Annihilation Road (38 page)

The second song was slower, dreamier, but still with a dance beat, one that allowed her to sync with the crowd. It was so much easier to get a feeling for the emotions of individuals in the bar when she sang. If someone was very ill, that interfered, and then her ability to feel emotions would fade, but she’d already gone through the crowd, and no one had come in with an overwhelming disease that called to the healer in her. As she sang, she could touch on an individual and subtly change their mood.

Arnold had come to the bar, eyes on her, a mixture of feelings, possession, lust, arrogance, depression, determination. He signaled to Anya and was instantly annoyed when she didn’t immediately serve him. Brandon was on the dance floor, close to Shari and the women, dancing with them, a smug smirk on his handsome face each time he looked at Seychelle.

Seychelle had a pulse on everyone in the building and was aware when the Diamondbacks arrived. There was the continual sound of Harleys, trucks or cars in the parking lot or on the road, but the heightened awareness of the members of Torpedo Ink tipped her off that the Diamondback club had arrived.

Steele, the vice president of Torpedo Ink, escorted several men inside, all wearing Diamondback colors. Destroyer was with them. The moment they entered the bar,
Seychelle felt a new strain introduced. Pain. Emotional pain. It was sharp and raw. Visceral. The pain of betrayal. That pain emanated from Alena.

Another thread twisted into Seychelle’s golden web. Regret. Guilt. Determination. Sadness. That came from the man that had to be Pierce. He walked beside the one in the vest with a patch declaring he was the president. That man too felt guilt, but also worry. He had a heavy burden resting on him.

With Pierce and the president of the chapter of Diamondbacks were five others Steele escorted down the hall toward the back room. Those men were leery. Destroyer took up the rear. Five other Diamondback club members stayed behind in the bar. Three sat at a table close to Lana and Lissa and the exit.

The other two Diamondbacks moved through the crowd to get to the front where the tables were. The one beside Alena and Scarlet was occupied by a couple, but they rose immediately, allowing the two Diamondbacks to sit down. One took out his phone and brought up a video, turning up the sound and leaning in to show his companion what he was playing. His companion glanced at Alena, his gaze moving over her body in an open leer.

Alena and Scarlet ignored the two men, but Seychelle could feel that pain of betrayal coming off Alena in waves. With it mixed anger. Seychelle’s expression didn’t change, but her level of pain increased until it was difficult for her to sing. The golden threads vibrated with a wealth of silver, sliding along the string straight to the small table, swirling like tiny crystals of shiny glitter.

The music changed to another upbeat rock song, clearly meant for pulling the crowd to their feet for dancing. Her voice joined those notes, wrapping around them, pushing a gentle urge, a need to rise up and have fun, to be happy, to want to dance. All the while as the music did so, she watched the silver glitter swirl around Alena, absorbing the
twisted pain and anger, each little crystal filling up, draining off some of the pain, little by little, until the crystals were full.

Seychelle was fascinated. Shocked. While she was singing with an entire crowd around her, she was seeing how Savage’s gift worked. The silver crystals moved along her golden threads, finding their way back to him. The terrible emotional pain Alena had felt, that betrayal that went so deep, was still there, but Savage had siphoned the worst of it from her, taking the old pain and rage that mixed with the new, twisting it together until Alena didn’t know the difference. Until she felt she couldn’t bear the weight of one more betrayal. He’d lifted most of that from her and left her burden so much lighter.

Savage’s gift was such a thing of beauty, Seychelle couldn’t help but react to him with pride and respect, with joy at his abilities and sacrifice. The others didn’t know. They hadn’t seen. Alena still hurt, and the cut was deep, but she didn’t know Savage had saved her, allowing her to present her cool, aloof demeanor.

Seychelle loved Savage all the more for his sacrifice. He would take on Alena’s emotional pain. Shoulder it for her. Feel the deep wound cut right to his soul and allow it to build the rage in him until he had to find a way to rid himself of it. That was what he did for his brothers and sisters. For his club.

Because she had followed that chord back to him, she was even more aware of what he was doing than he was. He wasn’t giving his complete attention to Alena; he was giving it to the meeting taking place in the back room between the two clubs. He was doing his job, and she needed to keep her mind on doing hers.

