“These are some of the missing souls.”
I forgot about the ice cream. “Why would he give these to us? Wait.” I held up a hand and took a deep breath. “This is a trick. Maxim is setting us up.” I threw the papers on the counter.
Jax picked them up. “I don’t think it is a trick.”
I dismissed his words. “This is Maxim we’re talking about. The only person he goes out of his way for is himself. He bats for the me, myself, and I team. Always has. Why would he suddenly drop something helpful off at my front door? You don’t hand-deliver information to the enemy. It’s got to be a trap.”
In fact…I looked back toward the door. “Jax, something’s off about this. I broke his nose a few hours ago, and now he’s helping? That’s an obvious problem.”
He sifted through papers, scanning names. “I agree. I can’t figure out what’s off, though.”
I picked up the papers as Jax discarded each one and read the names again. Nothing jumped out at me. “How many are here?”
“Dozens,” Jax replied. “Possibly over a hundred.” He pointed to a name. “She’s a high-ranking gargoyle. This one here? He’s the nephew of an oracle of Carys’s caliber.”
My stress grew, and the ice cream beckoned. I took a big bite and let the cookie dough deliciousness comfort me. “Would you say most on that list are powerful?”
Jax flipped through the papers again. “I’d say most are from powerful lines, but not necessarily powerful themselves. I don’t recognize every name on here, but a few are ones I’ve been asked to hunt down. I’ve never found a single one. If he’s using fae to block the oracles, this would explain why.”
I mulled over that as I finished my ice cream in silence. It wasn’t adding up. Disturbing questions cycled through my brain. “Why would he kidnap people? If he’s selling them as slaves, who would buy the people on those lists? If they have abilities, you’d think that would give them an advantage. I have a hard time believing a gargoyle is going to be taken quietly.”
Jax grabbed my spoon and took a bite of my ice cream before answering, “Good point. Maybe he’s drugging them.”
“Can you be drugged?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “For short periods of time. But days or weeks? No way. And even the weakest gargoyle could take down a shadow elf, if provoked.”
“I know he wouldn’t be selling slaves for money. He has plenty, so that wouldn’t motivate him.”
“Greedy people always want more.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t buy that. He gets anything he wants, either through a sale, intimidation, or murder. He enjoys lording over everyone and everything. All his employees are essentially slaves. Why would he hide these?”
“Because of the families.”
“Think about what he did to Clio,” I muttered. “He wanted us to know. He could care less about the families or their abilities.”
“Then what?” Jax asked. He took my mug and put the dishes in the sink. “Little gem, we could go round and round tonight, but you’re tired. I’m tired. I’ll call the phoenix tomorrow. He’s working on this, too.”
“MacLean is?” I hadn’t seen or talked to him since the Council dinner. It was a relief to know he was working and—hopefully—not avoiding me. No matter what had happened to our engagement, he was an important part of my life. I didn’t want to lose him.
Jax nodded, grabbed the journal and gently steered me toward the stairs. “Yes. I don’t know who hired him, but he’s been hunting for answers as long as I have.”
He pushed open the bedroom door, allowing me to step in first. I choked back a scream when a shadow moved in the corner.
“Hello, niece.”
The floor groaned as an angry gargoyle stepped in front of me. “Jax, it’s okay. It’s just Elion.”
“I know who it is,” Jax replied in a low growl. “I trust him as much as I trust Jedren.”
Elion did nothing threatening, but something about his expression gave me the impression he would take Jax on with relish. And without breaking a sweat. I was relieved to hear him say, “Stand down, gargoyle. I mean you no harm.”
“What about Elle?” Jax asked. “Do you mean her harm?”
Elion folded his arms. He wore a small, gold band around his head. The brown leather pants and plain white top looked odd on his large frame. A toga would have been more appropriate. “You question my motives?”
“Where my mate is concerned, yes.”
The last thing I wanted to witness tonight was these two coming to blows. I grabbed Jax’s arm and glared at Elion. “Okay, pissing contest’s over. Elion, why are you here?”
