Page 9 of Illusory (The Marked Saga #8)

I scowled down at the red drops of blood steadily trickling out from my clenched fist, watching as my blood slowly pooled in the center of the waiting crystal tumbler. Ben was sitting beside me at the kitchen table, rambling on about some vampire episode of The X-Files he’d watched the night before as I tried to recall the last time we’d used these particular tumblers for an actual drink.

How strange my life had become that drinkware in this house was used more frequently for collecting blood than it was for drinking out of.

At least we weren’t using the nice salad bowls.

“I told Trace I’d bring over the first two seasons on DVD,” he informed, recapturing my attention with the mention of Trace’s name. “He can binge-watch them while he’s, uh, getting used to things.”

My gaze cut to him, and I faltered. I hadn’t even worked up the nerve to ask him how his visit with Trace had gone since he’d swapped places with Caleb and joined me in the kitchen. I’d assumed it had gone better than my earlier attempt since Trace hadn’t shouted in disgust at him and then forced him to leave the basement in tears.

Apparently, that was a me problem.

As difficult as it was for me to swallow the knowledge that he was okay with literally everyone other than me, it still gave me some solace because at least that meant he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t so far gone that there wasn’t any hope of him ever coming back to himself—to the man he was before I had him Turned.

“That’s really nice of you, Ben,” I said, even though I knew Trace wasn’t going to watch a single episode of it. Other than learning to control his bloodlust with Gabriel and my mini fridge of donor blood, all he did down there was stew in the darkness and blast angry music that sounding like the death cry of a squealing pig.

“What can I say? I’d never give up the chance to turn someone onto the best show ever created,” he said, smiling back at me. Despite his upbeat demeanor and casual conversation, I could still see the unease lurking behind his soft brown eyes. I could see it in the way his smile hadn’t quite made it all the way up to his eyes. He was just as worried about Trace as I was, and for some reason, that only made me feel worse about everything.

Nobody knew Trace better than Ben did, and if Ben was worried, I knew it wasn’t just me overreacting.

“I’m happy he got to spend some time with you today. I’m sure it helped seeing you guys,” I said and then searched his face for an answer to a question I hadn’t even asked. “You think it helped, right?”

He scrubbed his palm against his shaved head and shrugged his shoulders. “Fuck if I know. Our man’s not exactly an open book, you know? I’m just glad to see my dude conscious and speaking again.”

I nodded, knowing that feeling well. Seeing him open his eyes again the night he Turned felt like the sun breaking through a storm that had gone on for weeks.

“Do you think—” My question was interrupted at the sound of the doorbell chiming through the foyer. Apparently, it was open house season at the Blackburn Estate.

Cursing under my breath, I unclenched my fist and shook off the remaining trickle of blood. In my rush to get up, I accidentally knocked my hip into the table and nearly sent the tumbler of my hard-earned blood flying.

“Chill,” said Ben, holding out a calming hand to me. “I got it. Finish…whatever in Hades it is that you’re doing,” he said, eyeing the tumbler of blood and the fresh cut on my palm, as though he’d only just noticed them, before sauntering off to answer the door.

Biting down on my lip, I allowed the last few drops of blood to drip down into the crystal glass and then grabbed the paper towel, applying pressure against the wound to help stop the bleeding.

Ben appeared at the doorway a few moments later with a peculiar look on his face. “Hey, Jem. Look who it is,” he said in a faux upbeat voice as he walked back into the kitchen with Morgan trailing behind him.

I tried and failed not to cringe at the sight of her.

Not that I had anything against Morgan per se, but we hadn’t exactly been on the same side of the whole turning-Trace-into-a-vampire-to-save-his-life thing. Not to mention, I’d been dodging her calls all morning.

“Whatever, Jemma. Nice to see you too,” she said and then rolled her eyes at me before crossing the kitchen and then flopping down into the chair across from me. The one Ben had been sitting in.

“Yeah, that’s kind of where I was sitting—”

“Like I care,” she snapped, glaring at Ben like she might strike him dead with just the look in her eyes.

Ben promptly pivoted to a different chair. “Right-o then.”

“Nice to see you in a good mood for a change,” I mumbled as I slid the glass of my blood toward the center of the table and away from her—just in case she started throwing fists or swinging chairs at our heads. When I was sure my hard work was safe and out of reach, I looked back up at her and frowned as I remarked the purple shadows under her eyes. “You look tired, Morgan.”

“Thanks. So do you.” She tossed her curly red hair over her shoulder and then pulled in an exhausted breath. “I barely slept a wink last night. I was too busy having visions about Nikki’s Son of Perdition all fucking night long. What’s your excuse?”

