Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles)

by Jenna Kay

  Raking a hand through his hair, and then rubbing at his eyes with balled-up fists, a yawn attacks him. Deep dark circles cover his eyes, his normally dark skin taking on a more pale shade.

  Phoenix is wore out, and so am I. He's right when he says we need rest, though that's easier said than done. I'm not sure how I'll be able to rest with the beehive of distressing thoughts buzzing around in my head.

  Being this close to Phoenix, though, is like my own personal solace. His protectiveness and loyalty is burning so strong on him, helping to soothe my fragile self.

  “Will you hold me, Phoenix?” I ask, catching him off guard.

  Regarding me with curiosity he wonders, “Are you sure?”

  I smile slightly and nod my head. “Yeah. I'm sure.”

  Turning away from him, I flip over to my left side. He slides in behind me, draping an arm around me and pulling me close. Warmth spreads from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and in that moment I know I'm safe just being in his embrace. A soft sigh eludes his lips, the sound music to my ears. I allow myself to close my eyes, though I have one nagging thought that will not shut off.

  Before I'm able to doze I ask Phoenix one more question.

  “Alexander said that Zavebe brought him to his son and to his daughter. Who is his daughter?”

  Tension suddenly takes hold of his body, all the muscles in his arms tightening. His heart is beating so fast and so hard in his chest I can feel it on my back as he draws me even closer to him. He's nervous about something, but I'm too sleepy to wonder why.

  “The truth will come out soon, Gracen,” he whispers in my ear as I head off to la-la land. “We'll all know the truth soon.”

  ***

  “Hurry up!” the burly demon growls, giving the chains locked to my wrists a hard yank. “The master is waiting and he will not be pleased if you're late.”

  I move my feet as fast as I can, my wrists bloodied and sore. The demon, who has red skin under thin coarse black hair and long black horns protruding from his bald head, pulls me down a narrow hallway. Torches light up the dark path, showing walls made of sharp jagged rock. The ground beneath my feet is littered with rocks, dirt, and bones, human from the looks of them. Blood and death scent the hot, humid air, along with the putrid smell of the demon pulling me.

  A howl of excruciating pain echoes off the walls and I trip, falling to my knees. This earns me a slap across the face with the chains that hold me captive. Tilting my head upwards I come face-to-face with the nine-foot tall bastard. His lips are curled up in a sneer, his nostrils flaring with each angry breath he exhales. He glowers down at me through tar-black eyes, the firelight from the torches glinting off them.

  “Get up or I'll kill you myself,” he hisses with black spittle flinging from his mouth.

  I narrow my eyes at him, promising, “As soon as I lose these chains, you'll be the one dead.”

  My remark makes him burst out in guttural laughter. He jerks the chains, lifting me to my feet, and once again we begin trekking down the narrow hall. I lick and taste blood from my busted lip. Inwardly I swear to myself that when my chains are gone that demon is going to lose his head. The Silver Eagle flutters around inside me, anxious to be released, but I'm unable to let it out. My powers have been depleted, my energy drained, and I know immediately why.

  It's this place, this rocky edifice that has stolen all my energy, rendering me powerless. I'm not sure what it is, but it has something to do with what's inside the rock.

  Another screech of anguish fills my eardrums, the sound so abrasive I'm afraid my head will explode. The smell of blood is getting stronger, the pain and torture happening all around hitting me squarely in the face. As we walk I close my eyes, trying to center myself and allow my mind to call out to the souls being harmed. But it's a useless feat. Without my powers I can't sense the souls; I can only feel their torment.

  Suddenly a large metal door appears before us, and the demon pushes it open, the hinges causing an irritating shriek. He leads me into a large room—no, scratch that—it's more like an massive underground stadium. Demons and monsters of all sorts take up the arena seats. They hiss and yell in their demon languages, throwing rocks at me as I pass. The one pulling me detonates a harsh roar, the stadium immediately growing silent. The only sound that can be heard now is the clank-clank of my chains.

  For the first time since entering the arena, I peel my eyes off the ground and look around. Fear catapults into me as I see Alexander, in all his sadistic glory, sitting on a throne made of bones. He's wearing a black robe, his pitch-black eyes trained on me. He holds a large knife in his hand, twirling it between his fingers slow, delicately.

  A bad taste forms in the back of my throat when I see Ash. He's on the ground next to his father's throne, on his knees and wearing only a pair of jeans. His body is covered in bruises and bloody gashes. He peers up at me through blonde bangs, though he's only seeing me out of one eye, since the other is swollen shut. Lowliness and despair is thickly flowing off of him, his frown a deep scar on his face.

  “Gracen...”

  A faint voice sounds off to my right, and my heart pounds with alarm.

  “Mom! Jude!” I cry out, starting to run toward them, only to be jerked back by the chains holding me hostage. Not only is Jude and my mom chained up, but so is Phoenix, Jack, Reagan, and Tink, all bloody and broken.

  I try breaking away from the demon, but that awards me yet another blow to the face with my chains. I fall to the ground, looking up at the demon who's beating me, preparing myself for another hit.

