Amends: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 2)

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Amends: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 2) Page 14

by Carissa Andrews


  “Diana,” Ren corrects, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Psh—I mean, yes. But that doesn’t mean she…” he glances from Kyros to me, then back again. When he speaks again, his voice is elevated to another octave. “She has direct access to Apollo?”

  Kyros’s lips press into a tight smile and he nods quickly. “Well deduced, Mr. Garcia. I knew you’d get there in the end.”

  Ren leans forward, pressing his hands over his face. “I am ridiculously out of my depth here.”

  I walk over, placing a hand on his bowed head. “If it’s any consolation, you’re not the only one. Most of this is new to us, too.”

  Ren groans, eyeing me through his fingers. “And yet, I’m the last to join this bizarro insiders club.”

  “Not by much,” Blake offers. “I’ve only been in the loop a few weeks.”

  “And I’m recently resurrected,” Kyros says, patting Renaldo on the back. “So, while I might understand Amar—Diana’s true origin, I’m still making sense of this new world. So much has changed in the past two thousand years. I mean, Amarantham looks the same as ever—save the horrendous clothing choices, of course. What is that?” He jabs an index finger toward me.

  I glance down. “It’s a zombie unicorn.”

  “Ah,” he mutters, evidently disgusted by the look on his face.

  Ren sputters. “Two…thousand? I know I didn’t hear what I think I just heard.”

  “Ren, I already told you. I’m immortal,” I say, shooting him a confused look.

  He stands up, staring at the vodka before walking from the living room to the kitchen. “But—two-thousand years? Is that how old you are?” he squeaks.

  I shrug. “More or less.”

  He gasps, fanning himself.

  “What did you think I was?” I say, mildly amused by his bewilderment.

  “I don’t know,” he sputters, giving me a WTF expression as he paces back and forth aimlessly. He rakes his hands through his hair, making the black strands stand on end. “But it wasn’t thousands of years. A hundred years, maybe. No… I take that back. Not even that. Oh my god.”

  He walks into the kitchen, then back into the living room. He eyes the couch like he might sit down, but the energy in his body won’t let him rest.

  Blake’s eyes track Ren’s movements and he shakes his head. “What do we need to do?” he asks, bringing us back on topic.

  “First, we need to get back to Demetri’s. I need to assess Jonas for myself, just to be sure,” I say. It’s the truth, but there’s more to it than that. What we need to do is going to impact more than Jonas and his family. “And I need to make sure Jonas is on board. Free will is at play here and Apollo won’t move on things without direct consent.”

  “How in the hell are we going to get out of this house, let alone get across town? The mob will eat us alive, remember?” Ren says, pointing at the front door.

  My left eyebrow raises. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Of course, I’m sure,” he huffs, tilting his head to the side. He pauses, obviously listening for any signs of the people outside the door. “I mean, I don’t hear them now, but that could just mean they’re waiting to pounce.”

  “Check,” I say, nodding toward the door. As soon as I accepted my new role with Apollo, I felt their presence disperse, but Ren doesn’t know that.

  “Me?” he squeaks, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

  “Oh, for the love,” Blake says, rolling his eyes. He saunters past me, unlocking the front door and swinging it open. He steps out onto the concrete steps, vanishing from view for a moment. When he returns, he shakes his head. “There’s no one there.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Ren says breathlessly, getting up to check things out for himself. He walks straight out the door and within a couple of moments comes back in, surprise painted across his features. “PI Hotpants is right. They’re gone.”

  “I told you. Apollo and I came to an agreement. Evidently, I needed to determine which path I wanted to take with my abilities, as we go forward. Continue with the incessant questions, as I have been and as I did in the past—or be guided with a higher purpose and higher stakes. I think it’s fairly obvious which one I chose,” I say.

  Ren’s eyes widen and he says, “What about Inner Sanctum?”

  I hold a hand up. “Don’t worry about that. Things will work out. Trust me.”

