Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2)

by Nicole Storey

  And then Quinn was beside him. Gabriel grasped his shoulder just as blinding, blue light filled the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jordan

  A soft tap came at the door. Jordan groaned and rolled over to look at the clock. It was a little past ten. She’d gotten about four hours of sleep. Not enough, especially after her episode with Gina.

  The knock came louder. Before Jordan could call out to whoever it was to find another hobby, the door opened and Ivy breezed into the room looking fresh and lethal in black leather.

  “Did you join a motorcycle gang?” Jordan asked before throwing the comforter over her head, seeking sleep she knew she wouldn’t find again this day.

  Ivy flipped the covers back and smiled. “I brought you coffee.” She offered a chipped mug sporting the words:

  What do we want?

  Coffee!

  When do we want it?

  I’ll F***ing cut you!

  Jordan laughed. “Where do you find these things?” She took a sip of the delicious brew and perked up a bit.

  “I have a gift,” Ivy answered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “And now you may tell me you love me.”

  Sitting up, careful not to spill her coffee, Jordan said, “You only get an ‘I love you’ if you bring octane and a bagel. Coffee alone only rates a ‘You’re an okay sister.’”

  Ivy stuck out her tongue.

  “Why the hell did you wake me up so early? I’ve only been asleep a few hours.”

  Her sister stretched out at the foot of the bed, ebony hair spilling around her like a fan. “Because you have that meeting in three hours and I knew you’d want time to wake up, eat, and grab a shower…and because I wanted to see if you were okay.”

  Most people Jordan knew would have found a more diplomatic way to bring up what happened between her and Gina or avoided the topic altogether, but not Ivy. She was straightforward with her thoughts – blunt, but caring.

  She motioned for Jordan’s cup of coffee and she handed it over. Ivy took a sip and waited.

  “No, I’m not okay.”

  Her sister nodded.

  “I could have lost control and killed her if you hadn’t stopped me.”

  Ivy handed her coffee back. “And you would’ve had every right to do so.”

  Jordan snorted. “Are you telling me you would have killed her?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Then why did you step in?”

  “Because you’re not me.” Ivy sat up, pulling her fingers through her hair to straighten it. “If you’d killed Gina, it would have weighed on your conscious like a hippo. You aren’t built that way.”

  Jordan slammed her cup down on the bedside table. “I’m not weak, Ivy. I’ve killed demons before and slept damned well afterward.”

  “The situation was different and you know it. There were young kids watching.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “You pretend you don’t give a rat’s ass what people in this house think of you, but I know the truth. You wouldn’t have wanted them to see that.”

  Jordan didn’t confirm nor deny Ivy’s suspicions. Instead, she got out of bed and did a few stretches. Touching her toes, she said, “And you would’ve had no problem killing her in front of the kids?”

  “I would have fried her crispier than a bucket of KFC’s finest.”

  “And what makes you so different from me?”

  Ivy got up and began making Jordan’s bed. “Demons are like great white sharks. They’re all about self-preservation.”

  “What in the hell do great whites have to do with anything?”

  “Listen,” her sister continued, “great white sharks strike once – hard – and then sit back and wait for the animal to bleed out, until they’re too weak to struggle. Demons are kind of the same way. They rarely get their hands dirty if they don’t have to. Demons are known for thinking of themselves first. If Gina had threatened to kill me, it wouldn’t have mattered if the Pope was watching. I would have scorched that bitch.”

  Jordan grabbed her coffee and headed for the bathroom she shared with Ivy and Mazie. “You’re not that cruel,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Ivy said following her. “I’m pretty sure the potential to be a selfish hag is hidden somewhere inside this kick-ass outfit.” To prove her point, she snatched Jordan’s mug of coffee off the bathroom counter and disappeared, teleporting to a safe distance.

  “You couldn’t hide a paperclip in those skin-tight ho-clothes!”

  Somewhere deep in the house, Ivy laughed.

