Chapter 25
Wilder Thorne might have been fifteen years Damian’s junior, but he carried himself like a much older man.
Perhaps it was the grief he’d suffered from believing Abigail Monroe had passed away during their mountain climbing expedition.
Or perhaps he possessed an old soul. But either way, Wilder was joyless, and Damian hoped to change it.
“What do you know of the Arcane Devourer?” he asked.
The Traveler’s brows shot to his hairline, and he shared a wary glance with his companion.
“Morcant?” Castor asked sharply. “He’s here?”
By his future friend’s reaction, the man wasn’t wildly popular. “I see you know of him,” Damian replied.
“Yeah, so do you. Later.”
“What the hell is an Arcane Devourer?” Jonas asked, reading the room correctly.
Damian hated instilling fear in anyone, but cautioning them against the fight to come was imperative.
“He is a powerful bastard who survives by eating the energy of those around him. The more chaotic and strife-filled, the better,” Wilder explained in his stead. Turning his attention to Damian, he asked, “What does he have to do with Abbie? There’s a connection, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“I believe she may be with him.”
The long list of expletives Wilder released would burn anyone’s ears, but it was Castor’s reaction that was the more interesting of the two. He paled and swayed.
If asked, Damian would’ve said nothing could faze the man, but of a certainty, the idea of Abigail in the clutches of Morcant did.
“We have to find her, right now. That monster, he…” The stark pain in the Traveler’s pale-blue eyes affected Damian strangely. A feeling of déjà vu struck him, though they’d never met before. “I know you don’t want me to tell you, Dethridge, but—”
“Don’t. If you’re standing here, things turned out the way they were intended.”
“But if I can save you the grief—”
“You have the potential to make things worse, Mr. Castor. Should I do the opposite of what my future self does to avoid an outcome, I’ve the potential to create an even worse ending.” He smiled. “But I thank you for caring enough to try.”
“Enough fucking around with chit-chat. How do we find Abbie and off the bastard?” Wilder demanded.
“First, you need to remove your shirt and lie down. I’ll finish what Evie began and heal your back fully.” So saying, Damian gestured to the bed. “My understanding is Morcant has been searching for the source of the power surges that sent six of you here.”
“Six!” Castor shook his head. “No, at most three. Abbie, Wilder, and me. No one else came through with us.”
“According to the Authority, they came through in the days before her, two years ago. Apparently, the portal ejected a total of four people during Abigail’s tumble through time.”
Wilder paused in undressing. “I don’t understand. We came straight through. It was morning on both sides of the portal. Granted, the day might’ve shifted, but the date should be the same, surely?”
“What was the date you left?” Damian asked.
Wilder and Castor exchanged a glance before he said, “Tuesday, September the second. Why? What is today’s date?”
“September the fifth. And if you’ve been here twenty-four hours, it means you arrived on the fourth, two days after you stepped into the portal.”
“It couldn’t have taken that long to cross the threshold. That’s not how travel works,” Castor protested.
“Yet it did. Based on the report, the time disturbance was a total of four days the first time. One for each person, it seems. The first was a female witch. Next, a male, followed by another male the day after, and finally, Abigail.”
“But Wilder and I arrived together.”
“We were touching. Would it have made a difference?” Wilder asked.
“Possibly. Damian?”
He gave it a moment’s consideration and finally nodded. “I agree. It may have been the difference between arriving separately or alone. But Abigail was the only one Stands-in-Shadow found.”
“So where did the others go?” Jonas asked. “Why haven’t we heard from any of them in two years?”
Damian shrugged. “My source, Isis, has said the first woman, a witch, crossed into the Otherworld. The two mortal men are with Morcant.”
“The female, she died immediately?” Masters asked, breaking his silent watchfulness. The probability was high he was trying to stay unnoticed, fearing he’d be called upon to accept his fate.
But Damian wasn’t here to push any agenda other than stopping the Arcane Devourer from feeding on Abigail’s power to make himself invincible.
The Authority realized their cock-up too late in their game.
