Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2)

by Nicole Storey

  Xander opened the door, a glass of water and some Ibuprofen in hand. “I got these at the front desk,” he explained.

  Jordan ripped open the packs, popped all four pills into her mouth, and washed them down with the cold water. “Did Mazie leave?” she asked.

  Xander took her glass and set it on the night table. He pointed to the pillow and she lay back, allowing him to pull the covers up and arrange them just so.

  “She’s staying for the night. She and Ivy went to bed.” Jordan sat up, but he gently pushed her back down. “We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Get some rest.”

  Her headache flared, pulsating as if something alive wanted to burst from her skull. She gripped her head, willing it to fade.

  Xander watched from the door. Jordan knew he was concerned. She was, too. She hadn’t experienced any headaches since her visions stopped.

  Suddenly, she didn’t want to be alone. It was irrational, she knew, but the pain in her head paired with talking to Quinn for the first time in months, the added stress of Mazie’s arrival, and the upcoming hunt made her feel small, vulnerable.

  “Can you stay with me for a while?”

  The words left her lips before she could think and Jordan wished she could reel them back in.

  “Sure.”

  Xander crossed back to the bed and stretched out beside her on top of the comforter. Grateful that he didn’t make a big deal about her request, Jordan allowed herself to relax. After all, she just wanted some company – at least, that’s what she told herself.

  Xander turned the television on, but kept the volume low, and switched off the lamp. The lack of bright light along with his closeness did wonders for her headache. Jordan closed her eyes, grateful for the relief.

  She had no idea when she dozed off. One minute she was listening to murmurs from the television and the next, she stood in a bedroom she didn’t recognize. A four-poster bed covered in a rich, terracotta quilt was decorated with throw pillows of green and gold. An antique dressing table stood against the wall. Jordan lightly ran her fingers over bottles of different lotions, rosewater, and a silver comb and brush that sat on the crackling finish.

  Two windows let in brilliant light. She pulled aside the sheer curtain and looked out. A garden filled with a multitude of flowers and trees with gorgeous, autumn leaves garnished a perfectly trimmed, green lawn. In the distance she saw a desert dotted with cacti and scrub brush. Jordan realized where she was.

  Purgatory.

  She raced to the door and twisted the knob. Not only was it locked, it was also wired. When her hand came in contact with the cool metal, a blue arc of electric current knocked Jordan off her feet. She landed hard on the polished hardwood floor.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside. She held her breath, watching through blurred eyes as the silver doorknob turned. With no hesitation, Orias stepped into the room. All thoughts of escape disappeared when Jordan’s eyes met his.

  He helped her to her feet and pulled her close, pressing his lips against hers. Euphoria filled Jordan, lifting her body to heights that made her swoon. Deep down, she knew it was wrong. Like scum on a pond, thoughts of disgust slowly rose to the surface and Jordan tried to pull away.

  Orias’ grip was iron tight. He gently used his tongue, running it over her bottom lip, sending shivers through her. Helpless, Jordan’s lips parted and he deepened the kiss while his fingers sent a white-hot trail of heat down her collar bone. She moaned.

  He pulled away and she could think again. Her mind screamed for her to wake up, but Jordan’s feeble protests went ignored. In one swift movement, Orias swept her up and carried her to the bed. The blankets felt like clouds beneath her and Jordan drifted, floating.

  Orias loomed above her, breathing hard. He pinned her arms above her head, then brought his mouth to her neck. Inching north, he found a sensitive spot under her ear and worked it lightly with his lips and teeth, nibbling, sucking, sending fire throughout Jordan’s body with every trail of his tongue. Her arousal returned with a vengeance.

  His fingers deftly unbuttoned her shirt. Jordan’s skin sizzled beneath his touch. Cool air raised goosebumps on her exposed flesh. She arched her back, wanting more.

  He obliged.

  His mouth moved slowly down, tasting every part of her. She couldn’t think, only feel. Jordan twisted her fingers in his soft curls and then explored the contours of his strong shoulders and back. When Orias groaned, clearly enjoying her touch, her body screamed.

