Page 119 of Death Warden
“What the heck?” I look from a sobbing Curo to Adi.
Her step slows and then she smiles and breaks into a jog toward us.
Without a second thought, we run to meet her.
EPILOGUE
ONE MONTH LATER
The cherry-red customized Triumph Bonneville Bobber sat in the center of the arcane circle in the atrium behind the Grave Spirits club house. This was a minor hotspot. Powerful enough to connect to the other side, the space beyond the spirit realm where hellhound souls went. I wasn’t sure how it worked once a soul passed through the white door, but I knew they could be forced to come back.
Logan told me they could also beinvitedback.
The Grave Spirits had been inviting their hellhounds back for decades, offering them a second life, linked to a ride and a hellhound rider. A second chance to be a Grave Spirit.
My bike license had come fresh in the mail, snug in my pocket. My Grave Spirit jacket hugged my petite frame. It was time to complete my transition and become part of the club.
“Are you nervous?” Spectre asked.
I let out a strained laugh. “You’d think I was about to get married.”
“Oh, you already did that when you joined the MC,” Curo drawled. “You’re stuck with us for life.”
I’d fallen in love with Curo without even realizing it, and the same thing happened with Spectre and Logan. We didn’t say the words often, but we showed each other every day, in actions, with every touch, every kiss. I kept them as close as I could, sharing my bed often, and invading their space whenever I could. It was a work in progress, this dynamic with the four of us, but I’d never been happier.
They were mine regardless, bound to me by the conduit mark and by fate, and this club was home. The loss of Dax had been cushioned by the presence of these hellhounds. This family. I belonged here in the place my father had built and made a home.
“Your ride is an extension of you,” Logan said. “You’re about to meet the soul that’ll be your best friend on the road for the rest of your days.”
“What if no hellhound soul chooses me?”
“Not gonna happen,” Spectre said firmly.
“Have I missed it?” Finley hurried into the atrium, Riley in tow. Those two had been inseparable the past two weeks.
“Not yet,” Curo said. “We’re waiting on—”
“I’m here.” A short, harassed-looking man entered the room.
“Hey, Gray,” Logan said. “This is Adi.”
He blinked up at me. “Dax’s pup. So sorry to hear about your father. I’m happy to be here to initiate you with your ride.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat that the mention of Dax evoked. “Thank you.”
Gray set his backpack down and pulled out an old-fashioned candle holder.
He walked over to the painted arcane circle and set the candle holder on one of the painted lines. “Let’s get this show on the road. Adi, can you come and stand on this line please.” He pointed to a spot on the symbol.
Spectre kissed my temple. “You’ve got this.”
“It’ll be great,” Logan said.
Curo winked his encouragement. “Go on, get this over with, then we can ride out to the beach house in Bay View.”
Since the night the house on Evergreen Street burned, the club had been scrambling to find its equilibrium. The loss of Dax had put Spectre in charge and having to deal with the fallout over the conflict with the Mageri. The syndicate had been on our side all the way, backing up our actions.
It helped that the loss of Dralos had weakened the Mageri. Their threats meant less. Still, it had taken a few days for the otherworld power Dralos had granted to our bloodlines to fully leave them.
