Rise of the Discordant: The Complete Five Book Series Page 6

  “You shouldn’t worry about that, Donna,” I said gently, but with meaning. I didn’t have much in the way of magic myself, but I thanked the Creator for giving me the ability to manipulate emotions, even if it was only temporary. Technically, I was only supposed to do this if the soul was in danger of becoming lost. Order rules could not be broken without consequences, but from time to time, we were all known to bend them a little.

  “Seth, may I have a moment?” A heavy hand came down on my shoulder and I looked up to see a rather nonplussed Desmond staring down at me. He looked around at my companions and I noticed a shadow pass across his face. “Alone, please,” he added, allowing his gaze to linger for a moment on Louise, who had managed to drape herself over me yet again.

  “Sure,” I said, untangling myself from the witch’s limbs. “I’ll just be a moment,” I told her with what I hoped was an apologetic smile before I followed Desmond into the bar’s small office behind the storeroom.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing full well what was eating him.

  “Besides witches in my bar?”

  As I had predicted, Desmond was not at all subtle. It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. I knew witches made some people nervous. Of all the mystics, they still carried a bad reputation thanks to fairy tales and centuries of puritanical mindsets. But Desmond had very little room to talk. He was, after all, the one who put a demon in charge of the bar, so I didn’t feel he had much of a right to accuse me of consorting with the wrong element. I was about to tell him as much when he cut me off.

  “Look, Seth. Who or what you choose to spend time with is none of my business. I imagine, just from what I’ve seen in the little time that I’ve been here, that you and the previous Guardian have had need for assistance from the available mystics. That being said, you can’t expect me to ignore what I just heard. I’ve met some powerful mystics in my day, but none who were able to see beyond the influence of Order. Bogie just told me that the redhead asked where Abbey was earlier tonight. Not the former bartender, not the Guardian, but Abbey. She used a name she should have forgotten. Do you want to fill me in on what’s going on here?”

  I had hoped he’d missed that part, but it didn’t matter. He was here because Blackbird was a special case. It was only going to be a matter of time before he discovered that Amara was just the tip of the chaotic iceberg.

  “Aside from the Rosewood coven, there are four other mystics in Blackbird, making seven in total. Now, I don’t have to tell you that human influence and superstition surround the number seven,” I began. “Additionally, being a coven of three gives them yet another magical number to play with, but even without the inflated spiritual boost, the Rosewood coven is powerful. Prior to your arrival, they were instrumental in keeping the Discordant from completely taking over Blackbird.”

  “They managed to let a succubus and a demon in tonight,” he countered. “A lesser demon who is a joke of a Discordant at that. I’ve seen kids playing Dungeons and Dragons who have inadvertently cast stronger wards than that.”

  I did roll my eyes at that. “Even a powerful coven is no match for Order magic, Desmond. You know this. Abbey’s cycling caused a distraction, which yes, caused a rift in their protections. They were all close to her, so it didn’t surprise me to learn that they felt a residual presence. Especially Donna, considering…”

  “Considering what?” Desmond asked as I faltered. He would find out eventually, but the idea of telling him exactly how odd our situation in Blackbird was made me nervous.

  “Considering… that Donna is a descendant of Abbey’s… and a thirteenth generation Nyx.”

  That shut Desmond up for a good long time. Not that I was surprised. Half of what I had just revealed, the part about Donna being a Nyx, was cause for concern under normal circumstances. A Nyx was anyone who had one human parent and one Discordant. This is rare enough, but to be the thirteenth daughter to be born to a human mother and Discordant father, Donna was more Discordant than human. Thirteen times more, to be exact. Thirteen is another number that receives additional power from superstitions, but unlike seven, thirteen is boosted with dark energy.