  <><><>

  Wrapped in a towel after her shower, Jordan returned to her room and found her own biker-chick outfit lying on the bed, including a pair of matching combat boots and leather bomber jacket.

  “Oh hell no…” she breathed.

  “Yep,” Ivy answered, stepping into the room once more.

  “Ivy, this…” She waved her hand at the ensemble of leather, zippers, and buckles, “looks good on you. It isn’t me. I’m the jeans and sweatshirt type.”

  She cringed when she pictured herself standing next to Ivy. Her sister was curvy in all the right places. She could wear a trash bag and rock it like a runway model. She, herself, was more muscular – all angles and hard planes. Ivy was Megan Fox and she was G.I. Jane. There was no comparison.

  “This is the new you,” Ivy explained, holding up a black lycra shirt that would hug her body like saran wrap.

  Sweet Jesus and Mary, there was no way she was wearing that.

  “Look, where we’re going today requires a different attitude, a tougher look. You are a demon-killer, Jordan; you need to look the part. Besides, these clothes are much better for a Slayer. They offer more protection than a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a Daughtry sweatshirt.

  “Don’t be knocking my band.” Jordan touched the supple leather of the pants, ran her hand over the high-laced boots. “Ivy, where exactly are we going?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t tell you. It isn’t allowed.” Softly, she asked, “Do you remember what I said in your dream, after…?”

  After she killed her Guardian.

  Jordan would never forget. It was a nightmare, not a dream. Gabe’s ashes had been carried away on the wind and Ivy had helped her up off the ground where she’d been lying, wanting to die, herself.

  She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “You said to never let them see weakness.”

  Ivy pulled her into a hug so hard she felt her bones would break. “Always remember that.”

  <><><>

  No matter how many times she did it, Jordan would never come to love teleporting. She had finally mastered the demons’ (and angels’) preferred way of transport, but she hated it with a passion. As soon as she could, she let go of Ivy’s hand and found the closest steady object to lean on until the dizzy feeling passed – in this case, a chair…in what looked like a large, blandly-decorated waiting room.

  Wooden benches, shoved against bare walls, and rows of metal chairs provided seating. At one end of the room, a plain desk and a very colorful receptionist sat in front of a bank of elevators. Jordan, Ivy, and Aamon made their way over to her.

  “Are we in some sort of jail?”

  Jordan studied the people occupying the seats. They appeared to be in pairs. One person was dressed like a banker in either an off-the-rack suit or plain-Jane skirt and blouse. She also noticed accessories like glasses, pocket watches, and hair parted just so or in nice, tidy buns. Their partners were dressed in rags with their hands bound in cuffs…and chains. “What the hell?”

  “Exactly,” Aamon said. “This is Tenura, the first level of Hell. This is where the souls of those who have sinned meet their respective demons and await judgment.”

  She was in Hell.

  Hell!

  “Aamon, get me out of here, now.”

  What was he thinking, bringing her here? She may be part demon but she definitely did not belong in Hotel Hades.

  And why was there a waiting
room in Hell? Where was the fire and brimstone?

  On second thought, she didn’t want to know. Ever.

  “Jordan, it’s fine. You’ll be okay.”

  “What part of me being in Hell is okay, Aamon? What? Is it Bring Your Kids to Work day?”

  “This is simply a means to an end. Those elevators are the only transportation to get us to our destination. We aren’t staying.”

  “Where are we going?” When he didn’t answer, Jordan grabbed him by the lapel of his expensive jacket. “You know, I’ve had enough of this cloak-and-dagger shit. You tell me what’s up or I’m teleporting home – my home. Have fun explaining that to your boss.”

  She wheeled around and almost ran into a demon with a bald head and earring. He grabbed her arm to steady her.

  “Better watch where you’re going, Cambion.”

  “Piss off, Mr. Clean.”

  Jordan stomped away and Aamon followed, leaving Ivy behind to chat with the receptionist behind the desk.

  “Wait,” he called.

  She walked faster, weaving in and out of chairs.

