Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2)

by Nicole Storey

  Though fear, with its sharp claws, clung to him, Quinn pressed harder on the gas. Soon, more light filtered through the Cimmerian world outside. Houses became more prevalent, road signs popped up, civilization appeared.

  The sheriff’s department beckoned. Quinn drove by the parking lot and zeroed in on a small storage building in the back lot. He circled the block and pulled in behind the pre-fabricated structure, hiding the car from prying eyes.

  Sheriff Wellard Briggs used the building to store old files. He’d finally taken a step into the 21st century and purchased a few computers (along with a secretary who knew how to use them), but still preferred “old school” ways, refusing to go completely digital.

  The locking mechanism on the door was a simple one and Quinn had it open within 30 seconds. He stepped across the threshold and shut the door firmly before turning on a small penlight. Bank boxes, dusty and forgotten, littered the floor, stacked in tottering piles and scattered haphazardly around the room. There was no method to the madness. The sheriff was not an orderly man – a trait that drove his wife crazy. He did have the years of the files each box contained scrawled on the lids with a black marker. Quinn chose the one labeled 1997-99.

  Being careful not to disturb the thick layer of dust on the lid, he lifted the top by the edges and set it aside. A jumbled mess of file folders and loose papers, yellowed with age and smelling strongly of ink and mold, lay inside. Quinn gathered up an armful and placed them on the floor.

  Jesus, is this what I’ve been reduced to – breaking into a building owned by the sheriff to hide a book? I am so going to Hell.

  Glancing around like the nervous trespasser he was, Quinn listened for any noise outside. Confident he was still alone, he dried his sweaty palms on his jeans and unzipped his jacket. From its depths, he pulled out The Oraculum. Without hesitation, he buried the book at the bottom of the box, covering it with the original files.

  After replacing the lid, Quinn made a quick inspection of the floor to assure he hadn’t missed any stray papers. That’s when he saw the prints left by his boots. He spent a few minutes walking around the shed, dragging and shuffling his feet. He stopped in front of several boxes, knelt down in front of them, and generally made sure his prints were everywhere. No one would be able to discern which box contained the book.

  Satisfied, Quinn exited the building. He locked the door and surveyed the parking lot. There wasn’t a soul in sight. With a sigh, he stepped off the low porch and around to the back – where Wellard Briggs leaned against the Mustang.

  And there goes my happy feeling.

  Knowing he was caught, Quinn joined the sheriff and took up space beside him.

  “Your phone’s been ringing,” he drawled, the ever-present matchstick dangling from the side of his mouth.

  “Did you answer it?”

  Wellard scratched his chin. He was dressed in his “uniform” of faded jeans, plaid shirt, shearling coat, black cowboy hat that had seen better days, belt buckle the size of a hubcap, and worn boots. A gold star displayed on his pocket proclaimed that he was the sheriff of Juneau County. A .45 hanging from his belt made sure no one argued that fact.

  “I figured it weren’t none of my business.”

  Quinn nodded.

  Wellard Briggs had served his country for two terms in the Army fresh out of high school. At the age of 27, he’d come back to Dixon’s Bluff and signed on with the Juneau sheriff’s department. By the time he was 30, his hair had gone prematurely gray and he had married his high school sweetheart, Katherine “Kat” Hale. At the young age of 32, he’d been elected sheriff when his mentor and good friend, Gandy Strickland, had decided he’d rather pull steelhead out of the river than drunk kids out of smashed cars.

  Now, what was left of his hair was silvery-white and cut close with a goatee to match. His wife still fussed over his love of country-fried steak with gravy and New Glarus Spotted Cow, and his hazel eyes were as keen as ever. Twenty-nine years of patrolling their small town had not dulled his senses. Nothing got past the man, which was the very reason he was privy to their odd profession.

  “Do I even want to know why you were holed up in my storage barn?”

  Quinn leaned his head back against the car. The night was flying by and he suddenly felt bone-tired. “I don’t think so.”

  “You didn’t come out with anything.” The sheriff stuck his hands into the deep pockets of his coat.

