Twisted Soul (Cursed Legacies #3)

16. Baelfire

16

BAELFIRE

When Silas’s red magic fades, we’re standing under a dark sky, like it’s about to turn twilight. Snow billows around us, sliding across a white landscape spotted with a few spruce trees. I’ve flown to a lot of remote wildernesses to hunt over the years, and if I were a betting legacy, I’d say we’re somewhere in the Arctic Circle.

That would explain the subzero temperature.

Crypt immediately drops into Limbo to scout. A gust of wind sends a waft of Maven’s addictive, delicate scent to me, and I glance down to see that she’s already shivering. The cold doesn’t affect me, but even though my mate is the toughest fucking person I’ve ever met, she needs a coat ASAP.

“Here, Boo.” I wrap my arms around her.

She groans with relief, even though she’s still shaking. “Fuck, you’re warm.”

Pin her. Claim her. Mine, mine, mine? —

I grit my teeth against the sharp urge to bite the side of Maven's neck. My inner dragon starts snarling and pitching a fit, aching to hunt and kill if he can’t permanently mark our mate right this second.

Even though I killed a couple of hellhounds back there, it hasn’t helped much. My dragon’s always been an impatient asshole, but it’s ten times worse lately. When he pushes at the boundary inside my head again, trying to take control, I squeeze my eyes shut and fight like hell to keep him from attempting to kill Everett or one of the others again.

Maven’s gloved hand gently squeezes my arm. I realize she’s looking up at me with a question in her eyes, brow furrowed.

“I’m good,” I say, not wanting her to worry.

Even though I’m really fucking not good.

Silas has me lift an arm so he can check on Maven’s wounds. “Forgive me, sangfluir . I should have warned you about the cold, but I promise it won’t be for long. We’ll be untraceable by the time Douglas awakens and traces my magical signature here.”

Everett slides out of his coat, and I help him wrap it around Maven. Obviously the walking Popsicle doesn’t need a coat, so I bet he put it on earlier in case she would need one.

Kinda respect that.

She accepts it, her dark gaze sweeping over our surroundings curiously.

“We’re in far northern Alaska,” Silas explains before whispering more creepy-ass-sounding words as he slowly heals our keeper’s stomach and her neck where he bit her.

His nose starts to bleed from whatever magic shit he’s doing, but he wipes it quickly away, ignoring Maven’s sharp look.

“This is the midst of polar night, hence the darkness. The sun won’t rise much above the horizon for weeks.”

She’s still staring hard at him. He sighs and gives her a placating look. Everett rolls his eyes.

Another silent fucking conversation. I’m starting to understand why it gets under Crypt’s skin so much.

Speaking of the stalker, Crypt reappears, tipping his head at Silas. “There is nothing for miles save a barren expanse I cannot enter. Almost as if it’s an inhabited dwelling. Care to explain?”

Silas takes Maven’s gloved hand and begins walking in the direction we need to go. “If I could, I would have by now. Everyone who comes here is sworn to the utmost secrecy.”

I take her other hand, so hopefully, she’ll be a bit warmer. I want to pick her up and cradle her little body against the cold wind, but I learned my lesson after the last time—my fierce little keeper doesn’t like to be pampered.

Which just makes me want to pamper her sweet ass even more.

After a few minutes of traveling through white nothingness, Maven slows, eyeing the emptiness in front of us.

“Something is about to happen.”

Silas nods. “We’re about to pass through the first wards once I use the key spell.”

“What's on the other side? A fight?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

“Possibly. The security of the exterior ring is constantly being changed out, so it may be a dangerous terrain, guards, monsters, shadow fiends…still, to gain entry into the next layer of—” He cuts off, like his voice has just stopped working, and sighs. “It’s a blind risk we must take.”

Maven’s cute nose wrinkles. “I don’t do blind risks. Hang on.”

We watch as Maven steps away from us, removes her gloves, and makes the same weird symbol with her hands as she did when we were hunting the changeling—which feels like fucking forever ago. Darkness swirls around her, climbing up her legs and waist as she whispers magic words I don’t understand.

And then, just like when we were hunting the changeling, she falls into some kind of trance.

“What the fuck is she doing?” Everett whispers like he doesn’t want to interrupt.

“She’s about to sacrifice you to dark spirits,” I offer. “Probably because she was wildly disappointed by your first time with her, but hey. Don’t feel too bad, Professor. I'm a tough act to follow.”

He glowers at me. “You’re a damn idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m her favorite idiot.”

Crypt snorts, brushing snow off the shoulder of his leather jacket. “Not even in your dreams. Everyone knows I’m the favorite.”

“And yet you’re still not bound to her,” Silas smirks.

Dick. He doesn’t have to keep rubbing it in our faces.

But on that note…

“So, what’d you do?” I ask, turning to the ice elemental.

“Excuse you?”

