Everlost (The Night Watchmen Series Book 3)

by Candace Knoebel

  “But the Divine knew we needed each other. They knew we needed to work together to keep the humans safe from the paranormal, because if we didn’t, if we didn’t civilize ourselves, we would be looked at as just as much a threat as the paranormal by the humans. We would be an enemy, and that’s not something we can afford when our numbers are nothing compared to theirs. Magic only gets you so far.”

  He takes in a long breath and holds it, his eyes moving back and forth like he’s searching for what he wants to say next. Breathing out, he finishes. “After the Proclamation was set, and the Night Watchmen started working together, the Divine ordered the Priesthood to keep the bloodlines as pure as possible. Even if there was a way to coincide with those unfortunate souls who have been turned.”

  “What do you mean if?” Jonathon asks, his tone deep and filled with loathing. “I thought they turned into monsters, just like the ones who bit them?”

  Sickness slithers through me.

  “They don’t, because of who we are,” Seamus says, looking up at us through his lashes. “Primeval. Strong. From the research gathered back in Ethryeal City, we’ve learned that the Primeval gene we possess, the same gene that grants us our gifts, also fights against the virus spread by the bite of a werewolf or vampire the moment it happens. Enough so, that they’re able to maintain a portion of their former selves. They lose their Primeval powers, but not who they are.”

  “You people are sick,” Gavin says under his breath, backing his chair away from the table. The loud screech of wood pierces the awkward tension filling the air. “So it’s true then? You really do experiment on your own kind? Force bad things to happen to them in order to learn more about what our genes can handle? Sterling? His wife?” Gavin’s on his feet now, his hands in balled-up fists at his side.

  Seamus flinches under every accusation. His fists are in tight balls and his eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s just waiting for a blow that’s sure to come.

  “Answer me!” Gavin shouts.

  “Yes,” Seamus says with a tone so open, honest, and cold that it’s almost scary.

  “And you just abandon them, knowing they could be reincorporated into our daily routine. Maybe even give us an advantage,” Gavin continues, disgust breathing fire through his words.

  Seamus looks up at him. “We don’t know that they could give us an advantage. We don’t know that they can withstand the fight against the virus constantly attacking their system. In all the trials I’ve read about, the majority have resulted in the body eventually surrendering to the virus, many, many years later, especially when the affinity partnership is separated. Most cases we’ve seen outside of the city have at least one partner dead. The likelihood that they can move on as a productive member in our society is not worth the risk of more being infected, or worse, killed.”

  Gavin’s shaking his head. Cassie’s face is twisted in horror.

  “So now you’re saying that those wolves could turn on us at any moment?” Cassie asks, looking away from Gavin to Seamus.

  “I’m saying there is a likelihood. Yes.”

  “Those wolves have names,” Evangeline says through the screen of the back door.

  Everyone tenses.

  “Can I come in?” She’s looking at Gavin, eyebrows raised.

  “Of course,” he says, moving across the room to open the door for her. She hugs him when she enters, and then turns to face us, wearing a grimace.

  “Boys,” she says, standing at the head of the table, looking at Seamus, Mack, and Jonathon. “What you say is only partially true. I know Primevals who have lived with their bites for twenty plus years, without their partner. Others who have lived with it for the majority of their lives. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and one bite does not determine the fate of a Primeval.”

  Leaning down, she places her palms flat on the table. She’s inches from Seamus’ face, and I don’t think he’s even breathing.

  “You know damn well that we’ve tried to appeal to the Priesthood with unanswered messages. We’ve been under your radar since the beginning of this, and you’ve chosen to shut us out. Chosen to keep things pure,” she spits.

  “I had nothing to do with the motions to keep you out,” Seamus says, inching his face away from hers. “I’ve been in support, but when you share a conflicting decision with a majority—” He shrugs half-heartedly and looks down at the table, running his finger along one of the grooves. “Well, not everything you want you can get.”

  “Not unless your name is Claire,” Cassie says with a snort.

