I swallowed hard. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“Because!” I tossed the book down hard on the coffee table. “One person can only destroy the world so many ways. I mean, I’m already a weapon for Garrison. I can’t also be a key to the apocalypse.”
“Because you said so?”
I wanted to pitch the book at his face. “Yes, because I said so!”
Archer shrugged. “Well, there’s a way you can avoid at least one of those things. Do the blood ritual. Give up one of your bloods. Become entirely mortal or entirely sin.”
Isaiah looked at me. “You can do that?”
I watched Archer. “Celia said it wasn’t guaranteed.”
“It’s not,” he agreed with a careless flick of his fingers. “But it’s still worth a try.”
“What would she have to do?” Isaiah asked for me and I wondered which he was hoping I would become.
Archer grinned. “Well, she would have to return to Luxuria and Ashton would have to find someone with a powerful lineage, a Sire or something close.”
“Then what?” I asked when he stopped.
His smirk broadened. “Then you marry them, join your blood with theirs.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“Marriage is a sacred union, Princess. It’s not just a connection of names the way mortals do it. It’s a powerful merging of souls, body and power. Not to mention regions.”
“And if I want to be mortal?” I challenged.
“Same rules would apply, but!” He put up one finger to halt anything I might say. “They would have to be entirely mortal. No superpowers.” He cocked his head ever so slightly towards Isaiah. “Sorry, Charming. You can’t play the game.”
I glowered at him. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
“I could be.” He folded his arms beneath his head and dumped his feet onto the coffee table to cross at the ankles. “But you know I’m not. So either you find yourself a Sire, or a descendent of one to share your eternal life with, or you find a pathetic human with roughly fifty years to live and then die.”
I gritted my teeth until it hurt. “I really hate you.”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, Princess. I didn’t make up the rules.” He hopped to his feet. “I think it’s suppertime.”
As he disappeared into the kitchen, I turned to Isaiah. “I’m going to ask Ashton,” I said. “I’m sure there’s more to this than Archer’s telling us.”
He nodded. “Let’s not think about it anymore tonight. I’m personally tired of hearing about war and the end of the world.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, me, too.”
He draped an arm around me while reaching out with the other to take up the remote. I braced myself, expecting a great number of horrific things on the screen. But he turned to some action comedy movie and left it there.
“I think we’ve seen enough for one day,” he said when I looked up at him. “We’ll check tomorrow.”
I didn’t argue. Truthfully, I was glad we weren’t watching the news. I wasn’t in any mood to see more death and chaos. It was actually nice pretending things were normal for a couple of hours. It was nice cuddling on the couch with the guy I loved, doing something as mundane as watching TV. I did, however, wish Archer wasn’t there. But not all dreams were perfect.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. We watched TV, anything but the news. Archer and Isaiah argued a few times on who was the bigger action hero, Stallone or Schwarzenegger. I disagreed with both by adding Buffy. Buffy trumped all, in my opinion. Neither agreed with me, but I didn’t care. Buffy rocked.
It was nearing midnight when Archer finally threw in the towel and stomped off to bed. Against my back, Isaiah’s chest rose and fell, rumbling with a slight groan.
“I didn’t think he’d ever go to bed,” he said into the back of my head.
I chuckled and rested my head more comfortably on his shoulder. On my abdomen, our entwined fingers moved restlessly over the others. I watched them in the semi-darkness, pale against gold. His hands dwarfed mine considerably, but I liked the sight of it. I liked how his thumb roamed over my knuckles and along each finger in turn. And I liked how the roughened pad scratched my skin. But more than anything, I liked how it felt being wrapped in his arms and tucked protectively against his chest. I liked how his heart beat against my shoulder blade and his breath whispered along the back of my neck. I couldn’t help wonder if this was how it would have been if we were normal.
Isaiah wrapped a coil of my hair around his fingers and gave an affectionate tug. “What are you thinking?”
I chuckled. “Don’t you know?”
Under my head, his shoulder bumped. “Yes, but I want to hear it.”
“I was wondering if it would have been like this if we were like everyone else, if we had met like other people.”
He made a contemplating hum. “You know what I think?” He dropped his face until his lips were inches from mine. “There is no way everything I feel was manufactured in a test tube. Even Garrison isn’t that good.”
I found myself grinning before I could stop it. “So what are you saying? That if you saw me walking down the street…”
“I would throw you over my shoulder Tarzan-style and run off with you.”
I burst out laughing. His chuckle warmed the side of my face as he trailed kisses down to my neck. I was still laughing when I twisted my torso and nuzzled his shoulder. My fingers slipped into the ever present band restricting his hair. The presence of the stupid elastic frustrated the hell out of me. I hated the thing, which of course was illogical. But I really loved the sight of his hair down around his face, which was why I didn’t think twice when I ripped it free and tossed the offending thing somewhere over my head.
“Feel better?” he murmured into my throat.
I laced my fingers through the silky strands, fisted and dragged his mouth to mine.