He kept his gaze on Jax. An indulgent smile curved his lips, but his eyes remained cold. “Gargoyle, I mean no harm to my niece.”
I whistled and waved a hand. “Hello? The niece is in the room. Why are you here?”
They continued to ignore me. To hell with this. I drew on the truth ward Elion gave me and words poured from my mouth in a strange, lyrical language. I had no idea what they meant, but I said them with intention. Both men looked at me with identical expressions of shock. I held up a hand before they could say anything. “Speak to me, tell the truth, and cut the crap. Clear enough?”
Elion tilted his head and considered me. “You used a ward on me?” He sounded more bemused than angry.
Which pissed me off. “Yeah, I did. Why are you here?”
“I’m checking on your progress.”
“And?” Jax prompted.
“The truth ward only works if I’m answering a direct question from the ward thief,” Elion replied to Jax. His blue eyes flicked back to me. “Have you read the journal? Do you understand your birthright?”
The journal again? I rubbed my brow. “No, I keep getting interrupted. I’ve started the journal. I know I’m a weaver. I know I can thread souls. What else is there?”
Elion frowned and stood straighter. “There’s much for you to learn. A weaver can thread more than souls. You can thread wards and words and scents, and many other things. What of your shop? The success of your products is based on your ability to weave the right combinations.”
Scents? That suggestion threw me for a loop. I rolled the idea around in my mind, testing the theory. Creating scents had always come naturally to me. All this time, had I really been threading them together? Or maybe it was dumb luck. Or talent.
Elion snapped his fingers with impatience. “Think about it. The perfect combinations come to you easily, yes?”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“It’s in your blood,” he said. “With the arrival of your twenty-eighth birthday, you’ll have the power to thread many things. If you don’t learn how to wield the power properly, you’ll merge chaos with destruction in your ignorance.”
The bond hummed for a brief moment before Jax reined himself in. “Jedren,” he growled.
The terrible possibilities dawned on me a second later and I stared at Elion in growing horror. “That’s what he wants, isn’t it? For me to do something stupid and start a war between the lines at the party?”
“In truth? No. He wants you to thread souls. If you do, the results will be…unfortunate.”
I caught his slight hesitation and pounced on it. “You said truth! The results will be unfortunate how? Don’t eat the paté unfortunate? Or people will die unfortunate? Because there’s a big difference.”
Elion’s expression softened. “I speak the truth, niece, when I say I cannot give you more information than that. I am forbidden from interfering with your fate by powers higher than yours. Read the journal and learn your gifts before Saturday.”
He disappeared before I could ask another question.
I sighed. “No problem. I just have to learn how to do it all by Saturday. No pressure.” My ice cream craving came back in full force.
Jax shifted to his human form beside me. “My gem, take a bath and read your journal. I have a few phone calls to make.”
“Okay.” I’d read
tonight and see what tomorrow brought. Hopefully, enlightenment.
And chocolate.
Chapter Eighteen
February 9, 1998
Daughter, I worry for your safety. There are those who will exploit your abilities. The longer I’m in exile, the more I realize the limitations I have lived with. Chains, really. The same chains you’ll have soon enough, though your powers will only be this way if you allow it. I discovered that too late. When your father…
I discovered a trick. Too late for me to use, but I hope it will serve you well, although part of me hopes you’ll never have the opportunity to use it. My wish has always been a normal life for you. As you age, I realize that’s a foolish dream. Your father will never allow it. Neither will my family. I’ve put safeguards in place. Should you need assistance, it’s available. Luna has promised to look after you when you come of age.
Elleodora, the trick is simple and powerful: Weave the threads of your life the way you desire. You have that ability! If you learn how to
The last entry ended abruptly. I flipped forward, but the remaining few pages stared back at me. Blank. I set the book on the edge of the tub, rubbed my eyes, and leaned back. The water had cooled twenty minute ago, but I didn’t care. My fingers and toes looked like raisins.
