The Ravenous Dark, page 10
She'd be furious, but he could live with her contempt.
For the better part of twenty years, Ronan had kept tabs on Bailey Hart. His role in her life had always been protector. That wasn't going to change now because of some silly matching mark on their skin.
Ronan's throat bobbed as he recalled the maelstrom of sensation brought down upon him as her fingers grazed the mark over his heart. In a word, it had been… devastating.
The power she held over him in that prolonged moment was the most exquisite kind of torture. Ronan's entire body had come alive. His blood turned to fire. But when the reality of the situation hit him, he balked.
It couldn't be her. There was too much history… and too many emotions left unexplored that hijacked all sense of reason and common sense in place of overruling desire. Ronan sighed. He couldn’t allow himself to succumb to his baser emotions like that. The last time he let himself get caught up in the high of his emotions, Jax had persuaded him to explore the Otherworld.
And look how that turned out.
It was his fault the ones he cared about most were in such danger, and his responsibility to set things right. No matter the cost to himself.
A vice clamped around his heart, and with every beat, it tightened. He roiled at the confine of his own making before bitter acceptance cut through the pain.
Bailey deserved more than he could ever offer. Ronan couldn't allow her to waste her youth on an old, broken man like him.
He scoffed, then ducked his chin close to his chest as he mounted yet another flight of stairs. He was an old man… older than anyone knew, thanks to his time spent beyond the Mirror of Ways. Time passed differently there. Ronan and Jax had spent decades in the Otherworld with nary a gray hair in sight. It shouldn't be possible, but Ronan was quite certain they stopped aging a handful of years ago.
No, he couldn't be with Bailey. There were too many unknowns to face that could put her in harm's way.
What if he kept attracting dark magic?
What if he gained more powers from the Otherworld?
What if someone outside his family discovered he was the shadowmancer?
As it was, the ramifications of his misadventures with Jax had finally reached the tipping point, putting his entire household in danger. If something were to happen to him, they had the most to lose.
The vice constricted, and Ronan's gait slowed. His priority needed to be his household. And if he survived, maybe then he could try to be the man that Bailey deserved. He heaved a sigh and stared blankly ahead, ascending the main stairwell with lead feet.
He was near the second subfloor that housed the Turkish bathhouse and fighting pits. It was a popular place to congregate, but the last thing Ronan wanted to do was be around people. A frown turned down his features. The thought occurred to him that he shouldn't be traveling such a well-worn path. What if the dark magic summoned him in front of all these people? What if—
"Why the long face, my friend?"
Ronan jerked in surprise as a hand slapped the middle of his back. Whipping his head to the left, Jax's grinning face greeted him.
"Not going to enjoy the quartet?" Ronan let the initial shock of Jax's arrival slip from his face, replaced with something that hopefully passed as pleasant. Or, at the bare minimum, neutral.
"Unfortunately, not."
"Busy then? I haven't seen you around much." A terseness underlined Jax's response. Ronan chose to ignore it.
"There's been a lot to catch up on," Ronan answered truthfully. "We were away for a long time, Jax. Too long. It's my duty to guide and protect them—"
"Which is why we conducted our business in the first place, is it not?" Jax interrupted, passing Ronan a meaningful glance as they continued their ascent to the first subfloor. "So that you might better guide and protect your family, and me, mine." Ronan remained silent. "Listen, brother, I have good news."
Ronan's gaze flickered curiously to Jax. The sorcerer's head was dropped conspicuously close to Ronan's but rose a fraction to pass a charming smile to a trio of vampyrés walking by in painted-on evening gowns. One wink from the sorcerer and the women erupted in a fit of giggles. Jax's stride slowed. Ronan's did not. He gained several feet on Jax as his friend lingered to admire the retreating females.
"What news?"
Jax startled into motion at Ronan's curt tone and quickly made up the difference between them. He wore a large smile that reached his good eye.
"I did it," he proclaimed. At Ronan's quizzical expression, he leaned closer, bumping shoulders with his friend as he explained. "I fixed the mirror."
