Fate of the Fallen (The Lost Royals Saga Book 5)

  Fate of the Fallen

  book five in THE LOST ROYALS saga

  a series written by

  Rachel Jonas

  Fate of the Fallen

  Copyright © 2018, Rachel Jonas

  Cover design by Rachel Jonas

  Edited by Megan D. Martin

  This work is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including, but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Rachel Jonas (R.C. Jonas).

  This e-book is licensed for personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Table of Contents

  Fate of the Fallen

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilog

  Synopsis

  Fate of the Fallen

  They’ve laid it all on the line—their lives, their love—and now they can only hope it’s been enough.

  An unexpected turn of events has changed everything. Suddenly aware of a life more valuable than their own, Evie and Liam need a fail-proof plan to survive what’s to come.

  Only, with their enemies closing in … they’re out of time.

  Their worst nightmares have arrived in full force and it will be impossible to avoid them all. So, when things fall apart, who will be the first to rise against them? Who will be the first to head into danger for the ones they love?

  And worst of all … which member of the Seaton Falls clan will lose everything?

  As the story concludes, the stakes have been raised and no one is guaranteed to make it out unscathed.

  Join Evie, Liam, and Nick in the fifth and final installment of THE LOST ROYALS SAGA.

  Thank you for your purchase! I would love to get your feedback once you’ve finished the book! Please leave a review and let others know what you thought of

  “Fate of the Fallen”.

  For more books by Rachel Jonas, click here.

  Come hang out in the “Shifter Lounge” on Facebook! We chat, recommend YA paranormal romances, and engage in other random acts of nerdiness. Once we’re fully up and running, there will be tons of giveaways, exclusive ARC offers from me, and guest appearances by some of your favorite YA authors!

  For all feedback or inquiries:

  author.racheljonas@gmail.com

  Chapter One

  Nick

  A blur of lights.

  Disembodied voices.

  A cacophony of both muted and hollow noises coming from every direction.

  To top it all off, a putrid smell that brought me dangerously close to vomiting.

  I felt and heard everything as I lie on the ground, my eyes fixed on a stone ceiling while I came to. I wasn’t sure when I blacked out or how long I’d been in this state, which only added to the confusion. With the pain, the distraction of every sense being overloaded, I was only half sure of my location—a cell.

  Again.

  But unlike the other times, I was actually grateful this had been my fate, because it could have been much, much worse.

  Should have been much worse.

  Horrid images stuck with me although there was now a fair amount of distance between me and my mark—Evie. The desire hadn’t left me despite no longer being in a blind rage. In fact, nothing would have pleased me more than to end her life. I had full knowledge of who she was, of what she meant to me then and now, and yet … I could practically taste her blood in my mouth, feel her warm heart going still in the palm of my hand.

  Hers, the other that beat twice as fast from deep within.

  Suddenly sober, I turned onto my side, facing a wall marked with deep gashes, all in sets of five—claw marks from the many who’d occupied this space before me. I was thinking rationally now as the fog of a powerful spell lifted. A spell that, even in the overwhelming fit of rage, managed to hold me back. It proved that Evie’s aunt was certainly a formidable force.

  However, not even a witch as powerful as her could divert my path longer than a few minutes—hence the reason she insisted my brothers bring me here. She knew it was only a matter of time, too.

  The fog clouding my memory was beginning to fade. I recalled feeling her magic slip bit by bit with each question she posed. The very fabric of it weakened, thinned as she forced me into submission. The awareness of the spell not being enough was only a reminder of one fact; there was no one, and nothing, strong enough to stop me.

  Not for good.

  Those deep markings in the wall were all there was to focus on, tangible evidence that this new realm I’d been made aware of wasn’t so black and white. There were gray areas. Slivers of uncertainty where pariahs like myself could slip through the cracks and threaten the safety of our clans, of our species as a whole.

  That was me; a blight on the supernatural world, an outsider.

  My emotions were impossible to control—anger, fear, frustration and so much more. My head throbbed as each bombarded me, and among those thoughts was a realization; there were two heartbeats. Evie’s, a child’s.

  There should have been comfort in finally having a major question answered, one that’s haunted me since the beginning. I now knew what it meant to be triggered, knew what caused it, understood why my grandfather didn’t stop himself the night he came for Evie.

  He couldn’t.

  Not even my concern for her as a friend gave me pause. For him, with no emotional ties to her whatsoever, he didn’t have a fighting chance.

  This need to kill her, it was like a life source all its own, possibly the cause of the blackness that pulsed visibly through my veins. Suppressing a growl building in my chest, I made my way onto all fours, focusing on the sight of my knuckles pressed to the ground as I tried to stand. It was as though my limbs, my entire body, fought against me. Every part of me wanted nothing but to seek her out, finish what my grandfather started centuries ago. As ashamed as I was of these dark thoughts, it wasn’t enough to make me want her dead any less.

