Vengeance of a Queen: The Resurrection of Queens, Book 2

We stop on the edge of the ice cap to make camp. Connor isn’t entirely sure how long it’ll take for us to find where we need to be, and this ice cap is huge. Apparently, the thing takes up roughly eight percent of the entire country. So…this is going to be loads of fun.

Fayden had given me Abuela’s journal after our initial meeting, since she’d already put all of the information into her A.I. I brought it along, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to skim through it. I’m glad I did. It rests on my thighs, and while I want to dig in, I’m mildly nervous about what I’ll find.

Malcolm and I are sitting close to the fire, the others forming a circle on either side of us. The chatter has died down, and we’re all off in our own little worlds. I think what we’re doing and the fact that we’re just hoping we’ll stumble across an area where Ayla’s Fate senses tingle has finally sunk in for all of us.

I glance across the fire at Kelly, tapping into our bond just to see how she’s holding up. She’s been pretty closed off lately, which is understandable, but I’m worried about her. I can’t pick up much, but she seems to be fairly mellow right now, which is good. She has dark circles under her eyes, though, and she’s still too damn thin for my liking. The pack animal in me wants to scoop her up, feed her all the cookies, and just snarl at all the people who made her sad. No one hurts pack.

“What does Abuela’s journal say?” Darcy asks, drawing my attention to her. We haven’t spent much time together since she joined our group, but it still feels as though she’s been with us all along.

“Yeah,” Dante chimes in. “We might as well hear about her adventures while we’ve got some down time.”

My lips twitch. Knowing Abuela, searching for information on the prophecy was certainly an adventure. I won’t be surprised if she mentions beating someone for information…or apparently sleeping with them. Like ya do.

Malcolm rests his hand on the small of my back, and I shoot him a small smile. The touch centers me. I crack open the journal, the scent of worn leather and old parchment filling the air as I do. I inhale deeply because I love that scent. Books.

“There’s no date,” I start, “but the first entry talks about tracking down a few witch families who were famous for their oracles.” I skim the page before I start to read.

I am in London, trying to find one of the oldest known oracle families. From what I have been able to gather from my talks with others, their line goes back to Babylon. They claim they are directly related to Apollo. Their matriarch, Mary, wishes to meet at the Globe for a production of a new play called Macbeth. Apparently, one of her coven mates wrote the play, and she insists it’s a masterpiece—as though we have time for such nonsense. 

But Mary may have some of the answers I seek. 

I met with Mary and sat through her “masterpiece.” It was decent, but certainly not to the caliber I’m used to back home. When I told her the specific prophecy I was seeking information about, she became oddly subdued. I could see she knew something, and luckily for her, she didn’t attempt to hide it. 

She confirmed the first known written record of the prophecy dates to the fall of the Roman Empire. It was recorded by a Roman oracle not of her line. She insists that line has died out, but I will see. 

Mary also claimed the prophecy changed over time, which is odd. Prophecies, true prophecies given by the gods, do not change. But this one is famous. Mary does not know the original prophecy and cannot tell me anything aside from the Roman oracle’s family name—Caesar. I will have to see if what she says is true, but someone has to know more. 

The pop and crackle of the fire seems to scream into the night when I finish the entry. Shakespeare was a witch? And Caesar…as in Julius Caesar? There are so many implications, and the fact that my Abuela didn’t already know who these people were… Well, of course she wouldn’t have known. If she saw an original production of Macbeth, it would have been the early 1600s. Since she’d never really been outside of our pack territory, she wouldn’t have known who Julius Caesar was. She also wouldn’t have known who Shakespeare was.

“So I think it bears repeating,” Ayla murmurs, her amused tone floating over the crackling fire, “your Abuela is badass.” We all chuckle. “Care to read another? Then we can talk about it, dissect it, and then go to sleep on this nice hunk of lava.”

I arch a brow at her. “Sure.”

I have been able to track down a Caesar descendent. I agreed to a blood oath not to reveal this person’s name, not even within this journal. They confirmed the Roman oracle was not the first to produce the prophecy. They also stated that it has been passed down that the original prophecy did not come from the gods. It came from a much darker source. It was originally much more horrific, suggesting there was no way to prevent the gates of Hell from opening, no way to stop the monsters from getting out, and no way to once again seal the gates. 

