Exaltation (31 page)

Chapter Thirty

Raven only vaguely remembered being brought home. Dagen carrying her into the kitchen, or her collapsing in Emery’s arms as the suffocating tears left her body, her father pushing Dagen against the wall demanding answers, only to thank him seconds later.

Raven climbed into her bed and held the pillow Rydell had slept on the night before against her for dear life, breathing in his scent. Seeing his image in her mind, hearing his words, reliving every moment they’d had together. Knowing that his time in her life was not over, it
couldn’t
be.

The days were endless and a blur at the same time.

Raven fell into a dark pit.

She missed weeks of school. She couldn’t go back. Sit in those same classrooms. Look at his empty desk, or see him everywhere she walked. She couldn’t bear it and no one made her.

Raven finished her work at home with Emery teaching her. She stopped skating. She hadn’t danced in a month. She couldn’t. She saw him when she thought to go. She saw him picking her up, dropping her off. She saw their first kiss, their second. He was a ghost she never wanted to stop haunting her.

The school mourned. The explosions had been so extreme it was just a memorial to the boys who were lost. No one really talked about the other racer. But they talked about Rydell. People Raven didn’t even know knew him stood up and told little stories, random ones which were pointless but she wanted to hear.

Raven had many silent talks with her father. Meaning he spoke and she stared forward. She didn’t want to hear about her fate, about how the path was complicated.

***

She’d decided somewhere around three in the morning she was going to skate again. She was going to fight her way back. She knew she was letting those ruthless people who plotted to bring her down win by crumbling her slowly. She was betraying Rydell’s memory because she was slowly killing the girl he knew.

It was two days before Christmas. The rink was so slow Mr. Briley told everyone he was shutting down early. It wasn’t true. He just wanted to give Raven the rink. Soren set a track of her favorite songs, along with healing songs as he called them, then moved to the auditorium.

It hurt to skate, not emotionally, but physically. Raven was out of shape. She’d lost her rhythm. It was symbolic to her life. She knew if she conquered the weakness on the rink, she could conquer it in her life.

So no matter how many times she fell on spins or tripped or fumbled, she skated on. Before long she was covered in sweat but she had found a rhythm. She even managed to skate by the spot where Rydell kissed her without feeling her chest break open.

She’d moved a mountain.

Right as the song ended and her slow spin faded, her heart stopped. In the dark shadows of the rink there was an image. Hope exploded in her soul. She moved her hands to her mouth right as the boy reached out his hand and stepped into the dim spot light.

Dagen.

Raven didn’t cry but her voiced cracked when she said, “Hi.”

She hadn’t seen him since the wake. He’d been around those first few days but she couldn’t look at him. The resemblance was too strong.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Raven didn’t say anything. He pushed his hands in his pockets as he moved closer. “I’m glad I found you here. Must mean you’re healing.”

“I haven’t moved on if that’s what you think.”

Solemn nod.

“Why didn’t you move him? Save him. Why didn’t you do anything other than what you did?” The wrath which had been spitting out of her mouth for a while now was being aimed at Dagen. It was the part of her Jamison was trying to get her to control. A gift from the host her birth mother was.

“I
obeyed
him.”

“Sometimes it’s best to question the rules.”

“Agreed,” he said with an ache in his voice.

“It’s my fault. He gave me his vim,” Raven admitted.

“It’s not your fault,” he swore, sounding too much like Rydell.

“I want him back. How do I do that?” Raven had come so close to going into the Veil.

Really close, even asked her dad about it. He told her she would not find Rydell there.

A slow smile emerged on Dagen’s lips. “That’s why I sought you out tonight.” He cleared his throat. “Rydell didn’t die the right way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there was no black smoke, the sign of an Escort’s death. There was no light, no sign of light’s death. There was not a body or blood, the sign of a mortal’s death.” He let out a sigh. “That bothered me, so I tracked down a few people Rydell had spoken to when he was trying to figure out how to protect you.”

Raven was waiting for the good news, for him to tell her the hell was over. Even though his words seemed promising his stare was still filled with grief.

“A day or so before Rydell died he was told if he didn’t feed, take energy, that only one thing could save him.”

“Why didn’t he take it?”

“To keep you safe. Protect you from becoming addicted to it, or the curse attached to the high.”

All signs pointed to Raven. She
was
a black widow. She killed him…

“It took me awhile but I finally got the soul that gave him the advice to tell me what the one thing was.” Dagen paused. “I had to know what I could have done differently.” With those words Raven skated up to him.

He was carrying the same weight she was. He was taking the blame. He looked down at her the same way as Rydell used to, like she was a mystery.

“I was told the only thing that could save Rydell was this very coven. The emotion in it. I think your tears, your kiss saved him from being torn asunder.”

“Where is his soul?”