  The other half of what I revealed, that she was a descendant of our former Guardian, was technically impossible. Another requirement for service to the Order was that we were the end of our direct biological line. Meaning, anyone who had been a parent in life was barred from service inside the Cycle if their children still lived. The main reason for this rule was because a familial bond had its own magic and was strong enough to break the bonds that keep us from returning to the location of our former lives for one hundred years. Similarly, this is why people who died tragically young were rarely offered positions in the Order, even if the Discordant played a hand in their deaths.

  Several times, Desmond opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again as words failed. After a minute of watching him work on his guppy impression, I launched into my explanation.

  “Five hundred years ago, Abbey was a sister at a convent in Ireland. She was visited in her dreams by a male form. In the dream, he took from her what her vows prevented her from willingly giving to anyone. At first, she just believed that she was having shameful dreams and atoned for her sins by confessing them and receiving penance. But despite her prayers, the dreams continued and soon she found herself heavy with child. The priest believed that her dreams were fabricated stories meant to garner sympathy and deflect from her sinful behavior. She was brought before the head of the church and put on trial. Judgment was passed and she was put to death for her sins.

  “Much like the oversight that allowed you to return to the plantation, there was a miscommunication in the transfer of souls. Little did Abbey know, her child survived and was birthed posthumously. Nor did the admin who processed her Guardianship know about this. Likewise, Abbey would not know that for several generations, her daughter and her daughter’s daughters would each be visited by a spectral body and become impregnated in their sleep. It wasn’t until twenty-three years ago, when the psychic Myrna Rose found herself pregnant, not just at the improbable age of sixty-two, but without the aid of a male consort, that we would learn any of this.”

  “Who is Myrna Rose?” Desmond asked.

  “Donna’s mother,” I explained. “After digging deep into her family history and finding that she was twelfth in an unbroken line of virgins to conceive in such a strange manner, Myrna contacted us. She believed her family to be cursed and worried what this meant for her daughter, who she did not fail to notice would be the thirteenth. When Abbey found her own name at the beginning of the line, she became distraught. Not because of the apparent curse, but because she’d never had a chance to be a part of her own child’s life. She tried to move past this and spent all of her energy protecting Donna, but it was obvious to us all that the damage from what she had discovered was irreparable. I believe that this was when she first started to think seriously about returning to the Cycle. Myrna and I convinced her to stay for Donna’s sake. In the end she claimed the world was moving too fast, but I still think she just wanted to forget what she could never take back.”

  “And so Donna…” Desmond trailed off, but I understood his question.

  “Allegedly broke the curse on the night of her senior prom,” I answered with a knowing look. Say what you want about the depravity of the current generation, but you have to admit, relaxed attitudes on premarital sex don’t seem so bad when the alternative is demon possession and virgin births. “She’s a powerful witch, Desmond, and considering that we’re dealing with a succubus, I would think that the daughter of an incubus in our corner would be beneficial.”

  “She might be,” he muttered, “or she could be our undoing. Either way, I’m not sure how much I want her or her coven knowing about this.”

  “I’m just going to have to ask you to trust me on this one,” I said with a pleading look. “And Donna isn’t the coven leader, by the way. Louise is.”

  Desmond raised his
eyebrows in disbelief. “The blonde? But her magic is the weakest.”

  “Come on, Desmond,” I said flatly. “You and I have both worked for the government long enough to know that leadership is culled from the most cunning, not the strongest in their field. What Louise lacks in magical skill, she more than makes up for in administrative posturing.”

  “You have a point,” he conceded as he followed me out of the office.

  It was late and I was exhausted. I had to be back at the unemployment office at nine, so the very last thing I wanted to do was rehash my tragic past for a third time, but I didn’t have a choice. First of all, I knew there would be no getting rid of the Rosewood witches without some explanation of what had happened, and second of all, I hadn’t just been trying to put Desmond’s mind at ease. They truly were powerful allies to have. Besides, that they knew something was amiss despite all of the Order magic being tossed around meant that the situation was not good.

