Jeffries departure heralded an eerie silence. The porcelain tiles were cold beneath his bare feet. He yanked the towel away and turned the faucet on to one of the many in the communal shower. Steamrolled and roiled the air around him. He stepped under the hot water. It cascaded over his auburn hair plastering its length to the back of his neck. Kylen turned his back to the water and rolled his triangular shoulders.
Heat melted over him relaxing stiff muscles and entreating the sweet ache of a good workout. Kylen lathered soap at his underarms and chest. He rinsed the suds from his skin and smirked.
“You’re not supposed to do things like this here,” he scolded.
A pair of hands touched his waist fingertips sliding toward his tight bellybutton. A body glided in behind him skin on skin. Velvety, warm and wet were a delightful combination. The slamming of his heartbeat and paranoid glances to the far-flung corners of the room were enough to dampen the excitement.
Kylen stepped away putting distance between them and Conner crumbled with his visible hurt. A petulant smirk chased his demeanor into bitchy. He straightened and sniffed wiping at his nose.
“Don’t be like that. This is dangerous,” Kylen warned.
“I’m not afraid of your father,” Conner snapped.
“I am,” Kylen admitted. “He will kill you, Conner.”
Conner dropped his head to one side. He shook it pressing lips into a flat line. Conner took in a deep breath just to blow it free.
“Do you understand what you’re asking me to do?”
“Conner.”
“You know what Isaak did to my family, Kye.”
Kylen’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t see another way. They had a sheer cliff into oblivion at their back and an angry mob blocking their escape. This was the only option they had. Isaak’s plans gave them a chance at least.
“Give me a better idea then.”
“I don’t know why you’re worried about your father putting a bullet in the back of my head. Isaak will get to it before he gets the chance,” Conner pouted.
Kylen checked the exit once more surreptitiously. Not seeing anything, he closed the distance. He grabbed Conner’s hip and dragged him closer. The embrace dragged a reluctant smile out of his lover. Conner sighed.
“Why can’t I quit you?” he mocked Brokeback.
“Because you love me,” Kylen said with swagger leaning in to kiss him.
13
Chapter
The highway cut a dark ribbon through the tall pines. Izobel unscrewed the cap of her Coke with one hand. She desperately needed the caffeine. She’d been driving for two days straight. Her back twinged, and her legs were cramping.
The bracelet tapped against the windshield incessantly. The rhythmic sound lulled her. Izobel yawned blinking her eyes wide a few times.
She leaned across the seat grasping her phone. Calling Zoe’s phone had become a kind of ritual. She called once an hour on the hour. Every time that damned mechanical voice told her the box was full. But she did it anyway.
The bracelet flew to the left so hard it cracked the passenger window. Alone on the highway, Izzy made a decision. She slammed on the brakes. Pulling the car over to the side of the road, she got out. She had to drag the bracelet with her. Once it had the chance, it shot towards the trees so fast Izobel cried out. A bruise spread muted color beneath the twine. It was a good thing she tied the thing to her wrist, but damn it hurt.
Izobel fought the bracelet to grab the map from her bag on the passenger seat. She unfolded it searching for a road that went in that direction. The closest one was fifty miles. The trees grew awful close. It was cold. The chill wind played with her black hair. Goosebumps pimpled her bare arms. She walked down the road a few yards all the while fighting the bracelet. Nothing.
She went the other way. About an acre down the road, there was a path between the trees she could probably fit the jeep down. Beggars can’t exactly be choosers.
Izobel got back in the car and drove down the path. It severely hampered her speed, and she had to keep a wary eye out for saplings and stumps. All the while, the bracelet went back to slamming against the windshield. Two hours of meandering paths ended in a wall of pine trees. Izzy slammed her palm against the steering wheel so hard it vibrated.
It was getting late. Not that you could see the sun. The trees blocked out everything. She could sleep in the car and wait for morning. Izobel was exhausted. One day in the car to find the violence and blood of her father’s house and another two following the bracelet.
