“Things like murdering her sister,” Jack says coldly.
Ana shakes her head, her mouth open. From her expression she had no idea about Jett and Stephen’s liaison, but that’s the least of what she’s processing at the moment. “I can’t. Frost, I can’t believe this of her.”
“You took precautions,” Tyr speaks up, his dark eyes glinting at Ana. “Maybe Jett did, too.”
“What does that mean?” Carly this time, her voice soft. “What the hell does he mean by ‘precautions,’ Ana?”
Ana presses her lips together, glaring at Tyr. Then she sighs. “What the assassin means is that I hired him. To keep an eye on Seph.”
“What?” Syana is just as stunned as Carly. “But he tried to kill her! I was there.”
Tyr shoots her a thin-lipped smile. “Oh for heaven’s sake. You didn’t really think you got the drop on me, did you? I let you and Seph capture me, though I gotta say, I should have charged Anastasia more for the damage to my reputation.”
Carly is staring at Ana. “What about Mom?”
“What about her? Goddammit, Carly! She wanted us to do nothing. Nothing! Our own sister. How could I not?”
“You know what happens when we don’t listen to her. You know.” Her lips are trembling, but her eyes are steady. Carly doesn’t do mad often, but when she does?
Batten down the hatches.
Ana bites her lip until a drop of blood forms, bright and red. “I know, but the things Mom told us…I had to have a backup plan! She was asking too much this time.”
“She was asking for trust, just like always.” Carly’s eyes flick to Tyr. “And you know the consequences of breaking that trust.”
“You think my interference got Seph killed? It was Jett that put a sword in Seph’s back. Not me, Carlisle Grace.” My sisters glare at each other until Jack breaks the taut silence, addressing Ana.
“What did your mother tell you exactly?”
Ana looks at Carly, who shakes her head once. Ana lifts her chin and answers anyway. “Before she left three years ago? Not much. Only what we already knew, that someone had been trying to kill Seph for a long time, and that they were going to try again soon.”
Carly’s mouth tightens into thin, hard lines. Next to her, Styx is quiet, a still and watchful beast in the low light.
“Mom had always hinted it was because Seph was special,” Ana continues, arms folded. “That she had a gift unlike the rest of us, and that it was dangerous. Mom also hinted she did something to hide that gift from Seph until she was ready for it. She was very clear before she went away that we couldn’t tell Seph any of this, or do anything to interfere when it started up again. That’s part of why Mom showed up again before Yule; she knew I’d disobeyed.”
“Part of why she showed up? What was the other part?”
Ana’s face closes off, her eyes going blank at Jack’s questions. “None of your business, Frost.” There’s absolutely no give in her words. Jack tries another angle.
“You’ve been paying Tyr to keep an eye on Seph for how long exactly?”
“About a year.”
Jack looks lost in thought. “The truth stone—you had Tyr steal it?”
“That was my idea, actually,” Tyr interrupts. “Anastasia hired me to protect Persephone, but Cerunnos was also my employer. I had to juggle things quite a bit. When he directed me to set Seph up, I stole the truth stone so I could fulfill both agreements.”
“Clever.”
Tyr lifts his hands with a small smile. “And profitable.” Then he frowns. “It would’ve worked a lot better if Persephone hadn’t delivered herself into his clutches and lost the damn thing.”
“Yes.” Ana sighs. “Seph was always impulsive. Always wanting to face things straightaway, with no regard for the consequences.”
Gee thanks, Ana. Never mind that she’s right. I stick my tongue out at her anyway.
“Maybe this was Jett’s way of stopping the prophecy,” Ana murmurs, half to herself.
“Or maybe she’s been in league with Cerunnos all along.” Jack, his voice cold.
“Don’t say that, you bastard.”
“Why not? It makes sense, Ana. She’s on the Council with your mother gone—surely you know he’s overtaken the Council. She could’ve been in his pocket for months. Remember the mall? The Council took your rights away as the oldest. Maybe that was because they were afraid you wouldn’t comply. Maybe they did it so the right sister would be the one to bind Seph’s magic. The one they could trust because she was on their side all along. His side. What else do you think she meant by ‘we’?”
