Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2)

by Knoebel, Candace

  It’s building inside of me. Energy is filling me even though I haven’t called to it. It’s as if the energy wants to be within me. It wants me to control it. To use it. I can’t stop the images of blood, pain, and tears from taking over my thoughts. I can’t control the pace my lungs are rising and falling. I want to scream, yell, and rip Clara’s hair out, but I know they’re watching. The little red light on the end of the camera is blinking.

  I’m a show. A freak show.

  “I said why not, Faye?” Clara asks again, her patience trickling away.

  Her words are pushing me. Her gaze is poking me. Eyes are prying in on me, and I can’t take another single second of it. Something breaks a little inside of me. Rips open. A deep place where all my suppressed rage and pent-up frustrations have gone to hide. They break free, and I can’t keep them from flying past my lips.

  “Because I can’t control it!” I yell out at the top of my lungs, eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t stop when I start! I can’t control who I pull from! I refuse to be a murderer! I refuse to become a monster!”

  She’s barely bothered by my raised voice. And that scares me more than anything.

  She takes her time drawing in a breath, like she’s already expected this to happen. As if she was waiting for this very moment to reveal what really comes next. With her tone neutral and her eyes dead set on me, she says coldly, “You must, and you will. Starting right now.” She turns to the door and says, “Bring me an Elite. Now.”

  “What are you doing?” I ask as liquid fear pumps enough life back into my limbs to grant me the strength to stand. I wobble at first, and then follow her, reaching out, wishing the Belladonna would leave my system.

  She turns on me so fast I nearly stumble back. There’s something in her eyes that horrifies me. A sickness in her smile I can’t even begin to stomach. “We’re running out of time, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let an insolent little girl stop me from reaching the goals I have set for myself,” she says under her breath. She says with such control that I wonder if she’s even real. If she even feels at all.

  My hands itch to wrap around her neck, to watch the life drain from her eyes, and a small part me whispers in the back of my mind to just do it. To succumb to what she’s asking of me, because at least then I’d be rid of her.

  But I don’t have to be my monstrous parts. I can choose to be good.

  Swallowing down my weakness and fear, I shove it as far away from me as I can. I meet her gaze head on. “I don’t understand why I have to use this ability, when there are so many other things I can do. If you could just give me a chance. If you could just try to find it inside yourself to meet me halfway, then—”

  Her bottom lip pokes out, and every word I had planned on saying seems to disappear. There’s no regret to be found in her cold, hard gaze. Just judgment and cruelty.

  “You want me to meet you halfway?” She laughs as if I just told the punchline to a good joke. “You freeze up every single time during the Holy Seal simulation, Faye. You choose not to follow my commands, and there lies the problem. You, in your natural state, are defiant. Rebellious. Wrong. That’s what makes you dangerous. That’s why I need to know how to keep you contained; at least until we can separate what makes you different from us in your DNA. Harness it to help us better understand how we can unbind ourselves from our affinity partner without losing our power.”

  I feel so broken. So lost for words that this is real. That this is actually happening.

  “You’re sick. This is sick,” I say with disgust, trying to keep calm so I can think rationally. But it’s getting harder. I don’t want to spend another minute in her presence. “I want no part of this anymore. Lock me away. I don’t care. Do what you have to.”

  “You think I’d let you go that easily? You know nothing about me, Faye Middleton. You’ve only just begun to see what I’m capable of, and from here on out, you’d be wise to bite your tongue unless I ask you a direct question,” Clara says harshly. “Obedience goes far with me.”

  My gaze cuts to hers. “I guess Mack never got that memo,” I bite off, enjoying the slight look of shock that rattles the plastered smile on her face. I think she might say something, but an Elite walks in through the doorway dressed in the Night Watchmen uniform with a rifle held tight against his chest.

  Her smile is too triumphant. Too glorious for me to stomach.

  “We’ll continue this lovely discussion another time,” she says deviously. “But right now, you’re going to show me some results. No more games. No more simulations. Maybe some warm flesh and a beating heart will put some motivation into you.”

