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

The cottage is, surprisingly, exactly as we left it. For some reason, I assumed the inside would be as chaotic as I felt, a physical reflection of my own turmoil. Silly, I now realize, but seeing it still pristine seems wrong. It’s hard to believe only a few days have passed.

My heart rate picks up, and I force myself to take a few deep, calming breaths. I’ve never had a panic attack before, and I don’t think that’s what this is. Whatever is going on, it feels like I’m having heart failure.

A soothing brush down the mate bond has me settling and relaxing. Malcolm’s hand squeezes mine, and the remnants of doubt leave me. Ayla and I aren’t alone. Our mates are here, and so are quite a few enforcers from the Council. We’re safe.

The box is still sitting on the bed where I left it, looking completely innocuous, but we all know there is nothing innocent about that box. Regardless of what’s inside, it is tied to this twisted path we are being forced to walk.

We grew up with the understanding that the gods were the good guys. After everything we’ve been through, all without the insight and knowledge the gods have, I am beginning to question that. Morally gray? Possibly. Overall good guys? Definitely not. They are admittedly better than the Härja, but as of right now, not by much.

Ayla makes her way over to the bed, staring intently at the box before turning to look at me.

“Together?”

I nod. “Together.”

I move to stand next to her, while Caleb and Malcolm stand protectively by the door. My fingers tremble slightly as I reach out for the box. I hold it between the two of us, and Ayla reaches for the top, her fingers also shaking. Gently, almost as though she’s afraid something is going to shoot out of the box and attack us, Ayla removes the lid.

And nothing happens.

It’s a bit anticlimactic.

We peer inside. There are six charms, etched with the symbol from the mantle and box, and a piece of parchment sealed with wax.

“My mother’s seal,” Ayla whispers as she stares at the contents of the box.

Caleb and Malcolm move to join us, looking into the box as well.

“I was expecting…more,” Malcolm murmurs, his brows arched. “Considering everything we’ve experienced throughout this whole adventure, I thought there’d be something in there that would, I don’t know, eat us? Melt the skin off our bones? Boil our eyes out of our head?”

Dios Mío. What the ever loving fuck is wrong with him? I turn to look at Malcolm, my own brows raised. I run my eyes over him, inspecting him as one might a deranged serial killer.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” My voice conveys that I think he needs to be locked in a small padded room for our safety. “Boil our eyes out of our heads?” I shake my head.

“What?” He shoots me an innocent look. “Given everything, it doesn’t seem like a stretch.”

Caleb’s shoulders shake as he tries to suppress his laughter, and Ayla just stares at Malcolm like he’s been possessed—which is entirely possible. Malcolm glances at the three of us, holding up his hands, palms out, in defense.

“It doesn’t!”

If I didn’t still have the box in my hands, I would face-palm myself so hard I’d probably knock myself out.

Why the hell are men so weird? I shoot the question to Ayla.

That inquiry seems to set her off, and she launches into a fit of giggles. This starts a chain reaction and has Caleb chuckling along with her. My lips start twitching, but I’m determined not to laugh.

Malcolm’s eyes light with glee as he starts chuckling along with them. I roll my eyes and place the box back on the bed, still fighting to keep my own laughter in check. I wrap my fingers around the parchment. I have a feeling the charms are for the women in our group, but I don’t want to play with them just yet.

Ayla steps closer and looks over my shoulder, nodding for me to open the seal and read what’s inside. I break the wax and carefully uncurl the paper. It doesn’t feel brittle, like one would expect of something that’s a few hundred years old. Instead, it feels as though the parchment was just recently placed in the box. I’m slightly surprised to find that the ink is completely dry.

My dearest daughter,

The fact that you are reading this letter means I have failed, and you must face a threat so great I fear none will survive. 

I have done all I can to ensure you have the tools and friends you need when the time comes—the seer’s daughter, the sin eater, the original, your sisters, your mates, your allies. I have done all I can to guarantee they find their way to you, as the goddess wished it so. 

I cannot, however, prepare for everything, my daughter. And so, I must caution you to be selective in those you trust. The road before you is far more dangerous than the one you’ve previously traveled. I am unable to provide all the answers, as so much has been lost to time, just as the gods willed it. I fear even they have forgotten the full extent of the events that are unfolding. 

The location of your sisters rests with the seer’s daughter. I have wiped the memory of those precise locations from everyone, even myself, to keep them safe. While I had planned to hide you too, I always knew you would be the one to walk this world awake and alone. My soul aches to think of you without your memories, always on the run, but you have your family and your mate now. 

