Jonah

by Nikki Kelly

  The red and green were not blood on grass and the orange splashed across the sky was not some depiction of hellfire, it was the aurora bleeding out. Everything on the cliff edge was caught in its color.

  The message that had been hidden in plain sight became clear.

  As I blinked, the blazing ball became a blue hue. It unraveled like an orange peel and then stretched.

  I blinked again, and this time the iridescent blue broke apart. I fluttered my eyelashes, and a billion butterflies were born, flapping their wings in time with me as they twirled, rushing up the strobe of light and disappearing off the canvas.

  Startled, I tripped backward.

  When I looked again, everything within the painting was a blur—everything except the luminous green triangles.

  The painting was indeed a sign.

  The message spelled out my end.

  The warning was the robot.

  Darwin steadied me. “Cessie, are you all right?”

  It took me a moment to collect myself. “Yes. Sorry. You’re right, it is god-awful, isn’t it?” I said matter-of-factly. I turned and smiled at him. “Thank you for showing it to me. I better be on my way.”

  As I walked by, Darwin placed his hand on my arm. “You can’t leave now. There’s a nonnegotiable curfew in place. You won’t get farther than the end of the street before a soldier spots you.”

  With the ability to mask myself, I could get as far away from here as I wanted, but I couldn’t travel across water without a boat and someone to steer it, and finding an able person late at night with a curfew in effect would be damn near impossible. I frowned.

  “My father is away on business. He won’t be back until the morning. Aside from the staff, the house is empty, and truth be told, I would appreciate the company.” He tipped his glasses to the top of his head. His jade-green eyes widened in hopeful anticipation. “I have good wine, good food, and … Jenga.”

  “You have Jenga?”

  He grinned. “I have lots of games; Jenga is just one of them.”

  Though I had packed a bag, my intention, or perhaps my hope, had been to return to Lucan before the day was officially out. I didn’t have to stay. I could still try to get across the Irish Sea.

  “Okay. Look.” Darwin reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. “Heads you stay, tails you try to leave.”

  I sighed. I couldn’t deny that Darwin’s offer wasn’t appealing. Finally, I nodded in agreement. “Okay, heads I stay.”

  Darwin flipped the coin high into the air, then stalled for dramatic effect before revealing the outcome of the coin toss.

  “Heads.”

  As he said it, I realized that I’d been hoping that was exactly the way it would land. I liked Darwin, and I could do with one last evening of normality—some sort of human contact—before I found myself at the edge of the end. “Very well, uncork the wine and bring on the Jenga.”

  * * *

  ONE IN THE MORNING and far too many empty wine bottles later, Darwin and I sat opposite each other on a woolly rug in front of the open fire, deeply embroiled in a game of chess.

  Closest to the fire, Darwin had removed his blazer. As he pondered his next move, his brow crinkled. Long gone were the giggles and silliness the likes of Jenga and Operation had brought. Darwin’s face was now entirely serious, and every so often, when he thought he was onto a winner, his triceps tensed under the short sleeves of his silly T-shirt. I’d laughed when he’d added a pair of Darth Vader slippers to his outfit, but then I hadn’t refused the R2-D2’s he’d offered me.

  After necking the remainder of his wine and chewing on the last olive, he wiped his mouth, but the napkin wasn’t big enough to disguise his third yawn in as many minutes.

  “As much fun as I’m having, you look tired. We should call it a night,” I said, getting to my feet.

  “Very well, but I’m not letting you off that easily. We finish this game in the morning over breakfast.” He used the small table to leverage himself up.

  I eyed the pieces on the chessboard. If I wasn’t careful, in five moves or less, Darwin would have me in check. When he’d brought the beautiful wooden chess set into the room, the idea of playing with anyone but Gabriel had felt strange. But Darwin wasn’t just anyone. Despite my apprehension and the caution I’d exercised knowing his father did business with Angels, somehow he had become a friend.

