We might have managed to walk out of Cade's mansion way easier than we were expecting to, but I’m not foolish enough to think that’s the end of it.
The streets were deserted yesterday morning as we escaped, and neither of us had our cells to call for a cab. I wanted to go straight to Marcus, but Alex insisted on dragging me back to campus and sleeping off some of the pain. Considering I slept most of yesterday, waking only to take a piss and shove more pain pills down my throat, I guess he had it right.
I suggested that Alex come with me this morning, so we could get some answers together, but he wanted to see his mom and unearth the truth about his father. I don’t blame him. I've got a million and one questions for my mother, too, but Marcus is more pressing.
I need to know what the hell is going on here, and what he meant when he told me that I had to see this through. Hell knows I need a solid reason to continue with this farce.
Cade wanted to kill me last night, I could see it in his eyes. But he can't, and he knows it. If all of this is true and Alex and I are Quinctus heirs, then he can't lay a hand on us. I guess that explains why he hated me on sight, because I have no doubt he's known this little secret all along.
It takes what feels like a year to get to the door I want. I come to a stop beside it, resting my hand against the wall as I try to catch my breath, squeezing my eyes closed tight as I will the pain to subside.
This isn't my first beating—and I somehow doubt it'll be my last. I can deal with the pain, and, much like events in my past, I use it to fuel my own anger and my need for answers.
Knowing that I either need to do this or go and find my old bedroom and curl up in a ball, I take a step forward, not bothering to knock. After last night's revelations, I think we're a little past that.
I throw the door open and stumble inside. The scent of the incense he was burning in here and in the chamber last night assaults my senses, and my fists curl in frustration.
As I expected, Marcus is sitting behind his desk. He was staring at a notebook sitting atop it, but at my interruption, his eyes lift to find mine.
He gasps, pushing to stand the second he takes in my injuries. It's not hard. My face is littered with cuts and bruises, one of my eyes almost swollen shut.
"What the hell happened?"
"What do you mean what happened?" I ask, mocking his tone. "You sent me into that bullshit initiation with zero knowledge of what to expect. That's what fucking happened, Gramps."
"Take a seat," he encourages, pulling one out for me.
If it weren't for my legs being minutes away from giving out, I'd refuse, but as it is, I gratefully accept the help. Marcus walks to one of the ornately carved cabinets and pulls out a decanter of amber liquid and two glasses. Despite the time, he pours generous amounts into each before placing one on the desk before me and keeping his own in his hands.
“Caedes?” he asks, running a hand over his jaw.
"Yeah," I mutter, knocking back the whiskey. It burns all the way down, but I welcome the warmth.
"I didn't think Alex had that in him," Marcus mutters, taking a sip of his own drink.
"Alex? Alex didn't do this," I spit, pointing at my ruined face.
"But Caedes is meant to be the initium fighting for supremacy." His brows pull together in confusion.
"Not last night. It was Cade fucking Kingsley throwing his weight around and reigning supreme," I mutter, wishing my glass had been refilled already.
"It's worse than I thought," he says to himself.
"What was that?"
He sighs, relaxing back in his chair and staring directly into my eyes. "There's a lot I need to tell you, Son."
You fucking think?
"Before we start at the very beginning, there's one thing you need to know right now.” A dark expression crosses his face.
"And that is?" I prompt, wishing he'd just spit it the fuck out.
"Cade is a threat."
"No shit."
"I don’t just mean to you and Alex. I mean to Gravestone. To everything we’ve built here… To Quinctus."
Now it's my turn to look confused, although it literally pains me to frown.
"The Easton bloodline has always been dominant. We've reigned Quinctus for generations. But after my son, your father, died and we didn't have an heir—"
"But—"
"We didn't know about your existence then. We had to hand power over to the Kingsley line.
“Gregory Kingsley—Cade's father—wasn't the man any of us wanted in charge. Where Quinctus had started to move with the times with regard to some of our rituals and traditions, Gregory wanted to revert things to how our ancestors intended. But it was how it had to be without an Easton heir.”
“Go on…” I urge.
"Gregory died seven years ago, leaving Cade the next Quinctus heir. After college, he'll go through his final initiation and become a senior member, taking his place alongside Quinctus elders."
"But now I exist," I say, filling in some of the gaps.
"Yes. Now you exist. Cade will not want to give up his power because you've suddenly appeared."
"He wants me gone." It's not a question. We both know it's a fact.
"You're not an immediate threat. The power has officially been handed to the Kingsley line. We can't just snatch it back, that's not how things work. But there are ways we can do it."
"And that’s why I'm suddenly here and have been thrust into this world. Was this always the plan?"
"Yes and no," he admits.
When I leave Marcus almost two hours later, my head is spinning with information. Most of it makes no fucking sense, although it does help to understand this weird-ass town I've
