“You did, but I did not understand until tonight.”
“What’s to understand?” Jarrett questioned. “He’ll be fine sooner or later.”
“Cade has been angry before, but nothing like this. If he loses control fully, it will be dangerous for everyone.”
Worried but unwilling to concede yet, Jarrett shook his head. “He’s only lost control a few times, and it’s not like we all haven’t done that one time or another. Hell, we’re all dangerous. I saw your eyes tonight, Del. You’re just as volatile as we are.”
“You do not understand. Cade has always been the most controlled lycan I have ever known. I have never seen him lose his discipline. His temper and thoughts are always clear, even when we fought together for two innocent children beaten nearly to death by a greater demon. His control is how he has survived for so long against those as crafty as Niall and The Faction.
“He and the animal were never two-sided like most of our kind. Even I am two halves of a whole, Jarrett, as are you. But Cade, he was one with the wolf. Do not doubt. Cade’s strength did not lie in the animal he harbored, but in the ability he had to draw power from it and still be himself.”
Jarrett kept his back to her and looked toward the bathroom where his brother showered. “He’ll be fine. Time. He just needs more time.”
“No, time is our enemy.
“What are you talking about, Del?”
Delphene followed Jarrett’s gaze and lowered her voice. “He told me how he was trained as a boy? The witch, she taught him to embrace the animal, to channel it. Cade learned to appreciate the gift of his bloodline when he needed to lean upon it. She helped him to love and respect the whole of himself and taught him it was a gift. Never was he chained, not once was he coerced.
“That young, most of us give in or find magic to help us cope. Even I was often a slave to the change through rituals and ceremonies that focused on using our rage to make us better fighters. I was taught to hate and fear the monster inside me. I was raised in a pack, and none of us held absolute control of the wolf—not even the leaders. There is a fear of what we are. You know this. You feel it. Not Cade. He was at peace with the beast inside—more than I, and surely more so than you.
“As a result, his love for the animal created a love for all humankind, with or without ailment, regardless of bloodline. Cade has always been one of the best. Younger lycans who encounter him seek his help.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Oh Chère, it matters. Think! Cade obtained a balance that most of our kind fight to achieve for five or more centuries, but that is no more. Since loving and losing Collett, he struggles too much and falls deeper into the wolf. His balance waivers. The problem now—he hates himself and hates the world around him. He is a powder keg ready to explode. Do you not see this?”
Considering Delphene’s insight, Jarrett thought back to his own training. Niall had used magic, beatings, and even drugs to subdue the beast in him only to release it when he chose using the same methods. Jarrett was taught the wolf was a demon, and he tried to hide from it for nearly 100 years. Eventually, he learned to use it to survive as best as he could. Though his rage could still control him when it came to the animal inside.
Admitting that to himself, Jarrett’s brows drew together as he recalled past encounters with his brother. Jarrett had always been the more aggressive twin. He had always been first to change, first to rush into the fight, and the first to draw blood. Cade had been more reserved and diplomatic, striving to persuade Jarrett to his point of view before fighting.
Jarrett used to think his twin was weak because of his lack of action. The times Jarrett had bested him in battle were partly a result of Cade’s refusal to engage. Jarrett remembered the time he had cut Cade with a silver dagger. Most of their kind would have lost complete control, but Cade had only stared at him with regret and walked away.
When Cade finally bested Jarrett in battle, it had been pure, unbridled rage controlling his brother. A few months before, when Jarrett had kidnapped Collett, nothing short of a miracle could have stopped Cade from killing his twin. Lucky for him, that miracle came in the nick of time. Collett had been the miracle.
A strange realization coursed through Jarrett. Different scenarios played out in his mind. Cade fighting for Jarrett’s life in the warehouse when the Russian captured him. The way Cade blocked the demon gateway on the cliff. Cade breaching the conjured wall of electricity to reach Collett with determined conviction. Even tonight, when Cade had transformed only his hand, Jarrett knew no other lycan that carried the control to do that. Pondering each of those encounters, Jarrett saw Cade’s aptitude for fighting in a new light.