  “You mean Clara?” Gavin asks, looking up at her in concern.

  Cassie smacks her forehead. “Yeah. I don’t know why I keep messing up my words. I meant Clara.”

  “You’ve been doing it a lot lately,” Gavin says, rubbing her back.

  “I’m just… tired, you know?”

  He nods.

  Evangeline’s watching her, watching the way Gavin is touching her and the way she’s smiling at him, and the color bleaches from her face.

  “We’re all tired,” Seamus says. “This entire situation has been very taxing on all of us. That, I think, we can at least agree upon. Right, Evangeline?”

  It takes her a moment to realize Seamus was talking to her, but when she does, she pulls her eyes from Cassie and Gavin and looks back down at Seamus without a speck of remorse on her face. “I want to be included on any plans your Rebellion makes. I have a lot to give to this, and we don’t have time to waste on old prejudices. To keep the peace, we’ll stay in the house out back, but just know that I, and my people, can be trusted.”

  “Trust isn’t something just given,” Jonathon says curtly. “It has to be earned. How do we know when the full moon comes, you all won’t come and bite every last one of us while we’re sleeping?”

  “How do we know you won’t stab us with silver knives in our sleep?” Evangeline retaliates, her tone almost a growl.

  Thunderstorms rage in Jonathon’s eyes, but he sits silently, unanswering.

  Tension rises like heat from the sand on a hot summer day. It’s thick and stifling, and someone needs to break it before it overcomes us all.

  “Look,” I say, calling the attention onto myself. “This has to work. At this point in the game, we need them,” I say, nodding my head in Evangeline’s direction. “They’re an advantage Clara won’t have. Something she won’t see coming.” I lock eyes with Evangeline. Swallow. “I trust her. Them,” I add quickly. “We, as leaders, need to break the ice. We need to set the example for everyone else. If they see that you aren’t getting along, then they won’t want to either. And that can’t happen.”

  “So what are you suggesting?” Seamus asks, looking up at me with a newfound spark in his eye.

  “A bonfire. Tonight after dinner. Jezi and I can brew something to settle everyone’s nerves, and then maybe we can spend the night getting to know one another. Easing the tension by setting an example for everyone else to follow.”

  I offer what I hope is a sure, strong smile, directing it at everyone.

  “This isn’t a dysfunctional family reunion, Faye,” Cassie says with an eye roll.

  I bite my tongue. Force my hands to remain at my sides even though they’re screaming at me to choke her.

  “Maybe not, Cassie,” I say as evenly and calmly as I can, “but talking opens up a gateway for some people. Let’s let empathy work its magic rather than forcing them together, which could cause further mistrust. I think if the others see the leaders making an effort to understand and accept the situation, then it will give them pause to think about it themselves.” I take a second, breathing in to steady my heart, and then finish, “If we’re going to fight together, then we should be able to trust each other, and they deserve to tell their story and be heard just as much as anyone else here.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Evangeline says, a speck of pride in her gaze. “Clearing the air will only strengthen things.”

  I look over at Jonat
hon and Mack who both look equally unenthused. “Can you talk to your recruits about this? Ask that they come with open minds?”

  “I think the more important question is will they have open minds themselves,” Evangeline says, eyes zeroing in on Jonathon like a focusing lens.

  His arms are folded across his chest. His thin lips pressed into a scowl I’ve never really seen on him before. Not even when he caught Katie and me sneaking a drink from his liquor cabinet our freshman year in high school.

  “Please,” I say to him, quietly. Pleadingly. Hating that I’m in this situation with a man who’s been like a father to me. A man I respect. A man who has known me forever.

  He stares at me for a moment as indecision plays tug-of-war in his gaze.

  “I think we should try,” Mack says to him, switching gears as he leans forward with renewed faith in his eyes. “I think there’s been enough destruction caused by the Priesthood. It’s time we learn to think on our own two feet. That’s what the Rebellion was created for. To bring equality to all and to bring down the devil in disguise.”

