Page 116 of Court of Evil

I can’t take it anymore.

It’s too much.

As my release slams through me, their blood and magic fuel me, filling me and overspilling so I explode.

Every inch of my body comes apart until I’m floating, the pleasure a never-ending wave mixed with power that’s so strong, I realise I’m not in the living room anymore.

No, I’m standing on the grass before Stalkers’ Rest. The full moon is above me, which isn’t due for another three weeks, and heading towards me with a furious war cry are legions of hunters with their weapons raised.

I lift my arms to brace when suddenly, I feel like I’m spinning, and then I land back on my feet, my eyes opening to see the familiar stone table once more where the women watch me curiously.

“Interesting. Your powers are growing if you have managed to visit us,” the younger one remarks.

A fae.

This must be the original one I am descended from.

“You’re fae, and I am also part fae,” I say.

“Very good,” she replies. “You’re learning. Why have you sought us?”

“I didn’t mean to. I saw something that hasn’t happened.” I stumble over the words, unsure how to explain what I saw. Was it fear or a vision?

“The future,” she murmurs. “Very rare indeed. It was my gift once, but none of my line have possessed it in over a hundred years. I knew you would. It’s a dangerous gift, Tate, but if used wisely, it can save many lives. Remember, the future can always change. There are always choices that lead us down different roads. It is up to you to decipher them.” She looks me over. “I fear your time here is running out. I offer you one last piece of advice, daughter of ours—embrace your gifts because they will save you one day, and let those like you stand at your side. Love will always win against hate, Tate, always.”

I’m thrown back into my body, jerking up with a gasp and wide eyes.

“Tate.” Shamus is before me, shaking my shoulders worriedly. “There you are. Fuck, you were gone for an hour. What happened?”

Swallowing, I peer into his eyes. “I saw the future,” I whisper.

I hold a mug between my hands to warm them, feeling their eyes on me as we sit around the table.

“The future, huh?” Ronan says, breaking the silence. “Cool. Was I still as handsome?”

I smile and silently thank him for it.

“Tate, what happened?” Fang asks nervously.

“I think the power flooded me, and my gifts turned it outwards so I didn’t burn out. Apparently, the fae in my lineage had the same gift. It’s rare but there. I saw the future, or one possible future. I don’t know.” I rub my aching head. “She said futures can change with choices, so it’s not set in stone.” I glance around, hoping that’s true, because what I saw . . . “Right? It might not happen.”

“What might not?” Shamus asks, an order in his tone before he softens his voice. “What did you see, angel? I have never seen terror in your eyes before.”

He’s right. I’m scared. If what I saw happens, then everything and everyone will be lost. The hunters walk the line of this world, and if we are at war with each other, then it will descend into anarchy without rules.

“War,” I croak. “I saw a war coming for us.”

He sits back, his face closed down. “I see.” That’s all he says. “Do you know when?”

“When the moon is full,” I murmur. “Shamus, it wasn’t the monsters coming for us. It was our own kind. It was hunters.”

He watches me, giving nothing away, and I soak in his confidence and strength. “Then we need to prepare.”

It’s all he says, even faced with the impending betrayal and end of his organisation, but I see the pain in his gaze at the thought. Will friends turn into foes again? Will I be forced to hurt our own people?

“She’s right. The future can always change,” Zeev says, no doubt sensing my unease. “It’s not always what happens. Sometimes seeing it is enough for you to make the decisions that lead to it transpiring, like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Sometimes it’s enough to swerve off that path. There is one thing for sure—you cannot control the future. Nobody can, not even the gods. All we can do is endure it and wait.” He smiles gently at me, which is worrying in itself. “Time stops for no man.”

“I am not a man,” I snarl, my fear turning into anger at once again being betrayed by my own people. “And I will not let that happen.”

---