Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Legend lowers beside our mother on the sofa, and no sooner than the liquor warms her throat, does she speak.
“Something is wrong,” she says, capturing all our attention with those three words.
I cut a quick glance at my father, but his eyes are on her.
“I’ve been nocto-purging.” Mother takes another sip, her jewel-covered hand lifting to brush her hair behind her. “Going to sleep, but not sleeping, waking with odd items in my hands.”
We listen intently as she shares what led her to making this impromptu visit. Her Principal Power, the gift you’re born with and passed down from your mother’s bloodline, is a tricky one. Her mother, our grandmother, was an Oracle, but my mother’s gift is different. She’s a Presage without clear vision. She knows when something is coming … when that something is a threat to us or our world. It’s the perfect gift for the Queen of Darkness, but one that causes more frustration than anything else.
Thank hell, my brother and I have a much clearer Principal Power than she does. How could it not with the blood that flows through our father’s veins?
“The first night it was a feeling of confusion. Loneliness. The ache for a place but in a person. The second was blood. So much blood. Death….” Her eyes find my father’s for a moment, and then she says, “The third was the head of a crow sitting in my left hand, its body still jerking in my right.”
What she’s saying means nothing to us, that’s obvious by the mirrored confusion painted across all my brothers’ faces.
Still, my father asks, his eyes focused on our temples rather than our eyes, “Have any of you felt a change within you in the last few weeks?”
My parents know I’ve been in full-on dick mode since I got back, so I shake my head no. Nothing they aren’t already aware of.
My brothers do the same.
Next, it’s Vicente who speaks. “What about with your power or within your mind? Anyone causing trouble outside of the normal?”
“Nothing we haven’t dealt with ourselves and even then, just your normal angsty, teen bullshit. People trying to show off and having to be put in their place.” Creed frowns, resting his forearms on his knees. “What else should we be looking for?” He focuses on my mother, who loses herself in the deep amber liquid inside her glass. “What signs might there be?”
Our mother thinks hard for a moment, but when she comes back with a simple smile, we know the conversation is done.
“If concerns rise, you will know.”
And now we know for certain there’s more she isn’t telling us.
With that, she finishes off her drink and rises from the single leather chair. My father takes her arm, and without a goodbye or glance back, they’re gone.
The feeling of loneliness, death, and a decapitated crow…
None of that shit means a thing to us, but her purging items never do. Only her mind can connect the dots, and she will. If not now, eventually. Like a puzzle that refuses to be solved, my mother’s mind is her best friend and her worst enemy.
Until then, this little trip will be wiped to the back of our minds.
Mine especially. I’ve got my own shit to deal with, starting with a white-haired doll that I’m looking forward to breaking. Maybe see what’s inside of her. I want to rip her apart to get to know her better. See what makes her tick.
Watch out, Little London, ’cause I’m coming for you, and if you’re a good girl, I might let you come for me too.
Nine
London
I love the feeling of sweat sliding down my skin. The way my heart thrums to a dangerous beat and my legs ache from fatigue the longer I go. I could continue for hours, my stamina unmatched. Well, I only have Ben to compare myself too, and yeah, I beat out the hockey stud every time.
Tapping the next song on my playlist, I suck in a deep breath as the dirt beneath my sneakers kicks up. The incline hits my calves in a way squats never can, and I push forward faster, desperate to get to a flat area. The Weeknd is singing about how he wants whoever his latest girl is to call out his name, and I am hundred percent sure that he is talking about Selena Gomez.
I skid to a halt, tearing my AirPods out of my ears and swiping the sweat from my forehead. The track is rugged terrain, but of all the places I could find around this small town, it’s by far my favorite to run. After yet another day of feeling like I’m studying for no reason at all, I need the clarity that nature gives me, and since I promised Ben I would stop running at night—when I can really fucking breathe under the glow of the moon—this is as good as it gets.