Twisted Soul (Cursed Legacies #3)

21. Maven

21

MAVEN

“Something troubles you,” the Garnet Wizard notes.

That's a fucking understatement.

I set down my cup of morning tea, studying the wizard sitting across from me. A small breakfast has also been laid out, but I have no appetite, so I ignore it. I came to his study early in the morning, so he's currently in his mid-twenties. Not that it feels like morning since the sky has remained a beautifully forlorn twilight cycle since we arrived here in Alaska.

We've been in the Sanctuary for two days now. Most of my time has been spent training my matches, answering the Garnet Wizard’s seemingly endless questions, and thinking.

Lots of thinking.

And now I've developed a plan.

“I told you about my episodes,” I begin.

“Yes. The way you ‘expire,’ as you call it.”

I nod. “Last time it happened, my bonded matches were affected. They heard Amadeus's message to me through our bond, which makes me further believe they’re bound to my shadow heart, which links back to him. So…”

When I trail off, the wizard arches a brow. He's handsome as a younger man, with closely cut black hair, a clean-shaven face, thick brows, and cunning brown eyes.

“So? ” he prompts.

Better to just fucking spit it out.

“You know all about my gambit, but I haven't told you how my story will end,” I say, smoothing my gloves before meeting his eye. I force my voice to stay steady. “If I don't fulfill my purpose as a revenant, one of two things will happen. I will either slowly decompose until I fade to nothing and pass into the next life, or my shadow heart will give out. It was never intended to give me life for years, just long enough to fulfill my purpose.”

He considers that. “In that case, your bound matches’ curses are not truly broken. When you pass on, those blights shall return—and take it from me: curses come back with a vengeance when a keeper is gone.”

“You mean when the keeper's heart is gone. After all, that's what they're bound to—this spell in my chest. What if you could remove my shadow heart before then? Keep it intact somehow so their curses remain unbroken?”

The Garnet Wizard’s brows go up, and he leans forward with interest.

“An intriguing theory. One I would be very curious to put to the test.”

“Then test it. Once I've bonded with all of them and accomplished my mission…I'll return so you can try to remove my shadow heart. If you preserve it after I pass on, it may prevent their curses from returning.”

He's quiet for a long moment, staring off into space thoughtfully.

“All this, you are sacrificing for the humans in the Nether,” he finally muses quietly. “Why?”

What kind of question is that?

“I told you about their living conditions, if it can even be called living. I'm the only one who can help them escape. It’s hardly a sacrifice when I’m doomed anyway, so why wouldn't I?”

“They're only humans.”

If he starts spouting off about how much better legacies are than humans, I will throw this fucking teacup at his face.

“So was I, once upon a time,” I point out with a warning edge in my voice.

He throws his head back in a laugh before checking the nearby grandfather clock, which is wreathed in thriving vines.

“I shall consider your theory, Maven. I’m afraid I have another engagement that will take up much of the day, but the etherium withdrawn from my storehouses will arrive later today.”

Thank the fucking universe.

As I leave the study, I go over my plan.

I only have three days left to kill off another member of the Immortal Quintet. With etherium, I can now store Somnus's potent life force, which has sat heavily in my veins for days as I've resisted the temptation to tap into it.

Once I copy the spell Felix and I perfected to store life forces in the etherium, I can take it to a temple for the blessing it will need from a priest or prophet to continue sustaining the Divide.

But that will come after the human exodus out of the Nether.

The moment I kill four of the Immortal Quintet, the Divide will become thin enough for humans to pass through. Felix will slip into the mortal world to mark their exit point with the etherium I stole from Amadeus’s crown before he starts to guide the humans out of the Nether. Right now, Lillian, Felix, and the other humans are watching for the signs that it's time to flee, just as we planned. They have a simple system for relaying information to the various compounds.

As soon as they can escape, it will be a race for their survival. The humans kept as pets in the citadel will be told the plan, too. Whether they choose to stay or escape is up to them.

It's a complex plan, and so many things can go wrong. But as long as I don't fuck up, we'll be able to get the humans out of the Nether and refortify the Divide with the etherium containing the life forces of the Immortal Quintet.

They'll be free. My blood oath will be fulfilled. And before I fade to nothing, I’ll give up the shadow heart in my chest so my quintet's curses can remain broken.

Baelfire's voice breaks me out of my deep thoughts, making me realize I'm standing at the edge of the vast green field we've used for training over the last couple of days.

“There's my pretty little Angel of Death.” He's on me an instant later, wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling my neck. He sighs. “Fuck, I missed your scent.”

My face goes hot because A, he's gloriously shirtless, and all his warm golden muscles are wrapped around me, and B, the others are also not wearing shirts.

Four ludicrously attractive, shirtless legacies wait beside me with heated gazes, ready to pin me down.

