Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles)

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Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles) Page 15

by Jenna Kay


  Oh hell. Who am I kidding. I'm falling for this guy and falling fast.

  “Hold on tight,” he murmurs softly, wrapping his arms around my waist. A ball of heat hits my belly, my whole body waiting in anticipation for what's coming next.

  Locking my hands together behind his neck I wonder, “And why would I need to hold on tight?” Oh, come on! Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me!

  He leans in and I close my eyes, thinking he's about to kiss me, when he answers, “Because I'm taking you across town.”

  My eyes shoot open. “You're wh—”

  Blackness envelops the both of us, our feet no longer touching the ground as we're swept up in a whirlwind. My stomach falls to my toes as we swirl round and round in a black misty tornado. I pinch my eyes closed and do as Phoenix says—I hold on tight. No. Scratch that. I hold on for dear life!

  Two seconds later the black mist retreats from us, our feet back on solid ground. I peel my eyes open one at a time, preparing myself for what's next. I'm astonished at where he has taken us. We're standing in an old warehouse, only it's been transformed into a living space. There's two huge plate-glass windows that have a dusty film on their surfaces, making the light shining through not so abrasive. An open door is set off to the right of the room, revealing a rather large bathroom. Right next to the bathroom sits a small kitchen area, the appliances old and thrown together but most likely in working order. There's a mixture of scents that I'm able to sniff out. Cleaning supplies, cigarette smoke, and a scented candle that's probably used to hide the cigarette smell.

  I turn around, taking a step in the other direction. In one corner an old dirty couch occupies the space with an abused-looking dresser, its top holding a television with an antenna. In the other corner there's three cots close together, one of them holding a Tinker Bell comforter—that had to be Tink's cot. Next to the cots is a full size canopy bed with thick black sheets hanging over its top.

  “Why is there a separate bed with curtains around it?” I ask Phoenix curiously.

  “That's Reagan and Jack's bed.” My jaw drops as he adds, “They're a couple, so whenever they want alone time they close the curtains and—”

  I clamp my hand over his mouth. “TMI, Phoenix. Don't want to hear it.” He gently pulls my hand from his mouth.

  “Good, because I sure don't want to say it,” he admits, and we both chuckle.

  Grinning, I take a few steps back, soaking in the massive warehouse.

  “You guys actually live here.” I shake my head from side to side in amazement. “Wow.”

  “Yep, this is it.” He walks over to one of the cots and lays down, entwining his hands behind his head. “And this is where I sleep.”

  With tentative steps I walk over, sitting on the Tinker Bell cot.

  “Not too bad,” I tell him. “Though it's a bit bouncy.”

  “Mine's way softer,” he informs with a mischievous smile. “Come on over and check it out.” I reach over and smack his arm.

  “You perv!” I tease.

  “Hey,” he chuckles, sitting up and throwing his arms in the air. “Just having a little fun. Don't get your panties in a bunch.” This little comment causes me to raise an eyebrow.

  “You better be joking, if you know what's best for you, and,” I pause, crossing my arms at my chest, “my panties never get in a bunch.”

  He makes a goofy face. “Wow. That's good to know.”

  Wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible, I stand to my feet and ask, “Where's Ash? I'm supposed to be meeting him, right?”

  Rising to his feet as well he responds, “Any minute now, but before he gets here I need to prepare you for what you're about to face.”

  My nerves begin to rattle. “Oh-Kay.”

  “Here,” he grabs my hand and pulls me to the couch. “Lets have a seat.” We sit down and I notice his hand is shaky when he places a piece of hair behind his ear. Soaking in his emotions I sense he's feeling nervous, anxious, and dread.

  “Why are you afraid right now?” I ask. His eyes dart up at me in a panic.

  “Me? Afraid? Why would you think that?”

  I give him my best duh face. “I'm a Silver Mortal, Phoenix. I can read a person's emotions like an open book, and right now you reek of fear. So tell me why.”

  “Yeah, forgot about that.” He gives me another one of his sigh-worthy sideways grin, but still refrains from talking.

  Trying to move him along I push, “He'll be here any minute, so...”