Ronan stopped a few steps shy of the next floor. Jax's smile faded the longer he studied his friend's less-than-joyful expression.
"Let's speak somewhere more private," Ronan said after several heartbeats.
He fixed it? Astringent panic filled his mouth, puckering his lips. I never should have underestimated Jax. Why haven't I learned that by now?
A worrisome calm stole over Jax as he nodded. "Lead the way."
Ronan took them to an unoccupied room adjacent to the Lamia Den, a private gambling club that rumor placed Jax at quite often. Tension rode through Ronan's muscles as he closed the door behind them and flicked on the light.
"What's this room for?" Jax stood in the middle of the room, his hands clasped behind his back as he observed his surroundings. His face was upturned to admire the chipping fresco of a sunrise where cotton candy pink rays chased away the night sky.
Ronan's mouth opened and then closed. "I don't know," he said with a frown. "Perhaps it used to be some private room for a Major Household?"
"You'd think they'd put it to use," Jax commented. He turned slowly in a circle as his eye swept over the lightly dusted surfaces of the abandoned furniture. Ronan sniffed discretely as the microscopic particles wafted into his nose. "You know there are dozens of rooms just like this throughout the court, but the vampyrés refuse to let them out so as to maintain their precious status quo."
A frown appeared on Jax's face faster than lightning. Ronan bit his tongue and set his expression to stone. He knew better than to engage Jax while strung up in his heightened emotions. The conversations were one-sided and mimicked a fencing match more often than not.
He began to count to ten in his head, curbing the urge to sigh aloud, or worse—lash out and express his true feelings on the mirror and their escapades.
Except Ronan was quite certain now was the perfect time to set the matter to rest once and for all. For months, he let Jax tinker away at the mirror, foolishly thinking he would never be able to repair it in full after their last stint in the Otherworld.
Reality blurred as Ronan succumbed to the memory.
They'd been surrounded by ghost-like jackals fit only for nightmares. Their presence wasn't surprising, considering they’d appeared in the Otherworld five years previous. Stalking them. Fighting them. Changing everything.
Hindsight was cruel.
Ronan longed to know then what he knew now; that those hellish creatures were the beginning of the end. They should have stopped traveling to the Otherworld when the attacks began. They should have stopped when time became languid, stretching endlessly on and on at times. Leaving Ronan alone….
A coarse shiver raked down his back.
The Vranas had summoned them from the Otherworld after witnessing one of their scrimmages with the jackals in the reflection of the mirror. Ronan had never felt such gratitude in his life, not that he would share the fact with anyone, let alone Jax.
Ronan was certain they would have defeated their foe eventually, but he wasn't too proud to admit there was something different in the air that night that promised disaster should they fail. In summoning their spirits back to the real world, they'd disrupted the mirror's delicate magical balance and shattered it. It was unusable—unfixable—or so Ronan had thought.
His throat bobbed conspicuously, as he dragged himself back to the present.
Ronan straightened and glanced at his watch. Jax was still ranting under his breath about the injustices at court. How only they could set things right.
This needed to end. Now. "Jax, the mirror?"
Jax stilled at the sharp question but rallied swiftly. The momentum of his anger switched course to one of palpable excitement as he thrust his hand out in the air. Faster than a blink, a flash of shimmering purple smoke erupted in the air. It vanished almost as soon as it came, revealing Jax's trusted walking cane, which he plucked out of the air.
Ronan stiffened at the sight of the cane. Its magical signature reminded him of too-quiet nights and shadowy reprieves. Being that Jax's patron was Anubis, the God of death and lost souls, he supposed the signature was rather fitting.
"I did it, brother." Jax clamped a hand onto Ronan's shoulder and squeezed. "I actually did it. Every piece is back in place, down to the last dusting."
A light sweat curled at Ronan's nape but kept his composure placid otherwise. "You're positive?"
Jax let out a husky laugh filled with humble disbelief and almost contagious glee. Almost.