I wave him on, impatient. “When you popped your frozen cherry with Maven. What exactly did you do to make the bond snap into place? And did you listen to the stuff we told you about?”

Everett’s face turns red. “It's not your business, so fuck off.”

“Bonding with Maven is our quintet's business, actually,” Crypt drawls. “So is her pleasure. If you didn't treat her right, we’ll leave your body buried in the snow just here.”

“I treated her right,” the Frost grumbles.

Silas arches a brow. “Really? Tell me, did you last long enough to get her to finish, or did she have to do that part all by herself?”

Everett’s glacial eyes flash with insult, and he lifts his chin. “Not all of us fuck and tell like you and the dragon, so if you’re looking for a play-by-play, you can go fuck yourselves. And it was really obvious that Maven had never squirted before with any of you assholes, so you can all shut your fucking mouths.”

Crypt's brows go up, and Silas blinks in surprise. They're not the only ones.

“What?” I blurt in excitement. “You're kidding. My mate is a squirter? Fuck, yes. Okay, but how the hell did you get her to squirt? Was it some trick with ice, or—actually, scratch that. Instead of telling me, you're going to show me as soon as we find privacy and a bed for her. Gods, I can't fucking wait to see Maven squirt.”

Too late, I realize the others have all started miming cut-it-out motions and shaking their heads because…Maven's done with her trance, and now she's staring at me with one dark eyebrow arched.

I grin. “Hey there, my pretty little Angel of Death. Don't mind us. That was just guy talk.”

She rolls her eyes, but there's a definite flush to her cheeks before withdrawing her favorite dagger.

“All right. Let's do this. Leave the fight to me because I know what to expect.”

“What? How?” Everett asks, baffled.

Maven ties her black hair up in a ponytail as she speaks, which tells me shit is about to go down.

“When it comes to death, battles, or misery, Amadeus can sense the future and change his tactics accordingly. It makes him incredibly difficult to outmaneuver. When I’m close to death, I can tap into that ability. I assume it’s a side effect of the heart he crafted for me.”

Hang on a fucking second.

“That spell was for you to grow close to death?” Silas grits, equally upset as he puts it together.

“Calm your tits. I'm fine, and this fight will last less than five minutes. Ready?” she checks, her dark eyes sparkling as she twirls her dagger skillfully.

I love that my mate enjoys combat, but fucking gods , this fearless woman is going to be the death of me.

Silas sighs but turns and whispers a spell, motioning with one hand.

It's like a door to nowhere opens up right in the middle of the cold Alaskan wilderness, and we all blink at the lush green field and massive maple trees in the distance. The sky is still dark from the polar night, but we may as well be looking at a scenic summer.

“Fuck,” I manage, peeking into the door.

But as soon as I do, I see them. Three figures in black clothing standing several yards away. They immediately send a flurry of spells hurtling toward us, and my hair stands on end as my inner dragon snarls in warning.

I'm no magic expert, but even I can sense that these three are powerful casters.

Maven lurches forward into the green area, lifting one ungloved hand. Dark tendrils erupt from her palm, shattering the incoming attack spells. Ominously dark, crackling energy buzzes around us as more magic flares to life around her bare hands.

The grass dies beneath her feet, blanching to an unnatural white.

Huh. I guess our keeper can draw from plant life in a pinch. Good to know.

One of the attackers starts to make another move, but Maven is already on him, snapping his neck and immediately sending a far stronger blast of dark magic towards the other two.

Each move they make, she clearly knows in advance. For a moment we all stand transfixed as she gracefully dodges a physical attack before taking down the caster with a few expert slashes of her dagger. The last one drops dead a moment later, his magic fizzling to nothing as his slit neck gurgles disturbingly.

Three powerful casters, and it was a fucking cakewalk for her to rip down their spells. She was right—that took less than five minutes.

When Maven turns back to face us, she's smiling. Gods, I love her smile. It’s still my official goal in life to see it more often. Seeing Maven smattered in blood, her eyes sparkling from fresh kills, looking like a dark fucking queen…

Gods, I’ll be her throne any day. She’s my fucking queen.

“Impressive,” an accented voice says.

We all glance over to see a middle-aged man with dark skin amble onto the field with a shining gold walking stick. He's dressed in brightly colored clothes that look like they were fashionable two hundred years ago, complete with a burgundy waistcoat tucked into weird pants, a cravat, and even a top hat.

I instinctively step in front of Maven to keep her out of sight, but his attention is all on Silas as he walks closer. The man notices the fae’s blackened fingertips and scoffs.

“To think my very brightest would turn to necromancy, of all things. As if your magic was not strong enough. If it were for more raw power, one might understand, but to sacrifice such an unparalleled gift for no apparent rea?—”

Maven steps out from behind me to get a look at the stranger, who cuts off as he looks her up and down. He glances down at the dead grass, looks questioning at the sky for some reason, and then barks out a laugh.

