The Price of Knowing: A Powers of Influence Novel (The Powers of Influence Book 2)

by C. B. Haight

  His mind fell back to the other day when Cade told him about Collett feeling his pain, and he wondered what else she felt. He considered how difficult that would be to cope with.

  As he processed it all, Delphene taunted with a callous tone, “We should throw her to the sharks and be done with her.”

  He looked up sharply, shocked by her cavalier tone, and when she smiled, he realized he had played into her hands again. His eyes turned flinty and, keeping his own counsel, he walked away. Of course she followed, and resigned, he made no move to stop her as they headed back. As they progressed, Jarrett thought about the best way to handle Collett moving forward.

  When they entered the little house, Jarrett scowled as the strong scent of pine assaulted him. He found himself staring at a freshly cut tree standing in the living room. He cursed. “What is that?”

  “It’s a tree. I assume you’ve seen one before,” Cynda said, ignoring his scowl.

  It bothered him how easy and comfortable all of them had become with his moods. “I know what it is. What is it doing here?”

  “It’s Christmas Eve, and I want it here,” she said with equal firmness.

  “We don’t have time for this,” he growled.

  “On the contrary, you said we were done for the day, and I have nothing but time for this.”

  Ashley came into the room, and sensing the tension from the three of them, said nothing.

  “You think the demons—or even Niall—take time out of their hunt for us to celebrate ridiculous holidays?”

  “No, Jarrett,” her tone was soft and her eyes sad, “I don’t.”

  “It is why we are different, Chère,” Delphene supplied from behind him. “What is the point in fighting if there is nothing to fight for?”

  Deciding that he would not win the argument against three women, and not sure he even wanted to try, Jarrett made a quick escape. “I’m going out,” he said and grabbed a set of keys.

  “You’ll be lucky if you can find anywhere open tonight in town,” Cynda said to his retreating back.

  Delphene stood in his path and met his eyes. “You can’t keep running,” she said low enough only he could hear.

  His eyes darkened, and the pure violence in his eerie, golden orbs told her she would be smart to move. Never one to heed a warning when she saw it, Delphene stood firm, meeting his cold stare with compassion.

  “Move!” he snarled.

  When she didn’t budge, he growled, turned, and left through the back entrance, slamming the door behind him. Ashley started at the sound, and Cynda merely said, “Well, that actually went better than I expected.”

  Niall sat alone in a darkened room, staring at the burning fire before him. He’d lost them all. Collett slipped through his fingers in Colorado, and he’d lost his connection to Jarrett. He’d picked it up again for a short time when sensed the murderous whelp in New Orleans, but then nothing since. Of course the demons sent to fetch him hadn’t returned, and Jarrett simply dropped away again. No matter how much Niall concentrated, he could not feel him.

  Fury bubbled and churned within him, but centuries of discipline kept it at bay. He had others working on finding Collett and the meddlers with her. He had to rely on technology and other mortal methods to locate her and that displeased him immensely.

  Jarrett though, was his. Niall knew him—had created him. Niall knew the anger that was within the cursed creature and could perceive him whenever he wanted, but nothing came now. Too many days had passed without feeling anything from the werewolf. He suspected the source of the disconnect, and it only served to infuriate him further.

  He wanted Jarrett to pay for defying him, but he knew first hand it would be no easy task to bring him down. He reflected that neglecting Jarrett, giving him too much freedom, had led him here. Then he brushed the self-recrimination aside, reminding himself the lycan had always been a difficult, but valuable, tool. Jarrett had always been brought to heel, but not this time. No, this time the cursed wolf had gone too far. His latest transgression was unforgivable, and it proved he was becoming a danger to Niall’s plans.

  Collett could ruin everything Niall had built, and letting her live could not go unpunished. He fantasized the tortures he would inflict upon Jarrett if brought back alive, and he wanted to punish his Hunter personally. However, the inability to find Collett and her possible influence on The Brotherhood were bigger concerns to him now. He was needed here to deal with the details of leadership and orchestrate the chaos that might bring her out. She was a risk he could not afford. In this, he did blame himself. If he’d handled her more carefully centuries before, things would be different. He’d underestimated her and was still paying for it.