  Ren places a hand on his hip. “They damn well better, Diana. The last thing I need is to be out of a job after all of this.”

  “Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?” Blake asks, shaking his head.

  Ren turns to Blake, pressing his fingertips to his chest. “I’ll have you know I was thinking about what would happen to Diana’s store, as well.”

  Blake’s eyebrows rise, tipping up in the middle. He mouths the word, “sure.”

  I shake my head, unable to handle any more bickering. Instead, I walk toward the open door, grabbing my purse on the way out. From the front steps, I call back, “Are you guys coming, or what?”

  20

  What if I don't wanna?

  “So, let me get this straight…” Demetri says, his eyebrows crumpling to the point of merging entirely. “You want to strip Jonas of his powers to protect him?”

  His features are hard and I can only imagine how it must feel to him after everything that happened with his own powers. But I can’t worry about Demetri’s feelings right now. I know what needs to be done to protect Jonas.

  I nod, tapping the dining table’s wooden top with my middle fingertip. “That’s the gist, yes.”

  “Do you have any idea what this will do to him? How it will change who he is?” Demetri asks, getting straight to the point.

  I lock eyes with him, knowing full well this might sting a bit. “I am well aware.”

  He rubs the tip of his index finger across the stubble beneath his lip, holding back whatever curses he’d like to fling my way. But I can still feel them hurtling through the mental energy between us.

  “Demetri, if I had any other choice—”

  He nods. “Right, right. It was Apollo who gave you this insight…”

  Instinctively, my gaze raises to the ceiling. You’d think after all the years dealing with Ren, I’d be used to this. But when it’s someone who used to believe in you implicitly, it stings a bit more.

  Ironically, Renaldo’s the one taking all of this information in stride. Then again, it could also be the vodka.

  Could go either way.

  “Yes,” I sigh, letting my gaze drift to the small kitchen window. I wish there was an easier way to fix all of his, his hurt and anger. His distrust of me. “I know it might seem strange, Demetri…”

  Blake places a hand on my shoulder, trying to ground me to the here and now. He likely senses my agitation. Ever since the vision with Apollo, every cell of my being is humming, ready to take on the role I need to fulfill in all of this. I never thought I’d be like this, but here we are. It’s game time and there’s a much bigger game being played beyond all of this.

  It all starts here.

  “No, it’s not strange. Understanding all of this actually helps click a lot of stuff in place,” Demetri says, his light blue eyes distant. “But I can’t help but think of the times when your best intentions blew up in our faces. Literally.”

  “This isn’t like that—”

  “It’s exactly like that. You want us, him, to trust you. To believe you know the exact right thing to do. But sometimes, you don’t. Sometimes, your gifts are shit,” he spits.

  “What happened with you was different. It was before I knew what I was. It was before—”

  “Apollo. I heard you the first time,” Demetri says, shaking his head.

  “Look, you don’t have to believe Apollo is involved if you don’t want to. But if you’re not gonna help, then get the fuck out of the way,” Blake growls.

  Demetri quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything else about the matter.

 
The entire Fletcher family, on the other hand, sat through my entire exposition without much of a word. I don’t know whether they believe me or think I’m nuts. Probably the latter.

  Either way, they haven’t waltzed out the door with their kid, so I consider that a win.

  Jonas didn’t even flinch when I said that the only way to protect him was to take his powers away. If anything, relief was the predominant emotion in the room—from Miriam and John, especially.

  “So, how do we go about this?” Miriam asks. “It won’t hurt Jonas, will it?” She wraps her arm around Jonas’s shoulder, tugging him as close to her as possible with the wheelchair between them.

  I shake my head. “It shouldn’t. From what I saw in my vision, it was pretty seamless. It hinges more on Jonas’s approval. If he doesn’t agree, then it won’t work.”

  Miriam and John exchange a significant glance. Raising her free hand out to her husband, Miriam grabs hold of John’s hand, then squeezes it tight. “This might be for the best. We can have a normal life.”

