Page 37 of Wicked Ties
“I’m sure.” I paused and turned to the others in the room. What I was about to do was illegal in Evermore. “If you don’t want to be a part of shady shit, leave now. And don’t ask questions later.”
Zinnia pointed toward the door and sighed. “I’m starting to get sick of what I don’t know can’t hurt me. But I won’t jeopardize my reign. There is some weird shit going on right now, and we need to figure it out. So don’t mess this up.”
I nodded. “Understood.”
Tuck, Tabi, and Serrina followed her out. Ashryn stopped just beside Kylian. “Do you need healing?”
Kylian held his bloody fingers out toward her. “Nah, just a scratch.”
She pulled a wad of something sticky from the pouch on her hip. It was thick and brown like sap from a tree. She ripped the corner of his shirt open, exposing the puncture wound. It was only a few inches around but still seeping blood. She slapped the goop onto it and shoved it in the wound like she was patching a hole in a wall. The skin around it turned from an angry red to his normal pale.
He studied the wound on his shoulder. “You just happen to have that?”
Ashryn scoffed and looked at him with those all-knowing, forest-green eyes. “When you came back, I made it. I know my brother, and I know the messes he gets himself into.”
The blood stopped and his face smoothed. “I appreciate you.”
“I’ll stop by and feed Soto.” She chuckled.
Kylian sighed. “Hasn’t she left the bed yet?”
Ashryn shook her head and strands of her sandy-blonde hair fell around her face and over her pointed ears. “She said someone would have to die for her to leave that bed.”
“Well, she’s never had a bed before.” Kylian looked at me and I immediately knew what he wanted from me to bring her into our shady little mission. I gave him a single nod and he turned back to Ashryn. “Will you tell her I have something interesting for her to do?”
She gave him a mock salute. “I will.”
They all left, and the only people who remained were me, Astrid, Beckett, Kylian, Grayson and Logan. Ophelia and Cross lounged on a table, silent as ever.
Grayson leaned up against the wall and cross his arms. “Well, I’m not bloody leaving just when it’s getting interesting.”
“What if I told you to leave?”
“I’d tell you to piss off like this.” He flipped me the middle finger.
“That’s what I thought.” I motioned to Beckett. “Do it.”
He opened his hand and that smokey blue magic fell from his palms and gathered on the wall at the back of the room. It twisted and turned, forming into a glowing oval shape. The sound of distorted circus music filled the air and the smell of stale popcorn drifted through the portal. To my surprise, both of my parents stood there as though they were waiting.
My mother, Alba, stood beside my father looking every bit of the pirate circus ringmaster that she was. She never changed to me. She always had wild curly hair streaked with gray pulled in a messy nest on top of her head. She had a variety of corsets she wore. Today’s was bright red to match her lips. Her baggy black pants were tucked into her knee-high boots. She jabbed her elbow into my father’s side.
“See, what did I tell you?” Even her accent was the same. She smirked at me, then glanced at the watch on her wrist. “You’re late.”
My father stood there looking as ragged as ever, with inky-black hair falling around his face, a wrinkled white shirt, and black leather pants. He seemed different to me, not his normal drunk, arrogant self. This was as if he was preparing for battle. He had a sword strapped around his hips and his lips were pressed into a hard line.
“Mazerial.”
“Father.” We were always cold and had come to blows on more than one occasion, which made me wonder. “Were you expecting me?”
He was the first to step through the portal and into the basement. “Your mother saw you coming.”
She walked in behind him. “Though I don’t know what for. My powers aren’t as strong as yours.”
I did need them and their information. Why they would show up and start being parents now was beyond me. I walked over to a table and grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. I drew a quick sketch of the bottles the Keres were using to collect souls in. When I was finished, I held it up to them. “Do these look familiar?”
My mother swallowed. “What is this about?”
Avoiding the question . . . not a tactic that worked on me. “You and I both know where they’re coming from. Can you confirm it?”
