Exaltation (Insight #11)(40)
“Like once a century. Even the Escorts that are living on one host do not develop fevers.”
That was true.
“Besides, she’s like seventeen.”
Dagen made Rydell feel like a creeper and considering he had been staring at Raven’s empty bed for hours he was pretty sure he was at that point. She was an infant compared to him. But she kissed him like a woman. Like the Goddess she was fated to become.
“I should have told you what she looked like. I bet you money Berries double crossed us and gave her the heads up. She spelled you. That’s the only way this makes any sense.”
“You don’t know what it feels like. It’s on point with everything we’ve ever heard about this.”
“She’s human. She’s seventeen. And she’s been given supernatural orders to obliterate you—you’ve been spelled.”
Rydell let out a breath. Creator help him, he wanted Dagen to be right.
“We’re going to turn this around. She thinks she has you in her hooks, but you’re clear headed and have the trust you need to move in close.”
Clear headed—right. “She’s gone.”
“How do you know that?”
Rydell raised a brow as if to point out he had a fever, that he was more aware of her energy signature than his own damn line, but he just shook his head.
“She’s not gone, they just layered more spells on her or something. We’ll see her tomorrow. Kade invited them to a backwoods racing party. You’ll see, this will be over. You’re fine.”
“Devil’s advocate. She doesn’t have a damn clue who she is or who I am. She kissed me on a girlish impulse and hooked me fair and square. Tell me how I’m supposed to kill her now.”
Dagen leaned back in his recliner and put his hands behind his head. The sun was rising before he spoke again.
“Maybe it’s not you she has to kill. Maybe since you’re not the First anymore you’re not the target. What if you’re meant to help her take down Revelin?”
Rydell had already thought of that. Revelin had not proclaimed another First since Rydell left. Rydell doubted the other kings even knew that he had left. He was still the First as far as the universe and Revelin were concerned.
“I’m a target. No other way to bring him down.”
“Fine then—if she’s a legit fever we need to find a way to break permanently from the line. What if we go to the King of Anger, Vade, and ask him to take us in?”
Rydell would not cross Vade on his most boastful day, and he had many of those. The thought of listening to anyone—of standing in another monarchy—was worse than death.
“We need to look for a way to break apart without climbing into another cage.”
“If we do, what are you going to do with Raven?”
“Get as far away from her as possible, let her age to at least one eternity then ask her out for coffee.”
Dagen shook his head, not understanding how any of this was possible.
“Are you sure she’s a new soul? Only seventeen years?” Dagen asked, looking over Rydell. He’d never known him to show concern over any female. If he wanted one, he had his way with one and never looked back. Hit it and quit it.
Then again, Dagen knew there was something up with his boy.
New Orleans in general, the swampland, had put King in a foul mood the moment he arrived.
When Escorts had sharp mood changes with a new environment, there was a pretty damn good chance it was because something went tragically wrong in their mortal life, and the new place triggered a dormant emotion.
Somewhere in King’s forgotten mortal life, he adored a woman who lived in a land like they were in, Dagen was sure of it. The anger reflecting in his overall stance, the burn of pain Dagen could see in King’s stoic gaze, told him as much.
This wasn’t the first swampland that had impacted him so. The sensitivity to the swamp was only one of many oddities Dagen had noticed about his boy—he knew King avoided bold blonds like they were the plague, any girl with a bite really. He gave any and all witches a wide berth. And oddly…he would stare at swamp flowers for no f*cking reason when he saw them.
You couldn’t have a fever with someone if you were hung up on someone else. It was twisted, but Dagen was praying to the Creator that his boy was destroyed, still ripped with pain, over some woman in his past.
It was bad enough Dagen had spent two decades trying to protect his boy from being slaughtered; they didn’t need this on top of it. Dagen refused to lose King, his brother…
Rydell had nodded once to answer Dagen’s question then sat in silence for a moment, thought about his people. How they had to come first, fever or not.
“I’m going to get close to her, build the trust. If we can’t find a way to break away we’ll already be in position to take her down.”
“How long are we going to look for a way out?”
Dagen knew just as well as Rydell did if Raven was truly a fever to him the more time he spent around her the worse he would become, meaning he would never kill her and his people were as good as dead.
“A few weeks.”
That was not even the equivalent to a second in the time span of their existence so basically Rydell wasn’t going to look for very long. This was already decided. He just didn’t want to admit it.