She looked at it, tapping, pressing against the window so eagerly. The fear that churned her gut had eased some. Still, she couldn’t do it. Losing Zoe was the worst nightmare Izobel could conjure. Izobel touched the silver locket she never took off. A gift from her mother the last time she ever saw her. She laid the necklace over a child’s head and all the weight and responsibility that came with the words, “You have to take care of her now.”
Zoe was so small, a head full of black fluff and the loveliest blue eyes. Mother smiled and touched her face that day and Izobel made a vow to her that she would protect her little sister against anything. This was a test of that promise.
With a huffed breath, she grabbed the bag of clothes she’d taken from the house. Digging through it, she produced a sweater and an old leather jacket. It was thin but heavy. It would have to do. She slipped into both pulling her hair from the collars and collected a few things from the car. She stuffed them in the bag. Her bottle of Coke a Cola came too.
Izobel shouldered the door, hefting the bag. She stuffed the car keys into her pocket. The bracelet tugged left so she went left.
The cold only got worse the longer she walked. Izobel rubbed her hands together, hissing at the sore scab on her palm. Her breath fogged in clouds in front of her. This forest was endless. The gloom of grey skies gave way to darkness. Izobel dug her phone out of her pocket. She checked the bars. Nothing. She pressed the button to turn on the flashlight.
Stumbling around in the night Izobel had a hard time keeping the path underneath her. At least that’s what she thought at first. The third time Izobel realized she was going in a circle it dawned on her. The bite of autumn’s chill masked the tingle on her fingertips. Her hunger hid the roil of her stomach. But now that she was paying attention it was painfully obvious.
Magic.
This wood was enchanted. She stopped, dropping the bag to the ground. Izobel waved the phone around to get a good look at her surroundings. Satisfied she dug out the chalk dust. Sprinkling the blue dust on her hands, she rubbed it in. With a breath that pushed at her bones and occupied her thoughts, she began the spell.
It started with a low hum that built to a whispered chant. Her fingers moved in a complicated dance of positions, steepled fingers, curved arc, triangle and back again. She repeated the movements again and again. Power built to a crescendo answering her call.
Leaves and mold and baked mud puckered the buds on the back of her tongue. The clean scent of sweet grass and anise wafted around her so strong it destroyed the spike of pine and sap. A river crashed on the edge of her hearing. Earth magic. Raw. She’d never tasted its like. It pulled when it should push, and ran when it should slow. No witch laid these protections. This was something else.
With concentrated effort and a small lens of colored glass she got from Deklan’s car, she revealed the web of gossamer strings that wound around this wood. They sparkled and shined white as moonlight. She wasn’t strong enough to snip them. Izobel didn’t know of a witch strong enough, not on this half of the continent anyway.
That did not bode well for her baby sister.
Izobel paced back and forth in front of the threads. Delicate as spider silk, they knotted the trunks and anchored the rocks. She would need the entire circle to break this enchantment and even then, it was a big if. She needed a different way through.
With a sigh, she went back to her bag. Izobel just went running the moment she woke from her nightmare. S
he didn’t take the time to grab her crystals or her kit. It hampered her arsenal considerably. Salt, chalk, candles. She had a lighter but the three matches in her pocket were better. Claudia warned her about something like this happening. Why the hell did it have to be now? The universe let her skate in every other situation.
Claudia’s voice answered in her head. “Because this is when it matters.”
“Fuck.”
Izobel bit her bottom lip rearranging the foci in her head. Salt was protection and deception. She would kill for some silver right now. Raw magic wouldn’t be enough; she needed the multipliers to crack that enchantment.
Chalk. It was great for maps. Invisibility. Not any use to what she was trying to do. Izobel tossed it back into the bag. Candles helped with everything but the wax was good for muting. The fire would help with almost everything she was thinking of and she thanked her lucky stars. Fire and blood were not only universal they were powerful and right now, she needed that.
