Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles)

by Jenna Kay

  Sure this Phoenix guy is cute, but he's not what the high school girls called “all that”. He's tall, about six feet, toned, and his hair is dark brown and straight, falling just above his shoulders. His black t-shirt and jeans fit him to a perfect tee and...alright, I'll say it. This guy is gorgeous will a capital G. But seeing what others don't and knowing he's potentially the most dangerous person in school (besides me) makes me cringe with discomfort. Also seeing immature girls fawn all over him meant my job was about to get much harder.

  I have to contain a shout of disagreement when the teacher says, “There's a couple of empty desks in the back. Please take your pick and we'll get started.”

  Great. Just great. Because I'm an outcast and people are turned off by my less-than-lovable personality, of course there's a couple of empty desks next to mine. Not only is my enemy in my class, but he's also going to sit right next to me.

  Freaking unbelievable.

  “Yes ma'am,” he replies, and I nearly lose my breakfast when the same girls giggle some more. I'm sure they're reacting this way because of his deep, silky voice. Even the teacher is spellbound by his presence.

  I watch...no, everyone watches as he glides smoothly down the aisle and settles in the desk to the left of mine. As he sits the desk makes a creaking sound, then he lets out a sigh. I shoot daggers at him through my eyes, hoping my glare looks as menacing as I feel. Evidently it's not. He smiles at me, showing off his perfect teeth.

  Hurriedly I turn away, but before I do I see how dark his eyes are, as dark as black ink. For a moment I think about how good looking he is. But only for a moment. The black viper sitting beneath his skin helps to keep my guard up, reminding me that no matter how innocent he may seem on the outside, the inside holds a monster eager to steal human souls for the dark side.

  I still felt disturbed, and this is the reason: He was here, in my presence, my silver eagle blood burning and anticipating a fight, yet something is different. He's different. Out of all the other Vipers I've come in contact with, this one seemed not to be a threat.

  Most Vipers I've encountered in the past have had evil rolling off of them in tidal waves, but Phoenix's feelings seem more docile. Sitting in my desk, just inches away, all I can feel rolling off of him is peace, sadness, and loneliness, which are three emotions I would never match up to a Viper. It strikes me as strange; it confuses the ever-loving crap out of me. Until I figured all this mess out I'd have to really pay attention to this guy, and also find out if he's connected to the blond Viper that knows my name.

  The teacher is in the middle of a coffee-driven lecture when Phoenix grabs my attention.

  “Psst! Hey, you got a pen I can borrow?” he whispers.

  I turn my head and glower at him. “What?”

  “A pen,” he replies, gesturing with his hand.

  “Unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath. I pull a pen out of my book bag and start to hand it over when I “accidentally” drop it on the floor. As he leans down to retrieve it I mimic his moves, getting right in his face. His hand touches the pen just as my hand smacks down on top of his.

  Time to lay down the law...my way.

  “I don't know where you came from or why you're here, but I know exactly what you are.” My whisper is harsh but I don't care. I squeeze his hand until my knuckles turn white, continuing on with my threat. “If you lay a hand on anyone here I'll personally cut your head off. Do you understand where I'm coming from?”

  He stares into my eyes before responding, his face a complete blank. “Meet me outside after class, in front of the school, on the steps. I'll explain everything.”

  Again we stare at each other, my hand still baring down on his. I shoot him a funny look, tilting my head to the side.

  “What, like, you want me to skip class?”

  He smirks. “All the power in the world and you're afraid to ditch class? Are you saying that underneath your hard, tough exterior is a weak little girl?” His remark hits a nerve, so I pinch his hand, causing him to yelp like a puppy.

  “Gracen? Phoenix?” the teacher calls from the front of the classroom, a hint of worry salting her voice. “Is everything alright back there?”

  Quickly we sit straight up in our seats, pitching our gazes forward. My face burns with coarse abashment when the whole class turns around and stares at us. I try to speak but my mouth is suddenly bone dry.

