Saving His Heart (Sisterhood of Jade Book 11)

by Billi Jean

  “How the hell did this happen?” Torque raged. He brought his fist down on the council table and the entire thing shuddered. Next to him, Beauty called him back with a hand on his arm. She’d suffered from the backlash Isobel had flung at her, but she was alive.

  The thought that Isobel had enough sanity to hold back a killing blow should have soothed Bryson’s fears, but it only made him even more anxious. How many lies will I have to spin for you? Already he had lied to Jaxon, Aidan, and even Jamie when he’d called, at Elsa’s urging, to find out what was going on with the rumors the couple had been hearing. Thankfully, Faolan had been absent this last week. He feared that lies wouldn’t work with the child. He knew lies wouldn’t work with the child.

  Even now, he barricaded his mind knowing that Beauty could sense his turmoil, perhaps more if he let his guard down. It hadn’t been that long ago he’d aided Torque and Beauty and saved the life of Sydney, a witch who’d been on the wrong track. Beauty had worried he’d bind Sydney to him. He nearly laughed at the memory. The witch was beautiful but didn’t hold a candle to Isobel. Although Sydney had disappeared along with her brother, so perhaps she was as insane as Isobel.

  But is Isobel insane? She hadn’t killed when she could have. Everyone who had tried to stop her was alive. The only one who wasn’t was even now merely a bit of ash on the wind Isobel had brought to London. The high gales were being discussed on the news as the strongest sudden storm in recorded history.

  “It’s a great question,” Circerran muttered, dabbing at her bloody nose. She’d been struck harder than Torque and Beauty. “She’s damn good.” Circerran laughed and dropped the tissue she’d been using. “That kind of good isn’t easy. That kind of…well, hell, I’ll just say it, determination isn’t found every day. Why do I sense there is more to her story than she killed Aaron, Aidan’s father, and was entombed for six hundred and seventy years for it?”

  “Six hundred and seventy-five,” Jaxon muttered.

  Circerran gave him the famous death stare.

  Jaxon merely shrugged. “Facts are important to get straight.”

  “Well, give me this super important fact, would you? How was it that she was entombed without you guys knowing it? Why didn’t Aidan do the entombing himself, or better, the die by sunlight himself, back then?”

  Jaxon shot him a frown, but Bryson leaned forward anyway. Jaxon had brought him here after the attack, he could damn well let him tell these people what they were dealing with.

  “Aidan was…out of sorts after his father’s death. It also took us time to find him, and, by then, we had no idea where she was, or if she lived. We don’t monitor the Houses. Or we didn’t.” He held up a hand and Circerran sat back, gesturing for him to continue. Torque was just as pissed off. Beauty waited, the only calm in the storm that Isobel had left behind. Isobel had entered the Immortal Council’s stronghold as if the protective spells and barriers meant nothing. That kind of thing came with questions, hard questions he and Jaxon had avoided.

  Jaxon was tense, Joey quiet, but watching them both closely. He had Aidan’s approval to work with the Immortal Council, but even he knew that didn’t include discussing their secrets.

  “Go on. Explain because I lent you.” Torque pointed a finger at him like a gun, something Bryson secretly thought he got from hanging out with Jaxon too often. “I lent Aidan a room to have your Vampire Council, and I end up with our protections down, the doors ripped open, and a dead—no scratch that—a destroyed Vampire, and people bloodied by her entrance and exit.”

  “But not dead.” Joey sat forward and gave Jaxon a steady stare when he tried to stop her. “I think we are looking at this all wrong. Even if my lovely husband doesn’t agree, I see this as one thing. A strike. She killed one person. Why? That’s what I think is important, not that she broke through the protections or how Cir got a bloody nose, no offense, Cir. But come on, you’ve gotten worse in the practice ring. Right?”

  “I don’t appreciate a Vampire walking through my spells like they don’t exist, Joey. That’s not done.”

  “Only because we’re too polite.” Jaxon popped his gum.

  Circerran paused with the tissue back at her nose. Bryson groaned and hung his head.