Her head fell back to rest against her shoulders. She closed her eyes. They burned. Izobel needed time and tools and she didn’t have either. Izobel spun around and kicked at the dirt. She screamed her frustration to the four winds.
Salt. Chalk. Wax. Fire.
Wax. Fire. Salt.
Fire. Salt.
“Fuck!”
Arranging them and rearranging them in her head left her with nothing that would break it.
“Think, Izobel.”
Why would someone reorient the ley lines of a wood? To hide it from someone, right? Someone was hiding her sister here. If they brought her in there had to be a way. Someone brought her in. Someone. Izobel blew a frustrated breath free. This wasn’t the kind of spell you just recast. So they either had a key or they cloaked Zoe somehow.
Cloak! That’s it.
She couldn’t break it, but she could add to it.
Izobel stuffed her things back into the bag. She scraped some of the wax away from her candle stub. Collecting some pine needles, she poured salt over the pile and mixed in the wax. Izobel dropped a pinch into her mouth and swallowed them. She made a sour face at the salt and lit a candle. Chanting, she lit the pile on fire. Smoke poured like a snake from her mouth.
Izobel blew out the candle and shoved it in her pocket. She grabbed her bag and moved toward the webs. They parted slowly to let her pass and she smiled.
“I’m coming, Zoe.”
14
Chapter
The way this week had gone Abel needed peace. He shut the door behind him closing out the rest of even this tiny world and pulled the trunk free from under his bed. The guns were fine. All of the safeties in place, the firing pins perfect. He knew because he checked them yesterday. But he did it anyway. Abel needed something to keep his hands busy, his head.
He pushed a full magazine into the bottom of the Glock23 and gave it a hard slap pulling back on the slide to chamber a bullet. The sound triggered a memory he hated. Abel shoved at it but it crashed down on his just the same.
Rain fell like a river was draining out of the sky, mud to their knees. Blood laced the drops rolling from a gash on his forehead. Connor was right behind him. A fourteen-year-old boy. He shouldn’t have been there. They were soldiers. Soldiers fight, but even the Kin know children are not meant to wage war in the place of men.
They weren’t sent there to fight. That was the thing. He and his brothers were sent there to die that was the truth it took Abel a long time to realize. Fuck Worthington! Abel refused to give him the satisfaction.
The click rang out. Even in the middle of a firefight, Abel heard it. It was the only reason he was still alive. The explosion went off like a kick to the gut. The fire sizzled on his skin. He could smell the hair burning two years and a thousand miles away. Three bullets missed his head by inches and slammed right into Perry. They cut him nearly in half. Abel tossed his rifle over one shoulder, its weight sliding over his back. Perry’s knee was so much raw meat.
Abel could see it in his eyes, but he couldn’t bear to give up on his friend. Abel refused to let him die. He grabbed Perry, threw him over his shoulder slogging through sucking mud toward the aid station. His blood fell fast as the rain. He was dead when Abel laid him on the table. Too late to dig the silver out. That was the story of Abel’s life. Too damned late.
Some nights he wished he hadn’t heard it. Then maybe Perry would still be alive.
Survivor’s guilt is a bitch and it never got any easier.
Abel swallowed his regret and sat the Glock down just to do the same thing with a Dessert Eagle. He ran his fingertips over the barrel of a scarred and beat up Sig Sauer 556 rifle. Visions of that night and a hundred more he just wanted to forget danced before him. Abel sighed.
Was Nora right? Did he send John in his place because he didn’t want to kill that girl? Maybe.
He couldn’t deny every time he looked at her all he saw was John, a ten-year-old sobbing and covered in blood. All he heard was “I’m sorry. It was too much.”
He sure as hell couldn’t put a bullet in Johnny’s head. Did he really think he could put one in that girl?
Rules and traditions, how the Kin loved them.
Abel rolled his lips under looking around the room. Barebones, an antique bed, a dresser with flaking paint, he used to love it here. Now he couldn’t help thinking this place wasn’t much better than a bullet. But he wasn’t ready to lose Johnny then. He still wasn’t. Abel said a little prayer that the girl had broken free. That John saw what he says he saw and wasn’t thinking with his dick. Because an awful lot hinged on that girl now, whatever the truth.
