Twisted Soul (Cursed Legacies #3)

11. Maven

11

MAVEN

One moment, we're being pelted by shards of broken glass, and then the spell kicks in, and the world turns inside out. When the transportation spell ends, we're standing in the falling snow, surrounded by deep snowdrifts, thick, white-frosted pine trees, and gentle moonlight.

Baelfire swears and picks a shard of glass out of his quickly-healing shoulder before tipping my face to look up at him. Those amber eyes scan me for signs of harm before turning hard, unyielding.

"Maven. What the motherfucking hell was that thing?"

"A wraith."

Exhaustion trickles into my veins from that transportation spell, but I glance up at the stars visible overhead through all the pine trees. I'm guessing it's close to one in the morning here in Washington. This is where Lillian lived many years ago, and she talked about it often.

Silas pockets his bleeding crystal, cleaning the blood off his fingers with his tongue, which happens to be very fucking distracting.

"We've learned about wraiths. They are faceless, silhouette-like figures that feed on fear and can only be killed with blessed bone weapons. Otherwise, they're known to be harmless compared to other shadow fiends since they are completely intangible. Are you sure that wasn't something else?"

"Nope. It was a fucking wraith. He just has some extra bells and whistles, thanks to the necromancers. And he's very tangible."

Not to mention, far stronger than other wraiths and completely out of control. Amadeus wouldn’t have sent him—he must have broken free of the Divide the moment he realized it was weak enough to go after me.

After all, that wraith has developed an addiction to the taste of my fear.

I start moving in the direction I think we need to go, but Everett gently stops me with a hand on my waist.

"You keep saying he . You were terrified back there. Who was that, Oakley? Tell us."

All four of my matches are staring me down. They clearly have no intention of letting this go.

I'd rather swallow broken glass than tell them this, but they deserve to know.

"That was Gideon," I admit.

It's comedic how all their mouths drop open at the same time.

" What?" Baelfire and Silas roar in sync. All of Crypt's markings light up as unadulterated murder flashes across his handsome features, and Everett swears profusely.

"You said that sick motherfucker was ripped apart," Baelfire says furiously, blue fire flickering under his skin as his temper rises. The snowdrift we're standing in is melting quickly around him. I take a small step back since I am notoriously not fireproof.

"He was. By the king of the Undead, who rarely lets any of his subjects have a truly permanent death." I pause, considering how to explain it. "When I became the telum, they didn't stop experimenting on me. The same went for Gideon. Amadeus wanted to know if a human could be brought back as a wraith with its memories intact. He wanted to imbue it with more power. After a year or so, he succeeded, and the wraith who was once Gideon was incorporated into my training."

Silas's jaw clenches, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "Define incorporated ."

It's impossible to forget the times I was forced to run through the monster-filled forests in Amadeus's kingdom, fear thick as tar pumping painfully hard through my veins as I could sense him hunting me. There is no way to kill a wraith without blessed bone, a substance that doesn't exist in the Nether due to its lack of priests, prophets, or anything else to do with the gods.

Amadeus called it fear endurance testing. He said for me to be a worthy telum , my pain and fear tolerance levels needed to be impenetrable.

I developed a tolerance for physical pain that surpassed his expectations.

Fear, on the other hand?

There is no such thing as true fear tolerance. Once you learn to function through one phobia, there is another, and another, and another. There is no fucking comparison between physical and psychological agony. I would accept a thousand more tortures before I let Gideon assault my mind again.

I can't let that wraith break my quintet like he did me. I need to make sure he doesn't get anywhere near them again.

Where is your beautiful mind, sangfluir? Silas asks in my head.

I realize I've tuned out, so lost to my dark memories that they seem to have let the subject go, which is an unexpected win. Crypt has vanished, and Baelfire is checking his cell phone, which he must have managed to grab from the room before we left. Everett is doing his best not to come near me since the cold is already making me shiver, but he's still watching me with a soft, sad blue gaze like he can see the pain in my past.

Silas moves to wrap me in his arms, but I step back from him.

"Wait. Let me get myself under control?—"

"No." His scarlet irises are unbearably gentle as he steps closer, reaching for me again. "I don't want you under control, Maven. No version of you or your emotions will burden me. Sanguis a' sruthadh unus gh'a, tha sinn unum mar," he murmurs in fae.

It's an old fae adage meaning, "Our blood flows as one love, so let us be one."

He wraps me in his strong embrace, saying nothing as I shut my eyes and try to re-compartmentalize shit from my past.

Silas just holds me through it, his slight spiced bourbon fragrance subtle but comforting.

And there it is again. That soft, vulnerable, painfully sweet emotion that makes my stomach flip and my hands feel suddenly sweaty in the gloves. I finally can't take any more and pull away—and thank the fucking universe, that's the exact time that Baelfire turns his phone around to share the map he has pulled up.

"Okay, cutie pie. Crypt went to scout, but we're right here?—"

His phone is on silent, but the map on the screen abruptly switches to show that "Mama Dragon" is calling before he swipes something on the screen to get rid of it. He goes on with a sigh.

"We're about six miles from some tiny-ass town called Tall Pine, Washington. Pretty damn rural. Actually, I'm not sure this even counts as a town. More like a municipality with a gas station that doubles as the local market."