“You had a vision about the baby?” My eyes widened with interest as I tilted forward in my chair, leaning in closer to her. “Please tell me it was something useful.”

“My visions are always useful,” she said, sounding defensive. “They just need to be put into context.”

Yeah, that was debatable, but I didn’t argue the point. “So, what did you see?”

“Bits and pieces of different scenes,” she said and then shoved her palm in my face before I could shoot her an I-told-you-so look. “Most of it hasn’t come together yet, but there was one part that stood out to me clear as day.” The way she’d said it, all low and hopeless, made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Is this going to ruin my day?”

“No.”

My shoulders relaxed, though the relief was short lived.

“It’s probably going to ruin your whole year,” she clarified without a lick of sympathy. “They’re coming, Jemma. They’re coming to reap what they have sown and we’re all going to burn in hell for it.”

My heart hammered in my chest at the sound of her foreboding voice and ominous warning.

“Christ, Mor. Don’t sugar coat it for her or anything.” Ben looked at her like the cold-hearted Seer she was.

“It’s not my job to coddle her,” she said and then slid her scathing gaze back to me. “You have more than enough of that around here and I really wouldn’t be doing you any favors.”

She obviously hadn’t met my mother yet. “ Who’s coming, Morgan? What exactly did you see?”

“The Sisters,” she hissed lowly, her green eyes turning dark and murky as she sidled toward me. “They’re coming for Nikki’s baby, and it’s not because they want to throw her a baby shower.”

“The Sisters?” asked Ben, bouncing a glance between me and Morgan. “Who the fuck are the Sisters?”

“The Sisters of Roderick,” I answered, my eyes still locked on Morgan as all the blood in my body rushed away from my head. As in the three little bitches who’d tricked me into spilling my blood to release Lucifer from his tomb before shoving him into Trace’s body. They’d set this entire nightmare in motion and now they were coming here to what? Celebrate their hard work?

“Are you sure it was them?” I asked, not willing to take her vision at face value—for obvious reasons.

“I saw them gathered around the baby. All three of them,” she answered grimly.

“Three?” I firmly shook my head at her. “Well, that’s obviously not possible.”

“Hold up. Didn’t you kill one of them?” asked Ben, still trying to catch up to the conversation.

“Exactly.” My eyes remained fixed on the unpredictable Seer before me. “I watched her die with my own eyes, Morgan. Your numbers aren’t adding up here.”

“My visions don’t lie,” she stated definitively and then caught my wrist when I tried to pull away from her. “I saw them, Jemma. All three. Clear as day.”

“Then maybe you need some Seer glasses,” I suggested coldly and then yanked my hand from her grasp. “It wouldn’t be the first time you came out with some wonky half-assed vision.”

Her lip curled up over her teeth. “My visions can change over time, small details here and there, but they don’t conjure up dead people that don’t exist. I’m telling you I saw all three of them. If you don’t want to believe me, that’s your prerogative. It wouldn’t be the first time you willfully ignored what was staring you right in the face,” she bit out, making sure to hit me back where it would hurt the most.

Morgan was nothing if not an eye-for-an-eye kind of girl.

I couldn’t really argue her point, though, since willful ignorance had been my MO on more than one occasion. Hell, I could admit my faults just as well as the next person. “Okay. Fine . Let’s say for argument’s sake that the sisters really are heading back here, and your visions aren’t complete horseshit. Does that really change anything? This town has been crawling with demons and Dark Legion fanatics ever since the baby news hit the underworld. They’ve been springing up from all over the place for weeks in the hope that they’ll catch a glimpse of his unholiness’ birth.”

The way I saw it, it was just three more thorns to pluck from my ass. And that was if her vision was even legit. Which I still highly doubted it was.

“It’s more than that. They’re not just coming to witness his birth.”

“Then what are they coming here for?” I asked, growing exceedingly more annoyed with every second that this conversation dragged on. “Spit it the fuck out.”

Her brows puckered together as she shook her head softly, like she wasn’t sure of the answer herself. “It looked like some kind of…summoning ritual? They were gathered around the baby and chanting, but it was more than that. I’ve seen dark magic before, Jemma, but not like this.” She swallowed noisily and then reared back in her chair as though trying to put distance between herself and whatever the hell she had seen in her vision. “What they were using, it felt dangerous. Forbidden.”

“Forbidden?”

“Like the kind of ancient magic that doesn’t belong in this world.”

Oh. Well, isn’t that just terrific . I blew out a ragged breath and sagged back into my chair. Dangerous ancient magic. Just what this town needed .

“If the prophecies about this baby are true—if he really is meant to be the harbinger of the end of days…” She shook her head as she met each of our gazes, her own shrouded in terror. “I think they’re here to make sure it happens.”