“Deep in the Veil. Rumor has it it’s near The Reaper. I don’t know. I’ve been asking around—someone even said they saw him being pulled away by a young witch.”

“A witch?”

Dagen let his eyes rove over hers. “Yeah, someone from your coven, I suppose. I’m trying to track her but she’s not easy to find. None of the witches in the Veil are. I asked your dad, but he didn’t have much to say about it. So I’m assuming he wasn’t surprised.”

Raven smirked. “He’s been giving me a lot of fate talks about how it takes time to unfold.” She looked away. “Can he come back?”

One nod. “The one who told me this said King needed to gain his strength. That the bravest, most logical thing King could have ever done was what he did. It was calculated so perfectly a higher power must have orchestrated it.”

“Nothing was perfect about that night.”

“You’re safe, and Revelin doesn’t think you’re a threat, meaning you’re protected. One day he’ll be back. One day you will rise. Just as you were meant to.”

“Is Rydell in pain?”

“I don’t know. This process breaks the soul down, puts it in judgment. If he’s in pain it’s because of that, at least that’s what I’m assuming.”

“How much time?”

“Enough.” He reached in his pocket. “I have a gift for you. I can store it if you want, or you can sell it. But it’s not mine, and every time I get in it I smell your perfume and his scent mingling as if it’s a part of the car’s creation.” He laid Rydell’s car key in her hand.

“I can’t,” she mumbled.

He pulled Raven to him. Raven buried her head in his chest as he caressed her head. “Your power is in bliss. It’s what he adored about you. Don’t let him come back only to find you faded. That after his sacrifice you died anyway.”

Raven nodded against his chest as her arms went around him. She closed her eyes and found hope. Those stupid books along with Berries had called her a black widow, said she would gain power when her lover returned from the grave.

Raven supposed there might be some truth to it after all. The only haunting question lurking in her broken heart was…which lover was going to break free from the bonds of death first?

***

Slowly, Emery crept up behind Jamison. He was gazing down the hallway, toward the bedroom which hid the entrance to the secret library in Saige’s home.

When she slid her arms around him he let out a sigh. “I told you I’d be home tonight.”

He had. He’d promised her, in fact. For weeks he had done nothing but meet with the coven, with Rydell King’s faction…and spoke to Raven, did what he could to ease her grief.

Emery smiled shyly as she turned him and gazed up.

“Guess where our daughter is now.”

Jamison reached to caress her face, feeling emotion seize him. Emery had never once used the word ‘our’ when she spoke of Raven, but he knew without a doubt she was speaking of her now.

“Skating,” Emery said quietly. “She has the whole place to herself. The girls said she has been gliding to song after song, that she’s healing. They sense it.” Emery’s gaze moved over his.

“Dagen stopped by. Whatever he said didn’t jar her too bad. She went right back to skating.”

Jamison didn’t dare smile or let relief come to him. It was going to be a long while before Raven came to terms with her fate. Before she was able to see past the grief, past the blame, and rise.

“What are we going to do now?” Emery asked, squeezing his sides.

Jamison glanced to the same passageway he was staring at before. Down below Saige was alone with Reveca Beauregard.

It was clear to the coven Reveca had felt the death of Rydell King. Her power had humbled from one of her high apexes. Saige had told Jamison she felt it, too, the drain of her sister losing who she was.

The coven had to act fast. It was no longer a fear, but a fact that Rydell King’s death directly impacted the coven—if they did not solve this the coven would not be present any longer to watch Raven BellaRose rise to her throne. They would not witness the Rapture they had predicted ages before.

Saige was bartering with Reveca, asking her to go into the Veil and find Cashton, bring him forth. As of that moment, he was the only one they could save. They couldn’t find Rydell King.

Not yet.

The hope was when Reveca was in the Veil, something would trigger, she would point the way to where King was. More than likely Reveca would have no idea what she was sensing. She’d be too on guard. Jamison’s plan was to follow her, watch her, then beg, steal, plot, and borrow his way to King.

Reveca Beauregard was going to blindly lead them all.

“We’re going to bring them both home…I vow it,” Jamison said as he wrapped his arm around Emery and manifested them to the rink where they watched their daughter glide to a soulful song.

Looking for more Rydell King? Are you a fan of adult paranormal? If so check out EDGE, a serial series that will leave you right there…on the edge.

