Grasping his hip bones, Zephyr swung his eyes to me. “We were told from an ancestor that your mother was desperate to break the curse.” He looked back at the portrait of my father. “When she found out she was pregnant with you, she abandoned Foster. I suppose he couldn’t go on without her.” He sighed. “From what I know about him, he was a good man.”
Behind us, the volume in Julian’s voice multiplied.
“You stole all this magic?” he demanded to know.
Zephyr and I exchanged glances before falling back to find out what he was talking about.
“I have not stolen magic,” Clarence countered, locking the case and dropping a key into his pocket. “It’s magic I’ve been saving, and magic you’ve always had full access to. Do not question my intentions, Blackwell.”
Julian gestured toward the other Heathens. “It was magicextractedout of the four of us through torture. And for what?”
Clarence’s eyes narrowed. “You have to trust me. I am on your side.”
“And I’m on theirs,” Julian said, his voice calming as he tried to control his emotions. “While the coven treats us as objects, it is my job to remind the Heathens of their humanity. Please, do not patronize me, the one you torture—tearing the flesh off his bones—and tell me you’re on my side.” He raked his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “It is true, you put the coven first, as my father would have wanted, but it is my job to put the Heathens first.”
Silence swelled in the room.
I’d come to know the dynamics of the coven. Though Clarence was the high priest and the ultimate decision maker for the coven, Julian was the voice of the Heathens. Each day, he was the one to check in on Beck, Zephyr, Phoenix, and me. He was the strength the others looked to when theirs had faltered. He was the rock. He was the soul.
Beck was the heart. Despite how equally intimidating each of them seemed to others, and how often they’d fought and disagreed among themselves, all three of them had a weak spot for Beck, the youngest. Since living with them, I have not witnessed any of them raise their voice to Beck, mock him, or humiliate him. It was as if they knew Beck would be affected by it much differently.
Zephyr, the mind, was always the calm, reasonable one when everything got too loud and chaotic. Out of all the Heathens, I surprisingly felt the most at ease with him. Perhaps it was the mask he wore that brought me comfort. Perhaps it was the way he spoke and the subjects we discussed. At times, we often were the only ones in the room who understood what the other was saying.
And Phoenix was the spirit. He brought life, truth, and motivation.
It was fascinating to watch the way they moved about, none of them realizing their roles. But as I looked upon the four of them, my only thought was where did I fit in?
Julian took a breath. “It is our right to know, Clarence. What is it you’re not telling us?”
Clarence looked at Beck. “Go on, Parish. It’s time to tell him.”
Julian’s brows were bunched, confusion obscuring his expression.
In the Heathen Athenaeum, only the crackling fire and the clock cared not to wait. The rest of us were counting the seconds to hear from Beck.
Beck reluctantly turned to Julian. “Over the last few years, I’ve had premonitions.”
Julian lifted his chin. “What kind of premonitions?”
“War,” Beck said in an ominous tone. “I don’t know when, and I’m not exactly sure why, but a war is coming. And now that the curse is broken, I can only assume it will be a war for power.” Julian stood frozen, as did the other Heathens as well. Beck continued, “One decision can cause a domino effect, setting this process in motion, Julian. If that happens, we can’t stop it. And I fear this domino effect will begin with the Shadows.”
Julian turned to Phoenix and Zephyr. “Did you two know about this?”
They both shook their heads, and the energy in the room shifted when Julian faced Beck again. “Why haven’t you told me?” Julian seemed hurt, bruised. But then a knowing dawned on his face, and he threw his head back and looked at the ceiling. “You couldn’t tell me because someone I care about is dying,” he gathered, then looked at Beck again. “Am I right?” Fear slowly stole Julian’s face, his silver eyes turning lethal. “Who’s dying, Beck? Fallon? Agatha? Jolie?”
Beck shook his head. “Don’t do this.”
Julian flexed his jaw and raised his brow. “Is it Fallon?”
“We made a deal, man.”
“Is it Fallon?” Julian badgered, his voice growing more urgent.
Beck raised his palms in the air. “Calm down, all right?”
“Julian,” Clarence called, feeling Julian’s buzz raise the energy in the room.
“Tell me!” he ordered, but Beck shook his head. “You know I can’t.”