My sweet daughter, you and your sisters are the Fates—seals to the gates of Hell, special guardians that keep the balance in check. You and your sisters hold back a plague that, should it be released, would ravage this world until all are either dead or enslaved. You were given this terrible gift the night you three were born, hand selected by the goddess Brigid. I hoped to spare you from what’s to come, to push the prophecy off until the next generation of Fates, but I suppose you cannot outrun your destiny. 

I will give you one small spark of hope to cling to during the darkness that is to come. Fight for the tiny spark of life that lives within you, for the life created during the darkest of times shines the brightest and purest of all. 

The prophecy will only get you part of the way. Believe in your community. Believe in yourself. 

I love you so much, my beautiful, strong daughter. 

Three Fates pure to keep the gate,

past, present, future.

Should one Fate fall the seals will break,

maiden, mother, crone.

Two Fates more shall fall, and Hell shall wake,

life, death, rebirth.

New queens will rise to fight for light,

female, queen, goddess.

A sacrifice will heal the breach,

shifter, witch, vampire.

Three new Fates will be the key.

Love,

Your mother.

The silence that filters in around us is almost uncomfortable and has me twitching to break it. There is a lot in that letter that has to be unraveled, but we’re going to need the rest of the group to do that.

“I think,” Caleb starts, “we need to head back to the war room. We’ll need to give this to Fayden and call the others again.”

I nod absentmindedly as I replay what the letter said. I’m the seer’s daughter, but I have no freaking clue where the hell Ayla’s sisters are. The memory from the other day comes to mind. I’d seen Ayla’s mother come to mine for help. I’m only a few years older than Ayla and her sisters which is why I hadn’t realized any of this before now.

Mama might have some insight, my panther responds. She’s right, but she wouldn’t be happy with just a call, she’d insist on a visit. I groan internally. A visit with the family meant a trip to Mexico and a huge headache.

Maybe I can get Mama to give me answers over the phone… if I beg.

My panther snorts, knowing full well that will never happen. Mama can be difficult, and it’s been a long time since I visited.

“Liv?”

“Huh, what?” I look around, trying to determine who called my name. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you were ready to head back?” Ayla murmurs as she studies my face. “You okay?”

“Yeah…” I force a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Back in the war room, Fayden already inputs the information from the letter while I start pacing. There is a lot to unpack in that missive, and once again, it leaves us with more questions than answers.

I tug on the end of my braid as the others call the New England team, their faces all popping up. They all appear eager to learn what we found, but I have a feeling I’m not the only one who will be put in the spotlight without any answers to give. It’s going to be a long day.

We recap the contents of the letter and show the others the charms that were in the box, and an unsettling silence falls over our group as we all retreat into our thoughts.

I can’t take it anymore. “I’m the seer’s daughter.”

All eyes turn to me and hold. So this is what any sort of specimen being studied feels like. Not so great.

“My mother is a seer.”

“Hold the phone,” Ayla says. “Since when is Ximena a Seer?”

I can’t fight the eye roll. “She’s always been a seer. She doesn’t advertise it because it takes a lot out of her, and she doesn’t like knowing how her loved ones die.”

It’s a sobering thought.

Seers are rare and can come from any species. There are always limitations on what a seer can see, including how far into the future their visions take them and whether or not that future can change. Mama is pretty damn accurate. I don’t know of any instances when her visions were wrong or able to be changed. They always drained her pretty severely, and if she called on a vision instead of allowing one to come naturally, she typically didn’t have another for at least a week. I think the longest was a month.

“Mama Mena is a seer.” Ayla sounds like she’s getting used to the idea. “Is Abuela anything special?”

“I mean the woman took on the conquistadors, so that makes her pretty damn special,” I reply with a grin.

“Valid point,” she concedes. “Okay. So you’re the seer’s daughter. We know Darcy is the original. Who the hell is the sin eater?” She starts pacing, and I resume my strides right alongside her.

“Just based on logic alone,” Fayden interjects, “it’s Kelly.” She hasn’t raised her head from her tablet, but her words land like a bomb.

Kelly’s face drains of color, and for a second, she appears completely, utterly lost. I wish she was here so I could hug the crap out of her. Clearly, she has no idea what she really is if this is true.

“There’s no way.” The denial in her statement is strong, and she’s shaking her head. “No way. I’ve never been able to do anything a sin eater can do.”

“I’m not so sure of that…” Ayla’s voice rips my attention away from Kelly. “The first time I met you, I noticed some of your power was locked away. I thought you knew.”

Sin eaters, like queens, were the things of legend. They’d been hunted just as fiercely as the queens because of their ability to decimate demons with a thought. Depending on how powerful one was, they could kill a legion in seconds. If Kelly is a Sin Eater… The possibilities were endless.

“I need to talk to my mother.” Kelly ended the call, and we were left in yet another awkward silence.