Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
“Respectfully, I ask that you eyeball Miss Bailey’s cleavage later. You’re getting drool on my straitjacket.”
Crypt snorts in amusement, but otherwise, my matches listen quietly to this circus.
Thatcher’s face reddens, and the woman shuffles uncomfortably. Her body language screams guilty. Mr. Grant glances between them and makes a face before adjusting the documents in front of him.
“Miss Oakley, is it true that you were raised in what was previously known as the Nether?” Grant asks.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it true that you were also brought up by the Entity with the intention of your becoming the prophesied telum?”
“Obviously.”
Thatcher takes over again, studying me. “And isn’t it true that you assassinated every member of the Immortal Quintet to aid the Entity?”
“Sure, why not?”
It’s not like my answers matter here, anyway.
My flippant reply ruffles Thatcher’s feathers. “Is there something you disagree with in that statement, Miss Oakley? Please explain.”
“You want me to pretend this is a real trial? All right. I was raised as Amadeus’s scourge. I killed Somnus DeLune, Iker Del Mar, and Natalya Genovese. Go ahead and charge me with performing necromantic rituals, helping the Reformists, destroying the Divide, starting the Upheaval—you name it, I did it.” I lean forward, fixing them with an earnest stare. “But never to aid Amadeus. Everything I did, I did to free the Nether humans.”
They exchange glances. The idiot with the camera takes a picture of my profile.
Grant clears his throat. “So to be clear, you’re pleading…?”
“Guilty as the hell I was raised in.” I lean back, trying to adjust my arms in this unforgiving straitjacket. “Unless you want me contracting gangrene before the trial from blood loss to my arms, you should really loosen this.”
“Without touching her,” Everett adds in warning.
Nathan Thatcher folds his arms. “Not so fast, Miss Oakley. One last question before we take you to meet the new chief executives of the Legacy Council. Isn’t it also true that you are one of the infernal beings known to this world as a demon?”
It’s such an unexpected question that I blink. “What?”
“We know the truth. You can’t fool us. You respawned after your death—the fact that you’re sitting here in front of us is pure evidence of that!” Grant says as if this is an aha, gotcha moment. “Admit it. You are a demon, Maven Oakley.”
Everett, Crypt, and Baelfire burst into laughter.
I start cracking up, too, but clear my throat to compose myself, shoving down the urge. Even though my guys haven’t stopped laughing, I’m still not comfortable displaying strong emotions in front of strangers, let alone ones this clueless.
“Demon? With what horns?” I point out, smothering my laughter.
“Not all demons have horns,” Thatcher replies confidently and completely incorrectly.
“Gods, you’re both trying so hard and getting it so backwards,” I sigh. “If you’re this off the mark in your jobs, I pity anyone you lure into bed. Or whoever lures you both into theirs,” I add, tossing a knowing look at Miss Bailey. “Between these two ass-scratching baboons, you must be accustomed to finishing the job yourself.”
Her face goes red. Mr. Grant’s head whips to look at her before he glowers at Nathan Thatcher, who pretends to be so busy scribbling on documents that he didn’t hear me.
Baelfire whistles. “My mate is so damn observant.”
Crypt hums in agreement even as his markings light up again. “Deliciously keen.”
“Literally divine,
” Everett hints pointedly, still chuckling.
“Enough of this,” Mr. Grant scowls, standing to look down his nose at me. “We got the answers to everything we had doubts about. Your denial of your true nature will hold no water with the court. Rest assured that their final decision will be carefully weighed and just.”
“Just a crock of shit,” Crypt corrects.
“Prepare yourself to face the executives, telum,” the incensed legacy snaps. “Anton, give the Frost heir another dose for good measure.”
The big fae guard by Douglas makes a face. “It’s supposed to be a daily debilitant. I gave him some less than two hours ago?—“
“Have you heard what that maniac’s been doing on the front lines? Do you feel how cold it is in this fucking hotel? If this is what happens when he’s not trying, we’re not taking chances, you braindead dope. Just dose him again, and double it.”
“Yes, sir,” the fae grumbles.
Everett, being called a maniac? Interesting.
Nathan Thatcher quickly gathers up the documents before rushing out of the room. The flustered photographer takes another picture of me and hurries out with Mr. Grant right behind her. He’s already starting a predictable argument before the door closes behind them.
Asher Douglas still isn’t fully conscious, but Anton kicks the bounty hunter again before walking to a small kitchenette off to one side of the room to mix the concoction.
Fuck, Crypt was right. It smells like concentrated grass, gasoline, and sage blended with some other unpleasant herb. It’s so awful for my regular sense of smell that I’m not surprised when Baelfire starts gagging loudly where he sits on the floor.
Moving to the bed, the fae shoves the cloth bag up Everett’s face just enough to force my elemental to drink. Everett chokes on the overpowering concoction, unable to fight it. I grit my teeth when the fae roughly pinch Everett’s nose until he’s forced to swallow to breathe again.
He’s still coughing when the fae replaces the bag, hauls him upright, and drags him off the bed and out of the room despite my shouted protests. Before the door closes behind him, another gruff-looking legacy with several intense facial tattoos strolls into the room, heading toward me.
My body tenses as instinct and training try to kick in. Restrained this intensely, it would be difficult to kill this guy, but I could still do some serious fucking damage.
But Tattoo Face is probably here to take me to wherever Everett was just dragged off to.
So for once, I force myself not to fight as he tosses me over his shoulder, carrying me out of our grayscale prison as Baelfire and Crypt spew impressive threats and more blue flames behind us.
MAVEN
This entire upscale hotel is colorless, but that doesn’t diminish its wow factor as Tattoo Face steps out of an elevator and tosses me onto a cushioned chair.
I find myself in a much bigger, nicer room, glassed in at the top of the skyscraper. I think Kenzie called this setup a penthouse in a movie we watched once. Everything here looks ridiculously expensive, from the carpet to the modern chandeliers to the many decorative swords mounted on one wall.
Outside the window, gray skies serve as a foreboding backdrop for more colorless city stretching toward the dark ocean in the distance. This penthouse has a balcony overlooking the stunning view.
A dozen ravens are perched on the balcony’s luxurious outdoor seats, watching me through the glass.
Everett sits on a couch nearby in his straitjacket, that bag still on his head. He looks unharmed, thank the fucking universe. A few ghosts drift into this room to watch me, including the blue-haired young woman I saw earlier.
I realize Tattoo Face just deposited me in front of a large, lit-up vanity. The mirror says I look the way I usually do: dark eyes, tangled black hair, and the same face. Only now, it’s strange to know that I got my appearance directly from Syntyche, minus my much warmer skin tone and slightly more colorful dark irises.
The only difference is the slight shadows under my eyes, which isn’t surprising. I’m still fucking exhausted after using all that holy power to rip through Syntyche’s spell. I probably won’t be able to use holy magic until I reap again, which makes me wonder about the now-consistent burning in my chest.
Tattoo Face gets a message through his static box before he leaves through a set of doors leading elsewhere in this skyscraper-top mansion.
“Maven?” Everett checks quietly.
“I’m here.”
“Anyone else in here yet?”
“Aside from a few ghosts, no.”
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.