Son of a bitch. My little epiphany. Except I had thought it was Tyr working with someone else to set me up. Instead it was Cerunnos.
Cerunnos and my sister.
“When that plan fell through,” Jack continues, “they had to go the more direct route. He sent Jett to the cabin that night to kill Seph.”
“You’re wrong.” Carly is white to the lips, staring at Jack.
“Why?”
“Because you’re talking about my sister.” Carly snaps, her tumble of red-gold curls only highlighting her pallor as she rips herself from the circle of Styx’s arms to get to her feet. “I’m not listening to this bullshit anymore. I trust Mom. I trust Jett. And so should you.”
She flings the words at Ana like a gauntlet. Then Carly stalks from the room, hair rippling like a flag behind her.
9
Ana starts to rise, then thinks better of it. “Styx?”
“She doesn’t want me right now.” He bows his head, his hair giving off an alien silvery sheen in the lamplight. “Just leave her be. Maybe she’s right. Did you ever think of that?”
“Seph’s dead, Styx. Jett killed her. In what universe is that okay?”
“I don’t know, but Carly is not the sweet, little village idiot you’d like to pretend she is.”
“I never—“
“You do,” he growls, getting to his feet. “You pat her on the head and dismiss her as sweet and dim, just like you do your mother. I think you’re underestimating them both.” There is the low roll of thunder overhead, the stink of ozone in the air. Ana stares at him, her mouth half-open. I’ve been on the receiving end of Styx’s displeasure, so I can totally sympathize with her dazed look. Tyr puts a hand on his sword, his gaze sharp. But our resident monster is apparently done with my sister.
“As for you” —Styx turns to Jack, his eyes like spinning gold coins— “I better not regret helping you, or there will be hell to pay.” Lightning flashes outside the window as Styx turns and heads for the stairs.
“What was that all about?” Ana snaps as soon as he is out of sight, her voice a bit breathless. “What did he mean by helping you?”
Jack lifts an eyebrow. “Let’s file that under ‘none of your business.’”
Her eyes narrow, but she just gets to her feet, moving to the mantelpiece, picking up one of her sculptures—a stately grandfather clock with rabid, snarling mice in the midst of tearing it to shreds—and turning it round and round in her fingers.
“Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Maybe Cerunnos was using magic to force Jett to—“
“Ana.” Jack’s voice is gentle. “You know that’s not possible. No such spell exists; you can’t enchant someone to commit murder.”
“But—“
“It doesn’t matter why she did it.” Stephen’s voice is dangerously quiet.
“How can you say that?” Ana again, her words almost shrill.
“Because it doesn’t.” The bruin’s face is hard, totally unforgiving. “Not to me. As for you, Frost—”
Jack dodges the first punch—he is one of the fastest creatures alive after all—but Stephen makes contact with the second. The crack of fist striking bone is so loud it makes me jump, not that anyone notices. I don’t know how Jack keeps his feet, but despite a slight list to one side, he does.
“Is this the sentencing portion of the trial?” Jack’s tone is bitin
g.
“You could’ve warned me,” Stephen snarls.
“Are you fucking serious?” I can tell Jack’s resisting the urge to rub his jaw. His fingers are twitching, but he won’t give Stephen the satisfaction. Men. “I can see how well that would have gone over. At least now you know the truth.”
“The lie was easier to live with,” he mutters before telling Ajax that they’re going home. Immediately.
Ajax gets to his feet at once, Syana somewhat slower, her face blank. She looks at Thomas, but he’s making eye contact with no one, especially her. He looks grey, ill again, like all the healing of the last few months has been undone.
The bruin turns to Jack again just before they leave. “The wolves?” he snaps tersely.
“I’ll take you to them, as promised. Just say when.”
“I’ll call as soon as we gather a hunting party.”
Ana goes to shut the door behind the bruins, but before she can, Thomas is there.
“I assume I’m free to go, then?”
Ana nods, but reaches out a hand. “But you’re always wel—“
“No,” he says, avoiding her outstretched hand. “I’ve had enough. I just want to go home. Back to where things are normal and sane.”