How are they all so handsome? Everett with his lean muscles and flawlessness, Silas's corded forearms and dark smirk, Crypt's mesmerizing eyes and those light and dark swirls curling over his shoulders, arms, and abs…

Fucking gods.

Maybe I should call off training today so we can do some naked cardio back at the cottage.

Bael groans, picking up on my arousal. “Godsdamn. Baby, I'll give you any fucking thing you want if you sit on my face again.”

I swallow hard, squirming breathlessly as I try to get a grip. “I should really train you guys.”

“In bed? We accept,” Crypt winks. His markings are glowing slightly, but he's not reacting to them like they hurt.

Baelfire begins kissing down my neck. I really want to abandon practice to fuck the living hell out of him—out of all of them.

But no. Because I'm training them for a damn good reason.

I guess it's time to share that reason.

Baelfire essentially has my arms pinned, so I drop like a ragdoll. When he catches my upper half, I hook my legs around his body, kicking into the back of his legs to throw him off balance. Rolling when we hit the ground, I quickly have him pinned in the grass with his wrists over his head as I smirk down.

Until I see the pure pleasure on his face and feel the huge, hard bulge just behind where I'm sitting on his stomach. His breath is ragged, golden eyes twinkling with eagerness.

“ Fuck , Raincloud. I love it when you're on top.”

I lean down to teasingly nip at his jaw, which earns a breathy laugh from him.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me and actually train?” I whisper quietly enough so only his sensitive ears will pick up on it.

He shudders, swallows hard, and nods.

“Good.”

I release him and stand up, fighting a smile when I see all three of my more voyeuristic matches enjoying the scene in front of them.

“You can all save the bedroom eyes for later. Your training is important.”

I start to strip off my baggy top shirt since it's warm in this magical sub-realm, and we’re about to work out. But Everett immediately stops me, casting a frown toward the nearby buildings where acolytes are studying indoors.

“Don't. They'll see you.”

“It's dark. Also, I doubt they care that we're out here.”

He huffs. “Over the last two days, I’ve caught them staring at you constantly. They know we’re out here. Of course, they'll want to see you training without a fucking shirt on.”

“So?”

His glacial gaze is chillingly possessive. “So, they aren't worthy to enjoy the sight of you. I won’t have them watching you.”

Silas laughs. “Ironic, since we all know how much you enjoy being watched.”

He’s obviously talking about last night when Everett again came just from eating me out and making me squirt as the others watched and groaned and occasionally lent a wicked hand.

Which led to me bouncing between Crypt and Baelfire. Right before I sucked Silas off in the shower, followed by a fingering-and-feeding session.

Those memories have my face nearly as red as Everett’s as he mutters, “Shut up. It's different when it's anyone outside of the quintet. They don't get to gawk at her.”

“Not unless they want their eyeballs plucked out like our dear Undead puppet,” Crypt agrees, stretching languidly so I get a delicious view of all those muscles.

Damn these men for being so distracting.

“Fine, I'll keep my shirt on.”

Silas sighs. “Such a tragedy.”

He's gotten more playful now that voices aren’t plaguing him. I'm glad. But now that I have their attention, I lift my chin.

"I'll be candid. I'm not just training you four to take out shadow fiends or bounty hunters. I'm training you to take me down whenever I lose control.”

They all stare at me for a beat.

Then Everett rubs his face. "Yeah, no. That's not happening.”

“Yes, it is?—”

"Not. Happening,” he grits.

The others nod, all folding their arms.

Oh, now they start agreeing with each other? Fucking legacies.

"It's going to happen. In a real fight of any decent size, I lose control and berserk. And if you four let me spill innocent blood because you're too afraid to take me out, I'm not going to forgive that," I say, folding my arms, too.

"This is asking too much," Baelfire growls, shaking his head as his temper mounts. "I can't hurt my mate. Don't ask me to do something I'm literally fucking incapable of doing.”

I glance at Crypt. “You've seen the aftermath. You know I’m not myself. When I lose it, I become a literal monster.”

“A very pretty monster,” he grins. “I hardly minded the mess, love.”

“That's because those weren't innocents. What are you going to do if I'm berserking near humans? Families? Helpless children?”

His smile dies. He looks away.

“That's what I thought.” I look at the rest of them, trying to drive the point home even if sharing this fucking hurts. “Of all the times I woke up covered in blood after losing control in the Nether, the worst was the time I realized Amadeus sent a human into the arena when I was already berserking. He was eleven.”

My voice is dangerously close to catching, so I clear it. “I don't remember slaughtering him, but waking up to see what little was left…” I take a deep breath and try to push the memory back to the dark recesses of my mind, looking at them in turn. “Don't let me become that again. I need this. Please.”

They exchange glances, wavering. Finally, Silas moves to the side and takes a ready stance.

“We will do this for you,” he mutters.

All four of them are unhappy and remain uncharacteristically quiet as we run drill after drill, but at least they aren't fighting me on this anymore.