“Yes,” I whispered just before I closed the distance between us and captured his lips in a long, passionate kiss that curled my toes and set my body on fire. It was a dangerous sort of kiss, especially when there was such a small possibility of interruption and even less chance of stopping. But I just didn’t care. The whole world could have gone up in flames and I probably wouldn’t have noticed.
The mute light from the TV spilled over us as the movie continued without us. Neither of us noticed, or cared, too consumed with each other to worry about anything else. It was probably why we didn’t hear the front doors open until blinding light broke the darkness.
I thought it had to be Archer as I scrambled upright, dragging my rumpled clothes back into place around me. I started to turn towards the hallway when I realized Isaiah was looking at something over my head.
Ashton scowled at us as he pocketed his keys. Celia was discreetly studying her shoes. And we just sat there, not sure what to do, or say. It was clear what we were doing, or close to doing without explanation. So I just went with the first thing that came to mind.
“Hi!”
Ashton closed the door, looked over the room. “Where’s Archer?”
Clearing my throat, I untangled myself from Isaiah and rose to my feet. “Sleeping, I think—”
Without waiting for me to finish, Ashton marched across the room and disappeared into the hallway. A moment later, we heard the door being thrown open and raised voices.
“What are you doing?” Ashton snarled.
“Practicing my pirouette! What does it look like?” Archer shot back.
Ashton said something we couldn’t hear.
“They’re watching TV!” Archer exclaimed.
The rest of the conversation was had in low, angry murmurs. The longer it took, the hotter my face became. Was this what all teenagers had to endure with their parents? Total humiliation at getting caught making out with their boyfriends on the couch? Geez. It was definitely one adolescent experience I was sure I could have lived without.
“We did not r
ealize it was so late,” Celia said, breaking into the heavily awkward silence. “I did tell Acheron to wait until morning.”
I tried to offer her a smile, but it came out forced and a little tight. “It’s fine. We were just watching TV anyway.”
We both knew I was lying. Celia didn’t comment on it as she glanced at the TV and stayed fixed there. I stole a peek at Isaiah and found him watching me, his face not helping the situation at all.
“Stop that!” I scolded him through our connection. “This is serious.”
Obligingly, he straightened his shoulders and did an almost plausible attempt at wiping the grin off his face.
I shook my head and looked away before I broke into a fit of giggles, because really, it wasn’t funny. It was severely mortifying and made even worse by the fact that everyone in the room were essentially strangers. Ugh.
Archer shuffled into the room a step behind a furious Ashton. He wore a black t-shirt and black boxers that shimmered like silk. His hair was in disarray and stuck out in odd points around his face. He yawned loudly as he stuffed his glasses on.
“I left you three here alone because I was under the assumption that I could trust you to behave,” Ashton began.
Archer threw himself on the sofa. “I was behaving myself.”
“You, I told to watch over things,” Ashton snapped at him.
“I’m a sin, not a babysitter for God’s sake.”
This seemed to only enrage Ashton all the more. “You know what is at stake, Arcarius. You know how important—”
“Why are you yelling at me? I’m not the one who was humping on the sofa, okay? Yell at them.”
I won’t lie. I face-palmed. But it was short lived when Ashton remembered we were in the room.
He stared at me, then at Isaiah, then back again. It was like he couldn’t decide which of us to start yelling at first. I wondered if it was a good idea to remind everyone in the room that I was seventeen, but I wisely kept my mouth shut. Seventeen was still not eighteen and thus had no real power of say.
“Sit down,” he said at last.
We sat, because what else was there to do when your father was about to put the law down?
“We were able to get some information from the Tracker,” Ashton began, his voice painfully tight. “We thought you would be interested in hearing it.”
“What kind of information?” Isaiah asked and got a look from Ashton that could have carved open a bull from a hundred paces.
“He confirmed that Garrison is behind the attacks.” He moved around the sofas to stand next to his wife, who had yet to move. “The one you experienced at the base near Golden was a test of sorts, which I suspected when I heard he’d sent a Tracker to try and get you. It made no sense. He clearly knew you were dangerous. He even warned his men to keep their distance and not approach you individually, so why would he send a simple Tracker. They don’t wield any real power. Now I know. He wanted his men to see what they were up against. Although, I don’t think he was counting on the Tracker being so stupid.”
I could only shake my head in confusion as I let this bit of information sink home. “Killing Isaiah was part of his plan?”
“No. He told his men to get their hands on Isaiah and use him as a lure to get you. He was their main target. He probably figured he could get you to do whatever he wanted once that was accomplished. The Tracker wasn’t supposed to do what he did though. Stabbing Isaiah wasn’t part of the plan. Also,” Ashton went on as he lowered himself down in the armchair Archer was so fond of and folded his legs. “You were right that, up until the attack on the military base, he had no idea where you were. The attacks on the other provinces were just a precautionary measure. It was a way to flush you out. Although, I don’t know what he would have done if you had left the country entirely. I’m sure he wouldn’t have stopped at Canada.”
No. Garrison wouldn’t have stopped for anything. He would have torn the entire world to pieces in order to find me. I knew that as completely as I knew my own name.
“Where’s the Tracker now?” I asked.
