Twisted Soul (Cursed Legacies #3)

35. Baelfire

35

BAELFIRE

The second we step into the hall, Maven is encircled by Everett’s arms. He exhales in relief before jerking back and scowling at the still-healing mating mark visible on her neck, not to mention the other love bites I left.

He lifts the hem of her shirt, ignoring the way Maven rolls her eyes as he checks her body.

The glare he turns on me is chilling. “I know deep down you’re a beast, but did you have to bite her so damn much?”

“As if you mind biting,” Maven teases.

Everett blushes profusely as I raise my brows. “Hold the fucking phone—is Snowflake kinky?”

“Shut up, lizard. Silas, heal the damn bite on her neck.”

Maven holds up a hand to stop the blood fae. “I want the scar. How else will other shifters know to keep their paws off what’s mine?”

Godsdamn, I love when she’s possessive.

I beam at her, proud as hell when the others finally spot the injury on my neck, too. “Don’t worry, baby. They’ll know I’m yours.”

Everett sighs. “I will never fucking understand shifters wanting to scar their mates.”

“That’s because elementals are holier-than-thou wimps,” I supply, still on Cloud Nine from two days in heaven with my mate.

But our keeper frowns, glancing around like she’s looking for something we can’t see.

“Where’s Crypt?”

“His markings were glowing, so I assume his disappearance has to do with Limbo,” Silas says, nudging Everett aside to kiss Maven’s temple and gently check her neck to see how it’s healing. “You should eat real food. Brigid is making?—”

“I heard that,” my mom calls from the distant kitchen. “Even if we’re family now, it’s Commander Decimus or Bael’s Mom to you.”

I laugh and lead them into the sweet-smelling kitchen, where my caster dad Ivan is carefully decorating cupcakes with Bran at the table. My mom is helping Oscar mix what appears to be a batch of brownies.

It never gets less funny to see that short commander next to my dad, who’s my height.

As soon as my mom spots me, she quirks a knowing brow and waves me over until I follow her out of the kitchen and into one of their spare bathrooms down another hall. She pulls three extra-strength packs of rut suppressants out of the medicine cabinet and slaps them into my hand, shaking her head at me.

“For gods’ sakes, use these next time. Your poor mate,” she hisses quietly enough that I know only Oscar can overhear from the kitchen.

“Oh, my gods.” I try to shove them back at her. “Look, it was just bad timing.”

“Bad timing? No, that’s called not using common fucking sense. You don’t just spring that on someone— especially not a non-shifter! If Oscar had caught me off guard like that before we were bonded, I would have thrown his ass into the Divide myself,” she scoffs. “I’m surprised your mate didn’t kick you out and?—”

She cuts off, eyes widening as they land on my neck for the first time. “Oh. Gods.”

I can’t help the elated smile that breaks free on my face. “Yeah. It’s official.”

I could almost swear my mom’s eye waters with emotion for a second before she sniffs in a no-nonsense way.

“Liquid silver? Brutal, but it’s also kind of…touching.”

“Brutally touching is Maven's specialty,” I grin.

My mom snorts and then gets serious, studying me. “You seem…different. Something about your dragon. My own inner dragon noticed it immediately.”

I shrug. “Just having a good day.”

She hums. I know she doesn’t buy it, but she gets business-like quickly. “You two missed New Year’s with the family. The rest of your quintet was certainly welcome, and all went well, but you’ll have to apologize to Quinn. She was in tears that Uncle Baelfire’s Ninja Mate wasn’t around.”

“Sorry about missing that.”

She rolls her eye. “No, you’re not.”

I grin. “You’re right. I’m really not.”

“Don’t look so smug. You also missed a bunch of assholes trying to break into our territory.”

My smile fades. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. They came close to breaking through the wards until Declan rained fire down on them. That Douglas boy was there and insisted he just wanted to speak with the telum . I told him to go eat shit,” she adds haughtily. “Still cannot believe he was stupid enough to try invading our territory. Although I admit…it was a close call for Declan.”

I pick up on Maven’s subtle footfalls and glance over as she walks into the hall with the bathroom. She looks at my mom, her brow furrowing as she clearly heard that last part.

“Let me guess. Bounty hunters.”

My mom nods.

Maven’s lips press together. “I’m sorry I led them here. I doubt they’ve given up, so we’ll need to leave soon.” My mom starts to protest, but Maven quickly adds, “We have another mark to get to, anyway.”

