Brazen: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 2)

by Felisha Antonette

How am I supposed to do it? I don’t have that ability.

  Tap into me.

  So just like that, no words?

  Anyone living in a mountain this far in the dark is an enemy. And we can confirm Glen’s down here. They aren’t family, so yeah, just like that, dust him.

  But—

  We’re running out of time here, Sparks.

  What’s going on? Scott urgently questions. We are wasting time.

  I concentrate on the pacing figure, trying to tap into whatever annihilates people.

  The figure turns. His head moves to the left and then right as if it’s analyzing something. Us. . .? He charges in our direction, footsteps fast, loud, and heavy.

  Now or never, babe, Nathan pushes.

  I try to tap into him, but I still don’t know how to do that successfully yet.

  The figure cringes a foot away from Scott, and then he’s gone. But not because of me. I tried, Nathan.

  I know. We rarely work on it, so it doesn’t come to you as quickly as everything else.

  I nod and push Scott to walk again. We’re clear.

  If she’s somewhere here, we can’t be far, Scott says.

  I hope not, because I’m tired of walking through the darkness, Olar complains.

  You know, Nathan starts inquisitively, a hint of amusement circling his words. The darkness can drive a man insane.

  Olar titters, drawling, Yeah. Great idea for a way to torture someone.

  Exactly, Nathan intones. We could seal ‘em off in a dark hole. Leave ‘em down there for a few days.

  Maybe we’d leave ‘em down there for a week? That’d make ‘em crazy. I wouldn’t need to make them rip their skull open. They’d do it themselves.

  Would you two shut up? Scott stresses irritably. You two are torturing me with your excitement of torture and dark holes, like I’m not currently being tortured and in a dark hole. Dammit, this shit is killing me. Where the—. Wait! She’s right here. He stops. Right here.

  Umm, Scott, no she’s not. There’s nothing here, I tell him. Nothing but rock is at our sides and emptiness to our fronts and backs.

  No. Listen to me. She’s here. I can feel her, right here, he argues.

  Sparks, look up, Nathan tells me. See if you see anything.

  I do and hope I don’t see anything because I don’t want this to get any creepier. The ceiling of the hole is less than a foot from our heads. Four lines of dark liquid is smeared on the rock; maybe made by fingertips. Nathan, I say only to him. Do you see that?

  Yeah, I do. Don’t say anything yet. Just see where it leads. Does it stay on the ceiling?

  Looks like, in a few steps forward, they descend the side of the wall and stop midway down.

  I’ll tell Scott. He’ll be able to tell if it’s her blood.

  You think it’s blood?

  Maybe. We’re about to find out. Scott? Nathan calls, If you take a couple of steps forward, there’s a blood trail along the wall to your right.

  A cold despair takes over Scott’s presence, and his shaking head falls forward. Not dwelling on the depressing news, he straightens, and I guide him to the wall, placing his hand on the trail. A chill runs over him as he goes hard as diamond under my touch. It’s hers, he states serenely. Where does it lead?

  Shocked, I pause, unable to respond from the fear that causes me to bite my tongue. Glen was bleeding and dragged down here. . . She’s being tortured. What if they’re doing things to her I dare not think up?

  Scott’s shoulders shudder violently. He draws his arm back, forcing me to stumble into Nathan, and throws his fist into the wall. The sound of the impact and crumbling rocks echo through the cave.

  A beam of light slices through the darkness. Scott throws a pensive stare over his shoulder before entering through the hole. Olar follows behind him.

  Nathan welcomes his protective shield; it turns his skin hard as diamond. “Sparks, remember what I said. No matter what happens.”

  I nod and take in a deep breath.

  We crouch through the entrance, ready to take out anything that gets between us and Glen.

  loyal opposition

  The cozy area looks as if we’ve stepped into someone’s house, entering a living room from the front door of an apartment. I sense for a dweller. I can’t feel anyone.

  “Okay, Scott. Where do we go?” Olar asks, complexion darkening to a deep crimson.

  Scott turns to the left where a closed door sits in the wall. He took on his beast before we entered through the hole.

  I try to steady my breathing that seems to come out rough and nervously. I’m not nervous, I’m ready for anything. I wish we could just find Glen already.