  My back fell against the cinderblock wall and I breathed deep. There was no way to know how long I’d be here, if I’d ever be allowed to leave.

  No way of knowing if one day they’d rather I be dead than alive.

  All thought left again when another wave of that putrid smell wafted in, so strong this time, I nearly doubled over with disgust. My first thought was that someone had expired in a nearby unit and the guards hadn’t cared enough to dispose of the body. It wasn’t like those locked down here were the Council’s priority. It was quite possible I’d ha
ve to learn to live with the solitude, the uncertainty.

  …And that godawful smell.

  A nearby cot became a seat when I plopped down on the small thing, barely denting the stiff mattress placed on top. These were the arrangements, the accommodations deemed fitting for a criminal. A long breath passed between my lips as I acknowledged that’s exactly what I was. A criminal.

  To the Elders.

  To the clan.

  And now, to myself.

  It felt like I’d done more wrong than right these days. No matter how hard I tried. Today—losing control, being unable to gain it back—was yet another shining example of that. I was officially a lost cause. For all I knew, I may have always been a lost cause.

  My thoughts were interrupted, by a sound, one that chilled me to the bone despite it being a laugh. At first, I believed it to be that of a male, but then slightly higher pitched undertones made me think otherwise. Whatever the case … it was the most uncomfortable, menacing sound I’d ever heard.

  With both hands braced on the mattress, I stood, deciding to step closer with hopes that I’d get a look at whoever or whatever could emit such a noise. Gripping iron bars in my fists, I tried peering past them despite knowing it was impossible. The entire cell had been spelled, I’d sensed it the moment I came to. It was likely the work of many clan witches, because the power of one wouldn’t have been enough to hold me.

  The sound filtered in again and this time I was sure it was female, although still only vaguely distinguishable.

  “Tell me … are they having fun out there yet?” she asked, a hiss beneath every word spoken. “Because I’ve got a feeling the wait is finally over. The smell of war truly does excite my senses.”

  Another of those sinister laughs followed and I had no idea if she was even talking to me.

  “Ah, yes,” she crooned, her tone hinting at nostalgia with its deep rasp. “It’s been far too long since we’ve had ourselves a good teeth-gnashing, soul-crushing war.”

  I stepped away from the bars when I accepted that I wouldn’t get a glimpse of her, deciding instead to rest on the cot again.

  “If you ask me, the earth seems … unsettled. It’s been far too long since it’s had a taste of innocent blood seeping into its soil. After all,” she went on, “we are but an extension of our exquisite planet. Therefore, at her core, she must be just as we are … unmistakably wicked,” she added with another laugh.

  To say that I was uncomfortable would have been like saying the sun is kinda bright. Whoever this chick was, she weirded me out beyond belief. Especially with what she said next.

  “It’s okay to admit what you really are … Nicholas,” she uttered.

  It honestly wasn’t until my name was spoken that I was certain this conversation had even been meant for my ears. My senses were suddenly heightened as I blinked in the general direction of the bars that held me here. I wondered if she’d heard one of the guards mention who I was when I was brought down or … if it was something else.

  A short distance away, I listened as heavy fabric dragged across the aged stone, accompanying slow footsteps. The roughness of her palms could be heard even from here as they grazed and gripped a set of bars likely identical to mine. And this time, when she spoke to me, it was in a whisper that could not only be heard … but felt.

  All over.

  Creeping across my skin.

  “I know who you are,” she taunted. “Or should I say … I know what you are?”

  The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end. A heavy drumming in my chest told of the way my heartrate spiked.

  “I created you,” she added. “Your very existence is all thanks to me. And even if others see you as nothing more than a curse, a scourge on your kind, I couldn’t be prouder of what you’ve become. Without question, you are my most excellent creation.”

  Warm breath puffed from my nostrils and I nearly choked out a question, but knew better than to engage as the pieces began to fit. The way she tried to get inside my head with her words, that smell.

  I’d encountered enough witches to know I was in the presence of one now. And judging by the odor, her soul had to be among the darkest that ever lived. Witches carried their essence with them in the form of an unshakable stench only detectable to other supernatural beings. The only I ever encountered without the trait had been Hilda.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” the wicked one went on, and there was no missing that she did, in fact, take pleasure in this opportunity. However, I took advantage of the fact that these walls and bars were spelled quite heavily and decided not to answer. She couldn’t harm me, control me. She could only speak.

  And that I could ignore.