“I take it back—I certainly see why you made such a career change. Now, moving on. You ought to have written, you know,” he turns back to Silas. “You do know what I do to unannounced guests.”

“As if you haven't been melodramatically requesting that I pay you one final visit for months,” Silas says dryly before taking Maven's hand. “ Ima sangfluir, this is my mentor, the Garnet Wizard. Evidently also known as The Scarab.”

Oh, shit. This is the Garnet Wizard?

My mom's always said that even though he can be useful and she agrees with him on some politics, he's also a dangerous eccentric who can't fully be trusted. The fucker’s too much of a mercenary at heart, according to her.

The Garnet Wizard throws his head back in a laugh. “Aha! I see you have finally learned of my hand in the black market. Quite a fitting moniker, is it not?”

Silas seems amused. “It is, sir.”

The wizard nods and turns to examine the rest of us like he's on a safari and we're wild animals.

“Well, of course, I remember you ,” he says to Everett. “The only Frost who has ever dared to haggle with me. Pray, what were you then—a mere eighteen? Quite the brass neck.”

Everett ignores our curious frowns at him as the wizard leans a little too close to examine my eyes. “Hmm. Brigid Decimus’s son…every bit as scaly and proud as she is, I can see.” He tips his head at Crypt, who's smoking without a care in the world. “Ah, and the current steward of Limbo—evident, of course, by those eyes. That's always a clear marker.”

I frown. “I thought his ink marked him as the steward.”

“I am not tattooed,” Crypt says on an exhale of smoke, but the wizard talks over him.

“Yes, indeed, those as well. However, each steward throughout history has had exceedingly different markings, so much so that one cannot determine by the markings alone whether they have been gods-given. The eyes, however, are always unmistakable. After all, purple is the chosen color of the gods. And last but assuredly not least…”

The Garnet Wizard leans down to meet Maven's gaze better. She stares back at him with that ironclad poker face she’s perfected.

I don't like this legacy studying my mate like she's some fascinating rare creature, so I pull her closer to me.

“My keeper,” Silas says with a cutting edge to his tone like he's also wary of how the powerful caster will react.

The wizard smiles, not looking away from her. I randomly note that his hair has a lot more gray than I noticed earlier.

“Your true name, telum?” he asks.

“Maven.”

“Maven, what?”

“Just Maven.”

I frown. Wait, is Oakley not her last name?

He tsks like that wasn't the correct answer. “Your parents. Go on and tell me their names. Surely you know by now. Or don’t you?”

She pins him with a look, her tone even and firm.

“Cut the shit. Based on that little smirk, you believe you already know who my parents were. But if you think I'm interested in pandering to you for that useless information, you're wrong. We're only here for etherium. If you're open to striking a deal, we'll stay. If not, don't waste my time.”

I fucking love how blunt she is, but I’m a bit worried this highly revered legacy is about to try killing her for her boldness. Instead, a smile scrawls over his face, stretching wider until he starts to laugh.

“Etherium, you say?”

“Yes.”

“You,” he gestures meaningfully at Maven as he keeps laughing. None of us get why, but he's clearly enjoying the hell out of his own inside joke. “ You want etherium? Great gods, this is just too interesting.”

He circles us, tapping his walking stick thoughtfully. “You know, despite my fondness for Silas, I still had my mind set on having you all skinned alive and doused in liquid copper or silver or what have you until it hardened just below your neck. Then I’d have watched you all slowly devoured by a clan of golems for trespassing in my Sanctuary.”

“Creative,” my mate acknowledges.

“I certainly thought so. But now…well, how can I resist? Of course, we shall discuss a deal, Maven . Let us get you five settled in for now, as I can see you’ve just left a fight. Come.”

The wizard turns and strides away, whistling cheerfully as he steps over one of the corpses Maven left behind. I shoot Silas a look.

“I don’t trust your crazy-ass mentor.”

“Neither do I.”

“He’s always been bright like that,” the Garnet Wizard calls over his shoulder. He’s rubbing his lower back like it’s suddenly giving him trouble. And his hair is definitely lighter than it was before.

We follow the wizard as he leads us through the green field, all of us keeping close to Maven in case more trouble fucking pops up out of nowhere. It’s like walking through a warm park at night, except hints of the Northern Lights are beginning to snake very slowly into the dark sky overhead.

Finally, the wizard stops and opens another invisible door, motioning us onward with his walking stick. “Welcome to the inner ring of the Sanctuary. Do mind your step on the bridge.”

We all stare at the lush green landscape. It looks like someone took a slice of some peaceful English countryside and plopped it down in the middle of nowhere. Old windmills turn lazily under the twilight sky, a creek babbles under the stone bridge we’re about to cross, and past that are several thatched cottage-style houses gathered together in clusters with lit windows casting a slight warm glow. Other old buildings dot the area. A thick forest sprawls in the distance next to what appears to be an old farm.