  The door opens to a bedroom. Water’s running in a sink. If someone’s here, I’d assume the person would’ve rushed out here after hearing the explosion from Scott’s busting in the wall. But we’re alone.

  Entering a dimly lit bedroom furnished with a king-size and full-size bed, Scott continues our search. He drops to his knees onto the moldy white carpet and snatches the black sheet from the edge of the bed, revealing nothing. A dingy closet door sits in the wall on the other side of the bed. He snatches it off its hinges, but there’s no one behind it either.

  Another door, one stable and closed, slowly swings open without the help of someone turning the knob, or even approaching it. There’s chatter. I strain to make out what’s being said; it’s inaudible.

  Scott creeps to the door.

  The three of us cautiously follow him to a landing that leads to a flight of stairs. They lead to a loft-like area, with an angled banister and high, log-wood ceiling.

  Before Scott reaches the top, where he’d be able to see through the posts, he looks at Olar.

  Olar nods and vanishes. I’ve seen him do it a hundred times, and it still takes me by surprise. He pops back up. She’s up there. There are two. Monahan and another I don’t recognize. Umm, she’s. . . He pauses for a minute. Comfortable.

  Scott charges up the rest of the stairs. I will my hand to heat and the film to cover my eyes as we quickly follow behind him. He goes straight for a man I assume to be Monahan.

  A muscular man sitting on a chair spots Olar and punches the air. Olar flies against the wall behind us. Nathan moves me behind him, and the guy who just air-punched Olar grinds his teeth.

  Go to Glen, Sparks, Nathan says. If she tries to fight you, back off.

  I peek around him, taking in the scene first. Scott and Monahan are fighting, neither of them winning. Glen’s sitting on a futon bed, watching the boys go blow for blow. Not a glimpse of recognition sticks in her eyes, nor does she seem to care about our arrival. The guy in the chair cringes; hands gripped at the chair’s edge, eyes nearly bulging from his skull as he fights against the hold Nathan has on him.

  Olar pulls himself from the floor with an infuriating gleam in his eyes deadlocked on the muscle man in the chair.

  I raise my hands near my ears and keep my steps are steady and precautious. I plant a soft smile and meet Glen’s eyes. She accommodates my smile with a gentle one of her own and waves me forward.

  With a squint to her left eye, she says, “Hi. I know you, right?”

  I nod.

  “What’s your name again?”

  Tracey. But I know she can’t hear me. I don’t want to shake my head, that’d tell her, no, and nodding isn’t answering her question. Maybe I could sign it. . . Crap! I don’t know how to make a ‘Y.’

  Glen tucks her chin, saying, “Monahan told me people might come for me, to take me away. Are you here to take me away?”

  Uh, yes.

  Nathan shakes his head. Turning back to Glen, I mock the action.

  “Okay, then we can be friends.”

  I nod, agreeing with her. This isn’t Glen. She doesn’t sound like Glen. This girl with Glen’s body is light and cheery. Maybe I’d even say gullible.

  “I don’t like them fighting,” she chirps. “But this has happened twice since I got here. I think they�
�re playing, but it looks so painful. Right?” She looks for me to comment.

  I nod slowly, crinkling my nose and pulling my eyebrows together.

  She sits back down on the futon and pats the space beside her. “Come over and sit down. You don’t do a lot of talking, huh? Equelle, turn around so you can meet my new friend,” she says to the guy sitting in the chair who Nathan has taken over. “What’d you say your name was?” she asks, beaming brightly. Her brown hair matches the complexion of her freckles.

  I shake my head, hoping she won’t take it the wrong way.

  She shrugs.

  Scott’s airborne, flying past us, crashing into the banister. He falls over the edge and tumbles down the stairs. Glen flops on the bed, back arched as if she’s struck in the spine. She cries out, and I cringe, assuming the immenseness of her pain. Monahan rushes over to Glen, yanking her from the bed to his side. I back away.

  “Come here,” Nathan says.

  As I’m pivoting, Monahan snatches me around my chest. He’s fast as light, yanking me back so hard my feet lift from the ground. His arm curls around my neck, sending the shock from hell jolting through me. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from screaming. It hurts, it hurts so badly.

