Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
They managed to avoid Willem’s presence in their lives for decades.
Yet, he convinced all five of her sons to appear in Afghanistan by lying about her being in danger.
When she caught up to them, she’d scold them about the importance of confirming details before running off half-cocked toward someone as toxic as Willem.
Roman’s telegram had been sent not to her but to Efrem right as they departed from Egypt, where they’d been clearing a demon for the Lycan Council. It read: Headed for Shahr-e Zuhak. Someone conjured members of Genghis Khan’s army. Willem says E in trouble.
She assumed “E” meant her, Evie. They should’ve contacted her first. When did she ever do anything dangerous without Efrem? Nothing about this made sense.
But a threat to her would effectively lure her sons anywhere.
This reeked of something terrible about to happen.
They shouldn’t have taken Jonas. He rarely got involved in fighting nonhumans or anything scary.
Jonas was her artist, with his kind and gentle soul that saw the world in colors no one else could visualize.
He’d gone with them to Egypt not to demon hunt, but to take in ancient Egyptian art.
Roman, Ky, Shane, and Flynn had taken over where Willem left off in defending humans against evil otherworldly threats.
In the beginning, it had been a way to earn a little extra money, but it evolved into more.
It turned out the boys had a gift. The Lycan Council came to rely on them to step in when something was beyond their capability.
Honor and morality seemed branded into her sons’ souls.
Probably it was in part instilled from Efrem.
They sure as shit didn’t get it from Willem. Maybe a bit from her.
Her trust of Willem’s motives registered somewhere lower than the embers of hell. She would make sure she was there when everything went to shit and he did his usual cut-and-run.
What infuriated her was knowing this may not be the first time the boys had worked with Willem. How else would they have a direct line of communication with him?
The betrayal cut deep. She’d dedicated her life to keeping all of them safe. To support herself—and them—she’d accumulated wealth through the lucrative career of assassinating the lowest of human refuse—terrorists, thieves, rapists, and extortionists. She left the hunting of non-humans to the boys.
Efrem had flown them into Pakistan. From there, he and Evie drove across the border into war-torn Afghanistan. Humans were on high alert and skeptical of everything in this desolate country. When they got close to Zuhak, a group of locals armed with assault rifles blocked the road.
“You go ahead,” Efrem said. “I’ll distract them while you pass on foot. Head northwest, and you should hit the sacred ruins.”
“I’ll see you there.” She put up her glamour to the point no one would notice her and slipped out when the soldiers opened the car doors.
Running six miles winded her only because of the speed she demanded of herself.
She wiped sweat off her forehead. Dressing in all black, including a head covering, didn’t help on this sweltering day.
The red-dirt ruins of a city long ago attacked by Genghis Khan’s army lay in neglect after years of warring.
She jogged the sandy path toward the crumbling tower and through a sketchy rock tunnel.
Once she was in the ruined city, British soldiers occupied every space, which was odd since they didn’t have a major part in the conflict between the Soviet Union and the United States.
The tingle of evil magic tickled her neck.
She peeked over a crumbling wall to see Roman, Ky, Jonas, Flynn, and Shane in various states of sedation.
No evil creature lurked about beyond Willem, who seemed compos mentis and fully cooperating with the British.
Willem paced over to the boys and slapped Ky in the face. “Wake up.”
“Whatsss up, Daaddioo?” Ky slurred as he wobbled to sit. “Did we get ’em?”
Roman caught Ky when he topped to his side. He whispered, “He drugged us.”
“We’re going to pledge our lives to a greater good.” Willem grinned in a way that communicated he’d made a deal that fully benefitted him.
“Greater good for who?” Roman asked. “For you? I’m not pledging jack shit to a bunch of humans aiming AK-47s at me.”
A girl who couldn’t have been older than her early twenties, with red hair and awkward glasses, was pushed out in front of the soldiers. An ancient parchment was thrust at her.
Willem grabbed Roman’s palm. Her eldest elbowed his father in the face. Willem punched him hard enough to knock him back in the dirt.
Come on, Roman. Fight.
Willem made a small cut in Roman’s hand, and then did so to each of his sons with barely any effort since none of the others could mount much resistance. He knelt next to them, then sliced his own palm and signaled for the woman—no, she was a witch—to start whatever awfulness was coming.
The quickest solution was to kill everyone. Evie fingered the trigger on her silenced Glock.
