Heir of Salvation

By Jamie Magee

Raw from Donalt’s latest assault, Landen and Willow set a course for Infante. Once there, they hit an impasse. As young gods, their power is too elevated to roam the dimension. The Dominarum coven can balance their vim. However, the barter they ask to make is deadly.

It has been five years since Raven BellaRose watched her first boyfriend die in her arms. Death is a goodbye she refuses to accept; she knew her families coven had the power to bring Rydell King back. In her covens eyes, Raven is betrothed and should remain safe and content until they tell her it's time to fight. The entrapment gave Raven no choice but to make new friends and find her way into death. Her broken path leaves her standing at the end, looking back, trying to understand who to trust and why.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jamie Magee
• Release date: Oct 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370190331

Book preview

Chapter One

Raven BellaRose

Daughter of Jamison BellaRose, future Goddess of Bliss

Relationship Status: It’s complicated.

I miss being seventeen. I miss the rush of feeling happy and invincible. The last five years have left me broken. It wasn't all bad; I’d made progress. I’d fought demons, inside and out. But then, a devil I could not outrun snatched me--stole me from my life.

The gun lying on the seat, aimed at me as I drive, is more annoying than scary. For days on end, we’ve been in a hurry to go nowhere.

My mind is numb. Sometimes hours go by before I realize where I am. Once I do, I try to grasp how I got here. This state of mind doesn’t let me fear my abductor. I don’t have my guard up as much as I used to, or should.

Of all the morbid reps the lore could give a girl, I was pretty damn sure I had the worst. I’m not a mystic or a witch. I wish I were. Life would be easier. I’d have some defense. Instead, I’m a rising goddess, with no power, who has a knack for keeping her males in the grave. I can’t recall if it was my rep in the lore or the death of my first boyfriend that inspired the hell that led me here. Maybe both.

It only took seconds for my abductor to strike. The timing was faultless. My father’s coven and a faction of dark angels had converged to help free my cousin, Skylynn; this was the part of the plot I knew. There was always more with my family. Layers and layers of stuff they didn’t think I needed to know.

Dark angels alongside my father's coven in one place meant the stakes were high, higher than they led me to believe. I prayed that the Creator would keep the battle they were fighting away from me. My willful side and their obsessive levels of protection had already jacked me up enough.

I don’t think He heard me...

That night, I helped my sisters with a spell that would break Skylynn free from her shadowed existence. It worked well enough that I left my sisters the instant I sensed something that shouldn’t have been there. The moment I understood the danger I’d walked into, my vim reached out for my dad and my supernatural guardians. They didn’t answer.

I’ve struggled to remember those last moments. Now that I have, I keep pushing myself further back in my memories. The recall is as painful as it was to live through those years.

If my family hadn’t kept me in the dark—if they’d listened to me, none of this would’ve happened.

Chapter Two

Willow Haywood

Rising Goddess of Fear, Empath

Relationship Status: Ascended with Landen Chambers

I can remember fearing the word rapture. When I was little, I thought it meant hell. Why else would it sound like a threat? Rapture is coming. I didn’t realize that the word meant bliss. Once I did, I still couldn’t understand why fear and doom drowned the word. I understand now.

To recognize extreme bliss, you must know extreme pain. People fear change. The battle of transition is difficult to forget. So hard that sometimes the happiness is never recognized.

I made this mistake.

I can’t even begin to describe how ascension feels. It’s beyond ecstasy. Day to day worries fade. Good and bad emotions are beautiful. The divide between right and wrong vanishes. It’s easy to understand that the struggle of life is what makes it remarkable. I should’ve soaked in more of those good vibes. Instead, I looked for the devil that’s always at my heels.

You find what you seek.

Donalt came for us, as I feared. He entrapped Landen and me in a cast—a reality made by him. This truth soured my soul, but not as much as the feeling that something was erased. Rewritten. If I focused hard enough, I could recall waking and rushing to Esterious to save Drake. I ... remember a male who looked so much like Landen clutching me against him. I remember the others calling him Donalt. But then, the horrifying daydream would fade away like the wind. I’d vow it couldn’t be true.