  “Jordan, will you wait?”

  She finally stopped and sat down on an empty bench. Aamon joined her and clasped his hands together.

  “I’m sorry,” he began. “I should have told you more about this jaunt but I didn’t want to scare you.”

  Jordan bit her lip to keep from screaming. “And you thought bringing me to Hell without telling me beforehand was the best way to handle the situation?” She pounded her fists on her legs. “You are such an idiot! How is it that any of your children are still alive?”

  “I didn’t think–”

  “No, you didn’t,” she cut in. “You don’t think, Aamon!”

  He looked at his shoes while she struggled to breathe.

  “I want you to listen to me, Aamon, because I won’t say this again. It doesn’t matter whose genes I have floating around inside. I was groomed my entire life to hunt Evil. You might want to remember that the next time you drag me into a room full of demons.”

  Aamon stood up and nodded. “I understand. This is uncomfortable for you.”

  “You have no idea.” Before he could walk away, she added, “No more games, Father. From now on, you’d better be straight with me or I will leave, angels hunting me or not. I would rather risk my life against an entire army of Halos. At least they’re up front with their intentions.”

  She followed him to the front of the room where Ivy and the receptionist were deep in conversation. As they approached, Ivy gave her a sheepish smile, probably feeling guilty for not telling her they’d be making a pit stop in the trenches. She gestured to her friend behind the desk.

  “Jordan, this is Sage.”

  Jordan nodded to the Goth secretary with dyed black hair, pierced lip, rice powder makeup, and deep, chocolate brown eyes. She had a dazzling smile and was beautiful in her own unique way.

  “Nice to meet ya, J.” She popped a piece of gum in her mouth. “Don’t be too angry at Ivy-Girl. She really couldn’t say anything.”

  Jordan replied to Sage but her eyes settled on Aamon. “No worries. It wasn’t Ivy’s responsibility to tell me.”

  He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sage, is the portal ready?”

  “Shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll let you know as soon as I get the call.”

  He thanked her and turned to converse with another demon.

  “Portal?” Jordan asked.

  Before Ivy or Sage could answer, a ruckus a few feet away caught the girls’ attention. Two demons were arguing over which one was responsible for a new “lifer” who’d been dropped off. When the argument turned physical, Sage got up from behind the desk.

  “Excuse me for a sec.” She casually made for the two males throwing punches.

  “What the hell is she doing?” Jordan watched Sage push between the two demons who were three or four times her size.

  “You’ll see,” Ivy said.

  Placing her hands on their chests, Sage yelled, “Molloch! Krampus! Take it outside!”

  “Move it, bitch!” One of the demons tried to swing around her. A bolt of lightning shot from her hand, cleaving his breastbone and pitching him halfway across the room.

  The other demon grabbed her by the throat. Jordan moved to intervene but there was no need. One thrust with the heel of her hand underneath his chin caused the demon to lose his grip. When his head snapped back and he let go, Sage made good use of her own pair of impressive combat boots by pulverizing his privates, giving him an instant sex change.

  She cracked her knuckles and walked back to her desk. “Those two,” she gestured to the demons slowly getting to their feet, “never learn.”

  The one she blasted with a lightning bolt ripped his singed jacket, tie, and shirt off, displaying a split chest cavity. He looked like a walking autopsy. “You better pray to Luci I can heal this, Sage! The last thing you want is for me to have to rearrange my schedule to look for a new mark.”

  She smiled sweetly. “Happy hunting, Molloch.”

  Both demons hobbled off and normal conversation resumed throughout the room.

  “I take it this happens often?” Jordan asked. “Impressive moves, by the way.”

  “Every damned day, and thanks. I’m more than just a pretty face.”

  Jordan laughed while Ivy and Sage bumped fists.

  A green fire materialized inside a shallow bowl resting beside Sage’s laptop. Jordan flinched, taken aback by the sudden flames. Sage focused her attention on it, becoming business-like.

  “Tenura, this is Sage.”