"Is there a hotel?" Everett asks.

"There's a place called Auntie Ethel's Finest Motel and Grill. Pretty sure they'll let us use their old outhouse if you say please with sugar on top without turning your snobby-as-fuck Frost nose up at them."

" Outhouse? Tell me you're kidding. There is no way in hell I am ever stepping foot in an outhouse that you have access to, you dragon-sized piece of shit."

I sense Crypt just before he appears directly beside me, gently dusting snow off my hair and shoulders and wrapping me in a surprisingly luxurious plaid throw blanket. He stole this, too.

He's thoughtful like that.

"I found an uninhabited cabin at the edge of the little human town. It seems a decent enough place to lay low, so long as Douglas doesn't track the transportation spell we just used,” he murmurs.

Shit. I forgot about Douglas.

Part of me wouldn't mind if the bounty hunters caught up. It's been days since I was in a good fight.

Still, we're short on time. The longer it takes me to find etherium, the longer it will be before I can hunt down and kill the next member of the Immortal Quintet.

Not to mention the ticking clock Amadeus has set for each of my "tasks." If I'm taking out the Immortal Quintet too slow for his liking, he'll begin threatening Lillian and the humans again.

"Even though we won't be here long, we'll need a powerful concealment spell," I say, turning to trek in the direction we need to go. "If I don't reach that demon soon, we'll track down my next lead in Argentina."

Everett sighs as he walks along beside me. It's bitterly cold in these woods, but the blue moonlight lends an uncanny glow to this wintry, barren scene, making it both chilling and beautiful. My ice elemental fits right in, seeming utterly oblivious to how fucking cold it is.

"I know you said demons are useful, but can we please try my connections first?"

"Depends. Are your connections legacies who will turn around and report us to the council?"

"They're black market dealers. Of course, they won't go to the council—that would endanger their business."

"Think, Frost. What need would they have for any more business if they got the bounty on Maven's head?" Crypt drawls. "Your father has clearly pitched in loads for the reward money. Anyone who turns on us will live like the gods."

"You mean like vain, overhyped, apathetic assholes?" I clarify.

Call me bitter. It's true.

Crypt bursts into laughter, but Everett shoots me a disapproving frown. For an ice elemental, he's absurdly hot when he's scolding.

"Don't blaspheme."

"But it's such fun."

"Oakley, I'm being serious. I want to help you get whatever you need from the black market, and the people I know are trustworthy in their own way." He pauses, frowning as the perfectly intact snowflakes on his hair and skin glisten in the moonlight. "By the way, what are you trying to get?"

I wrap the blanket tighter around myself, walking around a taller snowdrift. “Etherium."

"Isn't that like…glass from Paradise?" Baelfire asks.

"You've heard of it?"

He shrugs. "My caster dad, Ivan, loves to study rare magical shit. He's mentioned etherium once or twice but said that substance is always confiscated by the Legacy Council as soon as it turns up, so he hasn't gotten to learn much about it."

I nod. "The dealer I need to contact is notoriously elusive. It's said he has a significant stash, but otherwise, everyone is incredibly tight-lipped about him."

I'm going to loosen Melchom's lips, one way or another.

We walk silently for a moment, and then Everett huffs grouchily. "At this rate, our keeper will wind up with frostbite. It's far too fucking cold for her out here."

"If only we had an oversized fire-breathing egomaniac around to keep her warm," Crypt muses, feigning shock when he turns to spot Baelfire. "Oh, wait."

Bael glances down at my snow-covered boots and promptly scoops me up. "On it. I'll keep her nice and toasty."

"Nope, I'm walking," I say firmly. "My feet are fine. Carrying me is overkill."

"But your cute little toes are cold."

"Boo fucking hoo for them. Put me down, Baelfire."

He tips his head from side to side, debating. "Mmm, nah. I'm carrying your sweet ass all the way there. That way, when we go back to acting all monogamous around the humans, they'll figure I'm your man, and Snowflake will just have to fucking deal with it."

Gods. This dragon is something else. I fight a smile as Everett looks heavenward like he's supplicating the heavens for patience.

It's not that I mind being in Baelfire's warm, deliciously corded arms—but even with shifter strength and endurance, he'll be pushing himself harder than necessary, carrying me six fucking miles in deep snow, and we're already poorly rested. Not to mention, I don't know if my haphephobia will rear its ugly head out of nowhere.

So I'm going to walk my own ass into Tall Pine.

"Last warning. Put me down."

He flashes a bright, flirtatious smile and dips his head to kiss along my jaw, sending pleasurable tingles over my arms and legs. "Yeah? Or what, hellion?"

"Or I'll make you."

When he ignores me and licks the crook of my neck, where shifters mark their mates, I jolt in surprise and immediately twist his nipple through his athletic shirt as hard as possible. He yelps and loosens his arms, so I slip down easily to escape.

I adjust the blanket again, pretending like my neck doesn't feel warm—but it does.Gods, they all affect me way too fucking much when they get flirtatious.

"So cute, yet so mean," Bael sighs dramatically, but the way he leans down to kiss the top of my head as we start walking tells me his ego is as unharmed as ever.

"You four had plenty of warning on that front," I point out with a smirk.

"Touché.”