  Dread is spreading inside of me. It’s replacing my blood—my thoughts—taking over every part of me that can think clearly.

  “Clara, I don’t know—”

  “Enough!” she snaps.

  My breath catches.

  She grabs the Elite by the collar and yanks him until he’s standing directly in front of me. My crazed eyes are blinking too fast to take him in. I don’t want to see his face. The last thing I want is to have it etched in my memory. I need to think of a way out of this.

  She shoves him forward until he almost bumps into me. “No more excuses, Faye. You’re going to do what you did in that simulation and learn to control it. Now.”

  “No,” I say firmly, shaking my head, refusing to look the Elite in the eyes. “I’ll kill him. I won’t be responsible for that.”

  She stands right beside me, her face inches from mine. The corner of her lip twitches. Her eyes narrow on me, and I suddenly wonder why I pushed her. What I thought would come from this. What she’s going to do because of it?

  Seconds tick between us, and I feel my heart beating in my throat. My mouth goes incredibly dry, and no matter how many times I swallow, it does nothing to ease the ache. Something terrible is about to happen. I see it in her eyes, which hold no mercy.

  Without words, she turns, grabs the Elite’s gun from his hands, and then shoots him in the head. My screams pierce through the metal walls as blood spatters all over everything. All over me.

  She turns back to me wearing blotches of crimson all over her white attire, and I just keep blinking because everything is so blurry. Coated in a red I’m sure will never wash away.

  She opens her mouth, but all I can hear is this awful ringing sound. This pulsing in my ears that I fear is melting my brain.

  “Now,” she says coolly, sounding so far away from me, smoothing her hair back from her face and smearing blood on herself in the process, “you’ll either do as I say, or I’ll continue to kill for you.”

  She grabs my hands, holding them out for me to see, and I think I’ve died inside. Warm, sticky blood coats my skin in large splatters, and I want to dissolve away into nothing right here. I want to wake up from this nightmare. I don’t want to be a part of this moment. I don’t want to be responsible for this. I feel like I’m being pulled against my will… pushed into a reality I can’t escape from.

  Because I can no longer deny just how deep I am inside the shit storm Clara has created.

  “Blood will be on your hands either way, Faye Middleton,” she says too brightly, too surely. A conquering smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “I suggest you don’t take it too far if you don’t want another murder on your hands.”

  Vomit flies past my lips before I can stop it with my hands. The sound of her heels carrying her away from me blends with the cold amusement spewing past her lips. Three Elite’s enter the room and only two leave, carrying the body of the dead one with them. When I catch my breath, I look up and can barely stomach what’s before me.

  It’s Jonathon… Katie’s father.

  ISWEAR HE COULD BE a ghost.

  His skin is drained of color. There’s a tightness in his breathing, like he’s scared to take in the stench of death. His bright brown eyes are large and clearly taking in every inch of the catastrophe around him.

  Footsteps outlined in blood.

 
; Walls once silver, now coated in red.

  I think I see the veins pounding in his neck, pulsing to the cadence of uncertainty, confusion.

  “Mr. Coccia?” I whisper, my voice and body shaking so hard it’s making me dizzy. My ears still ring from the sound of the gunshot. Eyes still blinking rapidly, praying that with every new open, all of this will disappear and become some sort of nightmare I can wake up from. But the stench of vomit, blood, and gunpowder permeate the air, twisting the knot in my stomach tighter, enforcing that this is all too real.

  Jonathon turns back to me, and his eyes widen the moment he realizes who I am. His hands, which clutch his gun to his chest, begin to shake. “Faye?”

  I want to look away. I can’t bear to see the fear in his eyes. I’m scared I’m going to break right here in front of him, just collapse into a puddle of tears. The sound of his voice, the sound of home, puts a crack through my resolve and I know this is it. This is the moment I’ll never return from.