  “What if I don’t want to give my powers up?” Jonas asks, breaking his silence on the matter. Despite his worries about giving up his powers, the dark circles under his eyes make his chocolate skin appear even darker—almost sickly. He’s not sleeping well and who can blame him?

  “Then you die,” I say, not wanting to mince words. Jonas needs to know what’s at stake here because the alternative isn’t pretty. But I’ll be damned if I let any of that happen.

  Miriam shudders, covering her mouth with the hand that held onto John.

  Jonas presses his lips tight, jutting his chin out, and sighing heavily. As much as he doesn’t like the burden of this gift at times, Demetri is right. I get the distinct impression it’s embedded deeply into his persona. His worry is what he’ll be if it’s gone.

  In some ways, it’s what made him special—especially when he feels like physically, he’s a mess.

  “Don’t think like that,” I say, catching his eye. I reach out, placing my hand on his knee.

  Jonas’s face screws up and he says, “I don’t want to just be that disabled kid.”

  “Are you kidding me? With that gorgeous smile? Not a chance,” Ren says, swatting his hand through the air. “Don’t you dare think like that.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not fourteen.” Jonas says, chuckling darkly.

  “Oh, honey, I was once. And if you think being gay and fourteen is any easier, you are sorrily mistaken,” Ren says, casting him a knowing look.

  Jonas bites down on the inside of his lip but doesn’t say anything.

  “You know, someone I know once told me something that helped out tons. It might help you out, too,” Ren says, fluttering his eyelashes.

  Curiosity fills Jonas’s features and he whispers, “What was that?”

  “‘What other people think of me is none of my damn business.’ It took me nearly thirty years, but I’m finally in a place where I agree,” Ren says, planting his hands on his hips.

  I laugh softly under my breath. Pretty sure I’m the one who told him that.

  Jonas’s eyebrows arch high on his forehead.

  Ren continues, “You’re a beautiful soul and you’ll grow into being whatever you make yourself out to be. Powers or not.”

  “Very well said, Mr. Garcia,” Kyros says, clapping enthusiastically.

  Ren beams, pretending to toss his imaginary hair over his shoulder.

  “On that note,” Blake says, turning back to me. “How do we make this happen? Did Apollo give you any idea?”

  I nod. “Yeah, but—”

  Before I have a chance to fill them in on the logistics, the windows of Demetri’s small house rattle. It’s like an earthquake is about to hit—only everything inside the home stays stationary.

  Instantly, I’m on my feet.

  “They’ve found us,” I say, hit with the clear vision that we’ve run out of time.

  Sentinel is here.

  Demetri is up as well, eyeing the windows. “At least the wards are holding.”

  “For now,” I mutter, walking around Jonas and glancing out the window. A strange green and white energy crackles along the edges of the home, searching for a way to break through.

  As much as I wish I could say the wards will keep us safe, thanks to Apollo’s insight, I’ve seen what the future could hold if we aren’t successful with this. Even if we win this battle, Sentinel will keep coming for Jonas. They’re going to keep coming regardless.

  They aren’t about to stop.

  Kyros rushes over to the front door, peeking through the slits of decorative glass next to the door frame like he’s a part of a spy movie. “There seems to be four or five out there. The woman Master Wilson took out the other night isn’t with them, however.”

  “That’s good news. Hopefully, it means Dan was able to apprehend her,” I say, trying to push my abilities out to see if I can sense her. Unfortunately, I still get mostly a static haze around her.

  I haven’t had the time to check in with the detective, but I don’t want to mess with her again if I can help it.

  Kyros nods, despite having missed most of the last round.

  Blake is by my side before I give much thought to what comes next. “I’ll draw the attention of the goons out front. It should buy you a little bit of time. Do what you need to do to keep Jonas safe.”

  “What are you going to do?” I ask, opting to let him tell me versus push my way into his plans.

  Blake shoots me a mischievous grin, his dimple shining beside his goatee. “You worry about what you have to do. I’ll handle my end.”