  “Yeah, alright,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “First off, I'll tell you this—don't be alarmed if he stares at you for long periods of time. He's been through hell and back, even worse than the rest of us. Also, he's kind of twitchy, and the only thing I've found that calms his jerks down is cigarettes.”

  “So what you're telling me,” I marvel, “is Ash is addicted to nicotine and needs a prescription for Xanax.” I giggle, thinking I'm being hilarious, but I stop as soon as I catch on to Phoenix's unsmiling face.

  “He's a little messed up in here,” he tells me, tapping the side of his head. “He's the son of the most notorious Night Viper of them all. The one who is a personal assistant to Botis himself.”

  “Whoa, that's heavy,” I express, knowing my eyes must be the size of softballs. Botis is the Night Viper's overall leader and the one who, eons ago, gifted the people with the darkest of hearts supernatural powers to use against the innocents.

  “Yes, and that's not all,” he continues, his gaze drifting to his hands. “Since Ash's father is the most sinister of all Vipers he will stop at nothing to bring his son home. He'll also punish the ones who helped him escaped.”

  “You,” I whisper.

  He nods. “Jack and Reagan, too. Tink got involved when her sister asked me to get her out of there, but Alexander Edwards won't care about that. He'll punish and kill Tink, too.”

  “Alexander?”

  Suddenly I get a whiff of cigarette smoke just as a voice says, “My father.”

  Phoenix and I both shift our eyes in the direction of the voice. There he is, the blonde Viper I'd seen that night across the street from Applebee's. The one that had spoken to me inside my head. Leaning against the refrigerator, holding a lit cigarette in a rickety hand, he stares at us with blue eyes that appear to glow. He stares at us—no, he's staring at me as he exhales a massive cloud of smoke. He's as pale as me, though way taller, maybe six feet. His cheekbones are high on his skinny face, his lips thin and drawn into a straight line. He's dressed in blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, his feet wearing combat boots. Trepidation is his primary feeling, and it's rolling off of him in heavy portions.

  “Ash, come sit down,” Phoenix waves him over. “Bring a chair and have a seat.”

  Ash hesitates, his guard completely up. He picks up a green plastic chair and strolls over to us. Setting the chair in front of the television, situating himself across from us, he plops down. He glares at me with unblinking eyes, taking another puff of his almost gone cigarette. I shift uneasily on the couch, not knowing what would happen next.

  Phoenix had been right—this dude has some major issues.

  “Ash, say hello to Gracen,” Phoenix urges softly, almost carefully.

  Exhaling another stinky cloud of smoke my direction, he mumbles, “Hello Gracen.”

  “Hello Ash. It's nice to meet you.” I don't recognize my voice as I speak. It sounds cowardly and I hate it, though I can't help it. A flood of unease crashes into my system, the sound of his voice troubling me. Somehow he reminds me of someone, but I'm unable to place a finger on it. A strong sense of déjà vu smacks me in the face. I blink my eyes, trying to get rid of the strangeness that wafts off this guy.

  Lifting his chin he responds, “Likewise.” He drops the cigarette butt to the ground, stomping it out with his boot. Pulling another one out of his pack, he puts it between his lips and lights it up.

  With silence taking up the empty air we aren't filling, I notice that with each p
uff he takes the more his body relaxes. The shakiness seems to recede and his emotions begin to chill out. The fear is almost gone, but another feeling is closing in.

  Wariness.

  “Ash,” Phoenix begins, “Gracen and her mother have decided to help us out. Also they've agreed to let us work together. What do you think of that?”

  With an emotionless face and his eyes glued to me he replies, “Cool.”

  Another awkward moment passes by before I ask, “So Ash, when do you think you'll join us?”

  “Doing what?” he quickly shoots out, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Uh, you know, fighting the creatures that hide in the shadows?” I try not to sound sarcastic, but his chilly demeanor is beginning to chafe my hide.

  “She's talking about demon slaying, sending demons back to Hell,” Phoenix attempts to clarify. “Protecting the innocents from demons and—”

  “Our kind,” Ash interjects harshly, a sneer tugging at his lips. Leaning forward with his elbows balanced on top of his thighs, he looks at me and inquires, “Tell me, Gracen. Do you really think a tiger can change its stripes?”

