“Need I remind you, for the third time, that they cut our funding, Seamus? We’re not in business to help them anymore,” Mack says, arms folded tightly against his chest.
It’s been a ping-pong match of wills. A match that all of us, including the Divine, have sat back and witnessed. Looking over at them, I can’t even begin to imagine what they must be thinking. The UN wasn’t even a thing before they were laid to rest. How strange it must be to wake up to a world so drastically changed. To a bucket-load of problems that stem from a handful of decisions they made before any of us even took our first breaths.
“What do you think?” Mack asks, turning his attention to Sterling and my father, who have stood as still as statues beside me.
My dad looks to Sterling, and then Sterling clears his throat, taking a step forward. “I’m afraid I stand with Seamus on this one. It is our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Even if the UN did not see this then, they see it now. Humans are dying at a vast rate this world has never seen before. Our nation is collapsing, and it’s only a matter of time until his reach extends past our borders. Mourdyn’s Darkyns are plucking up people like sitting ducks in a slaughterhouse, and it’s all to gain our attention. To speak against the fact that witches are fleeing to our city in record numbers.”
“He’s right, Maddock,” my father says, his voice strong and clear. “We have to do something. We can’t hide behind these walls forever.”
Mack’s hand aims in my direction like a pointed arrow waiting to be set free. “But she isn’t ready, is she? She doesn’t even have her powers.”
There’s an electric charge to the air, like his words have caused a lightning strike we didn’t see. The Divine are on their feet in unison, like a tidal wave about to take out a city. Impenetrable. Unmovable. As a unit, they head for the table Mack stands behind. Mack stumbles back a step until his feet catch against his chair, and then he falls onto it.
“This Coven was founded as a means for our kind to find one another and grow as a collective unit,” Alesteria says, her words strong and heavy like a hammer taken to a house in need of demolishing. “Throughout this journey, we have established the affinity as a way to keep us from turning our backs on one another, and we have also formed an alliance with the world to protect those against the perils they cannot see.
“Now, we must look at the human race as we do our affinity-bonded partner. We are bound to them and them to us. We must share this life, this earth, and we must protect one another when we can, even if, at times, we do not want to.” Her eyes are on Mack when she says the last part, and I can’t help but think of my mother and the way she used to get her point across to my father in front of me without ever having a single argument. It was in her magic words and butter-smooth tone. You just listened. Did what she said without question. Alesteria has this gift too. It’s evident in the way Mack’s shoulders slowly slide forward, like a child being reprimanded.
“Which is exactly why I called this meeting today,” Seamus butts in, riding the wave of her words. “General Sterling, I’d like for you to lead the Elites on this next critical mission.” He looks to my father. “And, in the meantime, Middleton, I’d like for you to train every Watchmen we can pack into this city in the Elite program. We need them back out there, on the streets, armed and ready to take out any Darkyn and demon that threatens our society.”
“How big of a problem are we facing here?” Sterling asks, his body stiff and strong, like a freshly made blade.
Mack, without looking to anyone, turns away from us and jerks down the map on the wall. He grabs a retractable pointer and angrily draws an imaginary circle around the United States. “So far, it is contained within our country’s borders, but with every kill, their numbers rise. With every soul sold and every werewolf and vampire bite left to stew, the humans become one of them, giving them numbers we will soon not be able to keep up with.”
“We have no choice,” Jaxen says more to himself than to anyone else. He shakes his head as if coming out of a daze, and then drops my hand, stepping forward.
I have half a mind to pull him back to my side, because I know what’s coming next. It’s in our blood, coursing through our veins as steadily as our hearts beat against our chests.
“I will help in any way I can. The Gramm quota is one that can’t be contended with. My brother and I can lead any Elite team you need us to.”
There’s a flicker of a smile exchanged between Wistar and Alesteria, and then Sterling nods his approval to Jaxen.
“Good. Goddess knows we will need your help,” Mack says as if he could sleep for a thousand years if given the chance. “Go get your brother, and then report back to Sterling. We want you boys up and moving come daylight.”
