Discovery of a Queen: Resurrection of Queens Book 1

Shane is very much aware of what is happening to him. He’s resistant and is actively trying to make this harder than it needs to be. Unlike when I dove into Jonas’s mind just a few days earlier, I’m going to need to use far more magic to get what I want out of Shane. Frankly, I’m too pissed off to care about the backlash, and I have no problem watching Shane form puddles of drool everywhere for the rest of his miserable life. I don’t hold back, aggressively pushing past any mental walls he tries to erect, letting my magic savagely invade his mind.

As I suspected, Shane is a brainless lackey. He wasn’t privy to any real information, just bits and pieces he needed to accomplish whatever tasks he was assigned. He pushed drugs, fought in the underground rings, drugged females so they could be held in the cages we found in Sean’s basement, and…fury rages through me as I catch a memory of him assaulting a few of those helpless women. While he hadn’t had any direct dealings with any demon himself, his actions against the females of his own pack just earned him a one-way ticket to vegetable town. I keep searching for information, wrath now fueling my efforts and shredding his mind.

I pause at one memory of a fight from years ago, noting how many of the fighters appear smudged. This problem is so much larger than we realized and has been going on for far too long. These fights bring in shifters from not just the U.S., but around the world. I only saw Shane and Kevin a few months ago, but I also hadn’t been looking for fighters, my eyes scanning for females. Just how bad was the infestation?

Shane was in a lot of illegal fights throughout the country, and each of them had numerous fighters who had dealings with demons. More worrying than that, however, is the amount of drugged up females I see leaving with not only shifter males, but mages too. Which further strengthens my belief that Malick is involved.

There’s a dark memory. Seems like Shane was listening by an open window while shifted in the middle of the night. Voices float outside through the window.

“You said the drugs would keep the females sedated enough for transport! One almost broke out of her cell.”

“Calm yourself, Sean. Remember who you’re talking to.” I freeze. Malick.

“If these females get out of their cages and go back into town, this is it. Our little arrangement is over.” Sean doesn’t sound scared of Malick. He sounds like a whiny, petulant child who isn’t about to get his way.

“Yes, yes.” Malick’s tone is dismissive. “You needn’t worry, I have a new batch being prepared as we speak. It’ll be strong enough to take down even a councilman.”

“It had better be.”

The fox then scurries away from the window and into the woods beyond, what I now realize, is Sean’s house.

This memory is recent. I search through more memories and gather that Shane hadn’t been given more drugs to push before the attack. Excitement zips through me. The new drugs Malick promised could very well be the drugs that Dante found at Sean’s. We might have the most recent and potent batch.

There’s another memory from a few months ago that also looks promising. Just as I’m reaching out to touch it, everything goes black.

I’m yanked out of Shane’s mind when Caleb rips my hands away from his temples. Shane slumps low on his chair, only staying in place because he’s been restrained. I’m instantly hit with the slowly building burn of pain as my limbs begin going numb.

“Wha—?” My voice is weaker than I’d like and laced with the agony that is currently savaging my body.

“You’ve been digging around in his brain for almost two hours.” Malcolm’s voice is quiet and sounds far away. Caleb looks too furious to speak for himself. “We couldn’t let you continue. It could kill you.”

“I’m. Fine,” I grit out, trying to strengthen my voice enough to keep the discomfort from showing.

My body screams in pain, muscles spasm, bones crack, and ligaments stretch. My dragon roars in agony. We knew the consequences, accepted them, but that means nothing when I’m living through the consequences. My body goes limp as I’m unable to hold myself up through the searing and unending pain that floods my system. Strong arms catch me before I hit the floor, cradling me against a solid chest that smells like heaven.

I try to fight the torment as best I can, but it’s a losing battle. I viciously bite my lower lip in an attempt to prevent myself from screaming. The sensations of being burned alive and electrocuted rapidly and simultaneously wash through all of my muscles, coupled with the feeling of having each of my teeth ripped out individually, my nails pulled off slowly, my tongue cut off, and my eyes gouged from their sockets.

I hadn’t realized how hard Shane was fighting me. Most of my magical reserves have been stripped. For any being that possesses magic, it’s intrinsically linked with their very life force and part of the very fiber of their being, their soul. And so, to have magic stripped in this manner is akin to ripping apart one’s very soul.

“Let me in, Ayla. I can help carry some of the pain.” While I’m sure Caleb is actually using a quiet and soothing tone, his voice blares through my head as if I’m standing next to the world’s strongest speaker. A whimper escapes me as I feel blood trickle down my chin because of how hard I’m biting into my lip.

There’s no way to share this pain, and even if there was, I wouldn’t put my mate through this. I’m not that heartless. My back arches in Caleb’s arms as a spasm locks all of my muscles in a tight hold. My muscles start to quiver from being seized in this position the longer the spasm lasts.

Caleb curses and rushes us out of Shane’s cell, heading back across town to the packhouse. He goes straight for my bedroom, barking out orders I can’t make out thanks to the screeching that starts in my head. I can’t be sure if I’m physically screaming or if this is all in my mind.

My vision goes gray, my eyes are unable to focus, and the ringing in my head grows louder. Why won’t they just kill me? Goddess. Please.

My dragon is screeching in my head. Cold is starting to creep along my body.

Blissfully, my world goes dark.

“How long was she under?” The voice is female, familiar.

“Two bloody hours.” A thick Scottish accent, male.

“Two hours?”

“Aye, two hours.” The male sounds furious.

“She’s dying, Caleb.” The female is panicked.

“Like hell she is,” the Scot growls.

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen, but Caleb, two hours even for a queen is deadly.”

“Save her. If she dies—”

“You don’t need to threaten me. She’s my high priestess, I’m very well aware of what happens to us all if she dies,” the female snaps angrily.

Two Fates more shall fall, and Hell shall wake.

“Damn it, Ayla, fight!” The female voice is back. Bossy bit of goods, that one.

Suddenly, an image appears before me. It’s a male. He’s handsome, devastatingly so. Something roars inside of me. He’s the reason I have to stay.

“New queens will rise.” The triad of voices sounds from every direction, soothing the pain and washing over me like a healing balm, but it’s not enough.

I can hear screams as my mind starts to clear. It’s the first thing I register before the pain creeps back in. Are the screams mine? My head feels as though it’s being torn to shreds, so I can’t tell if the screaming is my own or someone else’s. I struggle to open my eyes, and when I do, I’m blinded by even the slightest light filtering through. I slam my eyelids closed.

The screaming continues. As I try to make sense of what I’m hearing, I’m also able to pick up on the sounds of fighting all around me. But I can’t be sure if that’s a remnant from my dream or reality. Gods, I wish the pain would just go away! I try to lift my hands to claw at my skin, anything to relieve the agony, but my muscles are too weak, the throbbing too crippling.

“Do not let them close in on this room. Do I make myself clear?” The Scottish voice is back. He sounds angry.

I feel a twinge of panic from my dragon.

Danger! Her roar is quiet compared to the shouts echoing around me. Demons!

I once again attempt to open my eyes. My instincts urge me to get out of bed, to fight, to protect. My body struggles to obey. I’m only able to crack my eyes open slightly, the light still blinding, and I’m unable to make anything out. Mustering as much strength as I can, hoping that my instincts can fuel my efforts, I attempt to roll out of the bed I’m on—only to go crashing onto the floor.

A grunt flies from my lips. My eyes close again as I attempt to block a new flood of pain that rages through every nerve in my body. I take deep, calming breaths, trying desperately to find my center. Anything to block out the torment and help my community.

Protect. Fight. Save! Damn it, I’m trying!

Oh, shit. Oblivion claims me once again.