15
Chapter
Something pulled her from a blood-soaked nightmare and she was too grateful to ask for specifics. Zoe sat up, chest heaving. Her haunted gaze bounced around the room. A tall oak armoire with antique mirrors dominated the far side of the room. Dark wood, from the floors and ceiling to the paneling details on the walls.
The enormous sleigh bed dripped with heavy quilts and embroidered pillows. A tufted, Louis the XVI chair turned toward the bed. The DE-saturated blue velvet was worn through in some places. The floral wallpaper with its muted blues made the room feel heavy. The furniture’s hand-carved artistic detail anchored this place in the distant past. The bones of this place were solid, pretty architecture. Shabby and timeworn as this place was it had a forgotten fairytale richness that she was falling in love with.
Zoe threw back the covers and reached to the floor to retrieve her fallen pillow. She took a moment to straighten her too-big outfit and put serious consideration into retrieving her clothes from the trash.
With a yawn, she wandered down the monstrous staircase and barefoot toward the kitchen down the hall. Clanging and popping covered her approach. She reached up smoothing her hair down and twisting it over one shoulder self-consciously.
Johnny stood before the stove in a pair of thin, linen pajama bottoms. A string of red prayer beads wound around his wrist. The word sculpted came to mind. His soft eyes, baby-face, and a shirt hid so much. Her gaze slid from his legs right on up his hips and over his back where she stopped cold. All her naughty thoughts evaporated when she saw the scar. Bigger than her outstretched palm, a raised spiral was branded into his right shoulder.
Her stomach growled at the delicious scent of frying bacon. Johnny spun around to the noise. His shock fell away to an awkward but charming smile.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you come up,” he said crossing the floor. Johnny grabbed a grey, long-sleeved t-shirt and slipped it on over his head. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“Starved,” Zoe admitted coming further into the room.
She took a seat as Johnny put scrambled eggs and three strips of bacon on a plate for her. She smiled her thanks taking the plate he offered.
“Where is everybody?” she asked around a mouthful.
Johnny hesitated. He hated all this lying and keeping secrets but he didn’t really have much of an alternative. She just wasn
’t ready to hear the truth. He wasn’t ready to tell her. This life had serious strings attached, not to mention consequences. He was scared to death of what Worthington might do to her. So afraid he didn’t have time to worry about what Worthington would do to him.
Nora said it was better to deal with some part of this head-on. But Johnny wasn’t convinced. Neither was Abel and that gave him a glimmer of hope to hold onto. Connor went to plead his case, and that had Johnny just a little worried too. Conner liked to raise the stakes of every situation out of boredom. That and Johnny’s brothers had already spilled too much of their blood to protect him.
“They had to run some errands.”
Zoe scarfed more of the eggs. The silence was just as hungry as she was. “These are good.”
Johnny went about serving himself a plate and sat down across from her. Zoe kept looking up at him. Questions balanced on her tongue. They were going on four days now and none of them would tell her what happened, or how she got here. Hell, they wouldn’t even tell her where here was. Johnny kept assuring he would keep her safe and she kept letting it slide. Part of her didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to face what came next.
“So what big brother left you here to keep me from running away?” It was half-joke, half-earnest curiosity.
“I’m not allowed out either,” he said absently and then his eyes went a little wide. Zoe caught it. He recovered quick. But she saw it anyway.
“What do you mean?”
Johnny licked his lips. “Can’t drive.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re supposed to be my knight in shining armor. I mean you wouldn’t lie to me, right?”
Johnny swallowed hard. The muscles in his jaw bunched with his hesitation. He forced a smile that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.
“Something like that.” He laughed. But the mirth died away replaced by something much more serious. “I’ll keep you safe, Zoe. You have my word.” He laid his hand over hers and she didn’t pull away.
Aching Silver (House of Wolves Book 1) Page 4