  He hop-skipped back to her swollen lips, and they parted for him like water. Orias’ fingers never stilled, lighting fires everywhere they touched. She clung to him like someone dying.

  “Give this to me,” he whispered.

  She’d give him anything.

  “I need it,” his raw voice vibrated against her, causing ripples of feelings so intense Jordan couldn’t breathe.

  “Say you’ll be mine, Jordan, only mine. Let me show you how good it can be.”

  His promise was too much. Her body trembled in anticipation. “Yes,” she said, pushing away the unpleasant visions her mind thrust upon her. “Take it.”

  His eyes flashed, triumphant. Jordan shivered, her body as weak as a newborn’s, powerless to stop him now.

  Relishing the feel of his lips on hers, she watched through half-lidded eyes as he produced a ceremonial knife from thin air. The blade glinted, throwing flashes of light against the walls, the hilt bedecked with colored jewels.

  “Are you ready?” Orias asked. There was no mistaking his hunger. He drew the tip of the blade down her neck, teasing her, and she tossed her head from side to side, wanting him so badly she ached.

  There was no going back. This was where she belonged.

  “Hurry,” she begged, baring her neck to make it easier. She couldn’t hold on much longer.

  His kiss was hard, promising and demanding. Jordan rode the high.

  “Close your eyes, darling.” He ran the tip of the blade lightly across her exposed breast and she sighed. “Let me love you.”

  The knife grazed her skin and stopped at her neck. The cut was deep. Jordan gasped at the pain and opened her eyes. Orias produced a clear vial and held it against the wound. Blood, warm and sticky, streamed like red ribbons.

  Jordan’s vision grew fuzzy around the edges. Objects in her line of sight became dark and her heartbeat lagged. Finally, the vial was filled. Orias set it aside and then, almost lazily, licked the trail of blood on her neck before clamping his mouth over the wound. Gently, he began to suckle, stoking the dying embers of desire.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Jordan closed her eyes as Orias’ hands moved over her like a pianist, lighting in places she’d never been touched before. In her mind’s eye, great fires burned, scorching the earth. The smell of death hung heavy in the air, mingling with smoke and ash. Demons and angels clashed. Weapons flew, creating sparks that were quickly extinguished by sweat-drenched bodies. Piles of humans, disfigured and covered in gore, lined deserted streets like trash waiting to be collected on Tuesday. Members of her family struggled with hideous creatures born of nightmares and Hell as they fought for their lives. On a distant hill, Xander and Ivy waged their own battles against a multitude of demons. Their tired voices called out, urging her to wake up. Jordan watched it all, uncaring, with Orias by her side.

  “Look at what you’ve created.”

  Jordan turned to him. Her eyes shone pearl-white while his were the honest blue of sapphires. From Orias’ shoulders, a pair of glorious white wings fanned the flames.

  <><><>

  Gasping, she sat up. Something trickled down the back of her neck and Jordan wiped at it, sure her hand would come back red with blood. Flickering images from the television caused shadows to move along the walls and she flinched. Her chest heaved, desperate for cool, untainted air.

  “Are you okay?”

  Beside her, Xander’s eyes were wide, scanning the room for threats. She wondered if something followed her out
of the nightmare.

  Oh, God. It hadn’t been a dream, but a vision – not of something happening now, but something that could happen.

  “Jordan?” Xander’s hand brushed her leg and she swallowed a scream.

  Unable to answer, she stared at her hands, wondering how she could possibly bring on the end of the world, and why.

  <><><>

  The next morning, Jordan sat at the small breakfast table and picked at her food. Ivy and Mazie sat in silence across from her. Every once in a while, Ivy glanced at her when she thought she wasn’t looking, eyebrows drawn in worry. Jordan pretended not to notice.

  She replayed the night before over and over in her mind. She’d told Xander she had a nightmare. He had stayed with her the entire night, wrapping Jordan in his strong arms. His closeness eased her abraded nerves. It wasn’t until the sun peeked over the mountains outside the window that she was finally able to sleep again.

