I wonder what Jaxen’s doing at this moment, and I find myself reaching out to his mind. There’s a wall up I can’t get past. A force preventing me from feeling if he’s okay or not, and the realization just about cripples me.
“What’s going on in that mind of yours, mouse?” Weldon asks. I feel his eyes scanning the side of my face and his mind brushing the edges of mine.
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “I—I’ve been thinking a lot about the meeting we had with Seamus and Mack, and what we talked about up on the rooftop with Gavin and Cassie concerning the Darkyn Meredith.”
The timing of subject change couldn’t have been better. He has my full attention now.
“You have?”
He nods. “I have, and I can’t get past the fact that we’re pawns, Faye. Pawns in Mack and Clara’s evil game of chess. It just doesn’t sit well with me. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love my brother, even with knowing what he did to Claire, but as much as I love him, I also…” He stops and looks down at his glass, running his finger around the rim. “I also hate him,” he admits, his shoulders hunched over and his voice tight with anger. “I know him better than anyone. He’ll do whatever it takes to win. He’ll throw any one of us into the line of fire without the blink of an eye, and you know this.”
I have to swallow past the rocks of truth lodged in my throat, making their way up to my mouth.
He looks me over. Studies my face. Reads into my soul the way we’ve come to do with one another. “You know this too. If you didn’t before our little meeting with them, you do now. He’s willing to dispose of you, thinking it’s for the greater good, rather than finding another way.”
“What if there isn’t another way?”
His gaze levels, and I hold a tight breath. “There’s always an alternative, Faye.”
My mind scrambles as my heart picks up in pace. “I don’t… I don’t see how. We have to destroy the machine to end this.”
He blinks once. Twice. And then a small smile lifts at the corner of his mouth. “It’s simple. Meredith.”
“But you said—”
His eyes close and his head hangs for a moment, as if he’s battling with himself to admit whatever it is he’s about to say. “I said no. I know. And it’s because I was… I was… scared.” He chews his cheek and looks back at me, his eyebrows curved in confiding honesty. “I said no because I didn’t want to get my hopes up again. I didn’t want us to take this risk, only to have something happen to you. I’m not my brother, Faye. I don’t trade another’s life for a life, and asking you to go down there, knowing how you trust me… how I asked you to trust me, would be doing just that, because I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out. I can’t guarantee Meredith’s telling the truth, or that we’ll be able to finish what they’ve started.
“This is the biggest gamble of our lives. The only gamble that will ever matter because it doesn’t just mean our survival, but the survival of every innocent soul on this planet. And that scares the hell out of me. We’re responsible, Faye. You and me. Everything and everyone else is just details to the plot. The plot we’ve become the center of.”
I have to swallow what he says. Hold it in like a breath to sort out what he’s trying to tell me, because today is like a garbage can dumping all of its awful onto us. Like a storm ravaging the earth, destroying everything in its wake. The hits just keep coming.
“What are you trying to say, Weldon?” I find myself asking through the onslaught of emotions.
“I’m saying it’s only going to get worse. That much is guaranteed. I’m saying I feel it in the air, and we need to be ready to go, Faye. We need to be ready to leave them all behind and put a stop to this, once and for all.”
My head’s nodding as my brain catches up to what he’s saying. We do need to stop this. We can stop this… we just have to go for it. Have to put everything we want, know, and love behind.
I glance at my forearm, at their names, and fire catches inside my soul.
“I’m ready.”
“DO YOU HAVE A PLAN?”
Weldon swirls the liquid in his glass. “I’m working on it at the moment.” Thoughts buzz behind his golden eyes the way they always do when he’s plotting.
“Well… what if I told you I spoke to my mother, and she told me what we needed to do. Would you believe me?”
He gives me a sarcastic look. “Please. Is that even a question?”
A smile catches at the corner of my mouth. “She said we can’t trust Meredith, but we do need her to take us into the Underground because I’ll find an amulet by her side that I’ll need.”
“An amulet? Did she say what it looks like or what you need it for?”
I scratch at the wood grain of the bar, looking at my fingers. “You don’t get an unlimited amount of time when you invoke a spirit.”
He chews on his lip and looks away, taking in everything I said. Turns back with a renewed fervor in his eyes. “And you’re just now telling me this? What happened to being in this together?”
My mind scrambles. “I… I didn’t know how to process it and with everything going on between training and Cassie, and you saying you didn’t want to… I just… I didn’t want to bring it up.”
He grabs my shoulder and squeezes hard, eyes leveling on me. “Faye, here’s a small piece of advice from me to you. I’m an asshole. Plain and simple. And I know you look to me for answers because I’m older, far more experienced, and ridiculously handsome—”
I roll my eyes, smiling.
His smile fades a little as his face turns serious. “But, as hard as it is for me to say this out loud, it’s the truth—I’m not always right. This partnership… you and me… it goes both ways. If you have information, share it, the same way I will. Don’t worry so much about what I’ll think. Even if you piss me off, I’ll eventually get over it. I always do.”