  The intense look in his blue eyes is unwavering, and a chill creeps up and down my spine. It's like he's trying hard to challenge me, trying to knock me down a peg or two. Boy, is he about to learn who not to mess with.

  “Ash, your question can't really relate to what you're trying to prove.”

  His eyebrows lift. “Oh yeah? Please, oh please explain, Mortal.”

  Raising my chin I answer, “Well, you can't really compare a tigers stripes to a person's freewill. A tiger is physically born with stripes on their body...sort of like the viper sitting on your cheek.”

  I reach my hand out like I'm going to caress his mark with my fingers. He lets out a shriek and jumps out of his seat, backing away from me like my touch will kill him. His cry surprises Phoenix and I, causing us to jump up as well. The tension is so clogged in the air it's hard to breath. The heavy emotions flying around the room are a mix of fear, anxiety, panic, confusion—the list could go on and on.

  “Don't touch me,” Ash growls at me. “Ever.”

  My heart plummets to my feet when Ash's eyes go completely black. The Silver Eagle stirs within me, my hairs standing on end, and I prepare myself for a fight. I don't know why, but this guy has pushed my buttons and I am more than happy to touch him. Phoenix must have felt our combined feelings in the air, because that's when he situates himself between us, stretching out his arms to keep us apart.

  “Ash, you need to chill out,” Phoenix murmurs. “Gracen will not hurt you—”

  “You don't know that!” Ash screams.

  “Yes I do!” Phoenix shoots back, dropping his arms and getting in his face. “Gracen and her mother have agreed to help us. They are not our enemies; They are our friends.”

  A shrill laugh escapes Ash's lips.

  “That's what they all say, Phoenix,” he spits out nastily. “They take you in, feed you lies, and then cut you down as quick as possible. They'll keep us close for a little while, make us feel welcome, but when they have no use for us anymore, they'll throw us in the gutter, spit on us—walk all over us!” His face is bright red and veins are popping out of his neck, the stress of this meeting getting to him for reasons I'm not understanding.

  Phoenix takes a step back, his hands at his sides. “Ash, you're thinking of the past. You're thinking about how they treated us back home. You're thinking about your father!”

  “Don't talk about him!” Ash shouts, pushing Phoenix in the chest. He flies backward, falling onto the couch. That's what pulls my trigger.

  In a flash I'm in front of Ash, locking eyes with him. His black orbs narrow at me as he takes a few steps back, his mouth dropping open with shock. The Eagle in me is screaming to fight, but I swallow down the urge. For the sake of Phoenix, and the others, I've got to try and get him to trust me.

  Even if I have to beat it into him.

  Phoenix tries to get in between us again, but I block his way, shaking my head at him. He gives me a desperate look, but settles for standing right beside me.

  “Phoenix is right. I'm not going to hurt you.” I take two steps forward, my gaze stapled to his, and keep my tone calm and sincere. “True, I was skeptical at first, but I know that you guys want to change. I know that you escaped a life of torment, a true living hell, and that's why you're here today.”

  I take another step forward as he takes another step back, the fear wandering off of him and crawling onto me.

  “I'm not your enemy, Ash,” I continue as the eagle calms inside me. “You may not believe me, but I want to help you.” Glancing at Phoenix I say, “I want to help you all.”

  Phoenix nods his head in return.

  “How do you know that we really want to change?” Ash questions in a shaky voice.

  I turn back to him and promptly answer, “Because I can feel your emotions. I can sense the good in you. On the outside you act tough and unreachable, but you can't hide your feelings on the inside, especially from me.”

  I watch as the blackness in Ash's wide eyes slowly ebbs, bringing forth his bright blue orbs. A single tear slips down his cheek as he fumbles another cigarette out of his back pocket. Lighting it up and taking a drag, he peers down at me with sadness.