With sudden clarity, Jarrett recognized that Cade was the far more superior fighter. Jarrett hadn’t noticed because he had mistaken control for weakness. All these years, Cade held back out of compassion for people. He held the beast in check because he didn’t even need it. Cade, as a man, was as powerful as Jarrett was as a wolf.
Now, with his life suddenly empty, Cade no longer held hope for a better world. His belief that good would prevail was absent. The scale tipped, and Cade had lost his balance.
Glancing over to the bathroom door again, Jarrett cursed. He remembered how he’d seen the pain and desperation in Cade’s eyes the night they fought over Collett, and thinking on Delphene’s words he could see the picture she was painting. Jarrett cursed again as he realized without family Cade was losing his humanity.
“What was I thinking?” he asked himself out loud. Jarrett’s solution to go rogue, was turning Cade into a monster similar to the one Niall had created in him centuries before. Only this time, it would be far worse. Hiding in his grief through hunting was only compounding Cade’s anger, not subduing it. His need for vengeance on Victor and any other Faction member was feeding a blazing fire.
Jarrett had always been angry and cynical. It was bread and butter to him. For Cade, on the other hand, it was like a drug. It would cover the pain as Jarrett hoped, but it would always leave his brother wanting more. Cade was a man for good causes, not hunting, not vengeance.
Delphene laid a hand on Jarrett’s shoulder where his crescent birthmark once was, running her fingers over the scarred skin. She leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We must do something, Oui?”
Jarrett turned his head slightly to meet her golden gaze with his own. “We have to take him back.”
“Oui.”
Neither looked away from the other for a long moment. There was a silent promise between them that they would not let him fall. When they heard the shower turn off, the pair moved to other tasks while thinking about how they could get him back to Colorado. Because unlike Jarrett, who often sought solitude, they both understood that now more than ever, Cade needed a reason to believe. Cade needed family.
Chapter 12
Cynda picked up Jenny’s fragile hand and gripped it tight. She looked upon the sleeping woman, willing her to wake up. “I wish you could be here to give me advice.”
Nothing changed.
“There’s so much I need your help with. I haven’t heard from Cade in a long time. I’m worried. He’s never been out of touch this long, and I know his heart is broken. You’re the only one of us that knows how that feels. Jarrett calls every once in a while. I’m glad they found each other. Maybe that will be enough to help Cade.”
Jenny didn’t stir.
Cynda licked her lips and tried again. “Tracy’s back. You probably know that since she’s been here to see you almost every day. Something’s bothering her. She insists there’s nothing wrong, but we know better, don’t we? Mothers and grandmothers know these things. She likely would have confessed to you by now. So if you could just wake up and tell me what she said, it would help.”
Cynda reached up and stroked the older woman’s hair. “I guess it was a long shot,” she confessed on a sigh, and letting go of Jenny’s hand, she stood. Rubbing her tired eyes she walked over to the other side of the bed to adjust the pill
ow and blanket.
“Cody’s therapy is helping,” she said casually. “He can use most of his fingers again, and the limp in his leg isn’t as pronounced as it was. Rederrick says that he is still struggling with dreams and survivor’s guilt. He has a pretty bad case of PTSD, probably always will. Cody could use some chocolate chip cookies. I tried to make them and failed miserably. When you’re better, maybe you can try to teach me again.” She sighed again and mumbled, “This is stupid, you can’t even hear me, can you?”
“Oh she can hear you.”
Startled by the new voice, Cynda jumped, but settled when she noted an older nurse entering the room. Cynda smiled. “Sometimes I think she can, but other days—”
“I know dear. I see it all the time, but I promise, she can hear you.”
Looking down at her surrogate mother, a warm sense of hope washed over her. Wanting to believe what the nurse was telling her, she cleared her throat of welling emotion and focused on the friendly woman who held the barest hint of an accent. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you. Are you new here?”
