs.
But when Zeke extended his hand, it was to grip the other man’s shoulder before drawing him into an embrace. Immediately, Isaiah stiffened, holding his breath in a way that made it clear he was still waiting for impending violence.
When none came, Isaiah’s frame relaxed, and thin arms reached up to return the embrace.
Zeke retreated. He gripped Isaiah’s shoulder and asked, “Was she scared, Isaiah? In the end?”
Isaiah instantly softened, and he sluggishly shook his head. “No, Zeke. Dedicated to the cause, yes. Resolute, yes. But scared? No. Nina knew what she was doing and what it would lead to. We all did.”
Zeke nodded silently, turning to find a seat somewhere in the crowd. Celeste watched him, wishing she could feed him energy through clan bonds. Now that she was cut off from him, she had no ability to do so.
Rukia quickly ushered Isaiah into an armchair, then perched studiously on the arm beside him. Undeniably, if any of them made a wrong move toward her mate, she’d had no qualms in taking out the threat. The same was true of the Sylth lieutenants that hovered around the room. None of them would allow Isaiah to be injured.
Isaiah leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. “I’ll tell you what I know. Key approached Nina and me four months before she disclosed the battle to us on Nero’s island.”
Drake asked, “You knew before the rest of us?”
“It was a necessity,” came Isaiah’s even reply. “Our research was tedious and time consuming, and it was imperative that we begin it immediately. For months, we came up emptyhanded, but in Nero’s archive, and the one below the vampire council building, we finally found what we needed.”
Zeke needed confirmation. “Which was what?”
“Records of sovereignties being transferred from one Raeth to another without bloodshed,” he nodded at Derikles, “and of using Key’s Link ability to combine our Reaper gifts.”
Kaien crossed his arms. “We had all believed Reapers couldn’t be touched by Links, nor Amps or Mirrors. What did you find that made it possible?”
“Nina found that if we bring our abilities closer to the surface, Key could grasp hold of them,” Isaiah grimaced. “We sought the Light.”
A brief lull as the immortals in the room pondered what he’d disclosed.
Gideon spoke after a few moments. “That’s why you asked how I kept my sentience while I became my element.”
Isaiah nodded. “Yes.”
“And you already knew,” Gideon questioned, his molten gold eyes betraying the deep emotion behind his ask.
“Yes. And I’m still glad she has you.” Isaiah’s features pinched in disdain after he spoke the words, and then he snapped at Gideon, “Stop making me feel sentimental. I hate that feeling.”
A round of laughter lightened the moment, and Drake clapped back, “Ah, there’s the Isaiah we all know and love. We missed you.”
“I’m certain you did no such thing, vampire.”
“Why did you keep it from us?” Locking eyes with Isaiah, Zeke demanded answers. “You and Nina and Key—none of you would explain your goal, and Key purposefully kept us in the dark about what you three would do that day.”
Isaiah’s calm facade shattered. “It doesn’t matter that we kept it from you, from any of you. What matters is it worked . I can’t apologize for keeping you in the dark because I’d do it again in a heartbeat. So would Key; so would Nina.” He shook his head bitterly, his distaste for the question apparent. “You have no idea what awaited us should we have failed.”
“Then explain it to us,” Zeke urged.
“You don’t understand. We knew the risk because we’d seen it.” Having dropped that bombshell, the other sovereign sat back in his chair as though exhausted—and he probably was. “Key showed Nina and me the alternative futures. Fifty-three times, I saw my son die. Fifty-three times I saw Rukia murdered.”
Isaiah disclosed the truth. “There is no cost I would not pay to see them in a future where they could live. No one I wouldn’t deceive, nothing I wouldn’t give. Key, Nina, and I: there was nothing we wouldn’t have done in pursuit of the only future that was worth living.”
Taking a deep breath, Isaiah closed his eyes. The Raeth was clearly in pain, pushed to his limit by giving them the information they coveted. Through the mating bond with Derikles, Celeste had been inducted into his clan. In the next moment, she realized what was possible. She funneled energy to the ailing sovereign, giving what she could to a man she didn’t truly know. His sacrifice had been significant.
“You’ve paid a great price.”
It was Celeste’s soft voice that shed light on Isaiah’s plight, but it was Jaeda who moved to ease what pain he was in. Beside him, Derikles stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. As if knowing what Celeste was doing, he gave her an appreciative nod.
Eyes snapping open the moment Jaeda’s palm touched his shoulder, Isaiah merely said. “And it’s worth every penny. And before you go getting all sentimental, stop. My motivations were purely self-serving.”
“Let me guess,” Nova grinned. “Rukia and Isaak?”
“Precisely.” Then, offhandedly, Isaiah muttered, “It’s a good thing we’re in peace time.”