  Monahan’s nose or chin presses into my hair. I grimace. His chest is to my back, and I can hear his erratic heart pumping. He’s too close, and his breaths from his mouth sweeping against my flesh along with the constant shock of his touch are furthering my discomfort. “Nathan, why have you come here?” he asks, and his warm breath moves between my hairs, forcing me to feel it against my scalp. “And if you will so kindly let go of Equelle.”

  “You let go of her. I’ll let go of him,” Nathan bargains.

  “How can I be sure once you have her you won’t take over him again?”

  Nathan’s right brow rises and falls as he quips, “You can’t be.”

  “Then why should I let her go?” Monahan’s grip tightens around my neck, and the shock worsens. I touch his arm to rip it from me, and I’m shocked. I yank my hands away, racked with painful jolts striking through my arms. He doesn’t mind it.

  Scott ascends the stairs. “Because if you let them both go, we may leave here with the two of you still alive.” He stops at the landing, skin flushed, eyes dark.

  “I doubt I have to worry about my life,” Monahan confidently retorts.

  Scott’s eyes flitter over everyone and lands on Nathan. Nathan nods and in the same second, Equelle’s body bursts into ashes, sprinkling onto the floor.

  Monahan’s ripped from me, flying backward.

  My hands fly to my freed neck, rubbing away the pain.

  Glen whips around to me and a gust of wind shoves me into the air, ramming me against a wall. I hit it hard and smash to the floor.

  Ugh, I grumble.

  Nathan helps me up. “You okay?”

  Yeah. I roll my shoulder and look myself over. It just hurts like hell, but nothing’s broken.

  Glen glowers at me as if I’ve betrayed her. “Glen,” Monahan calls. She happily trots across the floor, walking into his embrace. With pride, as if she were Queen Elizabeth, she faces us with her chin high and her blonde-haired prince at her back.

  Now, what? I ask Nathan.

  She has to choose, he replies.

  Can’t we kill him and get it over with?

  No.

  This is so confusing. Why? Because she’s choosing Monahan?

  Right.

  Well, this is getting good, I state.

  Not yet, I don’t think. And you may have to speak, which will make this a hell of a lot more interesting.

  I draw my lips into a pinch and shake my head, hating the idea.

  “Glen, let’s go home,” Scott says, soft and serene.

  “I am home.”

  “That’s right. She is home,” Monahan seconds.

  Monahan couldn’t be less of Glen’s type. Judging by his dark eyebrows, he intentionally colored his hair the same as Draco Malfoy. Lacking the height to see his face past Glen’s head, he’s no match for Scott. He’s skinny and his face holds more freckles than hers. No way would she choose this guy over Scott. No way! Not with how she swooned and crazed over Scott all this time, long before they were bound; the stories she’s told me. . . There’s just no way.

  Glen leaves Monahan, walking in Scott’s direction.

  Aww! That didn’t take much. She knows what’s right. The plea for her glimmers in Scott’s burgundy eyes. But to our surprise, she passes him, going down the stairs, never even acknowledging her mate.

  Go ahead, Nathan says. I’ll be right behind you. Talk to her once you’re downstairs.

  I follow Glen out each door. She makes it to a door that’s near the entrance Scott created, and I call her. “Hey, Glen?”

  “How do you know my name?” she spits.

  “We’re friends. Best friends. You love me.”

  “How can I love someone who betrayed my family?”

  “Glen, we are your family.”

  “No. Monahan is my family.”

  “Scott is, remember!” I copy how Taylor helped me the night Roehl showed up at my house.

  As soon as recognition flashes, it disappears, covered with anger and then hurt. “Scott,” she recalls.

  As if her statement were a question, I offer, “You love him. He loves you. He’s your mate.”

  She swings open the door, leaving the living room area of the mountain home. The cold rushes in, freezing my face. I follow behind Glen, back into the icicle rain.

  “I know Scott. He let me go,” she says over the wind.

  “He didn’t, Glen. They took you away. Monahan stole you.” Abducted her may be more of the truth.