The commander sighs. “All right. Like I said, all my kids like to fly the coop before I’m ready for it. But before you leave…remember I wanted to show you something the other night? I would still like to show you.”

“Lead the way.”

Maven and I follow my mom as she leads us past the kitchen and toward what my family has always jokingly called the War Room but is really the commander’s office. Silas and Everett fall into step with us quickly. We step into the spacious room, which is mainly filled with a massive table painted with a sprawling map of the world.

Only right now, it’s also covered in a shit-ton of little game board-like pieces and erasable marker drawings.

I frown when I see a cluster of five white pieces inside my parents’ land on the map. One of them is marked “ telum .”

“Is that us?” I ask.

My mom nods and starts to say something else, but Crypt steps out of fucking nowhere and promptly dips Maven, kissing her deeply like he just got back from war.

Although, I guess with his curse, maybe he did. There’s a spray of blood on his boots, not to mention a bloodied rip in the calf area of his pants. His markings are glowing faintly.

There’s my girl, he says telepathically, grinning as they straighten.

He tosses me a testy look, his purple gaze flicking briefly between the matching mating marks healing on both my and Maven’s necks before he speaks through the bond again.

I considered all kinds of uses for dragon leather over the last couple of days. But seeing as how I possibly drove your dragon a bit mad in Limbo, we’ll call it even.

Thanks, buddy, I tease.

He rolls his eyes. We’ll make friendship bracelets later, right before we make an Eiffel Tower with Maven.

An Eiffel…? Oh—got it.

I’m down if she is, I grin.

Maven is clearly confused about what we're talking about, which reminds me that there are gaps in her knowledge about the mortal realm. There's a big chance she's never heard of the Eiffel Tower.

Hellion, that's when we're on either end of you and– I start to explain telepathically.

“Oh, my gods. Baelfire Finbar Decimus, why didn’t you tell me about this?” my mom demands, looking between us…because we’ve clearly been having a totally silent, telepathic conversation.

Oops.

“I knew your dragon was different—it’s because your curse is gone. You’re bonded?” she demands, looking at Maven in fascination. “How is that possible?”

“Because we’re fucking perfect together,” I say confidently at the exact same time Maven mutters, “Because the gods are playing games.”

Games? What is she talking about?

My mom obviously has questions, but when Maven changes the subject, pointing out the dark marker on the board and asking if it represents the Nether, the commander focuses.

“Yes. As you can see, ever since Del Mar’s death, it has grown steadily to encompass more land area. The human government is now in full crisis mode with their military on standby past these markers,” she points at a few dots on the map and then gestures at a few other green markers on the West Coast. “These are cities where emergency aid is available for those evacuating from the East Coast.”

We all examine the map. Silas tips his head, motioning at Alaska.

“You have the Sanctuary marked.”

“After the bounty hunter massacre there, it made the news in a big way,” she sighs. “Hard to keep such a place secret with that level of resources sent from the Legacy Council.” Then she looks at Maven, pointing at clusters of orange and blue markers, respectively. “These are Remitters. These are Reformists.”

I blink as I take in what she’s saying. “Holy shit. All of the little blue Reformists are still on the East Coast. Why haven’t they evacuated?”

“They’re waiting on a decision. My decision, based on whatever Maven tells me she needs.”

Hold the fucking phone. I gawk at my mom. “You’re a Reformist?”

“Bael, honey, I love you, but how the hell did you not put that together?” She shakes her head. “You’ve seen the fights I’ve had with the legacy government. You know how messed up the system is and how corrupt things have become. Of course, I want to find something better—and I think your incredible mate is the gateway to change we’ve been waiting for.”

We all look at Maven, but she’s studying the map with a cunning eye. I can practically see the plans spinning inside her pretty head. She points at blue markers in Nebraska.

“This cluster. It’s the Bairds, isn’t it?”

My mom nods.

“There’s a lot more blue on the map than I expected. How are there so many Reformists?” Maven asks.

“With the rising political tensions, legacies have been joining the cause in droves—but so have many humans. They can tell that something big is about to happen, especially because two large rumors have been circulating. One rumor is that the Nether is about to be unleashed on the mortal world. The other is that humans from the Nether are about to finally escape. So…which should I tell them it is?”

Maven meets my mom’s eye, considering. “You’re showing me this to express that…I have your support.”