She chuckled. “Oh no, I’ve been around for a long time. I mostly work nights. It’s the only time I can get away from my other responsibilities, but I know who you are.”
“You do?”
“Oh yes, many of the other nurses talk about how loyal and protective you are of Jenny. They also talk about how kind you are and about the money you have donated to the other families here.”
Embarrassed, Cynda ducked her head.
“Well now, it looks as though you’re humble too,” said the nurse as she moved over to check Jenny’s IV and the monitors. “I’m Ramee by the way.”
Cynda smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Ramee smiled back. “Likewise.”
Cynda watched as Ramee followed the routine of all the other nurses who came in on a regular basis. For reasons unknown to her, Cynda felt more comfortable around this nurse. “She’s not getting better, is she?”
Ramee glanced up and with compassion in her voice, and admitted, “No, dear, she’s not.”
“I’d hoped that she just needed time,” Cynda explained as she stared at Jenny.
“It’s never bad to have hope.”
“It hasn’t helped.” Cynda closed her eyes to compose herself. “She’s dying isn’t she?”
“From the moment of our birth, our mortal bodies begin to die, child. Time in this life is finite.” The older woman’s expression showed her sympathy. “Yes, this chapter of her story is drawing close to an end, but it’s only a chapter. Time flows and passes. ”
Cynda felt a need to let go of her pent up frustration. “It’s not fair, you know.” She felt the hard lump form in her throat as her eyes collected uninvited moisture.
“Fair is it?” Ramee questioned with firm clarity in her tone, but Cynda remained oblivious to it.
“Yes. This is wrong. My family has lost too much. Cade and Jarrett… Cody and C—” She stopped before she said Collett’s name. Cynda didn’t know why she was telling the nurse all of this. It’s not as if this stranger knew what she was talking about.
“I see,” Ramee said.
“I can’t lose anyone else. I don’t think my heart can take it.”
“And you think if she dies you will lose her?” Ramee asked.
“Yes! No. I don’t know,” she admitted.
“I see,” Ramee repeated and waited for Cynda to go on.
“I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’m just tired and emotional,” Cynda said in apology. Grabbing a tissue from the table, she wiped her eyes.
“And maybe confused?”
“I don’t understand why we have to keep losing people. Why are we punished when we only keep trying to help others? As I said, it’s not fair. ”
“And you thought if you continued to help people you would be absolved of pain and suffering?”
“Of course not. I just—”
The older woman nodded, turned, and noticed Cynda’s book on the table. Ramee gently picked up the book, Warriors of Legend, and thumbed through its pages. “I wonder what the concept of fair means to you?” Ramee began, and even as Cynda opened her mouth in an attempt to answer, the woman continued on. “I have a thought on the subject. For now, think of a petulant child who cries for life’s unfairness when things don't go her way. Sometimes this behavior helps the child achieve her desires, but to what end? Soon this spoiled creature cries for her dessert every night before it is time to sup. Should a father give in to her wishes and demands when she shouts out the unfairness of it? What then would this child learn?”
This time Cynda had no answer. She could only stare in surprise at the woman’s example and her chiding tone.
“I’ll tell you what she would learn,” Ramee stated firmly. “Nothing. She would learn nothing, and she would likely become ill too. Then as she moaned and groaned in her sickbed, she would again cry and shout at the unfairness of it, because of course, that solved her problem before. Did it not?
“You’re right,” Cynda said with understanding.
“You worldly people and your misguided sense of fairness.” Ramee continued, “Is it fair that one child should be bound to a wheelchair as the result of an accident, while another runs about and plays freely in the park? Is it fair that one man is born without sight while another sees the light of the sun and has no appreciation for it.”
Humbled, Cynda replied softly, “No, I suppose life is not fair. Something I tend to forget when my temper gets the better of me.”
“You’re wrong child,” Ramee told her sweetly. “Life is fair, only not in the ways many would think.”
“I don’t understand your meaning.”