Jaxen nods, and then turns back to me. He blinks, as if he’s only just realized what this means. I force out a smile. Run my hand over his cheek, and then watch as he exits the room.
“I guess we can consider this issue settled then?” Seamus says, leaning his head against his palm. He looks like he could sleep for days and days too. All hollow circles and saggy, colorless skin. I almost feel sorry for him.
“Yes,” Mack says, though he doesn’t sound happy about admitting it.
“Good,” Wistar says, his smile resumed across his face. “Then let us meet again in the morning with plans in place.” He looks to me. “After you and your partner meet with Alesteria, I would like it very much if you could meet me in the training room so I can see about getting you up and running with those powers.”
“He, too, once had a hiccup in his abilities,” Alesteria says, arm hanging off the edge of his shoulder. “He’ll have you fixed up in no time.”
I try to smile brightly, even though my mind is filling with every worst thought possible.
“Go. Get some rest,” he says, winking at me.
We file out of the room and head back out into the night. The hunters step in line behind me. Jaxen’s waiting by the front door, perched with one leg against the wall. He’s staring off, his face mashed together with concern.
“Hey,” I say, walking over to him.
He looks up, and I know.
“Can’t find him?”
He shakes his head.
I pull him into a hug, wrapping my arms around his waist and tucking my chin in the dip of his shoulder where it fits so well. “He’s probably just getting some fresh air,” I say, even though I don’t believe my own words.
He pulls his hands from his pockets on an exhale and hugs me back. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Jezi comes to a stop beside us, oblivious to what’s going on with Jaxen. “You guys hungry?”
My stomach grumbles at the question. “Famished,” I say, leaning back so I can see Jaxen.
“I’m fine right now, but I know my mom is cooking. You can come by for dinner if you want,” he says in Jezi’s direction.
“Okay, good. Let me change, and then I’ll meet you there.” She turns and walks away.
Jaxen takes in another deep breath, and then pushes off the wall. “I guess I’m going to go talk to my mom before everyone gets there. See if she knows anything about Gavin.”
“Okay,” I say, wishing I had the power to fix this for him. “I’ll meet you there. I’m going to grab some flowers for her first.”
He kisses my forehead, and then walks off, hands in his pocket and head hung low.
I TAKE MY TIME AS I head to Evangeline’s, stopping by the local carts lined up on the side of the streets that sell treats, flowers, and art. The air has dropped a few degrees as the sun melts against the horizon. It’s like the whole city has been dipped in a thin coat of gold as the stars begin to peek out above, almost as if a blanket is being pulled over the sunset. There’s a calmness to the air that has me breathing in deep and slow, uncaring about the seven men lined up behind me like toy soldiers. Even the butterflies seem to be flying slower, as if drunk on the cool breeze.
I stop at a flower cart and find myself pickin
g up one of every color and kind the vendor has. It’s like I’m looking through a new set of eyes. Colors are more vibrant than before. The smells are brighter and more appreciated. Like death has shaken my shoulders and told me to wake up. To see what’s all around me. I want to enjoy the beauty in these small things. Surround myself in color to break up the white of the city.
By the time I make it to our building in the sequester, the hallway already smells rich, like I’m walking through a city street with food vendors steaming onions and crushing garlic. My stomach growls as the sounds of light chatter carry down the hallway, riding on the waves of scents.
“Are you hungry?” I ask the seven men who have already lined up against the wall facing the door to our apartment.
None of them say anything.
“Fine,” I say with a small huff. I find Jaxen in the kitchen standing next to Evangeline, watching her as she stirs something that smells cheesy. Chrissa sits on the counter and stirs a wooden spoon in a mixing bowl filled with thick, white dough, bobbing her head along to the soft notes pulsing through the air.