  He’d thought her memory loss would be a greater hindrance as well, and figured Finnawick could finish things up for him. At that time, he thought her powerless without her memory. If she couldn’t remember who and what she was, Collett would be no immediate threat to him. He had even hoped he could still convince her to join him or fill her with false memories to bind her to him.

  That was then. Now he simply wanted to be rid of her. He realized he should have dealt with her himself originally and intended to remedy the situation.

  Breathing deeply, he focused. He assured himself that neither of them could evade him long. Using his abilities, Niall mentally sorted through connection after connection, hunting the hunter. He sorted through each one, carefully looking for that anger he knew so well. More than an hour later, he saw a brief flash, and though it was short lived, it was enough. He opened his eyes and grinned in satisfaction.

  “Henifedran!” he snapped.

  Behind him, bluish-grey demon with wide, leathery wings appeared. “Yesss, Masster.”

  Niall sent images to him telepathically. “Deal with the traitor!” he ordered.

  The demon nodded.

  “Henifedran?”

  “Masster?”

  “Kill anyone with him.”

  The demon inclined his head, offering Niall an evil smile and showcasing its sharp, shark-like teeth.

  Jarrett grumbled to himself almost the whole drive into town. A Christmas tree, he thought, unbelievable. They need to train.

  He didn’t believe any of them were ready to face more than a couple of greater-demons at once, let alone a few archdemons and the multitude of sorcerers, witches, and leeches under Niall’s thumb. This was never going to work. They were all too soft. They needed a plan. They needed—He didn’t know what they needed, but it definitely wasn’t a Christmas tree.

  Jarrett couldn’t understand how they could even think of something so stupid at a time like this. Then he realized it was the idiocy of believing in the whole peace on Earth and good will toward men crap that would give them the idea. In his experience, neither existed, and it wasn’t like the ridiculous tree would fix their problems or make everything better. Nothing short of killing Niall would do that, and that scenario was highly unlikely.

  He questioned his decision to stay with the others again. A group was easier to find, and people as attached as these could be used against one another. Looking around as he entered the small town of Cloud Croft, his mind flashed back to another haunting memory.

  June 1876 Deadwood

  “Nooo, please don’t hurt her.”

  “What do you think, Hunter? Should she live?”

  The Hunter said nothing. He’d learned long ago that no matter what he said, Niall would twist it to his own design.

  Niall approached the young girl, no older than 17, and stroked his hand over her cheek. She cringed and tried to pull back from it.

  “I’ll do whatever you want. I swear! Just don’t hurt her,” the man on his knees begged.

  Niall looked back to the man he was playing like a master puppeteer. “I know you will,” he replied with a wicked grin.

  He nodded to The Hunter, who grabbed the young girl by the hair and dragged her from the room while she screamed, “Sam! Sam! Help me!” She began sobbing, “Ple
eease.”

  “If you hurt her—” The Hunter heard from the other room.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Bass. Do as you’re told and she’ll be returned to you.”

  “Unharmed?” Sam demanded.

  “Well, I suppose that depends on how long this takes, won’t it?”

  Disgusted, The Hunter left them, taking the sobbing girl outside to await Niall. He didn’t wait long before he heard his master’s boots clacking against the wooden planks of the saloon.

  Jarrett ground his jaw as Niall approached him.

  “Deal with her.”

  He looked up, surprise covered his features. “You said—”

  Niall’s strange eyes went cold as ice, stopping the protest. “Is there a problem?”

  Jarrett’s muscles bulged and his body shook with outrage, but he said nothing.

  “Good, I’ll find you soon enough then,” he said and disappeared.