The version Aine gave to my Ximena is the version foretold from her ancestor. It was given to her by Athena. They were forbidden from writing the interaction down, and thus everything they know of it has passed orally. The only thing the oracle could record was the prophecy itself. 

The Caesar tells me Athena risked much in changing the original prophecy, but they believe it was to ensure that our world could survive if it ever came to pass. Their line has not been blessed with a prophecy since. 

I blow out a breath. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say the original, darker source of the prophecy was one of the Härja.” Everyone nods. “And based on my own conversation with Brigid, Athena really did risk a lot by changing the prophecy to give us a fighting chance.”

“Based on your experience, I’d agree,” Connor rumbles. “But frankly, I’m not sure how the history of the prophecy is relevant at this point.” He shrugs. “I could be missing something. My brain is pretty wrapped up in the weapons right now.”

“It helps to reinforce what Brigid told Liv,” Malcolm reasons. “If anything, it means they aren’t playing us. We could take the gods at their word, but when has that really ever worked out for anyone? Having a history of the prophecy will help us understand what we’re supposed to do, when, and whether we can trust the information we’ve been given by the gods.”

I close the journal and hug it to my chest. I’ll keep sharing the entries as we continue our little Iceland side quest. There are answers in here, we already know that, but it’s also possible we’re missing clues and helpful hints. We didn’t exactly get a chance to dive into everything with Fayden before we took off.

“I’m going to get some sleep.” Ayla yawns, standing and stretching before heading off to her tent. Caleb follows closely behind her.

“Good idea.” Malcolm nudges me, and we head off to our tent. The others, with the exception of Darcy and Dante, do the same.

Malcolm had to put a spell on our tent so I could actually sleep last night. The fact that the sun doesn’t set here during the summer months threw me off completely, so I’m groggy and cranky in the morning. I can hear some of the others already up and moving around camp, Malcolm among them. Meanwhile, I’m sprawled out on the air mattress, trying to find the will to live.

Wasn’t it morning yesterday? Why does it have to be morning again? Especially when there was no night.

Malcolm steps up to the tent and peeks in through the mesh door. “You doing okay in there, kitten?”

“Yeah, totally fine.”

“I have coffee for you.” This perks me up. “Why don’t you get dressed and come get it? We’re almost done making breakfast.”

I grumble my acceptance of his terms and toss on some clothes. Out at the fire pit, where Kelly is making something that smells amazing, I snag my coffee and park my butt by the fire.

“Do you even have a general direction we should be walking in?” Ayla asks Connor. “My Fate senses aren’t tingling, and I’m not feeling pulled anywhere. At least not right now.”

“I figured the best bet would be to head toward the middle of the ice cap, you should pick something up along the way.” I kind of want to bitch slap the dire wolf. This is the most half-assed side quest ever.

Darcy and Dante each have a bag of blood against their mouths as their eyes narrow on Connor. Seems like I’m not the only one who’s annoyed with the overgrown dog. I fight to suppress my smirk. We don’t want any infighting, but I can’t help the urge to give him just a bit of a hard time.

“So we just aimlessly wander on a giant hunk of ice over active volcanoes and just wait for some tingles?” I don’t even bother to try to tone down the sass. “Just so I’m getting this right.”

Connor narrows his eyes on me and looks to Malcolm.

“Oh, honey, no. He can’t help you.” I chuckle when his gaze swings back to me. “He knows better than to try.”

“She’s not wrong, Con.” Malcolm chuckles and moves to stand behind me, out of firing range.

“Look, I know this isn’t exactly…ideal. But it’s the best I have. We can’t go after Ayla’s sisters without also having these weapons.” He’s right, but I don’t care to admit it.

“Maybe if the four of us” —Kelly gestures at herself, Ayla, Darcy, and me— “attempt to link up, we might be able to give Ayla a power boost to feel where the weapon is.”