  The door opened and Xander came in with a large manila envelope. He placed it beside her take-out box which held a large cheese omelet and toast, then poured himself some coffee. She picked the envelope up but he placed a hand on her arm.

  “Eat,” he said. “News from Orias can wait until you’re done.”

  Just hearing his name made Jordan cringe. The smell of grease and cheese was suddenly nauseating and she pushed the box away, drinking her coffee instead.

  Xander shook his head and sat in the chair beside her. Jordan smiled apologetically, and then slid the envelope across the table to Ivy.

  “Will you open it?” she asked her.

  “I will!”

  Mazie reached for the document and Ivy slapped her hand away. “Finish eating,” she said, running a fingernail under the tape on the envelope. “You’re going home soon.”

  Pouting, Mazie picked up her fork and stabbed the pancakes in front of her.

  Ivy slipped a piece of paper out of the sleeve and scanned it while Jordan and Xander waited.

  “Our demon has been spotted in St. Paul.” Ivy fiddled with her cell, pulling up directions. “It’s gonna take about three hours from here if the traffic cooperates.”

  “Where in St. Paul?” Jordan slid her uneaten breakfast to Xander and got up from the table. He gave her an exasperated look before digging in.

  Ivy shrugged. “It says more information will come later.”

  Jordan nodded. She pointed at Mazie. “You, go home.”

  “But–”

  Moving to the bedroom, she called over her shoulder. “No buts. Get your ass home now.”

  <><><>

  After a quick shower, Jordan dressed and strapped her knife to her leg. She picked up her new FN Five-Seven. It was an extraordinary gun. She tested the almost toy-like weight while admiring the accessory rail that ran underneath the barrel. Right now, it sported a flashlight/laser combo. The heavily-textured grip felt comfortable and secure in her hand. With a 30-round magazine, she wouldn’t have to reload as often. With a 5.7x28mm round that could burrow through body armor; she would conserve ammunition, too. One shot usually got the job done. Of course, it wouldn’t kill demons, but the silver-tipped rounds would make them stop and think.

  An image of Orias sucking blood from her neck flashed in her head. Jordan’s hand shook so badly she nearly dropped the gun. She sat on the edge of the bed and took deep breaths.

  Head in the game, Jordan.

  When the moment passed, she checked the safety on the Five-Seven and slid it in her shoulder holster. Her bomber jacket covered it nicely.

  Back in the living room, she placed her bag by the door. Xander sat at the bar with the phone to his ear, scribbling notes as he talked. Ivy passed her on her way to the bedroom and said, “It’s Orias’ contact. He has more news on the demon.”

  Mazie sat on the couch and idly flipped through the television channels as if she had no place important to be. The girl was impossible.

  “52 White Bear Avenue,” Xander said, slipping the phone in his pocket. “It’s a house on the outskirts of St. Paul.” He gulped the last of his coffee. “I’ll take our bags to the car and plug the information into the GPS.”

  Jordan nodded, her eyes on Mazie. “Give me ten.”

  Her sister stared at the T.V. as if Hugh Jackman was conducting the news on the Finance channel instead of some stiff shirt. Jordan rolled her eyes, doubting Mazie understood a word the man said about stocks and dividends. She grabbed the remote and shut it off.

  “Time for you to go.”

  The girl finally acknowledged her presence. “You’re not gonna change your mind, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  Maize stood and smiled – the first real smile Jordan had seen from her in a while.

  “Yeah, I thought so.”

  Shaking her head, Jordan laughed. “You are a stubborn one.”

  “Just like my big sis.” Mazie chewed on her bottom lip. “Ivy told me when this hunt is finished you’re going back to your family.”

  Jordan said nothing.

  “I thought I was your family.”

  “You are.”

  “Then how can you leave me?”

  Her voice was quiet – the words barely audible. Somehow, that made it worse. Jordan would have felt better if Mazie screamed and pitched a fit.

  She sat on the couch, pulling her sister down beside her.

