Page 12 of Samhain Savior
“New York, I think,” I said after a second of thought. “Let’s begin at the beginning and go from there.”
Mal nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head from one side to the other, much like the bird he spent a good portion of his life as.
“We’re leaving now?” Vine asked, his knife disappearing into his Rip as he stood, a vicious smile on his face. “Excellent. It’s been a while since we’ve been to the Big Apple.”
“We’re not going to see the sights,” Corson scolded, and Vine frowned.
“I know that. But we can still grab a bite from Gray’s Papaya while we’re there.”
“Must you always think with your stomach?”
Vine grinned maniacally. “Only when I’m not thinking with my dick.”
Letting out a sigh, I surveyed the room, trying to decide if there was anything I wanted to grab before we left. There wasn’t much in the house that I would need to take with me; everything of true value I kept in my Rip, on hand at a moment’s notice.
But there wassomethingthat drew my attention. Something I hadn’t thought of in a very long time.
Moving across the room, I stood before the glass curio cabinet, my gaze settling on the many trinkets housed within. Collected over the centuries, they were things that held some sort of significance to me or the guys, items we had a special attachment to or felt were worth hanging on to.
Most of them had been harvested as trophies—things Vine had kept as mementos from his favorite kills. Yellowed finger bones arranged like a macabre bouquet, their joints still bearing traces of sinew. Shriveled ears that had turned black with age, some still pierced with the jewelry their owners had died wearing. The wolf shifter's tail, its fur matted with dried blood, curled around a glass vase filled with vampire fangs—some pristine white, others stained crimson from their final victims.
Looking past the curled serpent skin of a Gorgon’s snake hair, my breath caught at the sight of a signet ring I hadn’t thought about in ages.
Small and relatively plain, it was an item that anyone’s gaze would have passed over, assuming that it was nearly worthless. But staring at it now, I could feel it pulsing, an energy that had long lay dormant suddenly rising, as the power within that ring called to me.
Opening the cabinet, I slowly reached inside, the power of the ring thrumming across my skin, the vibrations raising the hairs on my arms.
Mine, the ring called, the haunting word echoing through my mind.Mine.
My hand shook as it hovered over the ring, something about it giving me pause, as though once I touched it, nothing would ever be the same.
It had been over a century since I’d worn the ring, and up until this moment, I hadn’t missed it. It was a symbol of my past, a time when I’d guarded the crossroads, sealing deals and collecting souls. The ring, its flat surface etched with my personal sigil, was warm to the touch, and as I slid it on my little finger, I couldfeelthe shift inside me. Pressing a hand to my chest, I gasped, feeling as though someone had just opened a Rip behind my ribcage, a churning void that seemed to suck the breath from my very lungs.
The sensation spread outward like fire through my veins, and for an instant I could sense everything—every soul within a mile radius, every crossroads deal that had ever been made, every binding that had ever been forged. The power was intoxicating, terrifying, and achingly familiar. Like coming home after a long exile.
It was pain, but at the same time, ecstasy. Overwhelming and glorious and gone in an instant.
“Yo, Archer,” Vine called, storming back into the room. “You think we’ll need—whoa. You alright, boss?”
No, I fucking was not.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. Whatever the fuck had happened was passing, my heart rate returning to normal as the ring cooled on my finger. Holding up my hand, I stared at it, not seeing any difference since the last time I’d worn it. From all appearances, it was the exact same ring it always had been.
But at the same time I could tell that it wasn’t, and I didn’t know what the fuck that could mean.
“I’m fine,” I ground out, impressed at how smooth and even my words were considering I felt like I’d been run over by a truck. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” he answered, sounding skeptical. “I, uh, just wondered if you thought we’d need stakes.” He held up a fist full of wooden stakes, their pointed ends looking wicked in the dim light. “I know Asmodeus said we were dealing with a witch coven, but you just never know when a vampire is gonna pop up, ya know?”
Glancing down at the ring again, I considered, flexing my fingers a few times. It felt good on my hand.
It felt right.
I didn’t understand, but I didn’t need to. I’d learned a long time ago to trust my gut. And my gut was telling me to wear the fucking ring.
“I think,” I said, shaking out my hand before I slipped it into my pants pocket to hide the residual tremors. “We should probably be ready for anything.”
Vine nodded, his face still crumpled in worry as he placed the stakes into his Rip, Mal and Corson joining us in the room. They had both changed clothes and were now fully kitted out and ready for battle. Corson stood, arms crossed, his shoulders straining against the canvas flak jacket he wore. Mal leaned against the wall, his dark eyes hidden behind a fall of jet-black hair, an air of aggression radiating off him. He was dressed all in black, his lean body hidden beneath layers of baggy clothes.