  I stood and moved to collect the empty bottles, but Darwin intercepted me. “Leave them, honestly. I’ll sort out everything down here.” Darwin strode past me and returned with my bag in hand. “I’ll show you to a guest room.”

  “A,” not “the.” The house was as grand as I remembered it, so I wasn’t surprised there were plenty of spare beds to offer. Upstairs, toward the far end of the landing, Darwin presented a gorgeously decorated, lavender-scented room, complete with en suite. I walked through and placed my bag on top of the throw, covering what I was sure were expensive sheets on the four-poster bed.

  “It’s lovely,” I said. The double-vaulted ceilings gave a sense of space, and the drawn suede drapes were easily twice my height. Darwin slid them back, opened the doors hidden behind them, and led me onto a small balcony that overlooked the gardens.

  “Not a bad view,” I said. The grounds were gently illuminated by the dull glow of solar lamps, and when I looked up into the night’s sky, the moon was full, shining like Darwin’s coin.

  “I’ll leave you to get settled. Would you like a hot beverage to take to bed?” he asked politely, stepping back inside.

  I closed the doors behind us both and pulled the drapes together. “No. Thank you, though.”

  Darwin gave me a quick peck on both cheeks before leaving.

  I headed for the bathroom. As I flicked on the light, my gaze settled on a roll-top bath—too inviting to ignore. I undressed and helped myself to the linen robe hanging on the back of the door, sliding my feet back into the silly slippers. Just as I was about to run the water, the thought of a nice, warm, familiar cup of tea came to mind, and though I didn’t need one, somehow the thought of soaking in bubbles made me want one.

  As I left the guest room, the clatter of glasses echoed through the hallway. Darwin was still in the kitchen. I had only taken a couple of steps when a creak from three doors down caused me to stop dead in my tracks.

  I could put the movement of the door drifting open down to the wind blowing in from an open window perhaps, but that wouldn’t explain the plink-plonk of fairground music that filtered out.

  SIXTEEN

  SLIDING MY FEET OUT OF THE SLIPPERS, I tiptoed across the landing. I willed my glow from within to create a defensive barrier and, without hesitation, pushed the door ajar and peeked inside.

  Ding der ding. The tinny vibration traveled in short, sharp spells as my light illuminated what appeared to be a girl’s bedroom.

  I pinpointed the origin of the music to a bookcase built into the alcove next to a chimney breast. I raised the dimmer switch beside me, ridding the room of the darkness. The room was empty. Confident there was nothing or no one untoward lurking inside, I allowed my glow to dissipate.

  Sash windows were positioned on either side of a small double bed covered with a floral duvet. To my immediate right was a vanity desk whose top was covered with a large oval mirror, a makeup bag, and neatly placed pots containing lotions and potions. Though my heightened sense of smell picked up on the lavender scent that had also filled the guest room, it was almost overwhelmed by the aroma from the vase of freshly cut oriental lilies.

  As I made my way around the bed, the wind seeped through the partially open window, causing the door to squeak behind me. I searched the bookshelves at speed, and starting from the bottom, I ran my gaze over the trinkets positioned in front of the romance novels, seeking out the source of the sound.

  A cold chill brushed my arm as the unmistakable steam organ from my dream piped up once more.

  I did a double take.

  On a shelf just above my eyeline,
a carousel music box sputtered. Four horses with twisted golden poles cutting through their saddles drifted up and down as they slowly turned. The horses were painted in different colors—blue, green, and orange—but the fourth was pure white, decorated with a garland of pink roses.

  I knew her when I saw her: Uri.

  I picked up the heavy wooden box and ran my fingers over Uri’s smooth, hand-painted porcelain mane. Searching the bottom for a key, I found it next to a gold label that read “Four Signs Music Box Company.”

  I wound the music box, freeing the tune once more. I set Uri and her friends on the shelf, and the horses bobbed up and down as the carousel turned. A tear streaked down my cheek as I took a bewildered breath.

  How could this be?

  Why had I dreamt of this music box?

  What did it represent?