  It seemed to be a witch’s nature to use trickery to ensnare others, like I’d allowed three to do in the not-so-distant past. That experience—and what it cost me and those I care about—taught me how quickly and easily these creatures could manipulate. So, I stayed silent, giving her nothing to use against me.

  An amused sigh puffed from her lips before speaking again. “It’s fine if you choose not to reply. We’ll have our chance to meet soon enough,” she promised.

  I heard those rough, sandpaper-like hands of hers graze the bars again as her steps seemed to retreat. I pictured her—some vile, unimaginable creature—sinking into the darkest corner of her cell. For a moment, the space was completely silent. Eerily so, considering there were at least two of us locked away down here in the nothing.

  Her cryptic statement spurred several thoughts. It was hard to tell if she actually knew something I didn’t, or if this was a desperate attempt to bait me by planting doubt. Either way, I chose to trust my gut and didn’t say a word.

  I eventually stretched out on the cot, dangling one foot over the edge where it’s length stopped accommodating mine, planting the other on the ground. Minutes turned into hours. So many I assumed it had to have been night by now. Although, with no windows to confirm, it was only a guess.

  My lids got heavy from pure exhaustion, but I was far from comfortable. Every time I closed my eyes, images of impaled bodies decorating my grandfather’s estate like macabre ornaments was all I saw. The sound of two sets of leather soles on the stone floor brought life back to my limbs. I got to my feet quickly and moved toward the bars, doing all I could to wait patiently for a glimpse of who ventured this deep into the Elders’ chamber. However, as badly as I wanted out, I knew that wasn’t likely to happen. Not so soon.

  Maybe not ever.

  At the sight of Richie’s face—even riddled with distress and concern—I was happy to see him. After giving a tight smile that never reached his eyes, he nodded toward the guard who escorted him down. The two exchanged a knowing glance, and then it was just the two of us, my brother and I.

  Of course, there was also the witch I was sure sat listening in a nearby cell.

  “How bad is it?” I asked, still clutching the bars, finding the courage to ask more. “Am I a dead man?”

  Richie’s gaze lowered to the floor and it wasn’t lost on me that he didn’t rush to reassure me. Didn’t rush to comfort me as my thoughts took a shift toward darkness. In other words, killing me was not off the table.

  “We’re doing everything we can,” was his answer. A nondescript, open-ended answer at that.

  My head lowered.

  At the sight of him shifting something from his shoulder to his hand, I looked up again.

  “I brought you a few things,” he explained

  It was a backpack, one he attempted to pass me through the bars. My eyes darted around my cell for a place to hide it. Maybe sensing the sudden spike in paranoia, Richie shook his head.

  “No, it’s fine. The Elders said it was okay to bring some of your stuff. Two guards checked it and said we were all good.”

  The thrumming behind my ears settled a bit and I knelt to sort through the items.

  A handheld video game I hadn’t played since who-knows-when, tons of batteries,
a blank notepad.

  I smiled up at him. “No pen?”

  Richie pushed a hand to the back of his neck. “There uh … there was one, but the guards didn’t think that was a great idea,” he shared.

  Here I was, nearly nineteen years old, and no one trusted me with an ink pen. Not that I blamed them for knowing exactly who I was and what I was capable of. Who’s to say I wouldn’t actually hurt someone if I got desperate enough to get out of this cell?

  Even I didn’t find it hard to imagine.

  “I’ll bring you some crayons or um … markers or something tomorrow,” he offered.

  I stared, realizing he was completely serious. The sound of a loud, humorless laugh leaving my mouth clearly startled him. It bounced off the cold, hard surfaces that surrounded us, an eerie sound that contrasted the general feeling of despair clinging to these walls.

  … Crayons.

  I really screwed up big this time.

  Quieting down again, I stared motionlessly at the few remaining items Richie brought—two magazines, a deck of cards, and a watch. This was it, and while I was grateful to have something … I now wanted out of this place even more than before.

  Both arms throbbed as my veins began darkening again. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the one thing I trusted to bring me solace.

  Roz.

  Just like that, the tension began to disperse. Only, I now had a nagging feeling in my chest. I needed to hear her voice.

  “Can I use your phone?” I practically begged

  The question made Richie’s brow twitch when he answered.

  “I um … I’m not sure that’s allowed.” He spoke in a whisper, inching closer to the bars that separated us; the bars that separated me from freedom, from committing an act so disgusting I felt like a monster just at the thought of it.

  “Besides,” Richie went on. “I probably don’t even have a signal down here.”

  While under normal circumstances that would have been true, I knew better. During our stay at the Damascus Facility, I’d heard several staff members make mention of how good reception was just a few floors up on authorized levels. If they had capabilities to get clear signals that deep, I knew it was possible here, too.