He pushes past her in his rush to get out. Jack steadies her automatically, but Ana jerks away with a hiss.
Holding his hands up, Jack takes a step back. “I’m not the enemy anymore.”
“I’m not convinced of that, Frost. Not yet.”
They both turn toward the doorway. Thomas is already out of sight. It’s the midnight hour, quiet and still. The neighborhood looks sharp and perfect in the streetlights, a world too real to be real. I wish I could step back into it, race after Thomas and tell him it’s going to be okay. But even if I could, I wouldn’t.
No matter what Carly thinks, I’m pretty sure that would be a lie.
With a sigh, Ana shuts the door.
“So this visit of Oriane’s,” Jack says without looking at her. “It was a couple days before Yule?”
Ana moves down the hall. “That’s right.”
“She talked to you and Carly, and presumably Jett, but not Seph?”
She stops at the archway to the parlor, looking back at him. “Yes.”
“And I thought I was cold,” he mutters. Ana stiffens but doesn’t rebuke him. Or defend Mom. Explaining our mother to outsiders isn’t easy at the best of times. This is far from the best of times.
“Why won’t you tell me what she said, Ana?”
Her eyes skitter away from him. Tyr’s still in the parlor, but my sister ignores him, heading for the stairs.
Jack follows at her heels like a dogged shadow, his voice rough. “Loyal still? Even with one sister dead and another on the run?”
Truth or not, that’s a bit cruel, Jack.
Ana obviously agrees, turning around to stab a finger into his chest.
“First of all, I don’t care if you worked with her or not, Jack. You don’t know our mother. Or what she’s capable of.” She wraps her arms around herself.
Jack shrugs. “Witch magic.”
I glare at the back of his head at his tone even though I know exactly what’s he’s doing. Master manipulator at work. But Ana cut her teeth in our world during the court of Louis XV, which from the tales I’ve heard makes Game of Thrones look like summer camp. She laughs in his face.
“Nice try, Frost, but forget it. Some secrets are for family only.” She turns away again. “I want you to stay here tonight. Take Seph’s room. I’ll walk you up, though I’m pretty sure you already know the way.”
Jack raises an eyebrow and so do I. She knew about Jack sneaking in to see me—and she never stopped it?
Hmm, maybe even nosy big sisters choose to butt out now and again.
She heads for the stairs, taking them swiftly before Jack’s next words slow her down.
“I’m sure the sudden hospitality has nothing to do with keeping an eye on me. I sympathize. But I am not here to hurt you or Carly.”
“Just Jett.” She turns at the landing, watching him draw level with her. Ana is just as short as I am, but even looking up at Jack, there is something regal about her. Something cool and untouchable. The ice queen. Elsa with a side of bitch. My sister never lets anything go.
And she’s wondering why Jack did. “You knew she’d run. Why not take steps to stop her? I’m sure you thought of a thing or two.”
“Now was not the time.” Jack doesn’t elaborate, but Ana’s lips tighten as she realizes what I already have.
Jack wants Jett on the run. So he can corner her himself. Alone. He doesn’t intend to finish it in front of my family, but there’s no question he intends to finish it. A pang stabs through me. I’m beyond furious with Jett, and confused and hurt, but…
I don’t want her to die.
“The wards are still in force,” Ana says, with a level look. “I could keep you here indefinitely.
Jack leans against the wall, folding his arms. “Maybe a few months ago that would’ve worked, but not now.”
I watch my sister shiver as we both remember Jack’s little display in the parlor. I don’t know why, or how, but Jack’s magic is growing. My mother’s wards are smothering his magic, but given enough time and temper, I’m pretty sure he’d break free.
Ana obviously comes to the same conclusion.
“Maybe Jett believed the prophecy.” Ana swallows hard. “Maybe she thought this was the only way.”
“Do you think that matters to me?” Jack’s laugh is low and bitter. “I don’t give a damn about the prophecy anymore. Or saving the fucking world. Seph died thinking I killed her, Ana. Expecting me to kill her. It took everything I had, but I kept the magic from hurting her. Seph never knew that, she never—” He swallows and turns away. Ana stares at him, her mouth half-open.
