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Chapter Thirty-Two

Owen

C alyx’s special soul jar is so massive, I highly doubt one person would be able to carry it.

It pulses with its own energy, giving me something else to focus on while Rogue pours magic into the lich.

It’s fucking weird watching muscle and tendons form, slithering their way across bone and existing tissue.

This shit is probably going to give me nightmares.

The gasping sound that fills the small storage unit causes my head to whip to the side. A man who looks very similar to Calyx sits straight up, and Rogue falls back on her ass, shaking out her hands. The smoky black magic begins to dissipate, the energy in the space lightening considerably.

Cohen juts forward, offering Rogue support. Normally, I’d be right there with him, but my mind seems to have short-circuited.

How the fuck is that even possible?

How can a soul transfer from one damaged body into an entirely new vessel?

How did a witch create me out of nothing? My bear’s question radiates in my mind. You weren’t born a shifter.

That’s true enough, but I’m still baffled.

The man who must be Calyx glances around with wide gray eyes.

Although his profile is very similar to what it was before, he now sports a shock of white hair that falls just past his jaw in messy waves.

It’s even lighter in color than Cohen’s, and I absently note that his tattoos seem to have transferred to his new body as well.

“How the hell did you make it past the ward?” the lich asks, turning to Rogue.

“I couldn’t wait any longer. The not knowing was driving me insane,” she whispers, shaking her head.

“Her magic sucked up the ward like it was nothing,” Cohen says. “Then she stepped in to help your regeneration along.”

“Aww, princess, were you worried about me?” Calyx asks. His voice sounds the same as it did before, and I’m still a little freaked out by all of this.

I guess I shouldn’t be.

The supernatural world is always kind of a mindfuck.

“Yeah, I was losing my shit.” Rogue tackles Calyx, pushing a kiss to his lips.

I finally get myself together, striding over to offer Cohen a hand off the ground.

“We should get Calyx to portal his phylactery back to the sithen immediately. I’m going to need to call in Maxwell so he can inventory relics to see if any of the other items are things the council is interested in.

It might distract them if they find something new to focus on. ”

“Calyx can’t portal his phylactery.” Cohen’s head shakes. “It doesn’t work. The universe doesn’t allow it.”

“How the hell are we supposed to get it to the sithen, then?” I ask.

The only way in or out is siphoning or portaling. That, or wandering in.

“I suppose I could attempt to siphon it.” Gemma appears in a mass of black shadows.

Delta and a man I’ve never seen before land against the floor with a heavy thunk. They’re barely moving…if you can call twitching moving.

“Don’t mind them,” the nightmare says, waving a hand through the air.

“They’re in a mental prison of their own creation.

Although, I’m not sure it’ll hold if I siphon away to a different realm.

” Rogue climbs to her feet and Calyx follows.

“Exactly how heavy is that thing? It looks like it might give me a hernia if I try to lift it.”

“You know, I’ve never actually weighed it.” Calyx walks over, lifting the four-foot-by-three-foot jar with ease. “I’d guess about a hundred and fifty pounds. Will you be able to siphon me and it?”

“If the others stay behind, yeah, I can probably manage it,” Gemma says. “You three, keep an eye on those two. I don’t know if my nightmare will fade once I’m not here to reinforce it.”

“Got it,” I growl, moving toward the two bodies collapsed on the floor. There’s finally something I can do to be helpful.

Gemma steps up to Calyx’s side and plants a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s hope the universe understands you need some way to get that jar into the sithen.”

“If it doesn’t, maybe I can ask the sithen to make a portal?” Rogue suggests.

Only, it’s unnecessary.

Gemma and Calyx disappear with the phylactery.

“That was some pretty intense magic you pulled out earlier,” Cohen says, shoving his glasses up. He pokes himself in the nose and frowns.

“I think you mean impressive magic.” Rogue speaks, but her voice is once again lined with her power.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Cohen’s head bobs up and down as he swallows thickly.