We’re awake now ... for real this time, Landen said to me after we broke free from the cast.

We knew that, awake or not, we couldn’t charge out of our dimension, check on Drake, and then race toward Franklin. Not without extreme caution. The ascension had amplified our vim. Roaming the mortal realms wasn’t possible, at least not until we balanced out our vibration.

In theory, Esterious could handle our arrival. After all, they were the oldest dimension and hosted gods on the regular. Feeling the vibration of our arrival wasn’t the issue. It was the act of arriving that made us think twice. Entering enemy territory—where Donalt lurks—was too reckless to consider. We needed practice with our power and clever plotting before we faced him.

Entering a young dimension, like Infante, would be catastrophic. Our vibration would shock the atmosphere. Life-threatening thrashes from Mother Nature would be primed to occur. Hurricanes, wildfires, and droughts to name a few.

The safest and only way we had to leave Chara was by using the mystical ether that laced through the universe. The lore called this place the hallway of gods. In this space, we could manifest anything—live inside a waking dream. Or we could haunt the time-bound realms. In theory, we could roam behind the veil of death and travel to the realm where mortals dream and dark angles hunt. It was theory we chose to leave untested for now.

In this space, we could be everywhere and nowhere at once. When we focused on the time-bound realms we could perceive what happened moments—sometimes hours—before and know what was about occur.

We’d escaped to this sacred place often over the last few months. We liked how quiet it was. How we could choose to engage or ignore our insights.

It’s not going to be the same when we leave here, Landen warned. We were watching a small legion of Rampart Warriors, Justus—my First, and members of our family assemble before the passage of the string.

You’re not afraid, I pointed out. I was.

His fingers laced through mine as he took my hand. We will be the same, he assured. "I meant the ether. It will change in the other dimensions--even on the path to them. I’m not entirely sure how open the paths will be or what we will find inside of them.

I smirked. No wonder I sense excitement strumming through you.

His lopsided grin made me forget how anxious I felt. I do love the thrill of exploring ...

The ether, alongside the path of the string, was easy to pass through. As we passed doorways to other dimensions, I could sense how open, closed, or occupied the ether was throughout those worlds.

Esterious gave off the same ominous vibe as it would if were approaching alongside our family. They saw the gray passages. We saw a wall of black. We could sense nothing. Not how many gods were there or how open or closed the ether was. We were so focused on this barricade that it took us a second to notice the debate among our people.

Let him go, Landen said.

I don’t think they heard him, but I knew Landen's intention was sensed. No one stood in Marc’s way as he passed into Esterious. Chrispin was at his heels.

With two of our own inside this world, we could sense all they could, maybe more.

It feels calm, I said.

I was positive this dimension didn’t know their rising king had been trapped inside a cast with us. I wasn’t so sure if this was a good thing or not.

Something is lulling Drake, Landen said.

In a bad way?

In a protective one. He hesitated and then tilted his head in admiration. Zander.

What about him?

He protected Drake.

How?

Not clear...his magic is stronger. He glanced at me. There’s no threat to our allegiances here, not in this instant. We should move on.

He clasped my hand and pulled me to come along with him.

I drew him back. There’s something erased. I know you feel it, too. There was no sense in hiding the remorse in my expression. Our emotions were linked. I don’t want it uncovered until we have a grip on where we are. I held his hand tighter. I’m saying it now, so we’re not caught off guard when it comes up.

The sick twist of guilt stabbing my emotions promised the deleted pages of my life had everything to do with Donalt.

A glimmer of dexterity, doused in devotion, fell over his expression. You know I’ll destroy this universe before I let Donalt take you from me. He pulled me to him, I vow it.

I beamed as his lips met mine. Same, I thought.

We were deep into our path toward Infante when I said, I don’t understand the Romanian part of the cast.

He glanced at me in question.

I shrugged. My family is not from there. Mom’s family was English. I narrowed my eyes trying to remember her family tree. There was a branch of Scottish, but I can’t think of any Romanian connection.