A comment that spoke volumes. It drew attention to the fact that Isaiah couldn’t defend his position as sovereign in the state he found himself in. Any challenges to his title might very well claim his life—had they not been in the safe century following a Heat.
“Was Tyee the only one that was the exception to the rule?” Gideon asked. “Or were there others who knew about what you planned to do?”
“Cassandra knew, but Key said she’d recused herself from any further involvement following the event where she purposefully misled her sovereign.”
Misled her sovereign .
Celeste’s throat thickened, knowing that Cassandra’s deceit had led to Nina and Zeke’s mating. Another one of Key’s strings being pulled. Chancing a glance at her sovereign, she saw the same emotion mirrored on his features.
“Key facilitated our victory by maneuvering our lives around a single, central goal,” Isaiah continued. “What she did should’ve been impossible.”
“My mate lies near death, as does Key. While you’ve returned to us, Isaiah, neither of them has progressed further.” Zeke’s despair was present in every word. “In what world is this a victory?”
Isaiah’s features were cast in sorrow. “Zeke, you have to understand. I never expected to wake up. None of us did . But that doesn’t change the fact that we gave what was ours to give, and I’ve no doubt that Nina and Key would do it again, even knowing this outcome.”
“Did Key give you any indication about what would happen after?” Nero asked.
“None. Other than the future where the immortals live—and prosper—she saw nothing tangible after the battle. The only exception was the fact that the three of us would be … compromised immediately following it.”
“Then how did she know that this path was the right one?” Blair asked. “That it’s not leading to another confrontation, another Citizens ?”
“Because while her foresight of the other fifty-three futures only showed death and destruction, this one showed peace.” Isaiah was panting now. “The only one that showed peace and prosperity for the immortal nations.”
“How did Key tell you all of this?” Zeke asked. “When?”
“Key requested my presence—and my discretion—and to meet her in a specific location at a specific time.” Fatigue jaded Isaiah’s gaze, but he continued speaking. “When I teleported in, it was to find Key and Nina already there, and Cassandra Shielding the conversation from afar.
“When Key met with us, she told us of the battle where we’d fight for the future of the immortal nations and that she’d foreseen the Link of our abilities.
“We were commanded to scour the archives of every major clan, every ancient library, and every historian we knew, and it was imperative that we begin that day. She forbade us from telling anyone. Even our mates.” Isaiah pinched the bridge of his nose. “In my research, I found the answer to shifting a sovereignty to another without death—and that’s what I did only minutes before Key Linked Nina and me.
“In the end,” Isaiah continued, “she said that our victory was assured if Nina and I gave our lives, and only if we give our lives.”
Silence. Oppressive, it wove through the gathering of immortals. Every word Isaiah had said, every thinly veiled threat, every bone-crushing truth: he hadn’t softened the blow at all. What he had heard, he’d shared, and it curdled Celeste’s blood.
“I won’t share with you the visions she showed us; I’d wish no one that torment,” was Isaiah’s final comment. “But I will say this: to be in this future, to know that we won: it’s a blessing, and one I’ll gladly take advantage of.”
Across the room, Derikles’ eyes found Celeste’s. The intensity of how he looked at her—like he’d tear the world apart to stand beside her—mirrored the profound sense of love that beamed through their mating bond.
“We need to talk about Rayn.”
Celeste glanced at Nero, knowing the sovereign had been hosting the traitorous Raeth for more than a month. Now, among this audience, it was a pressing concern.
“Should he stand trial?”
It was Drake who spoke the question that was undoubtedly on more than one mind. After interrogating him, Nero had thrown the clanless Raeth back in a cell.
“It’s a good question, Drake,” Celeste replied. “As many of you know, Zia, Jeremiah, Derikles, and I have been writing the vision for the immortal governing body. Rayn has been a topic of discussion several times, and because of him, we’ve created a set of rules that outline punishment.
“Current state, the vampires have the Council, the wolves have Aidan, and the Elementals have Gideon. The clanless Raeths are under no universal law, and sovereigns act alone. Moving forward, we enact guidelines for interacting with human populations and the other immortal breeds—rules that all must follow or the governing body steps in. We strongly urge that if an immortal’s risk to our society is too great, then they are either imprisoned, Locked, or killed.”
“In Rayn’s case,” Derikles added, “he’s already proven what he’s capable of. He can’t be allowed to live.”
As Celeste studied the faces around the room, every person was aligned. “Then it’s agreed. Rayn will pay the ultimate price.”
Though she supported the decision, a part of Celeste hurt for the boy who’d grown up alone, outside of the security of a clan. In the future, she hoped that the organization could bridge the gap between those who were suffering and those who sought to prevent it.