Her eyes transition to fully black once more, and waving a hand, she lifts the two passed-out bodies until they’re vertical. They hang suspended in the air by Rogue’s magic. Something tells me this would have gone better for them if they remained crumpled heaps on the floor.

Rogue’s magic is in control as she approaches Delta and her cohort. She comes to a stop in front of the warlock and frowns as she levitates a hand in front of his chest. She doesn’t make contact with the material of his T-shirt, but her head tilts.

There are several tense moments where I have no idea what is coming next, but Rogue finally sighs and steps back. She moves to Delta next, following the same pattern. This time, her entire body goes rigid, and she hisses, shaking her head as she retreats a step.

She flicks her fingers at the man, and he awakens as his feet hit the ground. It’s impressive that he’s even able to keep himself upright. That could be due to Rogue’s magic still spilling around him, though.

“Leave,” Rogue says, her voice lined in her magic.

“Disappear and never come within a thousand miles of Haven again. Actually, just avoid North America altogether. Otherwise, I might change my stance on offering you leniency. Forget everything you know about Delta and the relics you’ve been responsible for stealing. ”

My eyes widen.

Is she actually powerful enough to erase his memories?

I mean, I watched her break that ward like it was nothing and speed up Calyx’s reanimation, but…

Holy fucking shit.

And I would imagine she only inherited a portion of her mother, Aline’s, magic. No wonder the fae courts were terrified of what her magic could do.

The warlock, whose name I don’t remember, blinks rapidly as Rogue’s shadows uncoil from around him.

“Go,” she instructs once more.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He gains control of his faculties and bolts before I can even ask if she thinks that was a good plan.

Cohen voices the concern that echoes my thoughts.

“My magic can trace him if we ever need him for anything.” Rogue raises a hand, focusing on Delta. “She’s the true danger.” She pulls her fingers toward her palm, and black veins appear over Delta’s skin. “That vision just sealed her fate. She deserves no such pardon.”

“What did you see?” I choke out.

“I’m not even speaking that set of events into the universe. It’s too fond of manifesting things.” Rogue’s head shakes. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I won’t allow any of it to come to fruition.”

Rogue’s magic flows through Delta’s body like black veins, and the longer Rogue draws, the more desiccated Delta becomes.

Gemma and Calyx appear in a smoky mass of Gemma’s shadows as pieces of Delta’s arms and face crumble and fall away.

“She saw something in a vision,” Cohen says, like that explains everything. “But don’t ask what. She won’t tell you.”

Calyx approaches Rogue without an ounce of fear. When he gets close enough, he wraps an arm around her lower back and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Luckily, we have a mate capable of protecting all of us. My phylactery is safe within the confines of the sithen.”

“Good, we’re about to be too,” Rogue says, pulling her hand to her face. She blows over her palm, and Delta melts into a pile of dust.

“Damn.” Gemma snorts, shaking her head. “I really didn’t think you had it in you, but I guess we found where you draw the line. Remind me to be nicer to your mates in the future.”

I scoff, bringing a hand up to swipe over my face. I’m so fucking ready for this day to be over.

My night is not over.

While the others head back to the sithen, I’m stuck waiting for Maxwell and explaining what went down.

Luckily, I’m not Rogue, meaning I can lie my ass off.

And I do.

I concoct a careful story about how I followed Delta to the storage unit. She picked a bad time to pop in because the lich had just reanimated next to his phylactery. Upon seeing the witch, he put a quick end to her and took off with his special soul jar.

“Not that I can blame him,” I say, continuing the string of unrepentant lying. “No one wants to be blamed for a rash of crimes they didn’t commit.”

Maxwell sighs, gesturing to the pile of Delta’s ashes. “I’ll get a team out here to collect her remains and begin the process of inventorying the other relics.”

I nod, step over, and clap him on the back. “Hey, at least the case is solved.”

The sloth demon scoffs. “More like the beginning of a massive amount of paperwork that I want no part of.”

That sums up the paranormal council perfectly. They’re useless in most situations, but this time their apathy works in my favor, so I’ll take it.