He pressed his lips together before he grinned. Sometimes I do miss your green eyes.

What does that have to do with anything? I said with a vacant grin.

I always liked Scottish lore. He winked, And the green-eyed lasses.

I swayed into him as we walked. What was Donalt saying by putting a Romania thread in the backstory of the cast? I paused my pace. I’m not about to figure out vampires are real, am I?

He laughed when he saw my impish grin threatening to emerge. What is not real?

When he saw the cut of my eyes slice into him, he squeezed my hand. I’m sure it has something to do with ley lines and everything in that neighborhood.

Ley lines? Like, paths of vim?

He ticked his chin up. They’re like this place. Path’s spirits take, doorways for all such things, he glanced around. Only less explored—at least, less recorded. Lore speaks of the passage from life to death like it’s one space. It’s more than that.

Did Donalt think we couldn’t get to where we are now? Inside the ether? Ass.

Maybe, he said with a lifted brow. We’ve managed to ignore them in the past. He glanced into the distance. We were near Infante. I think he was telling us the paths would be limited. Showing us the routes we could take.

To his traps.

He sneered. He’s never that obvious.

You’re guarded now, more than normal.

I always am with the young dimensions. He glanced down to me, Wars and unrest are either born in higher realms or rise to them. Infante is troubled; I don’t know what we’ll find as we move closer.

You agree with them, I said with a nod to our people. They were saying once we arrived they needed to reach out the Dominarum coven. There were many sources of power in this dimension, but they held the greatest respect.

Landen pursed his lips before he spoke. The coven may have enough power to stabilize us so that we can roam the time-bound realm. Either way, they will feel us lurking. Greeting them first shows respect.

Awesome. I can’t wait to hang out with Saige. We were besties last time I was here.

His sly grin was oddly comforting. Bartering with them is the best option we have right now if we want to step outside of this ether inside of this century. He ticked his head toward the path before us. While they settle we’ll explore. See how far we can get.

What makes you so sure we have something those witches want?

He grinned. Witches love to barter; it’s their sport.

Chapter Three

Raven BellaRose

Daughter of Jamison BellaRose, future Goddess of Bliss

Relationship Status: It’s complicated.

The gun nudged me in the hip. He wanted me to pick up my speed. I used to think we were hunting something when this happened, or outrunning a threat. We’ve never caught anything. I’ve never felt the approach of anything more menacing than what was in the car with me.

My firebird roared I pressed the pedal to the floor. The sound of it, the feel of it vibrating my body were little hits of bliss I inhaled.

If there was one thing Rydell King, my ex-departed or whatever I should call him could do, it was rebuilt a car. After he died, Dagen, his First gave me this car. I didn’t drive it for the longest. The memories of Rydell were hard to handle.

God, we had so much fun...

I was happy before I hooked up with Rydell. He made a good thing even better when he showed up. I stayed high on life. Even when heavy stuff landed in my reality inbox, I could process it and still find the up side. I thrived in those days.

The French Quarter was and still is my home. I had the kind of life where I knew I was a princess, and I knew when I was ready to acknowledge this that my dad would make sure I was legit.

Jameson BellaRose made sure everyone was legit, even if it was against their will. I’ll admit my father is lethal, but not in a wicked way. He never liked dispensing vengeance.

We all become an instrument of fate at one point or another, Raven, he’d say. At times, we move others to a new path by force or gesture. His fixed ocean-blue stare would level on my dark eyes. The path could have everything or nothing to do with us. There are no rules in fates handbook. Not on this level of reality.

I loved how reasonable and wise my dad sounded when I was younger. After I felt what death took then left in its wake, I despised it. Sometimes you need to be mad, and my dad made it hard to stay that way around him. I don’t mean that he’s a funny guy or could make you see the rosy side of life. He’s neither. Dad had a way of making anger seem immature.

You only carry with you what you need when you need it. Anger is a tool used to force a change in the world around you.

