Priest and his Anarchist

Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

priest

T here are parts of this life that I don’t understand. Like apparently everyone seated around this table are the most powerful people in the world. In this entire spectrum that we call world , it comes down to these five people and their organizations. Call it the Illuminati or a cult.

Everyone who suspects it is almost always on track. No, you’re not imagining it, and yes, there is a higher power. The tinfoil hat jokes only exist because we’ve planted people out there to doubt you.

Personally, I don’t give enough of a fuck to know about these particular families or how they’ve become who they are, I just know that the person sitting in front of me right now has an eye problem.

I lean forward, and Archer Thorn stops talking.

Flicking my ash in the tray, I gesture for him to continue.

It’s my first gathering. They’re on edge.

To my right is Archer Thorn of Thornhill, and from him onward, Christopher Lincoln, Seth Vant Leven, Malachi Sev, and—the door behind me swings open, her footsteps light as a feather. With her face veiled behind sheer crimson, she slips into the chair farthest from mine.

A Shadow Maiden is more of a presence and less of a human. She’s the staple of divergency, hung out in front of the masses like a toy. They say she’s the peacekeeper. I’m guessing people are only intrigued by her because she carries herself the same way a requiem does during a funeral service.

Archer, who I have a fucking bone to pick with because now I know for a fact Luna hadn’t been with him, and now, I need to figure out why the fuck he thought he’d hide it from me. Trying to figure out anything going on in this world is useless.

Not even DaVinci himself could crack our code.

“What I’m saying is we can’t have him in office. Since Hector Hayes, no offense,” Archer mutters in my direction. He and I own different sides of the same scale, so there’s a mutual level of respect that has always been shared between us.

Archer continues. “People are wanting change. They don’t want to see a gangster in office anymore. We can’t put Dominic Vant Leven in.”

Seth laughs, but it’s not kind. I’m beginning to learn that although every person seated here tonight is dangerous, weapons being left at the door before entry isn’t needed.

Seth for one, could have you killed before you walk into any room, Malachi would slice you in fifteen different ways and gaslight you into thinking you made him do it, and Archer? Well. Archer’s particular poison isn’t something I’m familiar with.

That annoys me.

Which, in turn, makes him interesting.

“I get what you’re saying, but contrary to that, Hector—” Seth pauses a moment, bringing his dark eyes to mine. I don’t know as much about the Vant Levens as I should, but everyone in this room shares a common foundation. One that’s untouched and important. They protect it like it’s the Bible.

I should probably learn that before I do something in character and kill everyone sitting in this room. It’d take me less than five minutes, starting with the strongest here.

My eyes land on Archer.

Seth continues, distracting me from the bloodbath of a century I’ve created in my head. “—completed two presidencies. If he was bad, how’d he manage that?”

“Because when people are left with two, they usually have to pick one or they get thrown in jail,” I answer, bored. This idiot. I’m seriously considering asking how this team was created. “It’s law to vote. People usually choose the one who talks the most shit.”

The reminder of my ancestors creating this hellish cult of The Echelon of the Fallen.

Fallen.

Interesting choice of word, since not a single one of these motherfuckers have fallen an inch from the thrones they are so privileged to sit on.

I get why it was formed. No matter how much power the Elite Kings had, we’d never have it all if we didn’t have allies. We need a sovereign who would be in a political field of ruling—the current argument at hand since my pop was president—a genius, the mind of a hacker, who can control every aspect of technology no matter how advanced—Seth! A financial mastermind, with his hands in the honeypots of all trading and a background of the rich and poor, he knows how to manipulate his way around every bank account—Vant Leven! And the enforcer of power dynamics and manipulation. With a ranking and power that has an invisible pull on every aspect of the world, this is The Echelon’s biggest secret. They are the “How the hell did that happen?”

They are us. The Elite Kings.

The rest of the conversation continues, before Vant Leven moves on to what’s happening in finance and who is running the streets with skrilla control.

Archer turns his chair toward me, spreading his legs wide as they all continue in the background. I wouldn’t want beef with a single person in this room, but they wouldn’t want one with me even more. The only people capable of taking out either of the organizations in this room, are those sitting in this room.

It’s a simple case of keeping your enemies close.

“What’s your vote?”

My eyes land on Archer. “You.”

He tsks under his breath, his finger working his upper lip. “You give me too much credit, Hayes.” A beat of silence. “Especially since you found out I lied to you.”

I’ve thought about this a thousand times since figuring out she wasn’t with him. It made sense in a way that it didn’t. Which is exactly where you start with anything to do with a King.

My chair squeaks when I turn to him. “You didn’t lie. You kept a secret. They’re two different things. One requires trust, and the other is a symptom of loyalty. My only question is—” I flip open my Zippo, nicotine leaves drying on my lip. “Ever cheated on anyone, Thorn?”

There are three things in this world that I’m sure of. One, Archer Thorn will be running for the next presidency. Two, what’s about to go down tonight is pure insanity. And three, not a single person walking this earth can tell me that Luna Nox isn’t mine.