  “So are you going to let us know what happened?” Louise asked, shooting a wary look over at Desmond, as if she had hoped he had somehow disappeared from the face of the Earth while we were gone. “I had a vision that you were in danger, so I come down here to find a demon tending bar, and he tells me you ran off with a vampire!”

  “It’s uh… a bit more complicated than that.”

  “Are you sure this is something you want to discuss right now?” Desmond asked. I had hoped that telling him about Donna would make him more trusting. If anything, he seemed more suspicious of the witches now. “Perhaps maybe we can arrange to meet with your friends here tomorrow and properly get to know each other before we make any rash decisions.”

  “Says the man who consorts with demons,” Louise snipped back.

  “Bogie is hardly a demon and binding him to the bar is hardly consorting,” Desmond countered. “However a witch that can see through a demon’s glamour is an interesting study.”

  “Oh, leave Hubert alone,” Betty said with a glance back at the bar, where Bogie was washing the last of the pint glasses. She waved at him and he waved back, nearly dropping the glass in his hand. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen a demon blush before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

  “Betty, tell me you don’t have a thing for that… that… demon!” Louise huffed, clearly disgusted at the very concept.

  “Hubert?” Desmond asked, barely suppressing his amusement. “I’d nearly forgotten he had a name. No wonder I call him Bogie.”

  “Hubert is a fine name, thank you very much,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And he’s not bad, really. Just misunderstood.”

  “How did you end up putting a demon in charge of the bar?” I asked Desmond, more to keep everyone from sniping at each other like a bunch of bratty children on a playground. Oddly enough, Betty was right about Bogie. Odd, that is, in the sense that Betty usually had the worst taste in men, but Bogie really did seem like a nice guy, for a demon, that is. A bit downtrodden perhaps, but for a Discordant, his emotions were surprisingly balanced.

  “My Observer took off after a vampire and Bogie was convenient,” Desmond said with a subtle dig. “Really, can we do this tomorrow?”

  “Oh, quit your crap,” Louise snarled at him. “I don’t know what you are, mister, but I can feel the magic coming off of you from a mile away, and it sure as heck isn’t light magic.”

  “Louise, babe, you know I love you like a sister, but can you be any more blonde tonight?” Donna snapped, rolling her eyes at her coven leader. “If you could stop throwing yourself at Seth for a moment, you might have noticed that this dude is a freaking Warrior. A Warrior of Order.”

  “Say what?” Louise looked over at Desmond and her eyes widened when she realized that Donna was right. She turned sheepishly away before asking me, “Why do we need a Warrior here?”

  “Well, for starters, the vampire I went chasing after turned out to be a succubus,” I said with a defeated sigh. “And my mortal life was the catalyst that created her.”

  For the second time that night, I told the story of how being young and foolish had cost me my life. Though it should have been easier, the waves of sympathy and regret that rolled off the witches only made it more difficult. Well, Donna and Betty were understanding, at least. Louise was furiously jealous and her emotional state was closer to murderous than sympathetic. Not that that helped much either. When I finished telling my story, everyone was quiet for a moment, as if they didn’t know what to say.

  “The way I see it,” Donna mused, breaking the silence. “Amara might actually provide Seth with a protection of sorts.”

  “And how exactly did you come to that conclusion,” Desmond asked.

  “Well, think about it,” she said with a shrug. “With you here, she’d pretty much be toast if it wasn’t for her puppet. If anything happens to Seth, she’s no longer invincible.” She turned to me and added, “I would think that she’d be hell bent on protecting your ass if it means protecting her own by proxy.”

  Desmond looked like he was going to counter, but stopped, looked at me, and shrugged. “She has a point, you know.”

  “Okay sure, but why would she come here?” I asked. “Why, after one hundred and fifty years without a peep out of her, does she show up in Blackbird of all places? And why didn’t she seem at all surprised to see me?”

  “I don’t think she came here willingly,” Louise said, surprising me. Her overbearing emotional aura had subdued greatly and she appeared to be deep in thought, worried about something.