  “No.”

  Wellard moved the matchstick to the other side of his mouth. “I’ll keep a close watch on the shed for the next couple of days…let you know if I see anyone out here that shouldn’t be.”

  “Thanks,” Quinn said, grateful for sheriffs who didn’t want to know too much.

  Shoving away from the car, Wellard pushed his hat back and stared long and hard at Quinn. “You okay, boy? You need some help?”

  If only.

  He’d like nothing more than some help right now – and the sheriff would. He’d swallow every detail Quinn fed him without so much as a burp and then climb into the passenger seat as if it was something he did every day.

  Smiling at the thought of Wellard Briggs sitting in the Mustang, checking the loads in his gun with his cowboy hat settled between his knees, Quinn shook his head.

  “I appreciate it, Sheriff, but it’s just work. You know how it is.”

  Wellard heaved a sighed. “You ever need anything, you come see me, ya hear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The sheriff seemed reluctant to leave. Quinn wondered just how exhausted he looked. Eventually, Wellard placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze before turning away. As he tramped back across the parking lot, he called, “You know where to find me, boy. Be careful!”

  Quinn watched until Sheriff Briggs disappeared through the back entrance of the main building and then crawled back into the car. His phone showed one text message and three voice mails.

  He checked the text message first. It was from Nathan. He smiled despite his exhaustion. True to his word, Gabe had kept his family safe – their family safe. He opened the text and his blood ran cold.

  Illyria is coming for you. RUN! Call ASAP.

  He didn’t take time to dwell on how the angel had escaped Gabe. He was parked next to the place where he hid the book and needed to put some distance between them before she showed up.

  Quinn was back on the road and didn’t even remember starting the engine. He drove with no specific destination in mind, and eventually found the car heading west on highway 90. His phone rang, jarring him out of the hypnotic daze he’d fallen into while staring at segments of broken white line that went on forever.

  Shit. He forgot to call Nathan.

  Fumbling for the phone, Quinn nearly knocked it off the passenger seat. The car swerved as he reached for it again and finally pressed the speaker button.

  “Quinn?!”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Are you okay? Where are you?”

  Nathan sounded like a bottle of pop that had been shaken to the point of combustion.

  “Calm down, I’m fine. I’m in the car heading west.”

  He heard voices in the background and then Gabe was on the line.

  “Quinn, you need to abandon the car and go on foot. Stay away from areas that can easily be seen from above.”

  “You want me to walk? Do you know how much fun Illyria will have with that four-foot shank if she catches me without the book? You won’t be able to count all the pieces she’ll leave behind. Riding is safer than hoofing it.”

  “A car is easier to spot from the air. Leave the road and find cover. She could be following you right now.”

  Comforting thought.

  “Tell me where you are and I’ll come for you.”

  Quinn slowed the car and looked around. He’d been on autopilot since leaving the sheriff’s office and it took a second to recognize his surroundings.

  “I’m in Gillette, just past South Burma Avenue.”

>   Quinn hung a left on Skyline Drive. He wanted to stay away from residential areas but there wasn’t much cover to be found down this way.

  “The school!” Casen yelled. “Go to the elementary school.”

  His uncle referred to Prairie Wind Elementary which, if Quinn remembered correctly, boasted large parking areas and not much else. Still, it was better than nothing. Quinn knew it was nearby, but needed to get his bearings.

  “Got it,” he confirmed and ended the call.

  Taking a quick right, he pulled the car into the empty lot of the Kum & Go gas station. This time of night it was dark and quiet. A few insects, sluggish from the cold, battered against a pitiful security light that did nothing to cut the gloom.

  Quinn pulled his hands down his face in an attempt to slough away his weariness. When he opened his eyes, a flash of light reflected in the rearview mirror caught his attention.

  Lightning?

  He stepped out of the car and gazed up at the sky. Puffy clouds, backlit by the moon, lumbered across his vision like elephants. None of them threatened rain or snow, much less a storm. When the phenomenon did not reoccur, Quinn shrugged it off.