  “You are my family – you and Ivy both. Even if I do go back to live with my uncle and brothers, it doesn’t erase us.” She waited for Mazie to look at her. Slowly, tear-filled eyes met Jordan’s. “You will always be my sister. We’ll still see each other, I promise.”

  Mazie wiped at her tears. “You don’t understand. It won’t be the same if you leave. Before you came to the cabin, I hated it there. No one talked to me – not even Ivy. Do you know how it feels to live in a house full of people and still, no one ever sees you?”

  Jordan sympathized, she really did. She couldn’t count how many lonely days and endless nights she’d spent at the farmhouse while her brothers and uncle Case were on hunts. Even when they were home, most of their time was spent preparing for another trip or in the fields. Still, they talked to her, argued with her, ate dinners together when time allowed. It hadn’t been an ideal life but dammit, it was hers, and she wanted it back.

  “I had a family, Jordan, with two parents who loved me, supported me, and it was taken away. I went to school. I had friends. I had a normal life!” Mazie’s eyes smoldered with power, making her look older than her twelve years. The fire, however, died quickly. Jordan watched the familiar soft brown color return. She was once again a young girl, unsure how to find her place in this backward world that was so unstable.

  Mazie squeezed her hand. “I can accept being a Cambion. I even understand why Mom and Dad didn’t put up much of a fight when Aamon came for me – even a parent’s love has some conditions,” she said bitterly. “But I can’t stand the loneliness, Jordan. I can’t bear the quiet. Don’t make me go back to that...please.”

  Jordan’s mind raced, torn between wanting to keep Mazie safe and not wanting her to feel abandoned. Meanwhile, the clock was ticking. They needed to get on the road.

  “How about this,” she began.

  Mazie groaned and flopped back on the couch.

  “No, listen. I think I have the answer.” Her sister raised an eyebrow and Jordan hurried on. “If you go back to the cabin and stay there until I finish this job, I’ll come for you when I’m done.”

  “Come for me to do what? Say one last goodbye?”

  “No, to help you pack so you can come live with me.”

  Her sister’s face lit up like the sky after a long storm. “You mean it?”

  “Yes, you pain in my ass, I mean every word.” Jordan grinned to let her know she was joking, then pulled her into a hug.

  “But what will your uncle and brothers say?”

  “Eh, they’ll learn to love you, just like I do.”

  Mazie pulled away, eyes shining. “Okay.”


  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jordan

  “So, how do we play this?” Ivy asked.

  She sat in the backseat with her laptop open, a poor image of the house where they’d been told to find the demon pulled up on Google maps. The good news was there was plenty of cover, and the house was fairly isolated. The bad news was that, even off the beaten path, it was still a residential area. They were thirty minutes away and had no definite plan.

  “I don’t want to say until we have a look around,” Jordan said. “We can’t rush in, guns blazing, only to find the demon has moved on and we’ve scarred a human family for life.”

  Ivy tapped on the keyboard. “According to records, the house is owned by one Clayton Shoop.”

  “Any family?” Xander asked.

  I hope not, Jordan thought.

  “There’s nothing pertaining to immediate family but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any.”

  Twenty-eight minutes later, they slowly cruised by the address. The house was hidden from the street by large oaks and cedars with the thick forest of Battle Creek Regional Park to the right. On the left, a fair distance away and also surrounded by trees, stood another house.

  They passed East C Street which circled to South B, a much more populated neighborhood. After that, there was nothing but densely packed woods on both sides of the road. White Bear Avenue South came to a dead end about a quarter mile past their target with barely enough room to turn the SUV around.

  Nature was attempting to take back what man had stolen. Branches reached out on both sides, barely missing the car that Xander kept on the faded center line. Potholes and huge, weed-filled cracks dotted this section of pavement. There were no houses. Jordan had no idea why the road extended this far.

  The SUV dipped into a particularly deep pothole and Xander swerved to the right. Gravel and crumbling asphalt pinged underneath the carriage as the tires struggled to find purchase on the eroded shoulder.

  “Jesus,” Ivy said. “Someone call the Department of Transportation. They must’ve missed this area on their scouting missions to find ways to blow taxpayers’ money.”