  She twists around, blaring, “He did not steal me! Scott let me go! I loved Scott, umm?” She gives me a questionable eye.

  “Tracey.”

  “Tracey.” She smiles as she reaches over to hug me. I hug her and am beyond confused about what’s happening here.

  “Yes,” I drawl as she pulls away.

  “You are my good friend.”

  “I am.” Her moods are changing faster than I can follow.

  “Scott and Monahan,” she utters to herself, locking eyes with me. We stand on a steep ledge that may lead down the mountain by what looks to be a path. She looks between me and that path and says, “I love Monahan.”

  “You love Scott,” I object.

  She nods. “I love Scott.”

  “You remember Scott?”

  She nods. “Scott loves me, but . . . I can’t be with Scott.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not real.”

  I hold my hand up against the rain to keep it from splashing in my face. “No, Glen. What you have with Monahan isn’t real.”

  “It isn’t?” she asks sadly, as she leans over a bit to peek over the edge of the ledge.

  Only the tops of trees and darkness dress the land beneath us. The rain’s pouring down through it by the boatload, seeming never to find the ground.

  “I’m sorry, Tracey,” she whispers

  Nathan, get here now. Bring Scott.

  Regret’s sewn in her trembling eyes. “I loved Scott,” she says with an edge of remorse.

  I reach for her, to pull her away from the edge, but she whips around with a look of warning that I not touch her. “Glen, you still love Scott. You’re just confused right now. Let’s go in and talk.”

  The rain comes down harder rain and the wind whips around us. Lightning strikes too close to where we stand, cracking the far side of the mountain. Booming thunder isn’t far behind it, vibrating the large rock.

  I block leaves from flying in my face. “Glen, please? Let’s go inside. It’s getting bad out here.”

  “It’s getting bad in here,” she mumbles to herself, gaze on the ground. She lifts her head, and woeful eyes meet mine. “You know, Tracey. If Scott and I were like you and Nathan, we would probably be better off. Happy like you two are,” she says in a vo
ice that sounds more like her that’s confident with a little jazz that relays she won’t take crap from nobody. Her words, however, are soft and meaningful; spoken too calmly.

  “You and Scott are happy.”

  “No, we aren’t,” she denies. “There’s always death. In his mind lies hate and wants I can’t provide. I can’t accept that. I liked him better before, when I didn’t know. He may have pushed me off and lied to me, but fear didn’t consume me from the possibilities of what he may be capable of doing to me.” With her saying this, I consider if it may have been better for Glen to remain in the dark. “I thought I wanted to know. Wanted to know who he truly was.” She faces me, full-bodied. “But I don’t.”

  “Glen. Please?” Scott shouts over the wind.

  Glen flicks her gaze to him and steps off the ledge.

  “No!” I yell. Her body falls backward, and she’s too far out of my reach.

  Scott shouts her name as he jumps after her. I spring forward, trying to grab him, but with nothing to hold me back, I flail. Panic-stricken, the air leaves my body, and I gasp, sure this is it.

  I’m seized around my middle and jerked back onto land.

  Surroundings dry and crowded by the smell of moldy carpet, Nathan zips us inside, and we to the floor.

  “It’s going to be okay, Sparks. He’ll catch her. They’ll be okay. I promise.” His words mean nothing. I lay my head against Nathan’s chest and he rests his on mine. His breaths are heavy and hopeful like mine, and that makes it easier to not take his word for this one.

  Now, not once, but twice, I’ve wept over the near loss of Glen. I hope he’ll catch her, but I’ve lived in the real world for all my life, and that shit doesn’t really happen. I pull away from Nathan, a cloud of tears blind my eyes and sobs cut through my words. “She just stepped off the edge, Nate. No thoughts, no words. She just threw it all away.”

  “I know, Sparks.” He takes my face in his hands. “But everything will be okay. They are going to be fine.”

  I shove his hands away. “Nathan, everything is not always going to be fine!” I shout. “My friend is dead! She was so freaking confused and lost in her own life, in her own mind that the only out she thought she had was to kill herself. And I just let her, just stood by and watched her. There are a million things I could’ve done to help her, Nate! I should’ve been paying more attention to her than you! I should’ve done something!”