  Crossing his arms against the chilly air, he turned in a slow circle. A Chevy car dealership across the way jogged his memory and Quinn knew where to go. The gas station sat at an intersection with Skyline on his left. Taking a right out of the parking lot would put him on Westover, which led right past the school.

  His fingers barely brushed the metal of the car door when the sky lit up again. Quinn paused. Definitely not lightning. It was more like a pulse – a signal in three rapid successions that covered the world in blue.

  As he watched, the pulse grew faster. Throbbing now, like a heartbeat, the light shredded clouds in its wake and drowned the moon. It was coming closer.

  And suddenly Quinn knew.

  Illyria.

  Abandoning the car, Quinn didn’t bother to grab a weapon. It was a waste of precious time. Nothing he had in the trunk would stop an angel.

  He was halfway across the parking lot when he remembered his cell phone lying on the seat. Cursing, Quinn glanced over his shoulder and saw it was too late to go back for it. Blue light surrounded the exterior of the Mustang, making it glow like some extraterrestrial hotrod.

  His only hope was the school, and Gabe.

  He ran. When the first tendrils of cold air worked their way into his lungs, Quinn knew he wouldn’t get far. He checked his watch. It was 3:07 a.m.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jordan

  “Her name is Illyria.”

  Gina’s voice was wooden, devoid of inflection. It was eerie, yet welcome at the same time. Xander explained that while under his influence she would answer any question he asked, but the replies would come from her subconscious and Gina would not be aware of what she was saying.

  So far, they’d learned that an angel – Michael’s first in command – had been ordered to distract Jordan’s family while other soldiers looked for her. According to what Gina had overheard while negotiating the terms of her afterlife with the Archangel, there’d been a sudden change of plans. The Aeon had followed Nathan to a meeting with Quinn and Gabe regarding a holy relic – a book of great importance. Michael had immediately ordered Jordan’s family be detained until it was retrieved.

  “Quinn and Gabriel have the book. Illyria was told to drop everything and do whatever was necessary to get it.”

  “What is this book?” Xander asked.

  Gina shrugged. In a stilted tone, she said, “I don’t know. The name was never mentioned. Michael said it contained information on magic from all of creation and powerful spells.”

  “Did he say what he planned to do with it?”

  “With instruction from the book, Michael believes he can obliterate all evil on Earth. No one with a drop of demon blood would be spared.”

  To Ivy and Jordan, Xander asked, “Is this ringing any bells for you?”

  Jordan shook her head.

  “I could ask Dad.” Ivy looked at the door. “Maybe he knows what she’s talking about.”

  Jordan nodded. “I have to get to my family. If this book is as important as she says, Michael will be desperate to get his hands on it. Who knows what he’s capable of?”

  Would he kill for it?

  “I can hear them.”

  Gina was no longer under Xander’s influence. With his attention diverted, the spell had broken. Face pale, eyes closed tight, she gripped the seat of the metal chair with both hands. Jordan expected her to be angry. Instead, she looked petrified.

  “Hear who?” Xander asked.

  “The angels.” Gina’s body trembled. Her breath came in short bursts. “I can hear them talking. What did you do to me?!”

  “I-I didn’t do anything.” Xander stammered. “I don’t have the power to eavesdrop on angels or transform people into two-way radios. Are you sure, Gina?”

  “Fuck yes, I’m sure!” She pulled at the chain attached to her ankle. “I have to get out of here. Let me out of here now!”

  Ivy stepped forward and slapped her across the face. Gina lightly touched the spot on her cheek where Ivy’s handprint blazed red against her porcelain skin. “Shut your cakehole and tell us what they’re saying.”

  “Fine!” Gina slumped and closed her eyes. “Michael is speaking to Illyria.” She hesitated, cocking her head. “Illyria’s in a town called Gillette. She said she used Reverberation – whatever the hell that is – to track Quinn and has his location narrowed to a square mile…there aren’t many places for him to hide and she’ll find him soon. Michael asked for her position…she’s near an elementary school. Michael said to remember that the book is her objective, if she must use force, to keep injuries to a minimum if possible. Another angel just asked if she needs assistance and Illyria told him it wasn’t necessary, that Quinn is alone…Michael told her to report back when she has the book.” Gina paused, then opened her eyes. “That’s it. Everything’s quiet now.”