Jax stepped back twirling his cane and then brandishing it high in triumph. Despite himself, Ronan experienced the familiar allure of Jax's charisma. By his side, the impossible always seemed within reach. No risk was too great, and no gamble off-limits.
"I tested it a third time earlier tonight at moonrise, a couple of hours before twilight. There's not a crack to be found, brother. The surface is as smooth as ice."
And what lies beneath its surface is just as cold. Ronan finally allowed his displeasure to show, but Jax was too swept up in his exuberance to take note.
"I was thinking, when we go back, you can bring a staff or sword. Something to help fend off those ghastly creatures always trying to stop us from reaching the temple and coming back home." Jax began to pace. "And if that doesn't work, you can always shift into your larger form and show them who's boss. I was even thinking that you could—"
"No."
Jax's fingers, which had been drumming along his cane, stopped as he considered Ronan with a stiff smile. "No?" Dry laughter choked out of him. "Do you have other plans that will be taking up your time?"
Ronan arched an eyebrow. "You mean the plans to take care of my family? Lead them? Protect them? To stop abandoning them? Those plans?"
Jax's knuckles pressed taut against his skin as he held his cane in a death grip. "We've gone over this before. Learning the magic of the Otherworld will help us to better protect the ones we love. Look at the power we've amassed so far. Soon we'll be able to do right by not only our families but this court. The vampyrés have held power too long; on this I know we both agree."
"What about the Lunar Court?" Jax scoffed.
"They're a puppet court, and everyone knows it. Nothing will change. Their strings are pulled by those who fill their bank accounts."
Ronan crossed his arms. A hostile chill was collecting around them, graciously extended by Jax's temper.
"At least by the Lunar Court, any punishments that need dealing out are done by our own kinds," Ronan pointed out.
"Don't you see how that works in their favor? It might remove them from their roles as judge, jury, and executioner, but it doesn't mean they've given up any real power over us. They still make the rules of this court which we all must abide by."
"Jax, I don't think—"
"Please," Jax pleaded, snapping his cane against the ground. His hands stacked themselves upon its ornate handle. "Just hear me out. The Lunar Court isn't the solution to the problems our kind face here. We need representation at the top. We need Royal Households of our own, who are treated with the same respect as those whose hearts no longer beat. But we won't get it without a fight, and we won’t get it without holding power that matches these centuries-old creatures."
It wasn't the first time Ronan was subject to Jax's passionate appeal, but it was the first time he'd felt immune to it. There was too much at stake now.
"I'm not going back in, Jax. If I do…" Ronan's throat tightened, but he forced the dark truth out. "I'll lose my mind. I can't be stuck in there again."
Jax's passion sobered, and ire lurked in his eye as he regarded Ronan. He knew he could not return without Ronan to act as his familiar guide. Ronan shifted his weight from foot to foot restlessly as the silence ate away at the space between them.
"I told you what it was like for me when you were raiding the temple's library," Ronan all but hissed as he leaned forward. He slapped a hand over his heart hard enough for the sound to resonate. Jax looked away. "I was left completely alone and hunted by those… those things for months. Years, sometimes." Ronan squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to wrangle his emotions.
Jax knew.
He knew the struggles he faced after spending all that time alone in that desolate colorless world. The paranoia. The insomnia. The deep-seated loneliness. His hand dropped to his side in a clenched fist.
Ronan was allowed access to many of the rooms in the mysterious Temple of the Otherworld but never the library, unlike Jax. At first, Ronan was never made to wait longer than a day, maybe two, before Jax emerged brimming with contagious excitement and energy.
Then the jackals came, and time wavered and waned.
He would wait days alone. Months. Years. With no soul to interact with outside but those monstrous jackals and the strange beings that haunted the shadows of the temple, he was always left waiting.
Always waiting. Ronan opened his eyes. But not anymore.
"I'm not going back," Ronan said.
"But it wasn't bad like that every time," Jax pressed.
Ronan's jaw ticked. "It was like that enough."