“It’s not a terrible idea,” Malcolm mutters. “Even without you and Darcy technically being queens yet, you’re both very powerful, and the four of you are linked in a way the rest of us aren’t. It can’t hurt.”

“Let’s do this.” Ayla seems pumped to give it a shot. Someone has had her morning cup of coffee.

I down mine as Kelly instructs Connor on how to finish breakfast. Then we’re all standing together away from the fire with Malcolm and Connor there to watch over us.

“Here.” Kelly hands out the charms that were in the box at Ayla’s cottage in Ireland. “Let’s hold onto these. They might help.” I hadn’t realized she ended up with them.

We all clasp hands and take a few fortifying breaths. I relax my muscles and close my eyes. The moment we all lower our shields, power rushes through us. It’s warm and familiar, playful almost with its enthusiasm to heed our call.

We gently push the energy into Ayla, who then gives it a specific task. And boy, does it seek and destroy. A map appears in my mind and a pulse of blue light bursts out from where we are, then a small red dot appears as our combined magic washes over what I very much hope is the weapon.

“I think that’s it,” Ayla breathes. “I think we found it!”

We allow our magic to taper off and we drop our hands. My eyes flutter open, and I notice everyone is smiling. I can still see that ping of red, and now I can also feel a slight tug in my center leading me to it. Finally, a break.

“I think we can all feel it,” I say, and the others nod. “This is great. Much better than aimlessly wandering a giant chunk of ice.”

Breaking down camp goes faster than setting it up. Everyone’s excitement is palpable. It’ll still take us a while, maybe a day or more, to get to where that magical ping is, but it’s more like a solid mission now than it was even a few moments ago.

We head out across the ice cape with a bit of pep in our steps. Having a clear sense of where we need to be reassures all of us, and we’re able to move at a fast clip. We should only need to spend one night on the ice at this rate—unless we can’t get under the ice, that is.

That’s something that still bothers me. Once we get there, how the hell are we supposed to get to the weapon?

“Hey, kitten,” Malcolm murmurs as he links his arm with mine. “I can practically hear you thinking. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“Just curious about how we’re going to get under the ice to get to this weapon. We don’t even know what the weapon is. Is it some sort of sword? Is it some form of magic?”

Malcolm chuckles and tugs me to a stop, letting the rest of our group move ahead of us. “I think you need to slow that brain of yours down a bit. I know you’re used to thinking up as many different scenarios as you can, but let’s try to take this particular adventure one step at a time. We’re learning new information as we go, so there’s really no need to try to micromanage every detail.”

He’s right. “That’s easier said than done,” I grumble.

“I know it is.” He smiles and leans down to press a quick kiss to my lips. “But you have a mate to help you take your mind off things and assist with your troubles.”

I grin up at him. “Awfully helpful.”

“I do what I can, kitten.”

“I may need your help with something later.” I nudge us into moving again, not wanting the rest of our group to get too far ahead.

“Oh?” His eyes light up and a knowing grin spreads across his face. “And what might that be?”

“It’s a very serious need.”

“I see.” Malcom’s face smooths out.

“I haven’t had any orgasms lately. You’ve been slacking in your main duty as my mate.” I throw a mock glare in his direction, only to see his lips twitch as he fights a smirk.

“I understand.” He places a hand over his heart. “I will endeavor to make sure you come at least five times a day.”

“I suppose that’s sufficient,” I giggle.

“Only the best orgasms for you, kitten.” His voice, dark and smooth, curls around me, causing me to shiver slightly. “Should I tell you what I want to do to you in the meantime?”

I shudder at the thought. I’m turned on by the idea and mildly terrified. Do I really want to risk the others overhearing Malcolm talking dirty to me?

Taking my silence as permission, Malcolm begins, “I can’t wait to lick that delicious pussy of yours again. I love watching you squirm and moan against my tongue. You get even more lively when I slide my fingers into you.”

I feel my face heat as a blush creeps over my cheeks and heat pools between my legs. Ayla’s amusement trickles down the pack bond. Everyone can hear him, which means…everyone can hear me. An evil smile curls my lips. Two can play at this game.