  “Everything's fine,” Phoenix answers for the both of us. His short reply pleases her, so she continues on with her lecture. Thankfully the rest of the class turns their attentions back to the front, with the exception of a couple of girls giving me go to Hell looks.

  I let a few minutes pass before telling him, “I'll meet you after class...Viper.”

  “Good,” he says, adding, “We've got a lot to discuss, Gracen Potts.” I shake my head, gearing my attention back to the rambling teacher. How did he know my name?

  “Un-freaking-believable,” I mumble, and when he laughs lightly my blood runs hot.

  ***

  There's a chill in the air, the Fall wind trying its hardest to knock me down. I pull the hood of my jacket on and blow into my hands as I sit on the steps in front of the school's brick building. Second period has already started—I am officially ditching class, a first for me. Not that I'm afraid of being caught, it's just I've never had a reason until now to do it. And that reason is ten minutes late. Figuring he isn't coming I stand to my feet, deciding I may as well go to class. That's when shock jolts my body, my bones almost jumping from skin.

  Leaning against the wall of the school is Phoenix Brooks. His arms are crossed and it appears he's been standing there awhile.

  “Think I wasn't going to show?” he says with a smug smile.

  “No,” I shoot back sarcastically. “I was still clinging to the hope of you not showing up.” His smile vanishes, twisting into a frown.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” he tells me, narrowing his dark eyes.

  I tilt my head back in defiance. “I don't accept your apology.”

  Again we find ourselves in a staring match, each waiting for the other to make the first move. When I say move, I mean speak, and I so didn't want to be the one to break the ice. He had asked to meet me, so he should be the one to speak first. Though after a few uneasy seconds of silence and the cold wind tearing through me, I force myself to break the uncomfortable barrier.

  “Look, I'm freezing my butt off here,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself. “So if you want to talk, talk. If not, I'm going to class.”

  “We can't talk here,” he states quickly. Shaking his head he adds, “They may be watching us.”

  “They?” I reply, quirking an eyebrow. “Who are you talking about?” Before I can blink he stands beside me, his shoulder touching mine.

  “Follow a few steps behind me,” he orders softly, pulling the hood of his black jacket over his head. He scans the buildings surrounding us, squinting against the bright sun as he takes them in with concern. “They're all over the city, searching for me and the others. If they know we've found you, we're done for.”

  My heart thunders loudly in my ears, and before I can ask once again who “they” are, he brushes passed me, leaving me to stand there with my mouth wide open. I start following him a few steps later, keeping a good fifty feet behind him. My senses are on full alert, reaching out as far as they can go, searching for any signs of danger. Fortunately I sense no enemies except for the one I'm following—and strangely I don't sense any threat from him.

  Odd. Very odd.

  A couple of blocks later Phoenix enters Tony's Breakfast Bar. Nonchalantly I look around, then casually make my way across the street and enter the restaurant.

  Once inside the eatery I scan the booths until I find the Viper. He's chosen the farthest booth in the back, which is a wise choice since most of the patrons have taken up the front booths. Walking slowly to the back my ears pick up on every noise in the busy restaurant—dishes and silverware banging together, obn
oxious laughter, a cell phone ringing, the cook whistling, a toilet flushing. My head begins aching with all the ruckus that's part of everyday living. Seriously, having super hearing is not as fun as it sounds, especially if you're prone to migraines.

  Sliding into the booth, I slip off my jacket and settle into the red-cushioned seat. He's staring at me, studying me, as if trying to peer into my brain. Which is never going to happen. Yes, he's powerful being a Night Viper, but he's not strong enough to read minds. Silver Mortals don't hold that power either, though we can sense feelings, and right now he's feeling anxiety and fear. His heart is fluttering wildly, and before he speaks I notice his hesitation. He's afraid the outcome of this conversation will not go too well. And that causes my already jittery nerves to explode into absolute distress.

  “You hungry?” he questions, his eyes wide and unblinking.