  Jordan leaned against the wall. Gillette was about an hour south of Dixon’s Bluff. She’d been through that town at least a hundred times and knew exactly where the elementary school was. If she teleported there, would she be able to locate Quinn before Illyria? Doubtful, but Jordan had to try.

  Xander and Ivy watched her with keen eyes. “So, when do we leave?” her sister asked.

  “As soon as possible.” Jordan headed for the door.

  “Wait! What do we do about her?” Xander motioned to Gina who, from the raised eyebrows and half-open mouth, wanted to know the same thing.

  “I tell you what we’re gonna do.” Jordan backtracked to the table. “We’re going to let Orias deal with her.” Tapping her bottom lip with her finger nail, Jordan said, “Tell me, Gina, how do you think Orias would feel about one of his own using her powers on her siblings, turning on them, spying for the enemy, killing her sister, and making a deal with an archangel for her eternal soul?”

  Gina froze, the heaving of her ample chest and an audible gulp when she swallowed the only signs that she was still in the here and now.

  Jordan waited for the severity of Gina’s fate to hit home…and it did.

  Her face fell, as if the metaphorical screws holding it perfectly in place were loosened by a couple of turns. It wasn’t a pretty sight, what fear could do to a person’s physical appearance. Gina aged in a matter of seconds. Wrinkles appeared like omens, cutting furrows through her faultless ivory skin. Her cheek bones became more prominent, giving her face an emaciated appearance.

  “You can’t do that,” Gina said, her voice cracking. “You have no idea what he’ll do to me!”

  “Oh, I think I do.”

  Jordan walked to the door. Ivy and Xander fell in beside her. Before leaving, she took one last look at the person responsible for the pain she felt. Mazie’s sweet laughter echoed in her head like wind chimes and Jordan hoped she’d made the right decision where Gina’s fate was concerned – hoped her little sis
ter would be proud of her for not compromising who she was.

  “The only reason I’m letting you live is because there’s nothing I could do that’s worse than what you’ve done to yourself. Death would be a blessing, Gina, and I think you know that now. You deserve every horrible punishment you’ve got coming.”

  “Jordan, wait!”

  Gina’s faced crumpled but it was too late for tears to move her, if they ever had a chance at all.

  Ivy gently pushed her out the door and then turned back to their sister. “You can expect a delivery from 1-800-KARMA. I hope you get the biggest bouquet they have.”

  <><><>

  Back in her room, Jordan changed into the black leather pants and lightweight lycra shirt Ivy gave her. She didn’t bother with weapons, knowing they would be useless and could hinder any quick movements she might have to make. She laced up her black boots and ran downstairs before her mind could dwell on the fact that her brother was being stalked by an angel.

  Quinn’s not dead, she told herself. I’d know if he was. I’d feel it.

  She met Xander and Ivy in the living room. Aamon had her sister pulled to the side and they whispered in urgent tones. Ignoring them for the moment, she turned to Xander, who looked more than a bit intense.

  He had changed clothes, as well. The black military get-up made him look strong…handsome. Jordan’s lips burned with the memory of the kiss they shared. Xander said his path was with her and she believed him.

  When he pulled her into his arms, she didn’t protest. Jordan rested her head on his chest and circled his waist with her arms, drawing him close. It didn’t bother her that she’d grown so complacent, so familiar with this guy who was still, for all intent and purposes, a stranger. She was grateful to have him.

  At last, Ivy joined them. Aamon reached over and kissed the top of Jordan’s head. She no longer hated her father for what he’d done. He’d sold his soul to save his daughter back in a time when medicine consisted of herbs and prayers. When Jordan thought about her family, both Cambion and human, she could see herself doing the same thing to save one of their lives.