Where To Find Jamie Online:

http://authorjamiemagee.blogspot.com

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Other Books by Jamie Magee

EDGE
(Paranormal Serial)

“Web of Hearts and Souls”

Insight
(Book 1)

Embody (Book 2)

Image (Book 3)

Vital (Book 4)

Vindicate (Book 5)

Enflame (Book 6)

Imperial

Blakeshire

See (Book 1)

Witness (Book 2)

Synergy (Book 3)

Redefined (Book 4)

Derive (Book 5)

Rivulet (Book 1)

Impulsion
– Contemporary New Adult Love Story

About the Author

Jamie Magee has always believed that each of us have a defining gift that sets us apart from the rest of the world, she has always envied those who have known from their first breath what their gift was. Not knowing hers, she began a career in the fast paced world of business. Raising a young family, and competing to rise higher in that field would drive some to the point of insanity, but she always found a moment of escape in a passing daydream. Her imagination would take her to places she’d never been, introduce her to people she’s never known. Insight, her debuting novel, is a result of that powerful imagination. Today, she is grateful that not knowing what defined her, led her on a path of discovery that would always be a part of her.

The fun Bio: I’m an obsessive daydreamer. Lover of loud alternative music. I love to laugh until it hurts. Fall is my favorite season. Black is my favorite ‘shade.’ Strong believer in the saying: there is a reason for everything, therefore I search for ‘marked moments’ every moment of every day...and I find them. Life is beautiful!

Acknowledgements

Over the past four years I have published seventeen novels and each of the acknowledgements are moved from one novel to the next. That wasn’t done to take short cuts, but because on this journey I have been blessed enough to keep the same souls at my side. I wanted to take the time with this acknowledgement to state how precious they are to me.

My husband, no doubt, deserves some kind of medal! The man is there from the first instant the idea is thought to life, through the long days of writing where I slip into another world. He manages the blessed life we have built, taking care of our little ones, making sure that there is some kind of substantial meal on the table for each of us. He’s a saint when it comes to telling me what day of the week it is, and letting me know that dawn is approaching and it might be a good idea to get some sleep. He understands that music drives me and is just fine with the same song playing on repeat for days until I have the scene trapped in words. He’s use to having a conversation with me and in mid-sentence I stop and rush to write a line down. There is no doubt that he didn’t sign up to share his wife with the fictional family that always dances in my mind, but he rocks it all the same. I can’t tell you how amazing it is to have someone want your dreams as much as you do, someone that never lets doubt creep into your mindset.

My children, they make me smile every day. They are now to the point where they’re all for naming characters, dancing to that same song that plays over and over. They love to joke about ‘moms bubble’ they know that mom dreams wide awake and tease me when they have to pop that bubble to tell me something.

Steffini Walker, Sabrina Wells—there are not words to express how thankful I am to have found you both! Your love for these characters inspires me each and every day. I love you girls!!

Editors, they come in all shapes and sizes, each with their very own style and outlook on the words they’re reviewing. I struck gold with mine, and I mean that. It is hard to find someone who can not only edit the horrid mess I leave behind in my creative rushes, but to also find someone that can strengthen your story and not alter your voice. Someone who is not afraid to tell you exactly what you need to hear good or bad, to fortify your daydreams into words. Todd Barselow is a saint and I count my lucky stars each day that I found him in this crazy publishing world.

Graphic designers are one of the unsung hero’s of the publishing world. Which is sad because they’re the ones that give your daydreams a face, they bring the emotion and definition to your work that readers new and old will recognize over time. Emma Michaels is another gift; she not only helped me find the image for my debut novel, Insight, but also has been through each of my covers since. She has a way of understanding exactly what I envision and does not rest until that vision is there before us both. This cover was far different from the others, it had to be more than an image that may or not change over the course of time, it had to be a logo, a brand, something that could be identified with this story for seasons to come. Emma rose to that challenged and I have to say this is one of my favorite covers, it’s almost as if she saw the emblem in my mind clear as day and worked until it was created. Emma you are amazing!

My Betas are amazing. It’s their truth that makes them that way, how they are not afraid to tell me what they like and don’t, how they don’t bat an eye when I hand them a contemporary story, a YA story, or this story, they read each with an open mind and their feedback is priceless, and there is not a doubt that it always mirrors the feedback my readers will give me once the story is published to the world at large. I can’t thank Sherri Frye, Heather Newberry, and Alysia Kurtz enough for walking through the final stages of publishing with me each and every time. Thank you girls for sharing my daydreams with me!

Readers. I swear to you, to this day it blows my mind that there are people on this earth that I will never have the chance to meet that have shared these stories with me, people who get it, who leave reality and step into my daydreams with me if only for a moment. You humble me. I can’t stress that enough. Thank you so much for taking a chance, giving up your time, to read my work.

As you can clearly see, people often think that writers have solitary lives, and in some real fashion we do, but more so than not, the story you are reading was impacted by not only those that walked the publishing line with the writer, but the world at large. Inspiration is everywhere, in every dark and positive moment, in every song, drive, commercial, everything is inspiration, life is beautiful, even the dark stressful moments are. You just have to find that beauty and thankfully I have outstanding people in my life that ensure that I notice each of them.