My brain felt a little shriveled, too.
Weaver goddesses had been revered, hunted, exploited, and feared. From what my mother had written, I wasn’t surprised. The abilities they possessed were dangerous. And faulty. Constantly shifting energy prevented a weaver from ever threading things back to the way they used to be. One tiny distraction caused disastrous results.
Like my father.
My mother had called him “charming” and “attentive” before his death. Her mother had killed him in a rage after vowing her daughter would never marry beneath her. Who knew a shadow elf king wasn’t good enough for a goddess? Regardless, my mother had brought him back, but the threads weren’t lined up correctly. He was changed—her words, not mine.
I couldn’t believe she’d put it so lightly. Changed was an inadequate way to describe him. She’d known it too, eventually.
In the later pages of the journal, she’d outlined how to thread and unthread a soul. I’d never be able to scrape the knowledge out of my mind. The process wasn’t pretty, either way. Fate had given me the ability to shred a person’s being apart. Or, to take the threads and knit a misshapen scarf of their former self back together.
My talented mother could make beautiful clothing out of nothing more than a hunk of fabric and piece of thread. Me? Not so much. I remembered a particularly horrific incident involving me, knitting needles, a skein of yarn, and my dog. The vet had alternated between laughing fits and cursing over the yarn tangled in the sheep dog’s long fur. The dog had avoided me for weeks after. In all fairness, I’d been seven years old. I thought it made more sense to knit the sweater directly onto him. I’d been wrong.
My mom never brought yarn home again. Or a dog, for that matter.
What made Fate think I could do any better at age twenty-eight than I’d done at seven?
A soft knock on the door made me lift my head. “Come in,” I called.
Jax stepped inside the bathroom and snagged the journal from my hand. He handed me a towel in exchange. “Come to bed. You need your rest.”
I nodded, too tired to say much else. I dried off and donned a soft tank top and boy shorts. After brushing my teeth, I crawled into bed and snuggled up to Jax’s back. His warmth soothed me.
I wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed him in a quick hug. “Thank you.”
He rolled over to face me. Solemn gray eyes regarded mine. “For what?”
I traced a finger along his jaw. “For being here. For everything.”
His smile flashed in the shadows. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. The action seems to revolve around you.”
I half groaned, half laughed. “I strive to be boring. It hasn’t worked out for me lately.”
Jax motioned for me to roll on to my back. I obliged and groaned again, this time in pleasure, when he began to knead the muscles in my shoulders. “It’s working out the way it’s supposed to,” he murmured. “Boring or not, I’m going to stick around.”
“Good,” I mumbled against the pillow. I was relieved he hadn’t asked about the journal. I didn’t want to talk about souls or abilities. For a few moments, I wanted to be a couple without the weight of my current problems dragging us down. The small act of snuggling in bed felt like a regular routine. The idea was almost as blissful as what Jax was doing to my shoulders.
Silence fell as he continued to massage my back. In minutes, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
…
I woke to the smell of coffee. The Folgers jingle ran through my head before I grabbed my robe. Expecting Jax, I walked into the kitchen and squeaked in surprise when I saw MacLean, holding a cup of coffee. “Er, hi,” I mumbled, pulling the edges of my robe together.
He eyed me over the rim of his mug while taking a sip. “Hi.”
The awkward pause that followed seemed to stretch on forever.
“I’m here to take you out for breakfast.”
“Oh,” I replied, not knowing what to say or how to act. I couldn’t pretend like nothing had happened, but I also didn’t want to get into the mate issue again. Not now. “Um, I have to train with Falon, and then meet Maxim.”
He had been leaning against the counter, but now he pushed away and took a step closer. “No, we’re meeting a few people instead.”
I was okay with playing hooky if it meant avoiding Falon. My relief must have shown, because MacLean’s mouth twisted in a wry parody of a smile. “I can see the mate bond, Elle. Even though you didn’t choose me, I want you to be happy. Nothing changes our history or our fates.”
