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Conquest: The Horsemen Series by Justine Littleton (19)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CONNOR

“Fuck, Warren, everyone knows that the speed limit is a suggestion. You do at least ten over, not five under. I would like to get back to Julie sometime this week,” Dean bitched as we climbed out of the black Honda Pilot Warren owned for PI jobs that required a few people and blending in with the soccer moms of Pasadena. Although, those times, he had a female tech drive because Warren in drag makes one scary-ass soccer mom.

“Shut it, Dean. I wasn’t getting a ticket and having any evidence point back to us, as we are about to break into a museum and steal an artifact,” Warren grumbled back while slamming his door.

“Way to be inconspicuous, jackass,” I reminded Warren, easing my own door shut to make a point. “Let just get done and get home. Which way, Warren?” I knew Lettie and the girls were safe; Zander’s air magic never ceased to amaze me. This time he had us step into the hall. Then he literally blew an enormous room-sized unpoppable bubble around him and the girls. It even had that rainbow iridescence of real bubbles. Cool as that was, I knew my mate would be worrying every extra minute we wasted on this task.

“This way. That’s Kaufman Hall. It’s the next one over.” We proceeded in silence, our minds now solely on the task at hand.

Warren made quick work of the door lock and security panel. “I’m making a donation after this to see that they have proper security on all buildings containing valuables. That was pathetically easy.” Warren whispered his disgust just in case there was security on that we weren’t aware of.

“Great, oh patron saint of security. If you’re done, can we go steal the damn thing and get out of here? I am getting a bad feeling about this place,” Dean asked.

“Lead the way, Warren. If the guy who sees dead people has the heebie-jeebies, it’s time to move,” I added. “Damn good thing I grabbed my collapsible bo staff on the way out from the training room. Navah didn’t raise no fools.” I high-fived Dean as he unsheathed his favorite sword from where he’d concealed it along his back under his jacket.

Sighing at our antics, Warren moved to take lead. “The exhibit is down this corridor here.” Dean and I took up an alert stance in the middle, watching the flanks, as Falcone fell in behind us guarding our exit as we progressed in a group. We had been drilled, trained, and in enough true combat that we all fell into this protective order without a thought. It may have been decades since we’d been in any wars or true combat situation, but it was still second nature. Julie’s misadventure had been more of a standoff at the O.Clown Corral.

We moved as a unit, stopped at corners when Warren signaled. At the last corner, Warren too must have sensed something was off. He pulled two nasty-looking Ka-bar knives from his boots and palmed them. Fal pulled a small ZT from his own boot. We all knew he could use it, but it would be a last resort. Fal wouldn’t enjoy a fight the way the rest of us would.

When Warren signaled for us to move, we rounded the last corner quickly, only to have three of us run into Warren’s back.

“Nice signal, asshole!” Dean mentally barked.

“Yeah, douche!” I added.

“Brothers, you’re late,” Kayne informed us with grandiose dismay.

All as one, we turned to look at Falcone.

“Oh, fuck you guys! I haven’t fallen that far that I sent the crazy son of a bitch a fucking E-vite to steal the damn thing with us,” Falcone defended, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest all pissed like.

“Dude, just checking. Your track record has been shit lately, but if you’re cussing, then you definitely didn’t do it and we’re sorry,” I apologized, clapping him on shoulder to show no harm was meant.

I turned back to our unwanted company. Kayne had brought something like thirty Order minions with him to distract us so he could make off with the weapon.

“We got a problem, guys. He has a witch somewhere blocking the spirts from entering the building. We won’t have any reinforcement from my friends this go,” Dean alerted us.

“No, don’t blame poor Falcone. After Ms. Osmond defected, her elder brother, trying to find a reason for me to allow him to live, had a group of… Liam, what are they called again? The specialty scholars?”

A man-boy I recognized from our last encounter stepped forward from the group to stand next to Kayne. “Liam, that’s Lettie’s younger brother, Kayne’s second-in-command,” I informed my brothers.

