Page 77 of Pride: Kneel Before None

“How rare is she?” he asked as though I were some precious gem.

Not wrong, but infuriating in context.

I shot Ace an offended look. “What type of question is that?”

“A necessary one,” he responded smoothly.

Never in my history had I rolled my eyes harder.

Valphyr ignored our volleying and provided more insight.

“Rare enough that my people have only ever heard of one or two founding bloodlines that carry the gene. Miss Bechette is what we call an echo variant entity.”

Echo. Variant. Entity.

E.V.E.

Catchy and surprisingly classy.

CHAPTER 24

I didn’t recall much of what Val had explained after he put a name to what I had become or perhaps had always been. He had provided an overly technical explanation while my ego soared at how rare my abilities were.

Instead of spending over an hour diving into dull historical accounts and scientific reasoning, he could have summed it up in a sentence or two.

When I fucked—or got fucked as seemed to be the trend—I temporarily consumed abilities through Ace’s dick and could echo them right back. The process could be fatal if inflicted on certain other supernatural beings.

At least my powers understood survival of the prettiest—fittest, whatever.

Ace didn’t let the opportunity go unseized to declare how his prestige as a Knight of Hell put him above others. Something about weaker cretins and his superior genetic stock.

The exchange between Valphyr and Ace at the door was too low to hear, and I wasn’t inclined to move from where I was perched on the arm of the sofa. Instead, my thoughts drifted.

If there was one thing that stuck out in my head, it was how Val mentioned that lineage played into the echo variant entity subclassification. Old familial lines. Rare enough that only one or two known families carried the ability, one that often remained dormant until shaken free from its confines.

My brother was an incubus—or claimed to be. He fucked around enough that I didn’t question it and would have rather lost all my eyelashes than have proof.

Our dad often spoke of his ancestors, respected hellwardens who dedicated themselves to the civil service of watching over the souls trapped in the nine circles. My precognitive abilities had come from him. This I knew for certain.

Out of everybody in our family, he was the only one who could get one step ahead of me. When I had asked him if he could see into the future, he’d brushed me off with some half-assed explanation. Said he’d spent too many years anticipating the desperation of fraudsters damned to eternity in Malebolge.

It was the wink he had paired with the knowing glint in his eyes that told me the truth hidden beneath his words.

Mother, on the other hand, spoke very little of her past. She had little tolerance for my mental abilities, dismissing them as child’s play. Her commentary was that her daughter was bound for greater things.

If only she could see me now.

That prompted a dangerously intrusive thought.

Maybe she ought to see me now.

Opening my precognition, I adjusted the range in my mind’s eye to see where I might encounter her. I discovered that the closer I metaphysically felt to Ace, the more I could fine-tune my abilities.

I mentally ran through a series of scenarios of adjusting my future actions to suit what I was truly after.

The scent of Faevian coffee invaded my senses through my mind’s eye. A snapshot of a café nestled between a sketchy pharmacy and an even more suspect massage parlor.

Inside, the ting-tang of a busted bell rattled as the door opened.