Zeke cleared his throat. Several days had passed since he’d asked for a gathering with the intent to share his dilemma. With Isaiah taking back his sovereignty—and then awakening—it’d temporarily been put on pause.
“There’s another topic I must bring before this delegation. Though it pains me to say it, I cannot maintain the dual sovereignty of my clan,” he began to the gasps of shock around him. “The drain on my psychic energy is too great, and it depletes me faster than I can restore it. I bring this to you knowing that we continue to be allies in this post-war period—and I ask for assistance.”
Zeke turned to Isaiah. “I need your help in overlaying the structure of the clan for a new sovereign to take over. I’m willing to sustain it while I can, but—” he paused, “it will not be long.”
Celeste’s eyes burned at the admission. Knowing that he was suffering, slowly being drained by a clan he loved, was a torment. As a lieutenant, there was nothing she could do to help him more than she already was doing.
“If Nina had known, Zeke,” Nero said softly, “she wouldn’t have put you in this position.”
A tragic smile. “I know.”
“You’re currently acting as sovereign to over thirteen hundred Raeths,” the other sovereign remarked, attempting to bring humor into the depressing conversation. “No clan that large has ever been detailed in any archive. I think we can safely say it’s a world record.”
Chuckling, Zeke’s weariness showed in his weak shrug before he gestured to Eden. “It’ll be well documented, I’m sure.”
The immortal historian gave him a solemn nod.
“We will need to break apart the clans,” he continued. “When we attempted earlier with Celeste, it caused psychic shock. If we can figure out a way around that, we can shift the networks back to their original frames.”
“That doesn’t answer the question of who’ll take them when you’re out of commission, Zeke,” Isaiah replied.
“Nina’s my sister, and I’m her second,” Kaien said. “I’m happy to stand in her stead.”
“Tzuriel has offered to take over the Danada clan while I recover,” Zeke added. “The only thing we need now is to lay the foundation. Derikles, Isaiah, will you be willing to assist?”
Derikles stepped forward, gently putting his hand on his sovereign’s shoulder. “I’m familiar enough with what he did that I could lead the effort, and I’m already rooted in Nina’s clan. It will take time to do well, but Celeste and I will partner together to make it go quicker.”
“Good,” Zeke replied. “That’s good. I’ll hold out as long as I can. A solid foundation for a new sovereignty is imperative. I will aid when I’m able, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to offer much.”
“For the time being, Zeke, conserve your strength,” Celeste said. “We’ll take care of the rest.”
The pain in Celeste’s voice must’ve inspired something in Derikles, because in the next moment, he was striding for Zeke. When he reached him, an unspoken conversation passed between them, and Derikles gently gripped the other man’s shoulder. A barely perceptible pulse of strength laced the air.
Celeste had never appreciated him more.
“Several weeks ago,” Nero said, “a pair of humans trespassed on our soil. While nothing came of it, and we quickly urged them away, the intrusion was not the first of its kind, nor will it be the last.
“Humanity will continue to discover us,” he continued. “Key may have prevented the Citizens from exposing us this time, but who is to say that we won’t fail to prevent it tomorrow, or the next day? It’s worrisome, and something we need to address moving forward.”
Remmus’ face was grave as he said, “Society has become fueled by technology, and soon, I fear that technology will out our secret.”
There was a pregnant pause as everyone in the room processed the thought. Celeste could admit that it’d make life easier for them—but if it turned back on them, it could spell doom. What Key had worked her entire life for was on the line.
“Is it better to reveal ourselves first?” Nero asked the group. “To come in the name of peace?”
Eden straightened where she sat next to her mate. “It’s worth pursuing, if only to discuss what the fallout might be from going public. I was recently human—as were Toni and Lucy. And Key’s mate, Jax, could help us. He has experience with the Army and could tell us what public opinion might be.”
“It’s definitely something worth discussing,” Zeke confirmed. “But we can’t fail in this, friends. If we fail, their sacrifice means nothing.”
Celeste knew the stakes were high. Once they revealed themselves to the humans, there would be no going back. If things took a wrong turn somewhere, their future could end up just as bleak as Key’s original visions.
Rukia, having watched the building conflict with keen eyes, had turned her attention back to Isaiah. Long, graceful fingers stroked a pattern into his shoulders.
Guilt made Nero’s face pinch before he said, “We won’t solve all the world’s problems tonight. Rest, Isaiah. Recover your strength. I believe we can all agree that you’ve earned a bit of time to put your feet up.”
Isaiah offered him a bland look. “If I put my feet up on the coffee table, Rukia would beat me for scuffing the furniture.”
“Damn right, Raeth.”
“We’ll take our leave,” Zeke said. “We’ll keep you all updated on any progress with regards to Nina and shifting the sovereignties.”
“I’ll expect to hear good news soon, then.”