  He steps forward, grabbing hold of my waist, pulling me close. His lips crush down on mine, dizzying my head. He releases me before I have a chance to get my bearings.

  “Hold that thought,” he whispers next to my ear.

  “Anything you say,” I whisper, shaking my head. Let’s just hope this isn’t the beginnings of a plan going completely sideways.

  “I’ll go with you,” John says, dropping Miriam’s hand to step up beside Blake.

  Miriam gasps. “John.”

  “Miriam, if I can help keep Jonas safe, I’m gonna do it,” he says, determination hardening his jaw.

  Her lips clamp shut and she clutches Jonas closer.

  Renaldo sighs, panic pulsing through his aura loud and clear. He turns to me. “I am not cut out for hand-to-hand combat. I’m too pretty. I don’t suppose you have any need for an assistant with all of the mojo you’re about to do? Because I’m a hundred and ten percent certain I’d be useless outside.”

  “Actually, Ren, Kyros… I do have a use for you. I promise it will be painless,” Blake says, waving them both to follow.

  Ren curses under his breath, but Kyros tugs on the bottom of his shirt and squares his shoulders. He’s gearing himself up for a fight, regardless of how ridiculous he might be in the middle of it.

  I watch them leave out the back door, not removing my gaze from Blake’s backside until he’s no longer in view.

  With a huge sigh, I turn back to Jonas. For a moment, we lock eyes. His fear is palpable, as he clutches onto his mom’s hand like a lifeline. I wish like hell that I could fix this for him without all this chaos. That he didn’t have to be put in this position or even deal with any of it.

  But that’s not how life works.

  I drop down in front of him, letting my hand rest again on his knee. “Are you ready for this?”

  Jonas swallows hard. He might have mixed feelings about the ritual, but his survival instinct is clear in the panic welling up in his eyes.

  “I don’t think I have much of a choice here,” he says, his voice slightly shaky.

  Witnessing him deal with this situation makes my heart ache. I can’t even imagine what this must be like for him. This sort of thing is enough to make a grown man question himself, let alone a kid.

  “I’m sorry, Jonas. If I saw any other way—” I begin.

  He extends a hand, cutt
ing me off. “I know. It’s okay.”

  “Diana, we need to do this now,” Demetri warns, tipping his head toward the hallway.

  I glance up and nod. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  21

  Game Time

  Miriam wheels Jonas over to the edge of the living room. It’s been tidied up a bit more since the last time I was in here, but the plush recliner and coffee table will be in the way if we want Jonas to take up residence in the middle of the room.

  Outside, shouts erupt, and the rumbling around the windows persists. Whatever Sentinel is doing, they intend to tear down the wards as quickly as possible. I can only hope that whatever Blake has planned will be enough to distract them while our focus is spent on stripping Jonas of his power.

  Demetri pushes the hefty chair out of the way and I rush forward, scooting the coffee table so it butts against the hearth of the small gas fireplace to the left. By the time I turn around, Demetri is already hunched over, writing on the floor with his special chalk used for rituals. With the precision of someone who’s done this a thousand times, he draws a huge pentacle in the middle of the floor, then hands the chalk to me.

  “I assume there are specific symbols you need to use,” he says, standing back up. He walks over to his cabinet, filling his arms with more supplies.

  He’s not wrong. In order to make this work, I’ll need to invoke Apollo and bring him to us. There are rules as to how gods can enter this realm or appear in this reality. Without their proper invocation, they’re locked out from doing much beyond parlor tricks, like speaking through Kyros. In part, it’s why the old gods have died out of the collective consciousness—and one of the reasons Apollo is set to change things. Hardly anyone remembers the rules anymore and they wonder why the world is descending into madness.

  I drop down to my knees, drawing out the ancient symbols, invoking Apollo and his god-essence. One thing’s for certain, there’s no way I can do what needs to be done here, I don’t have that kind of power. But he certainly does. I move on to scrawling out protection symbols, in the hopes they will keep everyone here as safe as possible. Especially Jonas.

 

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