While they’d gambled on her falling into more trouble, they hadn’t planned on Morcant.
With a Traveler’s abilities, he’d be unstoppable, able to pop throughout time to steal what he desired, whenever he wished.
“Yes. She was the wife of a guy by the name of Silas Hastings. He—”
“He’s the leader of the Silver City Gang,” Jonas finished for him. “Things are dire. Those boys kill first and ask questions later.” He met Wilder’s worried gaze. “Some don’t treat women kindly. Red banned them from The Velvet Ember.”
“Why haven’t you done anything about them?” Wilder asked. The suppressed fury in his body was something only Damian could feel, and the guy did a marvelous job of hiding it behind a mask of icy calm.
“The posters didn’t come through until after they’d left town. They haven’t been back,” Jonas explained. “The other towns around haven’t been so lucky, but their posses usually come back lighter than they went out.”
Castor swore. “In other words, you have a lack of recruits willing to bring them to justice.”
“Oui,” Draven said. “But we will this time. La dame will not suffer.” Meeting Damian’s gaze, he asked, “What would you have us do, Aether?”
“First, we heal Mr. Thorne completely, then we set out to find these men. We will divide into three groups and take the surrounding towns.”
“Why not scry?” Castor asked him. “Your magic is strong enough to get a result, even if theirs isn’t.”
“I’ve tried. The closest I’ve come is the caves by the portal access.”
“What about Stands-in-Shadow?” Wilder asked as he lay facedown on the mattress. “Doesn’t he live in that area? Perhaps he saw something? We could teleport to him.”
“I’ll go,” Draven said.
“Wait.” Castor downed another healthy sip of brandy, and Damian suppressed a wince. “Abbie’s bracelet.”
“What about it?”
“Can it be unlocked from here? If she is free to teleport, might she go to where she always ends up, or perhaps back here?”
Damian smiled to himself as he watched these men formulate a plan.
Deep inside, he sensed the importance of their coming role in his life, but his ability to see the future was limited to a few months at most. They worked well together, these four, though only two would be needed.
Which two remained to be seen, but he strongly suspected they were Draven Masters and Alexander Castor, with their next-level gifts.
“It’s a clever idea, Mr. Castor,” he said.
“Just Castor or Alex, anything else is annoying, Dethridge.”
“Duly noted.”
“Al got that from you, too, I see.”
Damian couldn’t wait to meet the man.
“I need privacy,” Abbie stated, crossing her arms to show she meant business.
“You’re not getting it,” Silas replied coldly. “Take Royal or Jennings, your choice.”
There was no choice at all. “Royal.”
“That a girl. And hurry, we don’t have all damned day.”
“Dick,” she muttered, careful to wait until he was out of range. Royal had been correct; the guy no longer possessed a heart.
Silas paused by his brother to exchange words. Royal glanced in her direction before nodding and striding toward her.
“I hear you need to use the privy. Need me to carry you, Fire Cat?”
“I can walk.”
“You can limp,” he retorted with a smirk.
“Just show me where it is from here,” she ordered, dropping her arms to her sides. “I’ll manage.”
“Sorry, but Silas doesn’t trust you not to run.”
“For real?” she scoffed. “He believes I’m able to walk the distance from here to Perdition? I don’t even know where the fuck we are.”
And it was the god’s honest truth, too. Sometime in the wee hours before dawn, they’d blindfolded her and set out for this cabin. They’d only just arrived, but she was hot and sweaty, with her bladder twenty seconds from bursting.
Compassion flashed in Royal’s mossy eyes. “He remembered you from the mountain run. Your skills were legendary, Abbie Monroe.”
“So you know who I am?”
“It took us a minute, but yeah, we do.”
“I’m not so legendary anymore.” She hated the mournful note in her voice, but the truth was, the Hastings brothers were out of their minds if they believed she had the strength or stamina to escape with her old skill set.
He tilted up her chin and met her gaze. “If we ever get back to our time, you will be again. I have faith in you. Come on. Let me show you what serves as a bathroom in these parts.”
“I suspect I already know,” she replied dryly.