“They’re called computer nerds, Kayne,” Liam answered, his voice strong and his stance calm and confident. It was clear that this was a position of choice, and not one of fear. He was also the only person besides my brothers and me who had ever call that monster Kayne. All others referred to him as Lord Decay; they never knew the man he once was, and he preferred it that way… except for this Liam. He was a weakness. He was important enough to Kayne that he allowed him to address him by his given name. This was all interesting and worrisome. My Lettie loved that boy dearly. I was afraid this would make Liam an easy target in Warren’s future plans.

That was if we got out of the museum alive. I had a bad feeling about the situation, which had my hands sweating and gut in knots.

“Yes, the comp-u-nerds spent a few days piecing together Nicolette’s notes from the scraps she left behind. A few searches later… and here we are! These modern technologies are just simply deeelightful,” Kayne announced with unnecessary glee, then continued on, but I stopped listening, continuing to watch his minions for movement.

“Gods is he fucking annoying when he is deeelighted,” Dean mentally bitched, and it took all I had not to snort aloud.

“Focus!” Warren barked. “There are twenty-four of them, that is about eight each. Falcone, I know you would rather not fight. So I’m tasking you with grabbing the athame and getting the fuck out of here and to one of our safe houses. You may be against using the damn thing, but you want it to stay out of Kayne’s batshit-crazy hands as much as the rest of us.”

“Thank you, brother, for trusting me. I won’t let you down,” Falcone proclaimed.

“All right, the bastard is still blathering on. I’m going to call up my power of aggression and see if I can make these assmonkeys leave rank and fight without orders. Connor, try charming the pants off a few of these boys.”

“I love when you give me the fun jobs,” I responded.

“Concentrate… now start,” Warren commanded. I threw everything at the four on the end closest to me. Within seconds, they started stripping and proclaiming their undying love for me, at the same time Warren had six wankers breaking ranks to attack. Chaos was our specialty, and our cue to move.

Kayne sighed loud enough to be heard over the disorder. “My brothers were always impatient. Maybe it’s for the best. I still have seasons of Supernatural waiting to be watched on the Netflixs.” He turned to move for the same long display as Falcone, but I lost sight of both of them as Liam and two others stepped forward with swords, and determination in their eyes.

Liam hung back, observing as Dumb and Dumber decided to attack at the same time. Sighing, I swung a rib strike. I brought my arms up over my head and swung the front tip of the bo across, slamming the end into their outstretched arms, knocking both weapons free as I brought the staff in, tucking it back against my own ribs with each pass. I readied, waiting for their next move; I didn’t need to wait long.

Warren’s gift of aggression had the added benefit of making people sloppy. They attacked me one at a time. The first guy, Dumber, didn’t even bother to pull a second weapon. He just charged me, a stupid emotion-driven mistake. I knocked him unconscious with one downward overhead front strike. The metal staff was unforgiving, and the loud crack of his skull was not missed by any of the group.

Idiot number two, Dumb, was slightly less stupid. He pulled a small Ka-bar from his robe. He waited for me to make the first move, sidestepping my front thrust. He moved fast, and if I wasn’t as old and experienced as I was, he may have come out the victor of the bout as he slid down my staff, and thinking himself safely out of my staff’s range, moved in for his kill strike. Unfortunately for him, I was a Horseman with both supernatural speed and centuries of training with my chosen weapon. Taking one bracing step back, I hit him with a four-point strike, breaking multiple ribs. He stepped back in substantial pain, but I was already moving, finishing him off with an uppercut—much like a boxing one, except with a metal staff. Not only was he KO’d, he would most likely be eating from a straw the rest of his life.

I turned my attention to Liam and waited. It looked like Dean and Warren were finishing off my last four. My last naked four. I had dropped my compulsion charms while I had been fighting the Dumbers, but instead of fighting me, they went after my brothers? Odd, normally they were pissed when they came to their senses, and came straight for me.

“I waved them off. They won’t go against my orders,” Liam explained, still having not moved except to put his hands in his pockets. Huh, never knew the Order monk robes had pockets, fancy shit. Guess even evil needs a place to put its car keys. “I won’t be attacking either.”