I stop for a moment before they realize I’m here and just watch the way they move around each other. The steam rising from the stove, moving in between Jaxen and his mom. The way she smiles over her shoulder at him every so often when he says something funny or interesting. Chrissa throwing in her thoughts as her feet kick to the beat of the music. It’s beautiful. Almost as if pain has never touched them.
The only thing missing is Gavin.
“Faye!” Chrissa says when her head moves in my direction and her eyes land on me.
Jaxen turns from the stove and walks over to me, taking some of the bags from my hands.
“I brought you some flowers for the table,” I tell Evangeline as she taps the spoon against the edge of the pot, and then walks over to us.
“They’re lovely,” she says, leaning over to smell each one.
“Are those men with you?” Chrissa asks as she reaches for my hand, already tugging on me to follow her to the living room. This has become a thing between us—her tugging and me following. She’s like the little sister I never had.
“They are,” I say, smiling when she decides the couch is where she wants me. “They’re waiting outside.”
“Are they nice? Are they like bodyguards or something?” she asks as she takes her seat on the coffee table facing me.
“I guess,” I say with a small shrug.
“Not on the coffee table,” Evangeline says a second later as she sets a flower pot on the center of the dining table.
Chrissa huffs and rolls her eyes, and then hops next to me on the couch. With a slight lean, she whispers, “Mom hasn’t been the same since my brothers’ father returned. She’s always complaining about everything I do.”
I look to Jaxen, watching through different eyes as he and his mother interact. I can see it now… how she keeps looking to the clock, almost as if she is expecting someone to show up or something to happen. Or how she keeps fidgeting with her clothes and going behind everyone with a rag, dusting frames, shuffling papers, and finding a home for every stray blanket, cup, or pair of shoes left out.
I look back at Chrissa and dot the end of her nose. “I’m sure it isn’t easy for her. You should cut her some slack. He was her husband. It’s hard to see the people you love going through something you can’t help them with.”
My stomach clenches like a fist when the last thing Gavin said to me crosses my mind. He isn’t the same Gavin who could light up a room with his presence. Who would strike up a game of paper-rock-scissors just to ease whatever Jaxen was feeling because he always knew and was there for him. He was the big brother to all of us.
I know it isn’t easy for Jaxen to know there isn’t anything he can do or say to help remedy his pain. Not having that one person in his life he can talk to there anymore.
“It isn’t easy for any of us, really,” I add with a heavy heart.
“Yeah, well, I think he’s funny.”
My head whips in her direction. “What do you mean?”
“Charlie. He’s a funny guy,” she says easily, voice trilling with laughter, as if she just remembered something funny.
My stomach curdles at the thought of her being around a demon of his nature. “Chrissa, how do you even know where he is?” I ask, trying not to sound too alarmed so she will continue talking.
She shrugs haphazardly. “I don’t know. I like to go for a run from time to time. Mom at least lets me do that. And I sometimes sneak into the correction facility using my magic.” She pauses, as if she only just realized the weight of the secret she’s telling me. “You’re not going to tell my mom, are you?” she asks, her eyes wide and pleading.
I think about it for a moment. “No, I won’t.”
She breathes a sigh of relief.
“But only if you promise to stay out of the correction facility,” I hurriedly say, tilting my head forward to look her straight in the eyes. “It isn’t a place you need to be visiting. There are a lot of bad people in there, and you could easily get hurt.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek, and then grabs a pillow off the couch and places it on her lap, hugging it to her chest. “Okay, fine. I won’t.”
I hold out my pinky finger. “Promise?”
She sticks hers out, and we make a pact.
“So, what has he said to you?” I ask, wanting to know everything she knows about Jaxen’s father.
Chrissa’s eyes dart to the left, and then she recites, “I don’t know. He tells me funny stories about Jaxen and Gavin. And how he wants to get out so he can see them because he has a lot he needs to say. He’s not always alone either. I heard him talking to someone one time, I think about getting out or something. He sounded a little mad, but someone was coming so I put my cloaking spell back on and left before I could really tell.”