  Jonathon’s shoulders slouch. “Fine,” he relents, and I can see in his eyes that he’s sincere. “Tonight, we set the record straight so tomorrow we can start fresh with our plans.”

  “Good,” Evangeline says, wearing a diplomatic smile. She smoothes the front of her cream-colored blouse down, and exhales. “Very good. I’ll talk to my pack. We’ll hunt before we meet, so no need to include us in tonight’s meal.”

  I hate that I notice Gavin wincing when she says this. That his bright blue eyes pale to a sorrowful silver as she turns and heads out the back door, back to her new family, whom she must care for. Cassie slides her arms around his waist and rests her chin against his shoulder, whispering something into his ear that has him clenching his eyes shut.

  He might be the oldest, but he isn’t immune to the pain a child feels. I just wish Jaxen could see it too.

  “I’ll speak to everyone,” Mack volunteers, looking at Jonathon. “They’ll take it easier from me.”

  Jonathon nods, staring out the kitchen window.

  “I’ll start on breakfast—I mean dinner then,” Cassie says with a nervous giggle, letting go of Gavin, who’s staring at her in worry. “How does spaghetti sound?”

  “Amazing,” Seamus says with a forced smile.

  “Good, because it’s the only thing we have enough of until someone can make a trip to the store.”

  “I’ll work on that in the meantime then,” Jonathon volunteers. “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

  Everyone starts clearing the kitchen, heading to their intended destinations, and I feel panicked with the need to straighten myself out with Jonathon. To make him see that this really is for the best.

  I tap his arm before he has a chance to leave the kitchen. Swallow down my nerves so I can get out what I feel I should say. “I wanted to say thank you—”

  “You know that I’ve always viewed you as a second daughter, right?” he says, placing his hands on my shoulders. Safety lingers in his eyes as memories of my childhood with Katie plays before me. “You can do no wrong with me. I’ve watched you grow from a small girl into this amazing, take-charge woman that I know both your parents would be proud of.”

  He pulls me into a hug as my throat constricts and my eyes fill with tears. As everything that has happened up until now, the good moments… the bad ones… bombard my heart.

  “I’m proud of you, Faye. Proud to be here, in this house, fighting to change the ways of the Coven with you. You’ve been through a lot, yet you haven’t let it strip away who you are. That says a lot about your character. It speaks for Mary and Russell, and how well they’ve raised you.”

  I hug him tighter, thankful in this moment to have him here. To have family.

  He chuckles to himself, and then says, “So there’s no need to explain yourself, okay? I trust your judgment. I’m just ornery and set in my ways.”

  He waits long enough for me to nod in agreement.

  “Okay. Good.” He pats me once on the back. “See you tonight?”

  I nod at him and he heads out of the kitchen, leaving me staring out the window at Evangeline’s form. This has to work. We have to get along, not only for our sake, but for Jaxen and Gavin’s too.

  “Do you want to help me cook?” Cassie asks me as she pulls a jar stuffed with dry noodles out of the pantry.

  Evangeline disappears through the front door of the guesthouse. I turn around to face Cassie. “Nah. I think I’ll head out back and start gathering wood for the fire. Fresh air sounds good right now.”

  Weldon bursts through the kitchen door, calling out, “Did you just say you needed fresh air? How is that going to help you fetch me a drink, Faye?” Jaxen walks in behind him and then they both stop, taking in the look on all of our faces.

  Weldon’s scowl changes into a slow smirk as he says, “Uh-oh. I know that face. What did we miss?”

  JAXEN FOLLOWS ME OUT THE back door without saying a word.

  He saw the look on my face. Read me like the open book I am to him. He knows whatever just happened had to do with his mother. If he didn’t read it on my face, then he surely did on his brother’s. We make it halfway across the backyard when he reaches for my hand. I tell myself to slow my steps. Force myself to put on a smile that will ease what he’s going to hear.