  This is where I stop being Faye, and become whoever it is Clara has imagined up for me.

  My face is on fire, and I wish it would burn all of this away. Cleanse this moment right out of my life. I bite my trembling lip. “I’m so sorry,” I rush out, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. “I didn’t mean for this… for any of this.”

  He points to the blood on the floor, his eyes still pressed in disbelief. “You? You di-did this?”

  My voice is too choked to say no, so I shake my head, using every bit of strength just to move. I try to push the hair from my face, but my hands are trembling too badly. There’s so much blood. Too much.

  “I don’t understand,” he says, his head shaking, his eyes still grazing over the room. “You-you were at the Academy.” His mouth falls open a second later as his own fears enter the back of his mind. “Katie! Is she… is she here? Is she okay?”

  My head shakes so fast, almost in time with the rapid pounding of my heart. I don’t know if he knows about her accident. If he knows anything for that matter. “She-she’s fine. She’s back at the Academy,” I say quickly, praying he doesn’t read through my words the way Katie does. Praying I can keep it together just a little longer.

  He exhales in relief, and his grip on the gun loosens. “Thank the Goddess.” He looks everywhere, and then back at me. “What’s going on here? Why am I here?”

  My mouth opens to explain, but the words never surface.

  “To die,” Clara’s voice says pointedly through the speakers.

  The anvil of truth she drops on me splits me clean in two.

  “Now, enough with the chatting,” Clara continues, unfeeling. “Faye, you’ll drain this Elite of all power. Memorize what it feels like, so that you’ll always be sure. Control it.”

  I look toward the camera. “Wha-what?”

  Her voice slices through the speaker. “Do not play games with me, girl. Do as I say.”

  This is all happening so fast, and I feel like my mind can’t process it quickly enough. As if my brain is stuck on a train my legs can’t run fast enough to catch up with. I can’t bring myself to look up at Jonathon. He looks too much like Katie. Too much like home. I can’t kill him. I can’t use my powers on him.

  If I do, he’ll die.

  If I don’t, he’ll die.

  Either way, she’s going to take away a piece of my best friend who I can’t bear to lose. I have to do something, get us out of this mess. I have to take her down and find my friends. Leave this city. Run away like Jaxen suggested we do so long ago.

  Why didn’t I listen?

  “I want to talk to my Elder,” Jonathon says uneasily. He’s staring at me with a crippling amount of alarm, and I think I might throw up. He turns to the camera and backs up toward me, holding his hands out as if he’s trying to protect me.

  I want to tell him that I’m the one he should be running from, but my tongue is too twisted in fear, in heartbreak.

  “I was only sent here to escort a Darkyn to the Correctional Facility.” Jonathon extends a hand to me. Moves enough to tell me he wants me to take it. His feet inch forward as if they want to make a run for it. I pray he does.

  “And I have overridden your orders,” Clara says calmly. “Now, if you’ll just stand still, Faye here can do her job. Let her drain your power, and this will all be over with. This is your final warning.”

  He looks back over his shoulder at me, and I hate the fear I see in his eyes, as if he already knows I’m a monster hiding inside of a beautifully innocent girl. “Faye?”

  He says my name like it’s his last plea.

  I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

  “Faye, what does she mean by drain my power?” he asks, turning all the way around to face me.

  I’m shaking violently now.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Mr. Coccia,” I say, barely able to get the words past the knot in my throat. I’m so sick, so achingly sick, and I just want to be a million miles away from here where bad decisions and death don’t exist.

  “What are you…?” He swallows deeply, like he’s having trouble understanding. “What are you going to do to me?”

  His words stab me worse than any knife could.

  I inhale, exhale, and then say, “I’m going to pull from your energy. That’s all. If I can do it, then she’ll let me go and you’ll walk away unharmed.” I’m surprised by how confident the words sound. By how open and honest they sound, almost as if I know what I’m doing. Like this is a routine I’ve done a thousand times.

  Almost like that is what’s really going to happen.