“What the hell do you want then? ’Cause quite frankly, I wasn’t all fired up to hurt the baby brother my mate loves greatly, evil henchman or not,” I confided.

“So she did get the pretty one. Good, I was hoping it would be you,” he admitted, but a few things were happening and my brain was struggling to keep up.

First, I would be doing a mental replay of and trying to recall every detail of Warren and Dean doing Nekkid Combat. This would be worth years of new material. Second, apparently we were nine again, and Kayne and Falcone were playing fucking tug-o’-war with the fucking deadly athame, screaming at each other “Let go!” “No. You let go! I had it first.” Fuck me. All this going on, and it dawned on me that Lettie was right, our respective brothers always knew she was a mate. Kayne and Liam did send her to us to be safe and happy for eternity. Then why the hell were they out to get that stupid weapon in the first place if they knew it could bring an end to what they worked to make happen: our happiness? Oh, and in Ms. H’s words, Lettie’s brother was “queer as a three-dollar bill.” He obviously had great taste in men, which made the thing with Kayne confuse the fuck out of me. I guess he was my biggest rival in the looks department once upon a time, but nowadays, he was just an icky shell of his former self.

He snorted. “Don’t think about it too hard. Even when I have explained the answers to the questions written all over your face, people never understand the reasons. I only wanted a moment to get your promise that you will protect her from the others who will be gunning for her. I also know my sister. This is all eating away at her, her promise to Mom. She thinks she did wrong by me too, doesn’t she?” he asked. I nodded, and he continued. “Please tell her these exact words so she knows they came from me?” Again, I nodded. What the hell else was I going to do? Both Warren and Dean were down to one nude dance partner each; I guessed the wagging penises thing was throwing them off their game.

“Tell her that I said: Lettie Teddy, I’m not mad. The only thing I’m upset about is that I will miss your mating ceremony. Be happy and love freely. That is all Mommy ever truly wanted for us.” Liam smiled sadly. “Be sure it’s those exact words. Will you love her and keep her safe?”

“You have my word. No one could love her more,” I vowed.

“Good, now clock me over the head… but watch the face; it’s my best feature,” he ordered, standing up straight and squeezing his eyes shut. Not knowing what else to do, I tried for a gentler downward overhead front strike, not wanting to crack his skull open like the other coconuts I encountered tonight.

“NOOOOOOO!” I heard Kayne roar, dropping the athame and backing from Falcone a step. “No, damn it, it was meant for me! Why? I was supposed to die, godsdammit!” Kayne continued to scream, taking another step back as Falcone fell to his knees still clutching the blade’s sheath.

My heart stopped, my breath caught.

Then we moved as one, Dean running his blade through his last opponent without missing a step. Our sole focus was getting to Falcone’s side. Warren made it first, catching him as he dropped, placing Fal’s head upon his lap. “Talk to us, brother. What happened? What do we do?” Dean and I positioned on either side of him.

“I see no wound!” Dean barked frantically.

Falcone coughed, a bit of blood scaring the fuck out of all of us. He weakly lifted the hand that was still holding the sheath in a death grip, turning his wrist slightly to show us a small nick that had been caused as the blade was being pulled free.

“I survived centuries of arrows, spears, bullet wounds, and a few nasty broadswords, but it’s the papercut that was this nerd’s ultimate demise,” he rasped out.

“It’s not funny, damn it,” I barked at him, choking on my tears.

“Aw, it’s a little fu-unny. This shit hurts. Need to t—” He coughed up more blood.

“You need to stop telling jokes and start telling us how to fix this!” Warren growled.

“No fix. It magically makes an unimaginable n-number of tiny cuts throughout the b-body, continuing till the victim b-bleeds to d-death. That is why we are unable t-to heal. I-it just keeps reopening the wounds.”

“How do you know this? The method of death was never known. Not even to its creator,” Kayne asked from a corner five feet away, tears pouring down his screwed-up face.

“This should be you,” Warren hissed.