  “No,” I answer.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because they have the best omelets this side of—”

  Losing my cool, I reach across the table and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him halfway onto the table.

  “Look,” I hiss, “I'm not hungry or thirsty or care about their stupid omelets. All I want is for you to start explaining yourself. If you don't start talking then you're wasting my time, and if you waste my time your chafing my nerves, prompting me to rip you a new one with my very long and very sharp knife.” I lean my head to the side, narrowing my eyes. “Is that what you want?” He stares calmly at me.

  “I'm not your enemy,” he says softly. “I'll explain everything if you'll let me. Please. Let go.”

  My eyes gaze down at my hands on his collar and it dawns on me that maybe I'm being a little too dramatic. Letting go of him, I slump back down in my seat. He does the same, straightening his shirt and running a hand through his disheveled hair. I feel bad for being so harsh, immediately regretting my overreaction, but not bad enough to apologize.

  “Are you normally this irate?” he inquires, his eyes flashing across the restaurant.

  I shrug my shoulders, slumping over as a weary feeling flits through my body. “Only when I'm sitting with the enemy.”

  “Gracen, I'm not your enemy!” he exclaims, appearing flustered. His reaction brings a smile to my lips.

  “Prove it,” I push relentlessly, adding, “Start talking or I'm gone.”

  “Fine,” he replies through gritted teeth. “But promise me you'll keep an open mind about what I'm saying and listen to every word.”

  “Sure, why not,” I tell him, again shrugging my tired shoulders.

  He shakes his head. “No, you've got to promise me.”

  Rolling my eyes I concede with, “I promise.”

  “Good. That's good.” He clears his throat. “First let me put this out there. I'm not like others of my kind. I'm not as evil and vicious as you think, and I'm telling you this because I know you're going to have a hard time believing what I tell you.” He pauses, looking directly in my eyes; I nod for him to continue. “I don't want to be a Night Viper. I don't like to cause others pain, I don't want to be the cause of any suffering mankind goes through. I don't like to lie, cheat, and I absolutely loathe demons.”

  I react to his words by laughing out loud. “Oh please! Forgive me for my outburst, but you're not going to sit here and convince me you're wanting to rebel against your true nature. I'd have to be pretty dense to believe such a lame story.”

  “I'm telling the truth!” he expresses, slamming his fist on the table, clinking the silverware together. “And that's not the whole story. There's a group of us hiding out in the city. We've broken away from the Viper clan. We've escaped the demons that had imprisoned us and now we are in hiding, taking refuge here.”

  “Um...what?” Watching him carefully I note the sincerity all over his face. I'm still unable to trust him, though. Every word sounds off alarms in my brain, causing my suspicions to grow.

  “There's five of us,” he continues, leaning his elbows on the table and locking his hands together. “Three weeks ago we were able to break through the walls of the compound we called home, though it never felt like a home. It felt more like a prison in Hell.

  “We took a stand, fighting for what we believe in, tired of being pushed around by the lowest of demons. They beat us on a daily basis, tortured us if we didn't follow their heinous commands. Sometimes they would make us watch as they physically hurt and tormented innocents. And it wasn't just the demons that did the tormenting—our fellow Vipers took it upon themselves to dish it out.

  “One night they made me watch as a group of male Vipers raped a woman repeatedly. She begged them to stop, but they didn't listen. They ravaged her over and over again, until she was pleading for death.”

  The Silver Eagle begins to weep in my heart. “Did...Did they kill her?”

  Averting his eyes he nodded. A single tear fell down his cheek, and when his gaze caught back up with mine I could see his eyes darkening even more, the memories of that night coming back in haunting measures. I know how he's feeling—I have a few disturbing memories of my own.

  “We don't want to be evil,” he whispers, taking a paper napkin and wiping off his face. “We want to be good. We want to protect the innocents, not destroy them.”