As the band swung from one song to the next, she kept her focus tuned to the men in the back room with Czar and the others. Twice, the tension seemed to rise sharply, and both times she sent notes of peace and harmony drifting along the main radial threads leading to the back room. She
directed the golden notes to those in the back room with the most anxiety and the building anger suddenly coiling deep.

At the same time, she monitored those in the bar. Shari danced with her group of women and Brandon, at times grinding against Brandon while he whispered in her ear. Other times she nearly threw herself in a frenzied simulated sexual dance at the members of Torpedo Ink playing music. Sometimes Shari would try to get Fatei’s attention or Ink’s. Several times she nearly sat in the laps of the two Diamondbacks seated at the table close to Alena and Scarlet. Her desperation was difficult for Seychelle to take, but no matter what she tried, Shari didn’t respond to any kind of persuasion by Seychelle’s voice.

Brandon watched Seychelle so intently, she had to work to keep her attention focused on her job. She knew he was evaluating her voice. Her pitch. He had a talent similar to hers, and it was dangerous to give him any opening that might allow him to find his way into her mind. He clearly was trying to decide if she was influencing those in the audience as a whole intentionally, or simply singing and her voice was that persuasive.

The two Diamondbacks had switched their attention from Alena and Scarlet to Seychelle, and she realized her voice had enthralled them, just as it had several other men in the room. Arnold continued to sit at the bar, drinking and brooding. The bar was so crowded now with bikers, she could barely stay focused on those in the back room, and she was thirsty. Usually, she sang in sets. By now, she would have had a break, and she needed one desperately.

There was one member of the Diamondbacks in the back room who seemed as if he was so weighed down with his burden, he felt as if he was being pressed to the wall and had no way out but to fight. The man Seychelle had identified as Pierce had become more and more morose and miserable, as well as determined. In contrast, the members of Torpedo Ink seemed calm on the surface, but like Alena,
their anger and pain ran deep. Something about this meeting brought back too many memories. She couldn’t read their memories, but she could feel the terrible emotional toll the meeting was taking on each of the members.

She did her best to send peace and harmony to them, and when she felt Savage taking more and more of his brothers’ and sisters’ pain and anger onto his shoulders, she finally turned her head slightly and signaled to Maestro to play a ballad. She could control that rising tide of emotion and bring the level of despair down, but she couldn’t absorb the pain the way her man was doing.

She sang about love. The power of it. The importance of it. The incredible journey. The way one sacrificed. She knew the road would be rough at times. That they would falter and sometimes even be angry and fail, but if they kept trying together, they would forge something so strong, nothing—no one—could ever break them apart. She poured her heart and soul into the lyrics. The pitch was perfection, going out onto the frame and those radial lines and sending the notes dancing up the walls and across the ceiling, down the hall and under the door to the meeting room.

In the bar, the notes found each spiral thread running to the crowd of various people and found specific ones, those needing solace or needing to simply relax into the music. She spun her golden net, ensnaring the crowd with her voice and lyrics, blending and weaving her notes with the incredible music the band played. The web vibrated with the power of her gift, resonating with each person individually, becoming what they needed, in that moment giving them the incentive and determination to get through every crisis with grace and strength and fairness.

When the last notes of the song faded, the band picked up the beat, swinging into a dance number, one the crowd would recognize instantly and not only dance to but sing along to. Maestro took up the vocals to give her a much-
needed break. She felt as if her throat had been torn out. Nodding to him, she stepped off the stage, mindful of Savage’s decree not to go too far from the band. There was no third chair to join Alena and Scarlet at their table, and Brandon was at the bar with Joseph Arnold. She didn’t want to talk to either of them. Mostly, she wanted fresh air.

She signaled to Fatei, and he came right away as she stepped off the platform. “Is there a way I can go outside and still be close to the back room? They feel as if they’re leaving, but just in case.”

“Yeah, they’re all going,” Fatei agreed. “Czar sent the message just now.”

Relief swept over Seychelle. “Is Savage coming to get me?”

“Not yet. He’s got a little more club business. You’ll have to stick with me for a little bit longer.”