I can’t help but think of Mack and how far they’ve come since Mack’s admittance to being responsible for Claire’s whereabouts. Weldon, despite his lack of decorum, is a golden retriever at heart.
“So,” he says, tipping his glass to me, “what did she have to say?”
I tell Weldon everything my mother said, except the part about Jaxen and his choice. I’m not… not ready to talk about it just yet. He listens without an expression on his face or a word to offer and, when every last thought is purged and my limbs are tingling from the multiple glasses of scotch shared between us, he leans back with a lazy smile on his face, holding up his glass.
“How’s that for irony?” he says, eyebrows rising. “Invoking your good-hearted, Primeval mother and being told by her to follow a cold, calculating Darkyn into the armpit of our kind. Mary always did enjoy walking that fine line of insane and sane.”
I take a sip of water the bartender set in front of me, and then say, “It sounds ludicrous. I know.”
“To be quite honest, I don’t think there’s a plan we could come up with that wouldn’t sound ludicrous. We have to go to the Underground. Nothing about that is sane.”
“No.” I pause. Look over at him. “So what do you think we should do?”
He chews on his lip for a moment, eyes darting back and forth in thought. When they settle back on me, he says, “I think our time’s coming, Faye. I feel it. I think we should hang onto this information just a little bit longer, until the correct pieces fall into place, and then we pounce on the opportunity to follow through with what Mary has proposed.”
“Okay,” I say, dotting at the condensation left from my glass on the bar with a napkin. Thinking about Jaxen and Jezi, and the little part I didn’t tell Weldon about.
He puts his arm over the back of my stool, opening himself up to me. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve left something out?”
My face warms up. “Huh?”
“You have that distant look in your eyes that you get when you’re thinking something heavy. What is it?”
> I close my eyes for a second and swallow. “She said Jaxen would have to make a choice. The same thing Jezi said to me a long time ago.”
“Ah, yes. The inevitable who-will-Jaxen-choose scenario. I kind of figured that boat would sail into port one day.”
I look over at him, eyes fully open. “I don’t know why I don’t feel any particular way about it. I’m not upset. Not jealous. Not anything. Just… numb.”
Weldon’s head tilts to the side, eyes softening. “Because you’ve known for a while, Faye.”
I look down, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I have to let him go to keep him from making the wrong choice.” As if the words alone summoned him, my affinity mark warms up, and then the door to the bar opens. Napkins fly around us as a gusty breeze careens through the small room. In walks Jaxen with Jezi right behind him, both soaked to the bone.
They look like they’ve been run over by a truck.
“Speak of the devil,” Weldon says, and then inhales. “Can we—uh, get another scotch and a—” Weldon leans further back, questioning Jezi for what she wants.
“A witch’s brew for me with a shot of tequila,” Jezi says, taking a seat on the other side of Weldon. Her eyes are swollen and sagging from the weight of her expelled emotions.
I work a quick spell to dry them as Jaxen sits next to me and downs his glass of scotch right after it’s set in front of him. His hair sticks up in all directions from his constant pulling and tugging. Shadows linger in his red-rimmed eyes.
I hesitate in putting my arm around him. It’s been so long since we’ve been physically close, and I don’t know if he wants me to. If it will upset him more. But then, he looks at me with such sadness that I can’t help it. I wrap my arm around him and he pulls me in, hugging me so close.
He’s telling me he loves me. Telling me he’s glad it wasn’t me because he doesn’t want to lose me. That we can figure this out, and I want to agree with him. I want to nod my head and kiss his lips. Kiss away the pain eating him alive, but I never get the chance because the large screen above the bar goes dark, and then fills with a loud ringing sound.
“What the hell?” the bartender says, grabbing the remote and pressing the buttons to turn it. No matter what channel he puts it on, he gets the same dark screen and awful ringing.
A second later, the inevitable happens.
I want to say I’m surprised when Clara’s face takes over the screen and probably every other television set, but I’m not. It was only a matter of time.
Someone had to make the next move.
She’s dressed in lies. Dressed in white, sitting in a chair in front of a steel table that looks exactly like the bunker I had recently been inside of. Black hair angles around her face. A red flower is pinned to her blouse. Bael stands behind her in a matching white suit with a blood-red handkerchief tucked into the suit pocket. He’s looking like a pillar of justice, one hand on her shoulder and the other tucked neatly into his pant pocket. His oil-black hair is slicked back and his pearly whites are flashing confidence on his clean-cut face.
A tsunami of rage crashes over me, drowning me in anger as her lips part and words spew out of her mouth.
“Hello, everyone. Please forgive me for interrupting your daily programs, but I have urgent news that needs to be shared with the world. My name is Clara Ravensmoore, and I’m here to let you in on a little secret the world has been hiding from you,” she says calmly. Like she isn’t about to ruin the world and put an end to an era.
I am a loaded gun aimed straight at Clara.
Lava pours down my spine until I’m standing, moving closer to the television, wishing there was a way I could reach through the screen and choke her until she no longer exists.