  To her surprise, Jordan heard another voice come through the fire. It was feminine and cool.

  “Sage, is that the tone you use when answering business calls? You sound like a truck driver.”

  “Of course not, Ava; I save my trucker voice especially for sluts.”

  Ivy stifled a laugh and Sage gave a one-finger salute to the flames.

  “I would ask if you kiss your mother with that mouth but that’s kind of difficult when you’re technically dead.”

  Sage laughed. “Oh, Ava, that’s rich coming from someone who has no idea who her mommy is.”

  Silence and then, “Tell Aamon the portal is ready.” The fire went out.

  Sage motioned for Aamon and said, “I really despise that Swamp Molly.”

  When her father joined them, Sage relayed the message about the portal and Jordan’s stomach flipped. She still had no idea what the portal was and where it led to. Her palms began to sweat and she silently cursed the leather she wore. She had nothing to wipe them on.

  Aamon walked to one of the elevators. Ivy gave Sage a hug, promised to call her soon, and joined him. Jordan hung back, eyes searching for the nearest exit. There didn’t appear to be any.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  Sage bumped her shoulder with her own. “It’s cool.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “It’s no different than teleporting.” She placed a reassuring hand on Jordan’s arm. “I know this whole meeting was hush-hush but Ivy would never lead you astray. You can trust her. You can trust me. We’ve been there and we know how it sucks.”

  Somehow, Jordan freed her feet from the concrete blocks holding her in place and made it to the elevator. Ivy grabbed her hand and held it, sending warm, soothing vibrations. The door slid open and Sage waved, nodding encouragement.

  The inside of the elevator looked no different than any other. Aamon stepped in and Ivy half pulled-half dragged Jordan across the threshold. The door slid shut and she held her breath, waiting.

  The walls, ceiling, and floor faded away and everything grew dark. Jordan squeezed Ivy’s hand to make sure she was still there. Moments later she was flying through what looked like a worm hole in space. There were flashing colors of sickly yellow and orange, and a then a light that grew brighter, bigger. Jordan’s stomach curled in on itself and she ground her teeth, wondering if this was what a psychedelic t
rip felt like.

  Her feet landed in the strangest place she’d ever seen.

  Surrounding her was a shaded forest full of foliage and trees. The soft, leaf-strewn ground dotted with wild plants, the invigorating scents of water, rich dirt, and growing things lent an air of Eden. Still, there was something unnatural about it. The woods were too quiet, too perfect, like an elaborate trap to draw in prey. Jordan felt the entire place was designed to infuse a sense of security and peace while a predator lurked just out of sight.

  As if to prove her point, a blood-curdling howl stained the mock serenity, giving her goosebumps.

  “Let’s move,” Aamon ordered.

  He didn’t have to tell her twice.

  Thankfully, they weren’t too far from a clearing. Jordan had never been so happy to see sunlight. As they burst from the trees, the ground changed from leaves and loamy soil to the gravel-covered alluvium of a desert. Craggy mountains grew like broken teeth from the silt, providing a backdrop for various cacti, desert ironwood, jumping cholla, and other vegetation. The smell from creosote bushes made her eyes water.

  “Um…how did we go from a lush forest to a desert environment in the stretch of a few steps?”

  “I’ll explain while we walk. We aren’t safe, even here, and we can’t teleport on this planet.”

  “Planet?” They weren’t on Earth anymore?

  “Yes, we are on another planet.”

  “There are no planets that support life other than Earth.”

  Aamon skirted around a joshua tree. “None that have been discovered, no.”

  The temperature was scorching. Jordan squinted as hot air blew sand across her face, stealing moisture from her body with every gust. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her eyes felt desiccated in their sockets.

  “Why are we on a secret planet? Is your boss so important he requires a different world from everyone else?”

  “Not necessarily, but what he guards does.” Aamon stopped and pointed to yet another environment in the distance. This one looked tropical, like the jungles of Brazil. Jordan’s mouth fell open.