  The words do their job. They settle into his shoulders, relaxing his stance. Easing his mind.

  “That’s it?” he asks hesitantly, so trustingly.

  I nod because I can’t bear to speak another lie.

  “Okay,” he says, pulling himself back together, and then he closes his eyes and opens himself up to me.

  Biting my lip to keep the cry from spilling past, I have to look up to keep the tears from pouring free. I steady my hands by my sides, inhale and exhale, knowing she’s watching me, testing my fear. Testing my defiance.

  “The clock’s ticking, Faye,” Clara says through the speakers.

  Think of something, I tell myself. I can’t let her win.

  “Now, Faye!” she says louder, harsher, and I know I’m running out of time. There’s no time to think. No time to plan.

  I count to three and force my eyes open. He’s staring straight ahead, straight past me. Minutes pass, and I’m too frozen in my own fear to do anything. His eyes finally flick to mine, and they lift just enough to tell me to start, to do something other than just stand still like a statue.

  I close my eyes. Focus, I tell myself. Energy and life are all around me. A low hum sings in a compelling cadence. A soft warmth that I want to cradle in the palm of my hand. I try to tug on just his energy, but I’m so mixed up that I end up pulling on everything in the room. The lights flicker on and off as raw electricity and power enter my body.

  Jonathon falls to a knee. His gun crashes to the ground, and the clanking sound slaps me awake.

  I release what little energy I pulled. “I can’t do this!” I shout as fear and embarrassment strain through my voice. Push behind my eyes, seeking release.

  “Can’t or won’t?” Clara says simply.

  I try not to notice Jonathon as he gasps for air and attempts to stand. As he looks at me in a new light. My hands are in my hair, pulling and tugging, searching for a way to get us out of this, but my mind’s moving in so many different directions and none of them are making any sense.

  All I know is that Clara’s a monster. A horrible monster I have to get away from.

  “I asked you a question!” she shouts. “You either try again, or you’ll have a repeat of the last Elite’s untimely exit.”

  I find the camera across the room. If I could just get her in here. If I could just get her close enough so I could do this t
o her. Make her feel what she’s asking me to do to everyone else, then…

  “Both,” I say surely.

  I hold my breath as silence rolls in like a fog, blurring what’s to come. I can’t let her kill him, but I can’t do it myself either. I stand firm. I stand scared… waiting for whatever will happen next.

  The door kicks open. A relieved breath rushes out of me as she walks in, but it’s choked off by what she has clutched in her hand.

  A pistol.

  In four strides, she has the barrel of the gun pressed hard against the side of Jonathon’s head, cocked and ready.

  No!

  “Why are you doing this, Clara?” I struggle to say as gravity presses in on me, pushing me down. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I have to kill her. I have to.

  “Because you’re damaged. Broken. A product of abandonment. And yet, you’re still standing. Still scrambling along, never giving in.” She looks me up and down, and then presses the gun harder against Jonathon’s head.

  He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink as he stares at me in pure horror, begging me to do something. Anything.

  “You know you can endure. Rebuild yourself. You have no limits, and that is not something this Coven can afford at the moment. You’re a weapon of mass destruction placed in the body of an irresponsible child. It’s for the Coven’s benefit that you obey me, Faye Middleton. You must submit.”

  Her finger begins to pull back on the trigger, and I think my heart has leapt up my throat and out my mouth. “Okay!” I shout out, “I’ll submit! Just-just let him go!”

  Her finger halts. Her gaze digs into mine. I wipe angrily at the dampness staining my cheeks with terror.

  Shut it off. Don’t let her win. I hear Jaxen’s voice in my mind. His words spark me back to life.

  “I’m going to count to three,” Clara says. “You drain him, or I shoot. One.”

  I close my eyes, flipping off my emotions.

  “Two.”

  I suck in a deep breath.

  “Three.”

  I’ve never been so present, so aware, than in this moment. Fear has a way of doing that. Of making you understand just how mortal you really are.