“I was a part of a secret society called the Night Watchmen. This society exists all around you. They harness powers you couldn’t even begin to understand and, for centuries now, they have kept themselves hidden under a stipulation set by the United Nations. But I’m trying to change this because we shouldn’t have to hide from you. From those we protect day in and day out. You need to know the dangers around you, and the lies you are being told.
“Now, I know this must come as a shock. It might even make you want to turn off the television. But I advise you not to because what you’re about to see is very real and will change life as you know it.”
Her face splits into a smile as a large square takes up residence beside her form and begins to roll footage. It starts out as aerial shots of different places around the world. Important places that have been carved into history.
They show Darkyns outside the White House releasing crates of werewolves and vampires. The women and men meant to protect the White House and all its occupants are shooting at the creatures as they rush toward them, fangs bared, but their bullets do nothing against those they do not understand.
When the first bites and bodies hit the ground, the Darkyns begin to use their magic to take out the creatures, saving what little humans are left. This happens all around the world at every government location, and we all watch in complete shock as every image is burned into our brains.
Until Clara’s point is proved.
The square disappears, and her face takes the whole of the television. “You see,” she says, slowly, dictatorially, “we are all around you, and we have the power to destroy all that you know should we ever feel the need to. Your leaders thought they could protect you by trying to control us, but that is all about to change. Prepare yourself, citizens of the world. War is coming.”
And then the TV goes dark.
“Faye,” Weldon says beside me, eyes still trained on the black screen.
“Yeah?”
“I think those pieces just fell into place.”
I close my eyes, swallowing. There’s nothing but silence. Nothing but the sound of the clock on the wall that fills the tiny bar.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
Our time has run out.
WE’RE CALLED TO AN EMERGENCY meeting held by Seamus and Mack.
Mack’s pacing the war room with a cigar in his hand and a ribbon of smoke trailing from his mouth. He hasn’t said a word since we arrived. Neither has Seamus, who’s sitting with his elbow on the table, head pressed against his hand.
General Tillman stands firm in front of Mack and Seamus. “I told you weeks ago that my men were ready. Had you let us move further into the Underground, this may have been prevented.”
Mack sighs heavily, his gaze going dull. “And I told you, General, that we’re waiting on the last of the volation bombs. They’re days away from being complete. Once we have them on hand, then we’ll proceed with infiltrating the Underground.”
“Bombs,” Tillman grunts, waving him off. “You keep saying this little invention of yours is going to help us. Where’s the proof? My men are trained for this particular kind of combat. They can handle the mission.”
Mack presses his fists against the table. “Sure, until they hear Mourdyn’s voice and your army become those you have to fight against.” He pauses, eyes drilling into Tillman. “It’s not your place to question me.”
Tillman bows up. “It is when our safety is on the line. You want me to equip bombs that haven’t had any form of testing on my men.”
Mack rolls his eyes. “Well, if you’d like, we can waste more time sending the bombs into testing, or you can shut your mouth, sit the hell down, and trust that I know what I’m doing.”
Weldon claps his hands, laughing loudly in Tillman’s direction. “Ouch! Tell him, brother!”
In the midst, the small screen resting on the table beside Seamus lights up and the woman who delivers calls appears on the screen. “Incoming call from the Security Council of the United Nations.”
Seamus looks up at Mack, eyes wide and awake.
Mack tokes on his cigar and walks angrily around the table. Presses the talk button and stands back, arms folded across his chest.
We all sit on the other side of the room, tied up in
a bundle of nerves, wondering if we should stay or go.
“I assume you know your people have taken over every television station on this earth,” a voice—a very angry male voice I don’t recognize—says on the other side of the screen.
I look to Weldon and Jaxen, eyes raised in question, but they just shrug.
“They’re not our people. They’re the threat we’ve been warning you about,” Mack says, placing his palms flat on the table so he’s staring straight into the camera on the screen. “The warning you’ve been ignoring for months now.”
“Still,” the baritone voice says, seeming unfazed by Mack’s accusation. “They were your threat to deal with. And now the whole damn world knows, which was the only stipulation you were to follow in the treaty we signed with your leaders.”
Mack’s head hangs. “I know, sir. If you could just take a mo—”
The angry voice continues to rise in tone, shaking us to the core. “You need to send someone to the office in Manhattan immediately for representation, because we’ll be holding a vote shortly on whether or not to cut your funding.”
A bolt of fear stops my heart.
“You can’t do that—” Mack starts to say, the panic in his face mirroring what we’re all feeling, but he’s cut off by the voice on the other side of the screen.
“It’s already been done, Maddock. And I can tell you right now, the odds don’t look to be in your favor.”
Weldon and Jaxen exchange looks, alarm ringing in their eyes.
I nearly jump when Mack slams his hand against the table, strands of his slicked-back hair falling against his face. “If you cut us off, then you might as well be cutting off the heads of everyone around the world. We’re the only ones who know how to deal with the very real problems surrounding us.”
“And have you handled them?” the voice plainly asks.
I bite my lip, waiting for Mack to say something to fix this.
Everdeep (The Night Watchmen Series Book 4) Page 14