  I blow out a breath that I hadn't noticed I was holding in. Studying Phoenix, reaching out to him with my supernatural feelers, I know he's telling the truth. The pain he feels is genuine, and I know his heart is broken, possibly beyond repair. All the years of his life have been nothing but pain, heartache, and misery. What he's gone through makes my short life look like a fluffy slumber party.

  “Phoenix, I know that what you're telling me is the truth,” I admit, adding, “though while we've been talking the black viper on your face has been taunting me, reminding me of what you really are.”

  A pained expression crosses his face. “If I could erase it I would, but I can't. Evil doesn't exist,” he points to his heart, “in here anymore. There's no room in here for darkness. Never again.”

  “What does any of this have to do with me?” I ask wearily, rubbing at my now-aching temples. “Why are you going to my school? Why are you telling me your story?”

  “Because we have no where else to turn,” he responds, his voice shaky. “You and your mother are the only Silver Mortals in the city. We've sought you out—”

  “Hey,” I interject as a quick thought filters through my brain, “Is one of your guys blonde?”

  A shocked expression covers his face. “Yeah. Anyway, we need—”

  “Who is he? What's his name?”

  “His name is...” he wavers, then continues. “His name is irrelevant. Right now at this moment we, in a nutshell, need you guys to help us.” This frustrates me.

  “Help? You want us to help you and your group of rebel Vipers?” I lean forward, my palms pressing down onto the table top. “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “We need your protection, Gracen, and you are the only one that can do it.” He pauses, dropping his hands into his lap. “They have soldiers out there looking for us, and their orders are to terminate.”

  Unnerved, not knowing what to say, I stare at him. My mind continues to run the conversation over and over, in the end none of it making any sense. He's not lying to me—my discerning powers tell me that much. Every word he has spoken is the truth. He did, indeed, need help, but why come to me? What possessed him to search my mother and I out for protection? Well, yeah, my mother and I are the closest Silver Mortals around, but why did he think we could help them?

  For a moment I feel compassion toward him, but it doesn't last. Images of Mark being beat up the night before flash in my mind, giving way to anger. My life could only be described as a wreck, floating in a pool of constant turmoil, and it would never be normal. Ever.

  In simpler words, I have enough on my plate to deal with; I have no more room for anyone or anything else. Period.

  “Phoenix, I've heard
enough. Your story is very touching, but my mother and I have enough to worry about. Our job as Silver Mortals is to protect the Untouched on this planet and send demons back to Hell. Nothing in our job description states that we are to protect runaway Vipers.” I stand up and pull my jacket on, eager to get away from him and this whole situation. “It's been fun, and I wish you the best of luck, but I'm not the answer to your problems.”

  “But Gracen...” he pleads, also getting to his feet.

  “And a word of advice,” I tell him hastily. “If you're trying to hide from darkness it's best that you and your gang of rebels stay off the radar. You can start by not enrolling in public school.” I turn around to walk away, but he grabs my arm and halts my steps.

  “Please, Gracen. We need your help.” His dark eyes pierce through me, sending shudders down my spine. He looks so sad, so pitiful, like a lost puppy dog. His feelings flow into me, feelings of desperation and apprehension, but I'm too stubborn to be swayed.

  Pushing his hand off my arm, I send him an icy glare. “Like I said—I'm not your answer.”

  Once out of Tony's I breathe in the fresh air and head back to school, leaving behind Phoenix and the talk we'd just shared. Lunchtime had already started, leaving me with yet another problem...

  What to tell Bets about the date, knowing the subject had been formulating questions in her one-track mind. I laugh to myself, thinking she's probably waiting for me outside the door of the cafeteria. My thinking had been right, because as I make my way down the hall she sees me and her face brightens up. Running up to me she slings an arm around my shoulder.

  “Where have you been?” she inquires sternly. “I've been looking all over for you!”

  Grinning and ignoring the whispers being thrown in our direction I reply, “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to run home and get my homework.”

  She chuckles, her black-studded nose ring gleaming under the florescent lights. “Very typical of you. Why, I bet you'd lose your own head if it wasn't attached to your neck!”