I’d change the subject when he started this lecture. He let me. We’d pretend there wasn’t a perfect storm of contradicting powers swelling in the vim of my soul.

As a child, I never saw Dad and his coven as witches. They were family. The people that made my life amazing. What I didn’t get then, but know now, was why they gazed at me with odd wonder. I’m a rarity. A brand spanking new soul. A wildcard.

My birth mother was an angel, not a benevolent one. The short of it is she was born of the Line of Wrath to the only female goddess of dark emotions, Glory. Mom thought she saw some sketch things going on, and instead of telling her goddess, she told a warring line. In hindsight, she realized how jacked up her play was.

I was her punishment.

When she asked the Creator to forgive her, to free her goddess from the Reapers clutches—He only offered her salvation. She had to obtain vim powerful enough to manifest a corporeal image that could hide her divinity in the mortal realm, then seduce my father and carry his child. Oh, and then die.

Jaded. So jaded.

I have issues, lots of them. But I vow feeling abandoned by my birth mother is not one of those issues. I’m my father’s daughter. Within my soul, the ancient vim of my family’s coven and the vim of rather pissed off angels festers as it waits for me to figure out who I am.

As I grew up, when dark angels hunted me I felt the warring parts of me fight to surface. Back then, it was always the Helco Faction who came for me. My memories of the battles I had as a kid were erased until Rydell King, the leader of the Fraction, surfaced.

My dad returned the memories so I’d understand how big of a threat Rydell was and why. It was too late by the time that happened. On some level, I’d already decided to keep him.

The Helco Faction had broken away from the god who created them; the God of Exaltation; Revelin. Coincidently, Revelin is the God I was set up to dispatch. Or so I’m told.

The Helco Faction wasn’t defending Revelin by hunting me. They were defending themselves. Rouge or not, Rydell King was still a First. Lore stated that there are rules to killing a God. I had to kill his First. And before his First, there was a trinity of souls I was meant to exterminate. Violent, right? Because I was a chill chick!

Rydell didn’t attack when I was seventeen. He wanted to draw me out of the protection the coven. The fatal flaw in his plan was that to do this Rydell had to speak to me. When he did, he understood I was oblivious to my past and who I was born to be. At the same time, he realized what I could not; the throne of exaltation needed me, no matter the sacrifice.

I didn’t know any of this until days before Rydell died, some of it I learned after.

When it came to the facts, Rydell stood the way my father did when faced with something he’d rather not handle. Rydell King was an instrument of the moment. He could’ve delivered me a beautiful death. He could’ve gone about his way and never looked back. Instead, Rydell made a vow to protect me, and then stood as my protector at the side of my father’s coven.

When Revelin sent angels to destroy whatever had Rydell’s attention, the Helco Fraction lost their king. It felt like I lost so much more. My childhood, my innocence, my optimism, and happiness with all died with him.

I’m not the teenaged girl Rydell knew anymore. Some days, I’m not so sure he’d still think I was worth protecting.

Rydell should be walking this earth. I would settle for no less if I ever became this goddess my coven swore I was.

Chapter Four

Raven BellaRose

Daughter of Jamison BellaRose, Future Goddess of Bliss

Relationship Status: It’s complicated.

NOW

Life, in general, has been foggy since the night I was taken, this is the first time I’ve been able to think back over every step that led me here. If I could keep this up, maybe I’d find clarity. Or even better, a way to end this siege.

THEN

After Rydell died, I struggled to find the old me in the ashes of my life. I wanted him back, and as far as I was concerned his reincarnation shouldn’t be hard to accomplish. I was born in a coven of ancient witches who were powerful enough to overcome anything, even death.

My family expected me to morph back into the girl I was before Rydell. For a family drenched in ancient wisdom, they missed the obvious with this notion. There was no going back. If you lived through something, you owned it.

It blew my mind how they could act like Rydell never existed. Systematically, they erased reminders of him from my life. Right down to people. Friends I hung out with when Rydell was alive all moved away. Evan Dagen kept his distance from me.

I understood things took time to unfold. I knew it was best to wait