  “You found me that night,” I remind him, “across the street from the restaurant, remember?” He nods his head yes, his gaze stuck on my face. I continue, “That night I didn't feel afraid of you. I knew in my heart that you wouldn't hurt anyone. And standing here right now, I know you don't mean anyone harm.”

  He takes another puff of his cigarette and says, “I don't want to cause pain to others.”

  “I believe that,” I tell him softly. “And I believe that night, the night you spoke into my mind, you were truly happy to find me. So why are you not happy to see me now?”

  A laugh bubbles out of him, the sound echoing throughout the warehouse. Then his smile vanishes and again he looks at me with a dark shadow of sorrow on his pale face.

  “You have no idea who you really are,” he tells me in a deplorable tone, and before I can ask what he means by that, he vanishes into a black mist. I stare at the empty spot a moment, wondering what had just happened.

  “What just happened?” I turn my attention to Phoenix, completely baffled.

  He shrugs. “I told you he's messed up.”

  I walk into the kitchen and lean against the fridge, pinching the bridge of my nose. A stale headache is beginning to inch its way across my forehead. A huge blanket of fatigue falls on top of me, wrapping around my body and giving me a tight squeeze.

  “Phoenix,” I whisper softly, “please take me home.”

  CHAPTER 15

  The rush of wind and total blackness dissipates as Phoenix and I appear in my room. Knowing that my legs are about to give out, I fall back on my bed, flopping down on the soft pillows. I close my eyes, letting everything soak in. Meeting Ash and seeing how unplugged to reality he is has left me feeling troubled, the whole situation a big fuddling mess.

  The night Ash had found me he'd acted relieved to see me, even going as far as speaking to me in my mind—I'm still a bit confused about how he'd done that. But why, after meeting me face to face, had he shied away from me, as if my touch was a plague?

  “I'm sorry that didn't go so well, though I knew he wouldn't act right.”

  I open my eyes to see Phoenix hovering over me, his dark eyes full of concern and pity. I had been so lost in my many thoughts that for a moment I'd forgotten that he was in my room.

  “I'm getting used to it,” I tell him, shifting my weary gaze to the ceiling.

  The bed dents as he sits down. “Used to what?”

  “Nothing going well,” I answer without a glance at him. “My life has been one big screw-up after the next. I've never fit in, the first date I go on ends dramatically. I'm sixteen years old and my favorite past time is training with my Katana and scoping out various places i
n the city in hopes of finding a demon lair to destroy.”

  I pause, switching my eyes up at him. “My attitude sucks, I have anger issues, and I'm socially and mentally awkward. A pathetic excuse for a Touched human being.”

  Phoenix stares unblinkingly at me, biting his lip. He appears to be in deep thought, his forehead creased in determination, like whatever he's pondering is giving him a righteous headache. His emotions are churning around in his chest as he contemplates telling me what he's thinking.

  A minute passes before he says, “I know what it's like to live an imperfect life. I understand how it feels to not fit in, to be socially unwanted. I knew all this at ten years old, when my mom and dad died. I was left in the care of Alexander Edwards, the man who killed my parents.”

  I gasp, quickly sitting up. “Ash's dad killed them?”

  He nods, his eyes wet with tears. “Yes, unfortunately.”

  “But why? Why did he kill your parents?”

  He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “He learned that they were starting an uprising against him. You see, my parents were the first to ever try and break away from the clan, but they were too trusting, too gullible.” He pauses, wiping at his eyes.

  “Anyway,” he continues, “one of their so-called friends ratted them out. Alexander and a group of warrior demons came to our home, dragging my parents away. I'm not sure how they died, but I'm sure they were tortured for their treacherous act.”

  A tear slips down my cheek. “I'm so sorry, Phoenix.”

  “Ash and I have grown up the last seven years together. His father treated me differently than he treated Ash. He was much harder on Ash.” He wipes my tear away with his finger, adding in a whisper, “I've seen and lived through true hell. I know how it feels.”

  My heart breaks in two. I extend a hand up to his cheek, palming it. Tears continue to gather in my eyes as his emotions fuse with my own.

  “I'm sorry,” I tell him again. “I must sound so selfish right now, complaining about my life, while your life has been so horrible.”

 

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