I brush her hair behind her ear, tucking away the pit in my stomach. “He’s not like us, Chrissa. He’s been twisted by the Underground. You have to be careful.”
“He can’t be any more twisted than the werewolves that have tried to come after me because of my powers,” she says, the knowledge in her eyes stirring the pit in my stomach.
I open my mouth to ask her more about that part of her life, but Evangeline calls for dinner. Jezi takes a seat across from me, next to Chrissa. Jaxen sits next to me as Evangeline picks up a knife and begins carving a large pork roast into servings.
“Did you tell Gavin about dinner?” Evangeline asks Jaxen. “Did the number I gave you work?”
The tendon in Jaxen’s forearm tightens. His eyes skim to Chrissa, and then to his mother. “I haven’t been able to reach him yet,” he says. In his words, I hear his fear as if it were my own. It is my own. Gavin hasn’t been around since he left my welcoming party.
My thoughts are mirrored in Evangeline’s expression.
“He’s gone,” Chrissa says as she cuts a piece of the pork she was served and takes a bite.
Everyone stills. My body goes cold.
“What do you mean?” Evangeline carefully asks.
Chrissa stabs another piece of pork and holds it up to her mouth. “He told me the other night before he left that he wouldn’t be back for a while. That he loved me and all of us and to not say anything unless someone asked.”
Evangeline sets the knife down. Braces herself on the edge of the table. “Where did he say he was going?”
Chrissa shrugs. “He didn’t. He just said not to worry.”
Evangeline looks to Jaxen, her eyes wide and full of fear. “You know what this means,” she says, her expression flickering with anxiety.
Jaxen’s words pop out like a bottle uncorked. “He’s going to try to bring Cassie back.”
THE REST OF THE NIGHT passes by in a blur. Our appetites left with Chrissa’s admittance. Once the table is cleared, Chrissa is sent to bed and Evangeline calls us into the living room.
“We have to find him,” she says, fidgeting with
the out-of-order books. “He can’t… he can’t possibly think anything can bring her back. She’s… she’s buried.” She paces in front of the shelves, back and forth, making my eyes feel dizzy.
“I knew I should have kept an eye on him,” Jaxen says, head hung low. I put my arm around his back, but it does little to console him.
“He wouldn’t try to make a deal with a demon, would he? Not now,” Jezi says, though she doesn’t sound so sure.
Jaxen picks his head up. “What do you want me to do? Tell me and I’ll do it,” he says to Evangeline, his eyes glassy. So many expressions pass over his face it’s hard to catch them all as his jaw twitches.
She stops pacing and looks to us. “Before we jump to conclusions, let me try to trace his steps with a locater spell.” With a quick turn, she has a map of the state and a crystal attached to a piece of string. She sets it down on the coffee table and then crouches in front of it, carefully unfolding that paper. With a prick to her finger, a drop of blood lands on the center, and then the crystal is lifted over the map. It circles over the blood, the movements small and steadily growing in pace as ancient words roll off her tongue. The room is filled with the earthy scent of magic as we all lean forward, watching as the blood begins to roll across the map.
I don’t think any of us breathe. We’re all hovered over it, waiting for it to land wherever Gavin might be. The blood loops around the area where our hidden city is and rolls toward the last place I ever thought it would stop at—Whiskey Hallow.
The crystal stops spinning, the string taut over the place where the end began. Where my cat turned into the king of hell.
“He can’t possibly…” Jezi says, her hand flying up to her mouth.
Jaxen jumps up from the couch. “We can’t let him do this.” He looks down to me. “Tell Weldon to get here. Fast.”
Weldon appears in a shadowed corner of the living room before I have a chance to even ask the words in my mind. “Sorry, mouse,” he says, smirking at me. “You should listen to your friend more often about closing off your thoughts if you don’t want them listened in on.” With a snarky stride, he makes his way over to the coffee table and peers over Evangeline’s shoulder to the map. “So, did Gramm Number One finally snap like a twig?”
Evermore (The Night Watchmen Series Book 5) Page 7