  The Hunter, as Jarrett was so aptly named, clawed and gnashed at him from within. His eyes smoldered, turned bloody red, and a furious growl rumbled in his chest. The woman cowered and shrank away from him. With wide, terrified eyes, she looked to the spot where Niall once stood and back to the monster commanded to kill her. Fear overtook her, and she fainted before his feet.

  The memory faded, and Jarrett cursed. Why did this have to keep happening? He didn’t want to go back and relive every damn moment of his life. It was better left where it belonged. As he thought about it, he knew the source of these particular haunting images. It was this place—her place. This is where Jarrett had taken the young woman to hide her, and then he tricked Niall into believing she was dead. He sat back in the seat remembering those life changing events. .

  Sam did as he was told and pulled off several heists for Niall. In fact, he and his gang even managed to rob a Union Pacific train. The take was bigger than even Niall expected, more than $60,000 in gold coins, plus several miscellaneous passenger watches and gems were acquired. Of course, that success only had Niall demanding more. Even magical orders need money to function.

  Sam Bass never made it back to Mary Beth. After a year with little success, Sam was betrayed by one of his own gang and killed in a shootout. Jarrett was sure Niall had arranged the death.

  Jarrett knew the young girl Mary Beth married Sam’s best friend, Frank. He came to tell her what happened and that Sam was dead. Frank stayed to watch over her as he promised Sam, and the rest is history.

  Once he learned of their marriage, Jarrett never came back here during their lives. He had no plans to ever return until two generations later when the family was ready to let go of the homestead. Their grandson sought out any connections to the stories his Grandma had told of the man who saved her. He sought out Jarrett’s descendant only to find the man himself. That had been an interesting day. In the end, he left Jarrett the land despite multiple protests.

  He avoided this place because it represented a life stolen and the reality of his own prison. Yet, he couldn’t sell the land either because it also signified an important change in his miserable life. Taking Mary Beth here had been his first true act of defiance against Niall, and even though he hated admitting it, that meant something to him.

  For almost as far back as he could remember, he’d been Niall’s enforcer, the demon hunter people cowered from. Jarrett’s first encounter with Niall had been shortly after the fire that killed Rowena. When Niall first appeared to him, he believed Niall was his saving grace. Using various methods, he taught Jarrett how to use the monster to fight and more importantly, how to kill. Niall seemed like a hero to the young Jarrett, and for too long, that boy even stupidly looked to Niall like a father.

  He’d been too young and stupid to see who the real monster was. Niall was smart too. He carefully manipulated Jarrett to see things from his point of view. For the first several years, he controlled Jarrett with nothing more than fear of punishment and a little praise. Small looks of disappointment had Jarrett trying to please him. He didn’t even see the trap closing in around him until it was too late.

  Before too long, he began to question Niall’s ideals and the assignments he was given. As Jarrett became reluctant, Niall’s methods became more sinister. He could still remember how Niall would bring a child forward and insinuate that the child would die if Jarrett failed in his tasks. He would kill people Jarrett crossed paths with to ensure Jarrett stayed in line. The manipulations worked for longer than Jarrett cared to admit.

  The day Jarrett heard Niall make promises to Sam Bass and then, in the next breath, order Jarrett to kill Mary Beth was when the reality of his life struck him. All those times Niall made promises to him, he never once witnessed if they came to fruition. He never found out if the children lived, but rather, he naively believed him when Niall insisted they had been returned safe and sound to their parents.

  Each time someone around him died as a result of Niall’s cruelty, Jarrett would simply accept it as penance for what he was and his own failures. Those seeds of doubt were carefully planted in him by none other than Niall himself.

  After he hid Mary Beth, he tried to find his way out from under Niall’s control. For a time, he believed there must be a way to escape and made several unsuccessful attempts. For years, he searched for a solution, looking for any way out that he could find, but there were none.

  He kept coming to the same conclusion, courtesy of his wicked master. If he left, innocent people would die, and he never got far or escaped punishment. Jarrett placed no value on his own life. In fact, there were times when he believed death would be a relief, and Niall knew that. Niall also knew Jarrett couldn’t stand to see innocent people, especially children, suffer simply to obtain his own freedom.