He was right. MacLean had misunderstood my relief, but correcting him meant starting the conversation again. Breakfast sounded great, but I had to talk to Teryl. He was actually priority number one.
Hunger made my stomach growl. Sorrow made it twist uncomfortably.
“After your birthday, we can talk about things. I also have—”
MacLean stopped talking when the front door opened, and Jax walked in. He looked from me to MacLean. “Did you tell her about breakfast?”
MacLean gave a stiff nod. “I was just about to.” I had a feeling he’d been about to say a whole lot more.
“What about Teryl? I need to check on him.”
Jax drew me in for a hug. “I talked to Teryl last night. He was with Cassie at the shop. She watched out for him yesterday. He’s going to be okay, eventually.”
I nodded against his chest, thankful for his thoughtfulness “Teryl doesn’t blame you,” he whispered against my hair.
No, Teryl wouldn’t. But I owed it to him to stop Jedren from harming any more oracles.
“I canceled your training with Falon and your meeting with Maxim. After yesterday’s encounter, they were happy to give you a day off. They probably want to arm themselves better.”
I snorted. “I highly doubt they’re scared of me.”
“I think you’re underestimating yourself,” he replied.
He leaned back and smiled down at me. Which went a long way toward making me feel better. After a moment, I smiled back.
MacLean cleared his throat and I internally cringed and stepped away from Jax. “Did you tell MacLean about the list Maxim gave me?”
“Yes, I’ll grab it.” He flicked a glance over my robe. “Why don’t you get dressed and we’ll go get that breakfast?”
Forty minutes later, we arrived at a small cafe where Luna, Gwen, and Teryl were seated at a table. With barely a nod toward Gwen and Luna, I sat next to Teryl, wrapping my arms around him. I didn’t say anything. Judging by the way he hugged me back, I didn’t need to.
The waitress came over to take our order, and I pulled away. After she walked away, Teryl offered me a shaky smile. “I heard you punched Max
im.”
I tried to smile back. “Yeah. He cried like a girl.” I didn’t add that it was only moderately gratifying. And it didn’t bring Clio back.
“Did you read the journal?” Gwen interrupted.
I gave her a hard stare. “Yes, I did. Care to have a little tact?”
She was sitting on Teryl’s opposite side. The edges of her mouth turned down, and she leaned toward me. “I am sorry for his loss, but we’ve all lost someone because of Jedren. You have the power to stop it. If you’ve read the journal, you now know how. It’s a legitimate question, given the circumstances.”
Before I could retort, Teryl put a hand on my arm. “She’s right. We’ve all lost someone. I lost Clio, you lost your mom.”
I took a breath. Right or not, Gwen pissed me off. I looked past her to Luna. “Why is she here? You said I needed her help with the journal. I read it. She can go home now.”
“She irritates me, too. But she has to stay. You read it, but do you understand what you need to do?” She watched me carefully.
I accepted the coffee the waitress handed me and stared down at the black liquid. “I’m not sure,” I finally replied. “I believe I understand the process. It’s the timing I’m worried about.”
“Four days ago would have been good,” Teryl muttered.
“Years ago would have been better,” Gwen countered. She turned her glare on me. “I have to read your fate on your birthday. The information in the journal was to prepare you.”
“I have my fate.”
“Girls, girls, don’t make me give you a time out,” Luna interjected, looking far too amused with our bickering. “You will need a new one. Once your abilities manifest fully, you’ll have a new fate.”
Jax’s cold voice sliced through the momentary silence. “Her fate will not change.”
Luna buttered the toast the waitress plunked in front of her. “Sure it will. Have faith, gargoyle. Only the fate pertaining to her demigod status will be in question. Unless…” She looked from me to Jax to MacLean, and then shrugged. “No, it should be fine.”
Gwen scoffed. “We won’t know until it’s read. I am a future seer, and I don’t even know what it will be.”
Stone Cold Revenge (Set In Stone, Book Two) Page 16