But as unappealing as all of that might be, the greatest obstacle to Logan’s goal was what he needed most, the key to successfully casting the most powerful spells: multiple casters.
Realizing how much he’d taken for granted all of his life was another hard lesson, as if the whole dreadful business with the Scion and his Searchers hadn’t been bad enough. Day after day, the same question dogged Logan’s steps. Had he made the right choice?
At the time, Logan had convinced himself that giving aid to the Searchers was the only choice. A matter of survival. He’d seen the writing on the wall the moment his pack of Guardians divided, half of them going over to the Searchers. Rebellions were like plagues: catching, devastating.
If his father, Efron, hadn’t blamed him for Calla’s betrayal, things might have gone differently. But Logan’s father made it clear that he teetered on the verge of disowning his only son and heir. More concerned with keeping the taint of rebellion off himself than protecting Logan, Efron had effectively demoted his son. With no pack to rule, Logan would have been denied his father’s legacy. And while the wealth and privileges of a Keeper’s life remained his to enjoy, Logan knew well that his reign as lordling among his peers would soon end.
With his inheritance stolen, Logan went to the Searchers, offering his services to their misguided yet indefatigable cause. He freely admitted to himself that he’d gone out of spite and in haste, not thinking through the full ramifications of his actions. He’d thought he’d made allowances for all possible outcomes.
Should the Searchers lose, Logan still had the pretext of being their prisoner. Efron Bane’s arrogance ensured that he would much more readily accept the possibility of his son’s failure than his treachery.
But they didn’t lose. And Logan had no idea how ill prepared he was for that scenario, despite his laying bets on the Searchers’ chances. His self-assurance began to crumble when Sabine tore out his father’s throat. Rebellion from a distance was an interesting concept. Up close, made of spilled blood and rent flesh, it was nothing other than a ghastly reality.
Logan would have run at that point, if not for the knowledge that his throat would be the next one torn to shreds by a Guardian. Forced to remain beside his father’s corpse while the Nightshade and Bane alpha males battled, Logan couldn’t fight off the creeping knowledge that all of this was horribly, horribly wrong. He was not meant to be here. Had no business being a part of this folly. This was not his legacy.
Logan’s mind had fogged with doubt. He was surrounded by a haze of blood and violence, and then Calla had been at his side, forcing him to say the words. To invoke the source of the Keepers’ power: Bosque Mar. Logan renewed his blood oath, calling Bosque from beyond the Rift. When Bosque appeared, condemning Logan for his treachery, Logan had been surprised by the sting of Bosque’s words. As Bosque spoke to him, Logan’s blood felt like barbwire, twisting and tearing within him.
Cowering from fear and shame, Logan had watched as the Scion—he couldn’t think of that force of wild magic as the boy who’d been called Shay—drove his master into oblivion, sealing the Rift forever. As Rowan Estate shook and Logan literally saw his world crumbling, he’d summoned the strength to crawl along the quaking library floor. When the ground beneath ceased its violent shifting, Logan scrambled to his feet. And he ran.
He didn’t stop running until he reached the private airstrip where his father’s Dassault Falcon 7X was waiting for him. Logan had called the airstrip as he ran, knowing the pilot and crew were on call 24/7 to accommodate spur-of-the-moment trips. Wheezing, Logan boarded the plane and ordered the pilot to take off immediately. Once they were airborne, the flight attendant offered him a cocktail, which Logan refused. As much as he felt like he needed one, Logan knew he needed a clear head more. The glossy-lipped stewardess then took off his shoes for the usual foot massage she provided, and gasped. Logan’s feet were bleeding. He wasn’t surprised. Without a word, the flight attendant washed and bandaged his feet. His father’s staff knew better than to ask questions. No matter what they witnessed.
Logan practically lived aboard the private jet for the first month after he fled Colorado. He didn’t feel safe staying in one place for more than a few days. It was only a matter of time before the Searchers came after him. Once the fallout from the last battle at Rowan Estate had settled, those wretched, duty-bound warriors were sure to begin hunting down all the Keepers. At least the ones who survived the war.
As it happened, there weren’t that many.
The Keepers had always been selfish with their powers. That hoarding, territorial quality paired with preternaturally long lives meant very few Keepers had children. Offspring were considered necessary for the future, to carry forward the blood oath and maintain the link between Bosque Mar and the earth. But nurtured and coveted Keeper children were not. Logan had always sensed that his father regarded him as a nuisance. Logan had never known his mother, and his father rarely spoke of her. Lumine Nightshade had more kind words about Marise to offer than Efron did. Despite the absence of affection between them, Logan and his father reached a common accord: they were both waiting for Logan to grow up.
And grow he had. Logan was eighteen. He’d come of age. And his life had shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. He didn’t know what to do with himself—with the exception of avoiding the Searchers. Logan definitely knew to do that. But he decided it was time to stop running. He ordered the pilot to fly to Montauk, where he knew he would find someone—or two someones—willing to take him in.
• • •
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Audrey said, offering Logan a clove cigarette, the day after he’d arrived. “It could be much worse.”
Logan took the slim black cigarette with a nod of gratitude.
“She’s right, you know,” added Chase. “Take Mother and Father, for instance.”
Audrey smirked, settling on the divan next to her brother. Chase and Audrey Roth were twins and thus the rare exception to Keepers having no more than one child. They were unexceptional as Keepers, however, in their lack of regard for their deceased parents. That they could speak with such nonchalance of their parents’ devolving suddenly from living beings to rotting flesh and, finally, to bones and dust, leaving Chase and Audrey orphans, was a testament to that.