Oh, Jack.
They finish the walk down the hall together in silence and stop in front of my door. Ana’s eyes slide over it. “It might be a bit musty in there. I …I never go inside.” Her voice catches, but she soldiers on. “If you need anything, I’m down the hall.”
“I’ll be fine, except—could you lift the wards again?” Jack puts a hand on my bedroom doorframe, his shoulders hunched. “It would be nice to be able to breathe properly.”
“Shit. Sorry—” She catches herself, looking at him in consternation before calling her magic with a snippet of that eerie French rhyme.
“Feels strange to be civil to me, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, it probably won’t last long.”
Ana’s answering laugh is strained.
“Jack?” He’s already shutting the door, but he pauses at the sound of his name. “I’m sorry. It’s taking a while for this all to sink in, but…you really loved her, didn’t you?”
Instead of answering, he just looks at her. Ana opens her mouth to say something further, then stops, pressing fingers that tremble slightly to her lips before walking away as quickly as she can.
With what sounds like a very weary sigh, Jack shuts the door.
10
He doesn’t bother with the light. A nearby street lamp casts everything in a yellowish glow.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, he takes off his boots, then reaches back and pulls off his shirt. I suck in a breath. Even now, that hard, rangy body has the power to make my undead little heart go pitter-patter. I want nothing more in this world than to be able to put my hands on him. To rub away the tension I can see in the hard corded muscles of those broad shoulders; to wipe away this clusterfuck of a night; to press my lips to that hollow just below his ear that drives him nuts and make him forget everything. To feel his arms come around me and yank me close enough that I can feel his heart beating against my ribs.
His grey-green eyes roam the room, taking in every detail as he runs a hand through his hair. The faintest smile curls his lips when his gaze lands on a picture next to the window. Me and Sy at Lutsen last winter. Both of us with cheeks whipped pink by the c
old, but god did we have fun that day. I don’t think I’ve ever skied so fast. It felt like the wind was carrying me down the mountain in its arms. My eyes widen in sudden suspicion. No way—
When he speaks, it makes me jump. “It feels like you could walk in here any minute. I don’t know whether I love that feeling or hate it.” My ghost heart is pounding, but of course, he doesn’t see me. He’s talking to my memory, the me in that picture.
Not the me that he has no idea is watching him right now, eyes filling with tears that no one will ever see and that I can’t even feel.
He lies back in my bed, not bothering to pull the candy-striped duvet down, staring at the ceiling.
“I miss you, princess,” he whispers into the still dusty air.
“I miss you, too, Jack,” I whisper back, slipping closer to the bed, mesmerized by the sight of him. Jack’s eyes close, one hand curled just below his ribs, his fingertips resting on that tantalizing line of dark hair that dusts his smooth walnut skin. In the next instant, he’s fast asleep.
I watch his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, not feeling the least bit sleepy myself. Not that ghosts actually sleep anyway, but I do fall into a kind of stupor most nights. But watching Jack sleep, I’m more awake than I’ve been in months.
Maybe it’s because we’re getting somewhere. Or Jack is. He got his trial. And survived. The problem is as satisfying as it was to see Jack vindicated and my sister forced to confess, I can’t help but feel awful for Jett. The look on Stephen’s face was chilling. Then there’s Ana and Carly… My family, as I knew it, is pretty much gone. No Mom, no me and soon, no Jett.
I don’t want to watch Jack kill my sister. But that’s about all I can do. Watch.
I’m so fucking sick of it.
Dawn is just lightening the sky outside my balcony windows, a pale pink light blushing through the thin white curtains. Gods, how long have I been sitting here, watching him? His jaw is thickly shadowed now, his hair mussed and falling over his eyes. He takes up most of the bed, his arms spread wide, jeans low on his lithe hips. All that raw masculinity should look out of place on my candy-striped duvet, but Jack looks perfect there. Not to mention absolutely delectable. My earlier urge to touch comes back threefold. What the hell.
Roses & Rye (Toil & Trouble Book 3) Page 8