My mom smiles. “Not just mine. A great deal of support from even the unlikeliest of people, should you need it.”

“I thought everyone feared the telum . From what I’m told, I’ve been in prophecies for a long time. I’m supposed to bring about the end of times and a lot of death and suffering.”

The commander shrugs one shoulder. “Prophecies are fluid. They change and can even be avoided altogether. We all thought the telum would be some faceless, unspeakable evil spreading plagues and destruction wherever it went. Instead, it’s you . The abducted girl I researched fifteen years ago, who survived in hell and came here for a damn good reason. I know you have a plan. I also know that the Nether has grown wildly unstable. Many people are terrified?—”

“They should be,” Maven asserts quietly, looking at the Nether on the map. “Not succeeding in my plan would result in all the horrors in the prophecies. Which is exactly why I won’t fail.”

She straightens her shoulders, looking at my mom again. “Are there capable Reformists who can mobilize quickly for a fight?”

“Yes.”

“How quickly?”

My mom tips her head from side to side. “Given all the casters who may be capable of transportation, I would bet they can gather within an hour if the destination is anywhere along the Divide.”

“Good. If we need them, Baelfire will call you. All other Reformists who aren't fit to fight shadow fiends should retreat to the west with everyone else.”

My mother smiles. “I’m glad to hear that. This is the start of something new. Even if it gets messy, I believe it will be worth it—and it’s about damn time something changed. I’ve seen far too many horrors at the Divide to think this endless cycle of legacies living and dying young could possibly be the gods’ ideal plan.”

Maven grumbles under her breath about the gods and then pauses. “You said you researched me.”

“I did.”

“Were there any records of me being selected as a saint at birth?”

Oh, fuck. Does she think Everett’s theory might be right?

Come to think of it, maybe he is right. I mean, she stabbed a fucking wraith with a bone, and it hurt the damn thing even without being blessed. I can’t think of another explanation for that.

It’s a big question, and we all look at the commander in the room.

My mom frowns, brow furrowing around the strap of her eye patch. “It’s possible records like that exist, but I have no access to temple data. Not to mention, living saints are notoriously under-recorded. Why do you ask?”

Maven fidgets with her gloves, blowing a strand of dark hair out of her face. “No reason. Out of curiosity, can we count on help from any of the saints out there? There’s a high chance more wraiths will break loose once the Divide is weak enough, and only casters possessing holy magic can take them out.”

If they're anything like that motherfucker Gideon, that's a horrific thought that makes me grimace.

My mother makes a face. “I doubt it. Saints are frustratingly hard to pinpoint—they’re famously into giving without getting any recognition and tend to fall off the radar of any government entity entirely to carry out their gods-given missions until they choose to show up again. They're also pacifists who wouldn't want to engage in combat. It doesn’t help that any holy magic is untraceable, even for someone like Douglas.”

Perhaps that explains our prophetess friend slipping past Silas’s magic wards after First Placement, Crypt muses telepathically.

Silas frowns. Just because someone’s magic is untraceable does not mean they are. My wards would have stopped a typical prophetess. It still makes no sense how she was able to get into our apartment.

Maybe your magic’s just not as impressive as you think, I tease.

Or maybe Maven is right, Everett sends through the bond, frowning at the map as he adjusts one of his sleeves repetitively. Maybe some of the things that have happened to us have to do with the will of the gods .

Those meddling fuckers, Maven grumbles telepathically.

Snowdrop, he groans. You know what? Maybe they are messing with us just because you blaspheme so much.

Maven ignores him as my mom makes me promise that I will stay in touch with her—since, according to Maven, all the shit that's about to happen is about to happen really damn quickly.

Maven and my mom continue to talk as Crypt begins putting back several of the little pieces he removed from the board when no one was watching. He also returns the packets of suppressants that he apparently swiped from my back pocket out of boredom during this little meeting.

Fucking pickpocket.

Either use those or invite me in to at least watch next time, he sends just to me.

I'm about to tell him there's no fucking way he's going to ever see me in a rut with my mate, but I pause. With how far gone I was, it honestly would’ve been weirdly reassuring to know he was there if Maven did have to put me in stasis.

Maybe , I reply telepathically.

Maven finishes speaking with my mom and announces that we’ll make any necessary preparations and leave tonight for Baltimore for her final “mark.”

As in, Natalya fucking Genovese.