  “We know that, but they hold for a little while,” Torque stressed. “Look at Balrick. We’re holding him.”

  “Balrick is a freak. He doesn’t count.” Jaxon dismissed the crazy half-Lykae, half-Vampire with a wave of his hand. “If a Vampire wants past spells, then eventually those spells won’t hold. She might have been doing whatever, beating against them or whatever you call it for a while then just walked in.”

  “I thought you had to be invited.” Beauty smiled and shrugged. “Right?”

  Joey returned the grin. “I think what Jaxon means is this place isn’t owned by one soul. This is a public, if secret, establishment. Can you imagine us having to ask to go inside at McDonalds?”

  “Do you eat McDonalds?” Circerran asked, clearly getting side-tracked.

  “Let’s focus, shall we, ladies?” Jack could always be counted on to stay focused. If Circerran minded his redirection, she didn’t show it. The couple were a solid match. Something I will never know. “So, if Isobel can walk in here and do damage, why did she only kill a visiting Vampire?”

  “Right, see, Jack understands me.” Joey relaxed back in her chair. “Why just the one?”

  “I understand you,” Jaxon growled jealously.

  Joey gave him a frosty glare that Jaxon ignored and curled her up closer.

  “Good point. Why was that?” Torque settled his gaze on him. In it Bryson knew that the time for coming clean was now.

  Jaxon sighed heavily. “Be my guest, fill them in.” Joey gave him a soft slap to his chest, but Jaxon took her hand so he could kiss her fingers. “It’s not a tale without tragedy. Let Bryson tell it. He’s the better man at this kind of thing.”

  The absolute lie in that was hard to swallow. Bryson had to fist his hand under the table and try to gather his thoughts before he could speak. Isobel’s scent was strong, sweet to him, but filled with rage, and something that confused him—pain so deep it was truly the definition of sorrow.

  Why sorrow? Why, when you again leave behind a bloodbath in your wake?

  “Bryson?” Torque called. “This has touched us. We need to hear why so we can stop her from doing the same thing again.”

  “You all understand that she is the Vampire responsible for the murder of Aaron, Aidan’s father. But what you don’t understand is that she didn’t merely kill Gia. Killing a Vampire is difficult. Any immortal, as you know. What you aren’t aware of, perhaps, is that to truly kill a Vampire, you must first drain them of blood, burn them with fire, and spread their ashes so that not one iota of them remains.”

  Joey glanced at Jaxon and Bryson could sense her unease. Jaxon had not told her this.

  “Why would she want to kill Gia, then?” Beauty asked.

  “Her reasons are simple. Her brother was put to death for crimes against his people by Aaron and a council of Vampires. Gia was heading that council.”

  It made sense. He’d been told all he knew of what happened to Aaron from Gia. She had also told him she was head of Aaron’s appointed council. Now, none of what happened back then was making sense. He’d also been told Isobel had disappeared—something few Vampires could accomplish with Hunters after their trail. But she hadn’t died. He would have known that, and so, as the years passed, he had begun to believe she had disappeared—for good. Why did I never question Gia on this? Why did I never consider she was imprisoned?

  “So you believe she will come after the remaining members, until all suffer the same fate?” Beauty asked quietly.

  Jaxon shifted in his chair. “Unless the ash we found in the Chamber of the Sun is one of those council members.”

  “The Chamber of the Sun where she was supposedly chained and too weak to save herself?” Circerran clarified.

  “That’s the pl
ace.” Jaxon cracked his knuckles.

  Circerran’s gaze sharpened.

  Jack cut off whatever Circerran was going to say by leaning forward. “If she was there, left chained to a post so the sun would kill her, then there is little she could have done to free herself. Not if she was entombed as long as you say and only given enough blood to wake her.” Jack waited until Bryson nodded then went on. “Another person—Vampire—came into that room. Now why is that, I wonder? I can’t help thinking that having her helpless, about to die, but no longer entombed in a wall for centuries, was too good an opportunity to pass up. Someone wanted to gloat. What better way to do it than when your enemy is chained and helplessly has to face you?”