  “We need to gather wood for the bonfire tonight.”

  “Bonfire?”

  “Yes. We thought it would be a good way for everyone to get to know one another, so we can ease the trust in.” I head through the pergola and past the herb garden, until I reach the shed that leads to Jaxen’s family’s underground weapon stash house. I remember seeing wood piled up on the side.

  Jaxen doesn’t say anything else until we reach the side of the shed. I try to move a little quicker to bring more body heat. It’s cooler on this side of the shed, under the shade provided by the forest, and it’s somewhat inviting. Private. Quiet. So quiet, that I imagine if I close my eyes tight enough, I can almost hear the trees exhaling their secrets. Whispering to us to open my heart and my mind.

  I’m sure his mind is in overdrive, trying to process what exactly this bonfire will mean. Seeing his mother. Hearing her speak. Hearing her side of what happened.

  There will be no denying it. No chance to walk away from it. We have to do this. We have to try to get along with them, if not for their help in the upcoming battle, then because we made a deal, and a Watchman never goes back on a deal.

  I’m already grabbing a piece of wood to put in the small wagon next to it, when he says, “I think I’m ready.”

  I set the wood down in the wagon and turn to look at him. “Ready?”

  “Ready to hear her out,” he says, resolution in his gaze. “I talked with Weldon about what happened back in the city, and somehow, that conversation turned into my mom, and Mack, and all the other things that are kind of out of our hands at the moment.”

  “And?” I ask, stepping over a pile of fallen branches to be closer to him.

  “And we both settled on the idea that deep down, we know we love them. We know we want to hear them out. Give them a chance. And we’re not doing anyone a favor by putting it off. Not when there are so many other, bigger issues to be dealt with.”

  I hear the relief in his voice. Like it’s been held captive in the dark recesses of a cave, and has finally tasted sunlight for the first time in a long time. Breathing fresh air. Taking shape again.

  He brushes his fingers through my hair and settles his hand on the back of my neck. Nudges his nose against mine.

  “I’m proud of you,” I say, smiling softly up at him.

  “I kind of am too,” he says, staring at my lips. He chuckles.

  “What?” I ask, smiling deeper now.

  “You. What have you done to me?”

  I feel my brow crease.

  “I can’t remember ever feeling so at peace. Being able to come to terms and make decisions
based off my emotions. Healthy decisions. Decisions that are right.” He takes a small breath, and his green eyes bore into me as he finishes, “You’ve turned me upside down.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist and meet his gaze. “Or maybe just right-side up,” I say, moving closer against him.

  There’s a subtle shift in the air when I do this. I see it in his eyes. Feel it deep in the pit of my stomach. It’s been so long since we’ve been alone together with even the smallest amount of peace.

  Hunger takes the shape of our hearts, forming between us. Pulling us toward each other.

  I try to remember how to breathe.

  But he can see what he does to me in my eyes. I know, because I see it reflected back at me. I see the way he eyes my lips like he wants to devour him. Feel his fingers moving slowly up the side of my stomach until they’re just underneath my breast outside my shirt, asking to take what he already knows I’m willing to give.

  “Jaxen,” I plead, but it’s all I get out because his lips slam against mine as his hands twirl inside my hair, crushing me against him. He lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carries me around the shed to the door, kicking it open with his foot.

  He sets me down inside. Closes the door behind us. Locks it.

  When he turns back around, we’re both staring at each other, our chests heaving up and down erratically. Our skin practically sizzling with electricity.

  “I want to be inside of you. Right now,” he says, his gaze so intense. His words drunk with lust.

  All I can do is nod as fire spreads throughout my body, waiting to ignite him.

  Two steps.

  One deep breath.

  He walks me backward until I bump up against the wall. I pull my sweater off, over my head, and throw it down. Watch through dizzy eyes as he shifts out of his jacket, keeping his eyes locked on mine. He’s looking at me with such intensity. Such need. Like he’s spent his entire life wandering a desert and only just found his oasis.