“Yeah, I sure do miss the comforts of a hot shower and a quality mattress.”
“And cookies from a package.”
He chuckled. “Moose Tracks ice cream.”
“God, yes! If I were any kind of witch worth her salt, I’d conjure—”
“Witch!”
Neither of them had heard Silas approach.
His visage was downright frightening. “You’re a witch?”
“N-n-no!” she stammered, seeking Royal’s support and not getting it. “I just meant if I were one, I’d—”
“Don’t you fucking lie to me, lady,” Silas growled, reaching for her.
Royal stepped between them. Lowering his voice, he said, “Si, calm down, bro. She’s not what you think.
If she were, do you really believe she’d have allowed herself to be captured by this crew?
” He glanced back toward the yard where the others were working on tack and grooming the horses.
“That she wouldn’t have already healed herself? ”
Though his anger didn’t dissipate, Silas eyed her with less suspicion. “Being a witch didn’t help Julia. She’s still dead.”
“I know. But we were talking about the conveniences we miss from our timeline. That’s all,” Royal said.
“Morcant thinks she’s something more. What do you have to say to that?”
“That creepy dickhead can go fuck himself,” he growled. “Why are you letting him stick around, Si?”
“He keeps the others on their toes.”
“So do you. You don’t need him.”
Silas ignored him, keeping his narrow-eyed gaze on Abbie. “You’d better be telling the truth, Abbie Monroe, or I swear you’ll wish you had.” After another long stare, he strode into the nearby brush.
“I know he’s your brother and all, but he’s—”
“Don’t. You can’t understand what he’s been through.”
“Can’t I?” she rounded on him. “How about falling off the peak, believing you’re going to die, only to find yourself face-to-face with a rattlesnake?
How about having strangers take potshots at you while climbing to escape?
How about falling a second time within an hour, snapping the bones of your arms and legs, scarring your face, and losing your memory because of it?
” Her breath hitched. “How about calling out to the man you love both times, hoping his magic will save you, but it never does?”
“Abbie—”
“How about almost getting raped each time you venture into town, and needing a boy—the one your friend Jennings shot in the back—to be your champion by redirecting his low-life father at every turn?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly.”
But she was on a roll. “How about getting shot in the face during a bank robbery by that same man? And how about having your fiancé show up to save you after two years and not remembering him, witnessing his crushed expression?”
“Please stop.” His expression was pained, as if hearing of her plight was too hard.
But she couldn’t stop.
“Or how about finally feeling the spark return, only to witness the man you love get shot in the back? How about being abducted by a guy intent on raping you and selling you to a band of outlaws to get their kicks? One of which lives off the terror of the victims?”
He remained mute in the face of her rage.
“Tell me again that I don’t know suffering, Royal. Please do, so I can kick you right in the fucking balls.”
She spun away, searching for the bathroom and fearing she’d soil herself before finding it.
“This way,” he said, his tone mild, as if she hadn’t just unloaded all her woes on him.
They stopped at an outhouse with an attached outside shower.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Not only for what we’ve put you through, but for all of it.” The sincere apology in his expression was as honest as she’d ever seen, and she could only nod if she wanted to hold it together.
“I’ll go in to check for snakes first. Wait right there,” he ordered.
Abbie was more than happy to let him take the lead.
“And spiders,” she called. “Please remove any tarantulas, or my death will come sooner than either of us expected.”
He turned his head, but his grin flashed before he could hide it. The spiteful part of her didn’t believe he should get off so easily, but the fair part owed him for repeatedly saving her from the likes of Jennings, Morcant, and Silas.
He returned momentarily with the all clear. “Do you want a shower? I can arrange it.”
“Christ. I was trying not to elevate you to hero status, but there you go with the fucking consideration again.”
Had there been no Wilder in her life, Royal’s crooked smile would’ve charmed her to no end. But she couldn’t forget what he was. A killer wearing a saint’s smile. Luckily, he was there to remind her.
“I’m no one’s hero, Fire Cat. Besides, there’s no hot water. It’s my own twisted sort of revenge.”