“I know,” Kayne agreed sadly, looking him in the eye.

“I c-can feel it every time one closes. It’s r-re-opened by a fresh sllllash,” Falcone informed us in a painful whisper. Fuck, he was fading fast.

Fear choked me. I wanted to scream, to kill, but all I could do was look on as my body froze with horror.

“Can your ghosts do anything?” I pleaded with Dean. I was desperate. For a long time, these men were the only family I had, and cutting Kayne out all those years ago had been hard enough.

“No, even if they could get in the building, they couldn’t heal him. They could possess the body and buy us time if he was harming himself or someone else, but they can’t help with this,” he explained, his gruff voice struggling against the same realization we were all coming to. Falcone wasn’t going to make it out of this museum with us alive.

We all heard a whimper then a hitch of breath come from Kayne before he asked, “Why, Falcone? I was supposed to end this. End the pain and suffering I was causing. Why couldn’t you let me go? I told you I only wished to end myself, then you could have the damned thing!”

“I love all my brothers, and I know a great many things I never told any of you. Kayne cannot die, for this too shall pass, and our brother will once again be whole and restored. If I had told you of such prophecies before, you would not have believed me, just as you all did not believe that a Horseman could die,” he whispered, though every word rang clear as he used the last of his energy to say them before slipping into unconsciousness.

“Regretfully, brother, after living as a prisoner of my gift so long, you will have to forgive me if I doubt the justness of your sacrifice.” Kayne took a deep breath and straightened, turning to leave.

“I will be sure no one bothers you as you get Fal’s affairs in order in the coming weeks. You can call in your witch to help get him home; no one will touch Lettie or Julie. I know my word is not worth much, but for what it once was, you have it. The stubborn fool should have let me go. I am sorry to have taken yet another brother from you.”

Kayne turned, moved across the room to scoop Liam up, and walked away. None of us followed, not while Falcone was still taking his last pain-filled, shallow breaths. We would not leave his side. I removed the sheath from his hand and place it to rest on his stomach; Dean did the same with his other arm.

Warren leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “You are a damn fool, but we love you. Hear me, all four of us, we loved you, brother. Rest well, my friend.” We watched as the ends of Falcone’s lips turned up and he shuddered out his last breath.

“Goddamn it,” Warren grunted out, tears evident in his voice, if not his eyes.

“Oh, shit. Something is happening. Warren, get away from him. Now!” Dean shouted.

Not wasting time, or risking another brother, I reached out and yanked Warren out from under Falcone’s body.

Dean grabbed the discarded athame, and I handed him the sheath I had taken from Fal when he reached the two of us. He carefully resheathed it as we watched Falcone’s body.

Sniffing, I wiped at my eyes. All I wanted to do was have Lettie in my arms and howl through the anguish. “Dean, nothing’s happening, buddy,” I stated the obvious.

“Wait, watch.” He nodded forward, so we did. Slowly, I noticed a change in the color and texture of Falcone’s skin.

“The witches who created the athame, they spelled for his body to be turned to stone, for it to be memorialized or destroyed, depending on the need,” Warren confirmed what I already suspected.

“Dean, he isn’t trapped in there, is he?” I started to panic as his clothes began to seal over too.

“No, he passed over the veil immediately. He didn’t linger,” he confirmed. Thank fuck for small favors.

We watched till the crunching gravel noise of his clothing shifting to stone stopped. “Is it over?” I asked Dean, leery of the answer.

“I no longer sense the necrosis magic that was used to seal the body.”

“Fine, let’s call Zander. We are going to need him to conceal us as we move him—”

Whatever else Warren was planning to say was cut off by the screaming in our heads. The three of us fell to our knees gripping our heads under the onslaught of echoed shrieks. It was a good five minutes before the cries eased to heavy, pained panting.

“What the hell did you fuckers do to me? Why are you in my head and why does my body feel like it was set on fire?” screamed Fallon.

Fallon, the new Horseman of Famine.

’Cause this day couldn’t get any more fucked-up if we tried.

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