  This exact object had surfaced from my subconscious before the sequence on the cliff edge had played out. Trying to solve the conundrum, I didn’t hear Darwin’s footsteps until he appeared in the doorway.

  “Cessie?” he said.

  I wiped my eyes and patted down the mask at my temple, ensuring it was still intact before facing him. “I’m sorry. The breeze must have caused the music box to start. I followed the sound to see where it was coming from,” I explained, shuffling backward.

  Darwin came to my side, and his lips pulled in a sad smile. “I haven’t heard that play in years. My mother couldn’t bring herself to clear Rose’s things—my sister, that is.” And then he added, “The girl I couldn’t save.”

  I hadn’t realized that the night Darwin and I had met, when he’d told me that he, too, had lost a loved one, he’d been referring to a sister. A sister whom he said I had reminded him of.

  “The music box was a gift from me for her thirteenth birthday,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, Darwin.”

  As the bells chimed in, the music grew louder and Darwin’s heartbeat thudded in his chest, adding a baseline only I could hear.

  He scanned the shelves and then reached out, collecting a photo frame, his attention fixed on the young girl trapped behind the glass. After a moment, he passed it to me. In the picture, there was a discarded white gift box beside Darwin’s sister as she clutched the carousel in her hands, a wide smile spread across her face. Though she was young, there was something very familiar about her appearance—about her big, eager eyes. Even though they were not as bright as Darwin’s jade-green ones, I could be forgiven for assuming that it was he to whom she bore a resemblance—it was an assumption that would cost me later.

  “She’s very beautiful,” I said.

  “Yes, she was.” He cleared his throat and placed the frame back down.

  “How did she…”

  “She battled with psychosis. In her late teens, she lost all grip on reality. The boarding school she was attending in Switzerland sent her home, advising my parents to seek professional help for her ‘madness,’ as they called it.” He shook his head and then snorted with derision. “As you can imagine, my father was mortified. He was quick to pack her off to a private clinic. When she returned, he applied an enormous amount of pressure on her, concerned with what people might think. He couldn’t have the Montmorency name attached to such a thing, after all. And for a time, she seemed well again. She stopped voicing her delusions as if she no longer had them, and so we carried on, business as usual.” Darwin’s voice was becoming hoarse; I took his arm.

  As he stared out into space, remembering, the nostalgic music became the sound track to his and Rose’s childhood. There was a sudden warmth radiating from him, and as I focused, a soft white hue framed his body. Darwin had a light soul, but the memory of his sister made his aura shine brighter than ever.

  Gabriel had been absolutely right when he’d told me that light and love were one and the same.

  Winding down, the carousel slowed, and Darwin came back to me. The glow exuding gently around his form flickered. “She took her own life.” His jaw clenched, and he pushed his eyeglasses back to the bridge of his nose. “Selfish really.”

  My brow creased.

  “She left no one to blame, no one to punish.… well, except for myself. Unlike my brother…”

  What did he mean by that? I frowned; I didn’t want to pry. The only talk of Darwin’s brother that I could recall was Gabriel’s discussion with Sir Montmorency. He’d said something about his youngest son having gone missing, but he hadn’t appeared too worried, saying that it was not the first time he had fallen off the grid. But that was three years ago now.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head.

  Darwin’s lips pulled in a tight line. “Elliot was murdered.”

  “Oh, Darwin…” I fidgeted, but then asked, “What happened?”

  Darwin nudged the base of the music box back an inch, setting it so that it was perfectly in its place. “My father has many business interests, but primarily he deals in commodities.” Though I couldn’t tell him that I knew, because then he would ask how I knew, I was well aware of what his father dealt in.

  But while Sir Montmorency was concerned with the monetary value held in the crystals’ flawless aesthetics, unbeknown to him, his son Darwin was concentrating on the scientific value they held, slipping CERN a number of them, which he’d stolen from his father.

  “Elliot worked in the family business. He was in the south of France tying up a deal when he disappeared.”

  My mind whirled. That’s exactly where I had been around the same time.