“Can you signal Anya for a water and we’ll head outside? I saw Preacher use another door leading out. We could maybe go that way?” She made it a question and all but crossed her fingers, trying not to be upset that Savage had texted Fatei with his plans but not her. She’d glanced at her phone and there was nothing from him.

“Babe, Savage would prefer that you stay inside.”

“I just want to step outside for a minute. I can’t breathe. I’ve never sung that long without a break.” Seychelle made it a statement. “I really have to go outside and get some fresh air.”

Fatei took a long time to scan the bar, and then he nodded. “We’ll head toward the bar. I’ll grab your water and we’ll head out. Just give me a minute to make sure it’s clear. I’m texting Anya and Preacher that I’m bringing you out.” He stood directly in front of her while he did so.

Seychelle took a deep breath and allowed herself to listen to the music and relax a little now that the Diamondbacks in the back room were leaving. The five in the bar were still seated, although the two near Alena’s table had
pushed back their chairs and drained their beers as if they were about to go. She felt eyes on her and saw Shari and her friend Melinda watching. Deliberately, she turned her back. In another minute, Fatei gestured toward the hallway that led to the exit she could take.

It was a huge relief to get out of the crowded bar and into the fresh air. Seychelle felt as if the night air enfolded her like a dark cloak as she went down the three cement stairs leading to the area behind the bar. The grounds opened up wide in several places, allowing for a few scattered picnic tables, but she walked to the narrow section, where she could sit in the deeper shadows along a cement railing where flowers and shrubs were planted.

“Ow. That hurts.” The female voice came out of the darkness to her left.

Seychelle recognized a young woman named Sabelia, who worked in Sea Haven at a shop called the Floating Hat where she bought her lotions and teas.

“Stop being a baby. If you hadn’t come out here with the scum of the earth, you wouldn’t have a black eye already swelling closed. Hold still.” Preacher’s usual easygoing tone shook with repressed anger and frustration. “This is the last time you come to my place and do this, Sabelia. I mean it. I’ve had it with you getting drunk, going off with the worst asshole in the bar and getting beat up. Find another bar.”

“You can’t kick me out of the bar.”

“I can. Sit still. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you. You have more talent in your little finger than most people, and more chances handed to you, but you throw them all away. You’re like some little child constantly throwing tantrums, and it’s getting damn old. If you were my sister, I’d do something about it, but you’re not, so the only thing I can do is kick your ass out.”

“You don’t know anything about me or my life. You don’t have a clue what my life has been like.”

“No, I don’t, Sabelia, and it doesn’t matter, does it? We can’t change what anyone did to us in the past, but we are responsible for what we choose to do with our lives in the future. I would give anything to have your talent.”

“Oh, right, that’s why you already know so much more than I do, and I’ve been working with Hannah longer than you have,” Sabelia said. She sounded sulky.

“Hannah Drake Harrington took you under her wing because she saw your talent,” Preacher snapped, his voice low, furious.

Seychelle wished she could gracefully exit, but it was too late. She just had to sit there and hope neither of them noticed her.

Preacher didn’t stop there. “I study hard. You don’t. You drink. You do anything but work at learning. I even offered to study with you, but you were too good to do anything like that. I was too far beneath you. The truth is, talent-wise, I am. Discipline-wise, you don’t stand a chance. You want to feel sorry for yourself and blame everyone but you. You might have a shit past, baby, but I guarantee you I can match that past any day of the week. The difference is no one is going to fuck with my future. So you want to get drunk and get beat up, do it in someone else’s bar. I’m taking your ass home tonight. My advice: sober up and take what Hannah’s offering you. You’re not going to find a better woman to follow. I’ve got a few things to do before I can leave, so come inside, stay in the back and drink coffee and don’t piss me off any more than you already have.”

Seychelle expected Sabelia to protest, to say something back, but she didn’t say anything at all. She kept her head down as Preacher escorted her back into the bar. He towered over the woman. He still looked furious, and Sabelia looked very subdued. Seychelle caught a glimpse of her face as they walked past her. She definitely had bruises and swelling. Seychelle could see why Preacher was so angry.