“While one man may be blind to the light of the sun, the other is blind to its warmth. While one child runs and plays with carelessness or no real understanding of that gift, the other sheds a tear of happiness as he takes his first steps, realizing for the existence of magic and miracles. Nothing that is easy will teach us.” Ramee softened her expression, and leaning forward placed her hand atop Cynda’s. “Dear child, there is no scale to measure what is fair, and in truth, fairness, mercy, and justice are very different. Life is full of trials, and for each person, there are lessons within those trials that shape who we become.”
Cynda nodded and wiped her wet cheeks with her free hand.
“Faith,” Ramee said with compassion. “We must always have faith, and find hope in the small things that surround us. It is these qualities that drive us to do more. It presses on us to help others, to fight for what’s right, and try to change the bad things around us. Without hope and faith, you would have given into despair many times over by now. Trials and adversity shape us into who we are.
“Cynda, if you had never lost your mother, would you have clung to the woman who lies in that bed? Would you have learned the lessons she had to teach you?”
No one here at the clinic knew of Cynda’s mother. “How—”
“The trick is to see the miracles when they are right in front of us, hidden in everyday events. Is it better to have a single crumb of bread when your belly is starving? Or would you rather take the time to earn what you need for the ingredients, and work to follow the recipe precisely to enjoy the entire loaf later?”
Cynda’s teary eyes widened. She thought back to a time many years before when she had attempted to bake bread as a surprise for her family. Her impatience led to a disastrous result. Jenny helped her start over and walked Cynda through each step, ensuring she was successful. Somehow Ramee was aware of that event, and Cynda knew it. “Who are you?”
Ramee smiled knowingly. Pulling her hand away, she looked at the book she’d picked up, and opened it. Thumbing through the pages she ignored the question. “At the root, life and everything about it, is based on simple necessities—yeast, dear. You must always remember the yeast, and give the bread time to grow. Then, and only then, will it fill your belly.”
“You’re not a nurse are you
?” Cynda asked humbly.
“I have been, and I have visited this place many times over.”
“Who are you?” Cynda asked again.
“I am a friend. I’m here for you.”
“Me?”
“None of us are expected to face our trials alone. Your trials are indeed great. It’s not the first time, you know.”
“The first time for what?” Cynda asked.
“The first time there has been a great betrayal.”
Cynda tried to be patient while Ramee skimmed the contents of the book. When Ramee didn’t speak again Cynda urged her to continue. “This wasn’t the first time? You said something about betrayal.”
“Huh? Oh yes, of course. History is chalked full selfish desires and wicked treachery,” Ramee said absently.
Wondering if she had jumped to conclusions, Cynda thought, Maybe she is just a nurse.
“Oh look,” Ramee said amused. “This book talks about King Arthur. I like that one. Talk about fairness. Arthur sacrifices everything to build a peaceful kingdom that rivals any before it and he is betrayed. Everything he worked for fell into ruin because of one man’s greed. Arthur lost everything; his wife, his friend, his kingdom—but worse, the people under his care lost more.
“Did you know Lancelot was actually the hero of the story, not the catalyst? He never betrayed his king nor had an affair with Guinevere. Mordred was the man who betrayed Arthur. He let Arthur build the kingdom and do the hard work. When everything was settled and peaceful, he surprised them all. Arthur thought the wars were over and he became complacent.”
“Mordred?”
“At the end of it all, Mordred got what he deserved. Betrayers always do. The trouble is, it requires selflessness, bravery, and sacrifice to enact justice. Lancelot knew this, and Mordred answered for his choices.”
“Lancelot? Lancelot saved Camelot?” Cynda questioned with skepticism.
Ramee sniffed. “Of course not. Mordred’s reign, short as it was, spread like a plague. Provinces broke apart, power and greed spread, and hope was taken over by despair. But if you focus on the souls Lancelot saved and not the ones he couldn’t, you’ll find light in the dark.”
The Truth of Victory: A Powers of Influence Novel Page 11