  He even considered reaching out to Cade for help, but he realized Niall was still unaware of his brother’s existence. The brief time spent with his brother in friendship had come to a bitter end. An event that once left him feeling betrayed and angry gave him relief years later. Jarrett understood that if he had stayed with Cade all those years before, Niall would have discovered and destroyed him just to hurt Jarrett. To protect his twin, he never tried to forge a relationship again. In fact, he went out of his way to antagonize Cade to ensure he stayed away.

  Stubborn as an ox, Cade still came looking for him sometime around 1910. Jarrett didn’t know the exact date because he never kept track of them. Every day was one more he didn’t ask for. Cade showed up one night after he discovered Jarrett was tied to The Faction.

  During their argument, Jarrett happened to have one of the Faction’s lackeys he had been charged to bring in. During Cade’s speech about right and wrong, the twit tried to kill Jarrett with magic, but sensing it, The Hunter beat him to the punch. He sliced the half demon’s throat right in front of his brother. Something broke in Cade. His eyes held such disappointment.

  Angry, Jarrett took it a step further and attacked him. When it was over, Jarrett left Cade with a vicious scar on his chin from a silver knife and a couple broken ribs for his trouble. It was easy to defeat his brother, because Cade was ever the optimist and didn’t really want to hurt him. His mercy cost him dearly that day, and Jarrett could still remember the disgust in his twin’s eyes. It was the same disgust Jarrett saw in the mirror every day.

  “The only reason you’re alive is because we share blood. Don’t ever come near me again,” Jarrett pronounced. Venom laced every word as he walked away.

  Cade spat blood on the ground. “We can’t share blood! You’re a monster.”

  Jarrett had hesitated in the darkened street, thinking, You have no idea. Then he’d left his brother for what he thought would be forever.

  There were no options for him back then. There was no way out. From there, Jarrett did the only thing he could, the only thing he was good at. He embraced it. He became a true hunter, a predator, and he relished killing those that delighted in being members of The Faction.

  He made a point of being especially efficient at hunting down the out o
f control demons and half-demons that thirsted and craved the blood of innocents. He became so lethal that Niall slowly shifted his assignments, only sending him after the very worst of them. He was challenging Jarrett’s skills, testing his loyalty. More than once, Jarrett found his very life hanging in the balance, and knew if he died Niall wouldn’t mourn.

  To his relief, his successes were rewarded in the best way possible. Niall quit coming to him personally. Whether from fear, disgust, or disinterest, Jarrett never cared. He liked it better that way because it allowed him more freedom. Niall sent his assignments through the demons he controlled instead.

  Over time, Jarrett killed three of those lackeys simply because they bothered him. First, he killed Menrock. Then he beheaded Siliana, and most recently, Finnawick. The imp had only been half demon, but he’d been the worst of them all.

  Niall dealt with Jarrett harshly each time he killed the messenger. The Hunter was beaten severely when he killed Menrock. After Siliana, Niall killed three innocent people, or so he said they were innocent, and dumped the bodies at Jarrett’s feet as a punishment. Still, killing her had brought about more freedom.

  Fearing his reputation, Finnawick only used Jarrett as a last resort. And fearing more innocent lives lost, Jarrett tolerated Finnawick for a much longer span. Getting rid of Niall’s minions was a nuisance that merited punishment, but it wasn’t why Niall wanted him dead. Jarrett guaranteed his own death when he sent Niall a colorful letter basically telling him to shove it after two and a half centuries of servitude.

  If he was honest about it, Jarrett could admit rebellion was the main reason he had continued to take assignments. He embraced every chance he could find to oppose Niall, and by some miracle, he managed to do it several times. Fifty-one, he thought to himself. Fifty-one people got a chance to live out their lives in relative safety because he refused to be a pawn in a wicked man’s game. He knew the exact number because there were so few in comparison to how many he killed.