  “What do you mean?” Desmond asked.

  “Three things happened tonight, each three hours apart,” she said, counting off on her hand. “At six this evening there was the earthquake.”

  “What earthquake?” I asked. At six, I was still at work. The county office building was pretty well built, but I’m sure if there was an earthquake I would have felt something.

  “It was just a three point something or other,” Betty scowled. “Stupid fracking is what caused it. A few more like that and we’ll end up with a Hell mouth and it’s not like we don’t have enough problems.”

  She had a point. Hydraulic fracturing, or fracking, was just as volatile as mining had been in terms of tearing down the wall between realms. Recently the city council had voted to allow fracking in Blackbird and the oil companies had swept in with promises to revitalize the area with new jobs. I won’t get into exactly how deceptive their pitches were, but I will say that so far, neither my job with the unemployment office nor as an Observer has been made any easier by the decision.

  “Anyway,” Louise went on. “At nine there was a huge magical disturbance.”

  Desmond and I glanced at each other. That would have been when Abbey cycled. While Desmond was still upset that they remembered the disturbance, I was glad to see that Donna had finally let go of Abbey’s memory, as she didn’t mention it again.

  “Then at midnight, I fell into a trance in the middle of my Netflix binge and the next thing I know, I’m seeing you try to kill yourself.”

  “Wait, what?” I turned back to Louise. “You didn’t tell me that part. What did you see?”

  “It was creepy,” she shuddered. “Most of the scene was mist, but I saw you climbing this mountain. At the top was an angel. You reached up and took the mask off. Luckily, I came out of it, screaming my fool head off mind you, before I saw what happened next.”

  “Well that’s cold comfort,” I said and shuddered as well. Not only because what Louise described was ghoulish, but because there was a dark part of the back of my mind that knew, and had considered, what an angel could do.

  “Okay,” I said shaking the thought off. “So putting this all together…” I gestured for Louise to continue with her theory.

  “Putting this all together, there was enough magic flying around tonight to invoke a summoning. I don’t think the tramp… er… succubus, nor the demon were a coincidence and I have a bad feeling that we’re going to be seeing a lot more Disc
ordant in Blackbird than usual.”

  “Uh, boss?” Bogie walked over, wiping his hands on a bar towel, and gave Desmond a look that was half grimace and half terrified that he was about to have his head bitten off. “I hate to say it, but I think Blondie’s right. I uh… when I was throwin’ out the trash, there was a couple of pixies out in the alley and I’m pretty sure I smelled werewolves. I mean, it coulda just been a really stinky wet dog, but uh, there’s a full moon and all that goin’ on.”

  “This isn’t good,” I said, giving Desmond a look. “The bars all closed within the last hour and there’s an all-night diner a few blocks from here.”

  “Damn,” he swore and ran behind the bar to grab his jacket. “I’ll look for the wolves first. Can you cast any protections around the downtown area?” he asked Donna.

  “Already on it,” she said, giving him a thumbs-up as she vaulted the bar and began drawing a pentagram on the floor with margarita salt.

  “Here,” Betty said, throwing Desmond a small vial that she pulled out of her purse. “Silver and Wolfsbane, use it sparingly.”

  “Thanks,” he said, pocketing the bottle.

  “We can take care of the pixies,” Louise said, motioning to Betty and herself.

  “I can help too,” Bogie added, pushing his fedora down further over his forehead. “I kinda got a grudge with those pixies.”

  “What do you need me to do?” I asked, tired, but ready to do whatever I needed to keep any souls from being lost.

  “I need you to get some sleep,” said Desmond. “Seriously, Seth, you look like you’re about to fall over and I think we can handle this.”

  “Come on, I need to do something,” I protested, but Betty put her hand on my arm.

  “Seth, really, you’re way too vulnerable right now. I can feel it. I promise we won’t let anything happen to the big guy,” she added with a wink.