"One last time, brother. Go with me just once more. Anubis never would have told me of the Otherworld's existence if I wasn't meant to explore it. I'm so close to understanding the essence of the magic there; I can almost taste it. Once I do, there's no telling what kind of power I'll have."
Electricity charged the air, licking across Ronan's skin and raising the hair on his neck. His stomach twisted until bile inched up the back of his throat. I not we. Ronan swallowed it down and stepped back from Jax. He was oblivious to the magic his fervor had summoned.
"Jax…."
"I'm missing something. There's a rune I've yet to decode. Perhaps a spell unspoken. Something. And when I find it, everything will change. Nothing will be able to stop me, not even death."
"Get a grip on yourself."
Ronan's unrestrained vehemence cut through Jax's frenzy. The crush of raw magic dulled as Jax took in his friend's defensive stance. His shoulders slumped.
"Come on. This is a once and a lifetime opportunity."
"That we've taken advantage of twenty times over," Ronan retorted bitterly. "I'm not going back there. I don't trust whatever magic or power the Otherworld holds. It's not right."
"Since when?" Jax blustered.
"Since now." Ronan's glower brought Jax up short. "If you want to go back through the mirror, you'll have to find a different guide."
"A different—" Jax blew out a breath of frustration. Pink burnished the tips of his cheeks. "I can't do this without you, Ronan. Ravens are known for being psychopomps. Without you, who will guide my spirit into the Otherworld?"
Ronan shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "Not my problem."
Jax's jaw clenched with anger. The pink on his cheeks darkened. "Maybe I'll just ask one of your kin? I'm sure any raven will do."
"Go ahead and try." Ronan narrowed his regard as the energy shifted in the room again. "You'll get the same answer."
Jax spun away with a growl. "Lighten up, man! We won't even be gone that long—"
"No, Jax."
After a calming breath, the volatile energy in the room drifted back to calmer waters. Jax faced him and held up both hands in a sign of deference.
"Just think about it, all right? We don't have to go right away or anything. The mirror's not going anywhere. Just… take some time and really think about what you're saying no to. The power and magic of the Otherworld could all be ours." Jax didn't allow Ronan a chance to refuse again. Instead, he leveled him with a charming smile—the kind he used to maneuver his way around the court seamlessly. Ronan bristled. "I'll check in with you later, all right? I've got a game to catch. See you around, brother."
Jax hitched his smile higher like it would smooth everything over as it had a hundred times before. Ronan flinched as the door slammed shut behind him, and he felt the immediate urge to punch something.
Preferably, Jax.
Maybe it would knock some sense into him.
His obsession with the mirror and the Otherworld was growing out of hand. Ronan resolved to speak with Jakob on the matter after he informed him of Bailey's misadventures.
Ronan exited the abandoned room, catching the tail-end of Jax entering the Lamia Den, flanked by two cackling vampyrés. He scowled at their backs and moved swiftly to the first floor where the royal apartments began.
Sebastian and Briar were exiting as he approached the Vrana's door.
"Is Jakob in?"
"He's entertaining a few guests in the billiards room upstairs," Sebastian said and held the door open for him. The three exchanged nods, and Ronan stepped inside.
Ronan was no stranger to the Vrana's quarters, but it felt odd to enter without Jax at his side. He didn't waste time lingering in the entryway and went to the hall that connected the east and west wings of the massive apartment suite. He scanned the common room as he passed it by, turning left into the hall. His lips turned down as he briefly caught sight of the raven statuette proudly displayed in the center of a coffee table.
With a huff, he ascended the nearby stairs. The sharp clap of billiard balls colliding led Ronan directly to his prize.
"Ah, Ronan, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Jakob held a cue stick casually in both hands.
Ronan surveyed the room's occupants. Cynfor Gunwyn leaned against the back of a velvet blue couch alongside Luka Krovopuskov.
"You've met Lord Cynfor and the young Luka Krovopuskov, I presume?" Jakob gestured to each man cordially. He looked artfully disheveled, with his blond hair tousled and sleeves rolled up his forearms.