Deacon kicks the door closed, holding his keys in his hand. Finding out we had another brother wasn’t at all shocking. The Kings are anything but breeders.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, tossing his duffel bag onto the floor. Beneath a ceiling of darkness is a puzzle as a playground for anyone who deems worthy enough to see it for what it is.

Some call it wonderland.

I call it home.

“I didn’t know that I was coming home to all this drama, I mean, damn…” He reaches out to touch the gold switches, his head tilting to the side. He slid into our group as if he’d been there since birth. Annoying, since I barely tolerated him at the beginning.

“How was the flight?” I ask from behind my glass as he shifts further into the house.

“Long. We’ve got problems.”

I pause, bottle in hand as I look at my half-brother. “Does Vaden need to move into his role sooner?” I hoped he wouldn’t until the end of the year. I need to watch his movements.

Deacon doesn’t answer, the same vacant look I saw in his eyes when Halen dragged him back from whatever hellish place she found him.

“Deac?”

“Hmmm?” He shakes himself off and runs his hand down the side of his face. “Maybe. Might need to be sooner than later.”

This isn’t good. I don’t bother looking at Vaden because I already know he’ll be glaring at me with the same look he gave when I told him he couldn’t take over Vitiosis yet until the end of my first year.

Deacon lowers himself onto one of the leather sofas beside the bar, still not having taken his eyes off Vaden.

“What’s going on with him? How long have I been gone?” He doesn’t bother to hide his question when he notices the distant gaze in Vaden’s eyes.

I hand him a glass and take the spot on the other side. Leaning my head back against the rim of the chair, I stare up at the ceiling.

“Everything has changed, yet seemingly staying the same.”

“Hmm…” He stares down at the liquor, and I roll my eyes.

“The beer is in the fridge.”

“Thank God.” He slides the glass I poured him across the table that separates us and makes his way to the bar. “I need to ask, though. Is this gonna be a problem?” He jerks his head toward Vaden. “I mean, for whatever he does for the society. Will this curse be an issue?”

“No.” I clear my throat.

Vaden’s head is bowed, allowing his short dark hair to fall as the muscles in his arms tighten. He’s conscious and can hear us, but he’s…losing.

“If anything, it’ll help him.”

Deacon falls back into his chair, changing the subject. “You never did tell me the purpose of the Hunt?”

“You’ve never been on one, that’s why.” I don’t bother to hide the smirk on my lips, since I’m pretty sure Deacon is already interested.

“I’m intrigued.”

“Well don’t be, because you won’t be attending one.” If I even continue them, since they don’t seem to be doing what I intended them to do, and now with Danny Dale out, Moses is far too volatile to be anywhere near the vicinity of the EKC. The mannerisms of the Gentlemen aren’t impressive, and as far as Moses goes, he’s an example of an offspring well undercooked to be running a family business like the one his grandfather built.

With walls painted a deep shade of murder, the clock hanging on the wall continues to tick.

“They’re always late,” I murmur around the cloud of smoke. “Why are they always late?”

“Maybe because your lovely wife decided to off Danny Dale.”

I freeze, my eyes flying up to where Vaden is now standing. “Vade.” It’s a growl that rattles the cage of the animal that threatens the surface any time she’s near.

“River already filled us in on her royal assassin queen.” Halen’s heels clink as she lowers herself on the chair opposite mine. “Not that I’m complaining. She definitely has it in her, if you know what I mean…”

She tilts her head, and I know she’s about to say something that will both piss me off and make me want to kill her. That’s saying something, since I don’t kill when I’m mad. “Or maybe not, since you still seem agitated.” Leaning forward, her eyes catch mine. “Are your tricks not working, dear brother? I’d hate for you to put all this time into her for it to fail.”

My jaw snaps closed.

The fireplace burns heatwaves into the soft melody playing in the background, as a door opens and footsteps patter over the concrete.

Vaden turns an inch over his shoulder, hiding his smirk.

“You’re late.” I don’t bother looking. They bore me.

“Did you do it?” Moses advances into the living room, and Vaden puts his body between me and him, a snarl on his mouth.

Standing to my height, I glare down at Moses. “You came here to ask me if I killed your old man?”

Without answering, he hands me a phone.

I stare down at the photo. Danny Dale’s lifeless eyes peer through the lens, his forehead split in half. I shrug, handing Moses his phone back. “Impressive work. Wasn’t us.”

Moses’s jaw bounces. “Nothing happens on the streets without your go-ahead, Priest. If I find out that you’ve broken treaty?—”

“—you’ll what, Moses?”

His eyes fly to Vaden. “Consider it up for debate.”

“Leave, Moses, while you still have your legs.” Vaden steps into his space.

Rolling my eyes, I lower back to my chair as Vaden pushes Moses and his boys out of the house with a slam of the front door.

“Did you order it?” Halen’s the first to break the silence.

I clear my throat. “No. No one did.”