  “So you think whoever burned in her stead came to gloat over her being trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and she served them a plateful of death instead?” Jaxon asked.

  Jack shrugged.

  Jaxon laughed and shook his head. “Could be.”

  “If so, she’s one badass.” Circerran touched her nose once more. “Wait, we already know that. What I want to know, Bryson, since you were around when she was, correct…?”

  Bryson hesitated but nodded when Circerran lifted a delicate eyebrow at him.

  “Well, then why have you not mentioned her brother’s bride? She was killed as well, was she not?”

  The room went still, as if Circerran had set down a bomb in the center of the table.

  “What is she talking about, Bryson?” Jaxon frowned over at him. “No mention of this was told to me.”

  “No.” Bryson shook his head and gazed steadily at Circerran. No one ever mentioned Jorge. Never had there been any whisper of a bride. For the first time, he felt uncomfortable with the facts he’d been given. What else did I miss? “What did Isobel say?”

  “Well, let’s see, I think her exact words were, ‘There is no mercy for what you did, just as there was none for Jorge and his bride.’”

  Chapter Five

  Isobel studied the boy below her. This location shouldn’t be safe for a young one. It certainly wasn’t guarded—by anyone other than her. He seemed to be searching for something, or perhaps someone. Each tombstone he passed got a glance from him, some a brush of his hand over the snow-covered script so he could read a name. He kept on, though, never stopping for long as he steadily made his way through the rows. She couldn’t imagine what would be his goal here.

  He was a mystery. He was different. Not Vampire, but not completely not a Vampire. But something about him was…familiar.

  He reached a small rectangle with two inches of snow on top of it. After standing there for a little while, he crouched and brushed away the snow, revealing a fallen grave marker. The stone was black, with deep etchings spelling out a name in flowing careful script. It was a small tombstone, perhaps that of a child, she thought.

  The breeze carried his scent. She stepped off the roof of the burial chamber and walked over to him. He didn’t turn, but she sensed he knew of her approach. It was unique enough for her to pause and study him again. Many traps were lined with mysteries. The boy drew her attention from her hunt.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  He rose to his feet, steady and graceful as only an immortal could be. “I am Faolan.”

  She smiled, revealing her fangs. If the sight bothered him, he didn’t show it. “You are not merely a little wolf. You are more.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Who are you?”

  He asked the question as if he should know her, as if he were surprised he didn’t know her.

  “I have never met you before. You do not know me,” she assured him, suddenly worried that perhaps he was not right in his head. Trauma could take away a person’s memories and distort their view of the world—and its dangers. There were faint white lines on his cheeks, as if someone had drawn their nails there to mark him.

  “You are ancient?”

  She considered the question. She had been but one hundred and twenty-five winters when she’d suffered entombment, but the centuries since made her very ancient indeed. “Some may say so. I feel ancient. But you do as well, do you not?”

  Another nod, then the flash of an enchanting smile that oddly seemed to hide the telltale scars on his face.

  “Do not think that will work on me, boy. Why are you here, and at this grave?”

  His smile faded and he frowned at her, again as if he thought something of her and it hadn’t happened.

  She narrowed her vision and sought his soul. He was pure, but there was something there, something shielding him in a power she could not understand.

  “You are Isobel.”

  The vision of his inner being vanished, replaced with the boy’s curious face as he waited on her answer.

  “Yes.”

  “You killed Aidan’s father. And Aquinas. And Gia.”

  “Did I?” She watched him tilt his head. It was oddly enchanting as well, as if he found her curious. “Why are you here?”

  He scratched his head then dropped his hand and shoved it into his small jacket pocket. “I was searching for someone.”

  “And this child is that someone?”

  “Yes, but she was not a child.”

  Isobel studied the grave marker again, but there was no mention of birth or the year of her death. “Then you found what you sought.” She turned to go and heard him follow. “Do not.”