“He’s in a safe place,” Ashton replied. “I’m not done questioning him. There were things he said that…” he trailed off, rocking his head slowly from side to side as a look of deliberation passed over his face. “He told us about the injections.” Ashton looked at me. “Garrison has been injecting his men with something that makes them faster and stronger. I want to know more about that, but the Tracker didn’t know anything else about it.”
“What about the werebeasts and the automatons?” I asked.
Ashton shook his head. “He doesn’t know about this. I’ve concluded that those never left their trial runs. If they were in this limbo place, maybe Garrison was never able to get them to work,” he explained when I frowned in confusion.
“How were you able to make the Tracker talk?” I wondered. “I mean if you can’t hurt him, I didn’t think he’d roll over so easily.”
A cold little smirk lit up Ashton’s face. “There are ways to terrorize a person without ever laying a finger on them. I am in possession of a great number of inhuman horrors.”
I couldn’t help it, I chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.” I cleared my throat. “So what are you going to do with him once you get all your answers?”
Silence.
Ashton studied at a spot on his knee and I felt my heart sink into my gut.
“You’re going to kill him.” It wasn’t a question.
“What would you have me do, Fallon?” Hazel eyes rose up and pinned mine. “Let him go so he can return to Garrison and continue his hunt to find you?”
“I thought you couldn’t harm humans!” I protested. “Garrison has people who can erase memories. Can’t you do something like that? Make him forget.”
Ashton shook his head. “Unlike Garrison, I don’t have an arsenal of mutants at my disposal. And you’re right. I can’t harm humans, but that doesn’t mean I can’t let them die.”
“No! You can’t do that!”
“This is a war, Fallon!” Ashton snapped back. “People are going to die. People are going to get hurt. Some of those people will be people you love and care about. No one is safe until this is over.”
“Then make it over!” I shot to my feet and paced the side of the coffee table. “Why can’t you kill Garrison? If you have all this power, if you can transport yourself from place to place, find him!”
“I can’t kill him, just like I can’t kill the Tracker. I can find Garrison. I can walk straight up to him and no one would be able to stop me. But I can’t just reach out and put a dagger through his heart, as much as I would love to.”
I frowned. “Then how are you going to kill the Tracker?”
“Like I said, I can let him die.”
I dropped back into my seat. “You’re going to let him starve.”
Ashton shrugged, so nonchalantly that I almost threw up. “If that is how he ends.”
“That’s disgusting,” I choked. “He’s human. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Garrison probably has him brainwashed.”
My father sighed. “This is war, Fallon. I can’t let a prisoner go, not now. It would be a sign of weakness.”
I couldn’t believe what he was telling me, and with a straight face. I couldn’t believe he cared so little about life. War or not, if we didn’t protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, what did that make us?
“Let me talk to him. I know that if I could just—”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“But I know I can convince him—”
“He’s not a pet, Fallon. You can’t train him to be obedient. He is a killer. He nearly killed you. He will go on killing if he’s released. That is how Garrison trains them.” Ashton sighed. “Perhaps it wasn’t wise bringing this matter to you.”
I ignored the jab. “How do you plan on doing it? Killing Garrison,” I said when he tilted his head in question. “If you can’t touch him, how do you plan on stopp
ing this war?”
The hard, cold glare in his eyes nearly froze me to my seat. “I will do to him what he’s done to me.” He was on his feet before I could ask him what that meant. “And I will kill him and he will suffer like he has never suffered before. I swear on this.”
Chapter 23
Ashton stayed the night. It should have been surprising, but it wasn’t. He sent the rest of us off to bed like naughty children and dominated the sofa. I wasn’t sure where Celia was going to sleep until Ashton spoke up.
“Fallon, can Celia bunk with you?”
Uh…
“Sure?”
What else was I supposed to say? No? I was already in deep water and the fact that he was barely overlooking what he’d walked in on … I basically had no choice.
Celia followed me without a word. I followed Isaiah and Isaiah followed Archer. It was a long line of shame, or so it felt like. Archer disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him. Isaiah paused on the threshold of his and glanced back at me. He grinned in a way that made me flush before ducking inside and shutting the door. He was definitely not taking this seriously.
“I’m not.”
I made a face at his door before walking through mine. Celia slipped in after me and I shut the door.
“This is it,” I said. “What side do you want? I’m not picky.”
“The left, please,” she said, moving to that side. She perched on the edge and began removing her towering heels.
“I’d, uh, offer you something to wear, but I kind of don’t have anything. I mean…” I glanced at the closet full of my mother’s old things. She would probably fit something in there.
“I am all right,” she said, setting her shoes carefully aside. “And I thought Acheron brought you clothes yesterday.”
I laughed. “Only if I was a doll.” I gestured to the backpack at the foot of the bed. “If it’s not pink, it’s tiny.”
Celia grimaced. “That sounds like him. Well,” she tucked her legs up beneath her as she leaned against the pillows. “If you like, I might be able to convince him to let us shop for a few hours tomorrow.”
“Really?”
Touching Fire (Touch Saga) Page 36