The witch read the parchment: “By this blood—”
Someone knocked the gun out of her hand and grabbed her from behind with a hand over her mouth, dragging her backward. She headbutted, kicked, wiggled, and tried to scream. Her captor didn’t budge even when she bit his hand, which meant he wasn’t human.
The eerie feeling of bad magic disappeared, as did the red clay that had surrounded her. The hot, dry air faded into a neutral temperature. In its place was a sense of incongruity, as if everything was frozen and unreal. This was the in-between.
Damn it. Damn him.
“Stop struggling.” Hearing Dom’s voice kicked up her thrashing. He whirled her to face him but kept her in a tight hold. “I’m trying to keep you out of—”
“Take me back!” she screamed and kicked. She butted her head forward, crashing into his nose. Blood trickled from one of his nostrils.
He released her to wipe his nose.
She stumbled. “You son of a—”
He grabbed her head and crashed his lips onto hers.
She froze.
“What the hell was that?” She glared at him, wide-eyed.
He craned away but didn’t release her, although his hold on her head lightened to only a gentle touch. “I didn’t know how else to snap you out of your panic.”
“I do not panic, thank you.”
“Sure looked like you lost your shit.”
“I had a plan.”
“What was this brilliant plan? To get your ass swooped up in an ancient magic curse? That type of magic is nasty and virtually impossible to reverse.”
“I’d have killed them all before the curse was cast.”
“It was too late. The witch was already halfway through casting it. They are blood cursed to serve the English Crown, as would you be if you’d stayed. It’s done.”
She could barely register what he was saying.
She blinked to try to focus on everything important.
He was exquisite. She’d dream walked to visit him more often than she wanted to admit.
At first, it’d been about working on her skill in that state.
Then, she liked the peacefulness of his place.
She liked his lack of judgment. The only thing that irritated her was his unwillingness to talk about himself, or the moments when he outright ignored her.
Every time she saw Dom, even when dream walking, she felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. “If you kiss me, do it for real.”
“Why would I kiss you for real?” He cocked his head.
She stared at his crotch where he was fully aroused. “Because you want me.”
“Wanting you and kissing you for real are two entirely different things. My body desires you because, as you know, you’re so bloody beautiful it hurts to look at you.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“No.”
“Sure sounded like it.”
“It wasn’t.”
She leapt forward and slapped him. “Don’t drag me somewhere to insult me while my children are in trouble. Take me back so I can help them.”
He caught the next hand headed for his cheek and held it. “It’s over. What’s done is done. I know you’re frustrated. It won’t help to take it out on me. Did you hear me when I said the curse put them in servitude to the monarch of England?”
“What?” Everything went numb. She stepped away from him and pressed a hand into her chest. “Servitude? Willem wouldn’t enslave his own children.”
He fisted his hands. “He would if he thought it’d make him powerful or rich. Give the monarchy some unbeatable warriors to be used however he or she sees fit? What wouldn’t the Queen pay for that?”
“No.” Swaying, she pressed a hand against her stomach. “Take me back. I need to stop it.”
“You couldn’t have stopped it. You also can’t help them get free if you had gotten cursed too.”
“What if I kill Willem?”
His shoulders lifted and dropped. “He deserves death. It won’t change what he’s done.”
“Damn it, I should’ve done it years ago,” she muttered. “Roman’s telegram…Willem lured them here by saying I was in trouble.”
“That didn’t mean you had to be there. You had to know it wasn’t safe.”
“They’re my kids, Dom.”
“I know.”
“How did you know to be here?”
His eyelids drifted shut. “The Fates talk to me. They direct me on terrible things about to happen. Like this.”
“Why couldn’t you have showed up about ten minutes earlier and done your thing?”
“It doesn’t always work out like we wish.”
She rushed him and pounded his hard chest. “Take me back to them. I’ll kill all those Brits for this.”
He caught her hands. “You do that, and the Brits might order them to fight you. Evie…” He pulled her in close. “If they’re ordered by whatever the hell this curse is to kill you, they won’t be able to fight the order. They’d have to live with your death on their hands for the rest of their lives.”
She stilled.
“This is ancient magic. It’s something designed before my time.” His chin dropped. “I know this will piss you off, but the Fates said this has to play out. The one thing I do know about those sons of yours is they’d want you out of it. They’re going to need you to be there for them in secret.”