  “My father thought Elliot had gone on a bender, expected he would return eventually. After the party here, my father let an entire week go by before he finally started to take Elliot’s disappearance seriously.” Darwin shook his head. “My father tracked his last movements to one of his business premises and obtained CCTV footage from outside the building. The camera was in the wrong place. It picked up only so much, but what it did…” He swallowed. “What I said to you, in the pub—”

  “The interdimensional aliens?” I said quietly, in acknowledgment that what he’d told me was a secret.

  “Yes. There was ten seconds of footage, maybe less.” His voice trembled. “Elliot came into the camera’s view. He stumbled backward before falling to the ground. But then … the creature descended upon him. It tore off his arms, before hauling his body away by his ankles.”

  “What did this ‘creature’ look like?”

  “It moved at such speed it was almost impossible to see clearly. The only distinguishable characteristic was inked markings that ran up its arms. I’ve studied them so many times, but it’s not enough.” He paused, and then said, “The shriek that left it, Cessie…” He didn’t need to finish his sentence. I could guess how it ended: I’d know the sound anywhere. I’d felt the same the first time I’d heard it, too. It was clear that Darwin was referring to a Pureblood. Zherneboh had hunted me down in the southern region of France. If Darwin’s brother, Elliot, had been there at the same time as me, it was very possible their paths had crossed. And if I was right, then without even realizing it, I was inadvertently the cause of his brother’s brutal death.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  The dizzy sounds of the fairground began to quiet, and the white shimmer that had skimmed Darwin’s body disappeared. “Elliot’s life was taken from him, and all things being equal, an opportunity will one day present itself to balance out the scales. I told you once before—I’m just a man, capable of the very best and the very worst of my humanity.” His entire body tensed. “When that moment arises, I suspect the latter would be most prevalent in me.” He peered over his glasses. “Do you think that makes me a terrible person?”

  Though the tremor in his voice was frightening, Darwin wasn’t evil. He didn’t have a bad bone in his body. I had killed Azrael, my own father, and I’d shown no mercy when I had ended Jonah’s Pureblood Master, Emery, because Jonah and the thousands more like him deserved retribution.

  I, of all people, underst
ood. “The need to wage war against others in order to feel peace is a powerful thing.”

  He tugged at the hem of his T-shirt uncomfortably, perhaps because he thought I was judging him. “Quite.”

  With a difficult smile, Darwin gestured for me to follow him out of his sister’s bedroom. As he reached for the doorknob, I lingered on the landing, knowing that it was wrong of me not to have expressed myself fully for fear I would expose the worst of my own super-humanity. I rose to tiptoes, and taking him by the shoulder, I looked into his eyes. He’d once quoted Shakespeare to me, and so I returned in kind. “‘If you wrong us, shall we not revenge?’” The haunting music from the carousel ended in one brilliant burst before fading. In a whisper I said, “Darwin, it’s your right to take it.”

  * * *

  I LOCKED THE GUEST ROOM DOOR behind me and slumped against it on the cold wooden floor. My head between my knees, I took several deep breaths in an attempt to steady my nerves and calm my overactive imagination. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I tipped my head back.

  “Jonah?” I hissed.

  My Vampire leaned against the bathroom door, twirling my knickers around his finger before casting them in the direction of the bed. “Yes, Jonah,” he said, knocking down the hood of his dark jacket.

  Springing from the floor, I shushed him. “You shouldn’t be here,” I practically growled. And then I realized something. “How did I not know that you were here?”

  Nonchalantly, Jonah shrugged me off, striding forward in his biker boots. “What exactly are you doing with the toff? More to the point, what are you doing with the toff with no panties on?” His eyebrows dipped with a lighthearted scowl, but I was sure that underneath his sarcasm he was irked, anxious, maybe even jeal—

  “I don’t get jealous, beautiful.”

  I tilted my head. “Maybe we aren’t out of sync after all.”

  I scooped my knickers from the foot of the bed and shoved them into the pocket of my borrowed robe.

  “So?” he demanded.