And for once, Crypt takes it seriously. Instead of dipping in and out of Limbo, poking fun at the others, and whispering things in my ear to try to get a reaction, he falls into a focused, deadly calm that I have to admit does something to me.

This time, when I finally spar with him one-on-one, I'm shocked to realize he's actually…good.

Really good.

In fact, during a blindingly fast combat sequence, when I dig an elbow into his side and try to maneuver around him, he sweeps my legs out from under me, knocks my arms when I try to catch myself, blocks my instinctive attack, and pins me in a brutal hold.

We're both trying to catch our breaths as I study him. Baelfire whistles low nearby because this is the first time any of them have managed to actually pin me without cheating.

The Nightmare Prince’s galaxy gaze is consuming and intense before he leans down to whisper against my ear. Although he’s not wearing his shirt or jacket, his sweet leather scent mixed with sunlight and clean sweat is tantalizing.

“Anything you ask for, darling, I will become for you. If you want a weapon, use me. If you need air, breathe me. I will shield you from the pain in your past. All I ask in return is that you fucking tell me when these memories are haunting you.”

I close my eyes, focusing on his heartbeat against my chest.

I’ve memorized all of their heartbeats. Four unique, steady lullabies I can’t get enough of.

“You can’t protect me from memories, Crypt.”

He nips my ear. “No? Watch me.”

Someone clears their voice nearby. When I realize it’s not one of my quintet members, I crane my neck to see Ross, who is averting his gaze as he waits to talk to me.

In his defense, the way Crypt has me pinned is almost inappropriately possessive.

“Instead of merely cutting off his hand, I should have run him through,” the Nightmare Prince mutters.

His brutality gives me butterflies.

“Your mistake,” I grin before raising my voice to a normal level. “Need something, Ross?”

“You and your quintet missed breakfast, my lady—Maven,” he corrects. “I saved some prepared enchanted plates so that you all may still eat. You deserve a far greater meal, of course, and I apologize that it’s not worthy of?—”

He’s starting to babble. If I don’t say something soon, he’s going to end up pissing off one or all of my matches. They’re testy each time he shows up, which is almost annoyingly often. I’m pretty sure the only reason they aren’t telling him to fuck off right now is because they hope this will get them out of more training.

“Thanks. We’ll be at the Great Hall soon,” I interrupt Ross.

He scurries away from the glares of my matches as Crypt finally releases me. Once I’m on my feet brushing grass off, I notice Everett’s thoughtful frown.

What is it? I ask telepathically.

Do you think he acts like that around you because his third eye saw that you’re a saint?

I make a face. He’s sold on this whole sainthood thing, and I’m starting to think the others might believe him. But from everything I’ve heard of saints—namely, that they’re kind, selfless, nomadic humanitarians who travel the world doing great deeds, praising the gods, staying celibate, and leading boring-ass lives?—

No.

I’m not a saint. Even if I was selected to become one as a baby, which I doubt, I’m a fucking revenant now. If I met a saint, I’m sure they would try and fail to exorcise me.

We head to the Great Hall, with Silas on my left and Crypt on my right, each holding one of my hands. They all keep finding little ways to touch me, and I’m really fucking glad that whatever creeping unease remains of my haphephobia is barely noticeable around them.

No one else is at the Great Hall as we sit around one of the tables. Not even Ross, though he seems to have left all of this food steaming on platters. I don’t recognize much beyond fruit, scrambled eggs, and some bread, but Baelfire lights up when he takes in the display.

“Fuck, yes. I’m starving. Here, try this, Boo.”

He picks up a piece of bread slathered in green stuff and offers it to me.

“Hell, no. The last time you fed me weird green shit, it was revolting. I’m nauseous just thinking about it.”

“I promise I will never make you eat Jell-O again,” he laughs. “This is avocado toast. You’ll like it.”

Everett is busy rearranging my plate to substitute the meats with other foods. “He’s right, try it.”

With a sigh, I eat the stupid avocado toast. Surprisingly, it’s not horrible, despite the way it looks. I also like the ‘mixed berry medley parfait’ he makes me try next. Finally, Baelfire seems satisfied that I’m enjoying the meal and digs into his own food, as do the others—aside from Crypt. He isn’t sitting at the table anymore, instead leaning against one of the distant pillars to smoke.

I wonder again if his curse is hurting him.

But my thoughts take a sharp turn when my stomach begins to churn. The nausea is so sudden that I freeze, confused. I don’t get nauseous—not unless I’m having an episode. But my shadow heart isn’t hurting me.

Instead, my stomach seizes painfully as dizziness sweeps over me. My mouth goes dry while the rest of my body flushes, fingers and toes tingling. My head starts to pound.

This doesn’t feel like an episode. It feels more like…

Fuck.

My matches shout in alarm when I leap up and lurch away from the table, barely managing to make it to the edge of the open-air dining area before falling to my knees to puke my fucking guts out.