  “But I must tell you something.”

  She regarded his earnest face and felt a shift of unease. “I am dangerous. You should not be here. You should be with your mother and father.”

  “I don’t have those, but I have good friends, they watch over me.”

  “Where are these good friends now? You are alone in a cemetery after the moon has set. How is this watching over you?”

  He shrugged and smiled. “I snuck out. They were busy.”

  There was something in his tone that spoke of him lying. “Why are you lying?”

  “I wanted to find you, too. Not just Shelby. You are in danger, much danger.”

  Interesting and even odder considering he was in more danger here than her. “Shelby is the name on the tombstone.”

  “Yes.”

  She glanced down at the grave to read the name. Shelby Lynn Lafayette. “You found her, now what will you do?”

  “Nothing, I suppose. I just wanted to…find her.” He shuffled his feet, rubbing a line of snow free at the bottom of the grave.

  “Ah, I see. She is not here. She has gone beyond this place.”

  He glanced up at her through his hair, shifting it aside with a toss of his head. “I know. But here is where they placed her…you know, body.”

  “Ah.” She had no words to aid him in his sorrow. Losing someone was never easy. This child’s short life was tragic and unfair, but nothing she could do would return Shelby to her friend. “You should be in your home.”

  “I wanted to speak to you. You are in danger—”

  “I am danger. I am not in danger. You should go to your friends.” She walked away, disbelieving when he followed her again. He caught up, and surprising her even more, he took her hand. His was warm and sent a shock through her body, as if he’d burned her.

  “Bryson is your mate. He will be lost without you.”

  It took her several seconds to make sense of his words. “You believe there is a Vampire who is my mate? And he knows of me?”

  “Yes. He found you.”

  He found me. The voice from when she’d still been locked away behind mortar and centuries of starvation. Was he the Vampire in the chamber? His voice… The cursing… He had been familiar to her. Was that because she had heard him before, upon waking?

  She shook her head to banish her thoughts. He was not her mate. He could not be. He had handed her over to die. He was not a man who cared for her above all others, who would rather die than see her come to harm.

  “Do not grow angry. Do not be upset. I can explain—”

  “You are wrong, boy.” She pus
hed his hand off hers. “Do not come here again.”

  “But, can’t I visit you at least? I won’t bring the others—”

  “No.” She studied his odd features and decided that he needed to know that danger lurked everywhere. “You should go. Go now, and when you arrive with your friends, you will not speak of this, or me, to them. Understood, little wolf?”

  His eyes grew hazy with her command, then surprising her, they cleared and his impish grin returned. “They will not know I spoke to you. Do not be too quick to judge Bryson. May I come visit you?”

  She had no answer for him because she was too shocked by how easily he threw her commands off. But for some reason her silence seemed to satisfy. He crouched and, as if going to launch himself into flight, burst into mist, disappearing on the wind.

  A Vampire then? Or perhaps something much stronger.

  Either way, he was gone, taking with him his odd scent and the truth in his eyes.

  Do not judge him—do not judge him as I was, is what the child meant. No, she realized, she would not, neither would she think on such a bizarre revelation.

  Tonight she hunted.

  Samuel, you have been busy over the centuries. Tonight you will find your time on Earth has come to a much-deserved end.

  Chapter Six

  Jorge had a bride.

  The fact changed everything but nothing. Jorge had had a wife. If he’d had a wife, perhaps he’d had a child as well. Why did he hide this? Who was his bride? She couldn’t have been a Vampire. There were fewer, much fewer females then male Vampires. It was one reason the bloodlines mattered so much. But when Vampires married Vampires there was always cause for celebration. No wedding had occurred for Jorge.

  “Bryson.” Jaxon caught his arm as he headed out of the room. “Did you know?”

  Bryson didn’t have to ask what, he knew. “No. I didn’t.”

  Jaxon dropped his arm and shook his head. “How—? Scratch that. What the fuck is going on? Why do I feel like we’re only being fed part of the problem, and by the ones that we don’t fucking trust?”