Two guys dressed in dark clothing wait just past the bridge, watching us with deep frowns. One is scrawny with dark hair, while the other has curly blond hair and an overbite.

When Overbite spots Silas, he scowls deeply. It's pretty clear that he knows the blood fae and hates him.

Relatable.

We walk through the magical doorway, except Crypt slams into an invisible barrier. He's walking ahead of Maven, and I can't help laughing at his irritated expression.

“Sucks to be a siphon,” I grin.

“Ah, right,” the wizard muses. “One must invite him in.”

“Don't!” the dark-haired caster says quickly, eyeing Crypt. “I’ve heard of him—we all have. That is the fucking Nightmare Prince. He’ll infiltrate our minds if we’re not careful.”

The Garnet Wizard stares down the acolyte. “Then be careful. You know the first rule of my Sanctuary.”

“Let the idiots die,” Silas supplies.

“Precisely. Anyone who fails to arm a dreamcatcher and lets this subconscious leech into their minds deserves whatever madness he bestows upon them. You may enter, Mr. DeLune.”

Crypt flicks the butt of his dead cigarette into the nearby creek, smirking at the outraged reaction that earns from the two casters. He steps through the magical doorway, but when Maven walks in last, Overbite gets pissy.

“Her too?”

“Got a problem with my mate?” I demand.

He rolls his eyes. “ Mate? How primitive you shifters are. Of course, I take issue with her—not only is she obviously the thing that the Legacy Council is hunting down, but she is also a she. Females are not permitted within the Sanctuary except in extreme situations.”

I gawk at the absolute stupidity of the words that just left his ugly face before turning to Silas.

“So you grew up in a hidden compound of nerdy, sexist virgins who call women females? Talk about fucking primitive.”

Silas shrugs as if he agrees, but now the two casters are really pissed off. The dark-haired one turns back to the Garnet Wizard.

“Sir, we've all heard the rumors of the telum. You cannot possibly mean to allow that to take shelter here?” he says, gesturing at Maven with disgust.

Did he just call my mate a ‘ that?’ My dragon snarls, ready to rip his throat out.

Maven doesn’t react to any of this. She’s busy surveying our surroundings like she's charting a map of potential future exits. The Garnet Wizard adjusts his walking stick as he regards his acolyte. I swear he's slowly growing wrinkles by the minute.

“Alas, your cynicism and prejudice blind you, Ross. Use your rare gift on her, and you will see what I have already determined. Go on.”

The idiot, Ross, grumbles but turns back to Maven. I almost shit myself when a third eye appears smack in the middle of his forehead, blinking open with a glowing blue pupil. Everett jumps, too, swearing about how damn creepy it is.

Meanwhile, the acolyte becomes incredibly pale, as if he sees Maven in an entirely new light. His third eye vanishes, and he drops to his knees.

“By the heavens,” he whispers. “I—I had no idea. Please, forgive me, for I swear that if I had known?—”

The wizard interrupts, whispering a string of words before a red rune appears on the acolyte’s throat. Ross grimaces.

“There. That shall keep this game silent for my own amusement,” the wizard smiles.

Wait…what the hell is he talking about? Is it the fact that Maven is a revenant? Did this guy get a glimpse into her past and see how noble she really is, or was this something else?

I’m so fucking confused.

When I steal a glance at the rest of my quintet, they seem to be in the same confused-ass boat—except for Maven, who remains carefully composed as she watches the caster. If she's unsure what just happened, she doesn't show even a hint of it.

The Garnet Wizard breezily tells the two acolytes where to take us for our stay. Overbite still seems pissed, but we follow him and Ross over the bridge and down a long cobblestone path toward a cottage in the distance beside a seemingly endless stretch of green fields.

As we walk, my phone buzzes loudly in my pocket. I blink. “How the hell do you guys get reception here?”

Overbite throws a glare over his shoulder. “How else? Magic. However, unexamined, unsecured cell phones are not permitted. Give it here.”

“Make me, Teeth,” I dare him, allowing my eyes to shift momentarily.

He whips around immediately, muttering under his breath as we reach the cottage. Ross walks behind us but darts ahead to open the door, dipping his head low to show respect to Maven.

“Please let us know if these quarters aren't to your liking. Only the best for you, my lady.”

My lady?

“Okay, what the fuck did you see back there?” I demand at the same time Overbite hisses, “What is wrong with you? She is the scourge!”

Ross ignores both of us. As Maven passes by, he catches her ungloved hand like he’s about to kiss the back of it. When she loses her composure and visibly flinches at the surprise, unwanted physical contact, I see red?—

And so does Crypt because he promptly pulls out his enchanted sword and cuts off the caster’s hand that dared touch our keeper.