  “That's enough, Alistor,” Alexander says, his voice strangely calm and gentle. He stands to his feet and walks down from his throne, the knife in his hand glinting in the torchlight. “Remember who you have in your possession. She is precious cargo.”

  He stops a few inches in front of me, kneeling down on one knee. Raising my eyes and glaring at him I try to ignore the torn flesh on my knees and focus all my hatred toward him. His black eyes stare at me, his head tilts to the side, allowing me to see the coiled viper on his cheek.

  A moment of silence passes before I ask, “What do you want from me?”

  The corners of his eyes wrinkle as a sinister grin spreads across his face, and I'm terrified by the sharp fangs touching his lower lip.

  “Look at my face closely, dear Gracen.” His voice is cool and serene. “Tell me what you see.”

  Being this up close and personal to Alexander, I see that his skin is pale and flawless, that the face underneath the white hair is quite young. I see a lot of Ash in his face, but I also see something else, something very familiar.

  As I continue to stare his face begins to transform, features and bone structure rearranging, until Alexander is no longer there. Instead there's pale blue eyes staring at me, pink lips, long white hair, and that's when I realize...

  I'm staring at myself.

  I wake with a start, my heart a big beating ball of meat. Sweat covers my entire body, the blanket Phoenix had covered me with discarded onto the floor. It takes me a minute to remember where I am. When the large windows of the warehouse comes into view, the hot sun pouring in, I remember. Everything.

  Looking for Phoenix I find him sitting in a chair next to the bed, his dark eyes fixated on me. He's changed into dark jeans and a black t-shirt. His hair is still damp, evidence that he's taken a shower. His hands are entwined with his chin resting on them, his elbows perched atop his thighs. A few different emotions are spilling off of him right now in strong waves. Anxiety, fear, and relief. The expression on his face tells me everything I need to know.

  Phoenix had known this whole time.

  I sit up and throw my legs over the side of the bed, glaring at Phoenix.

  “You knew, didn't you?” I start out. “From the beginning. You knew that Alexander was my father, and that Ash was my brother.”

  With a weary look he answers, “I wasn't sure. I—”

  I didn't give him a chance to finish.
My anger had gotten the best of me, causing me to fly off the bed and grab him around the collar of his shirt. I toss him across the room—he crashes into the kitchen table and falls flat on his back. Using my super speed I cross the room in a nanosecond, straddling him and slapping him across the face.

  “Why didn't you tell me?” I demand, giving his face another whack.

  “Gracen,” he breathes out, “I didn't know. With Ash being normal one second and crazy the next, I didn't want to tell you if it was just something he made up in his head.”

  I shake my head with disgust. “You should've told me.”

  “If I'd known it to be true, then I would've told you.” He pauses, his gaze shifting down my body and then back to my face. “Could you get off of me? Maybe we can talk. This is a little...distracting.”

  I look down, realizing the position we're in, and I quickly get to my feet.

  “Fine. We'll talk.” I spin on my heels and head for the couch, sitting down with my arms crossed at my chest. He stands up and staggers over to the couch, only instead of sitting by me, he sits on the ground in front of me.

  “I don't know where to start,” he tells me.

  “How about at the beginning,” I offer, holding him with a steely gaze. “Or at least when you guys arrived in the city.”

  He breathes out a shaky breath and then begins. “The whole reason we came to the city was because of Ash. Before we escaped the clan Ash had been having dreams of New York City, and about a girl with white hair, and that girl turned out to be you. He'd dreamed that he was you, fighting vamp demons. He dreamed about your mother, Jude...” He hesitates before adding, “The date you went on with that Mark guy, and...about the drunkards that you beat up.”

  Astonished, my arms fall to my sides. “He dreamed all that?”

  He nods. “Before I go on, let me tell you about Viper blood. We are all connected to our family in many different ways. We can speak to them in their dreams, in their heads—”

  “Ash did that to me, the first night I saw him.” I shudder. “He'd told me to look out the window.”

  “That's the night we decided for me to enroll in school,” he admits. “We weren't sure if you were Alexander's daughter or not. Ash is—well, you know. A little on the crazy side.”

  “But he'd not been that crazy, had he?” I point out, shaking my head. “If my mom wasn't kidnapped, I'd be so pissed at her right now.” I pause, peering down at him on the floor. “How could she have hidden my brother from me?”

  He surprises me by getting on his knees and taking my hands in his. “Most likely she didn't know of Ash's existence.” When he sees the confusion all over my face he adds, “He's your half-brother, Gracen. You share the same father, but not the same mother.”

  Understanding pummels down on me. “Oh, right. That makes sense, though Mom has kept this from me. She's always said my dad up and left us, and that she didn't know where he was.” I drop my head into my hands. “For the last few years she has taught me that Vipers and Eagles didn't mingle, but when you and the rest came into the picture she'd changed her way of thinking, and now I find out that...that...”

  I can't finish the sentence. I don't want to hear it out loud.

  “I'm a monster, Phoenix,” I whisper. “I've got Botis's blood in me, along with the Silver Eagle. How screwed up is that?”

  I feel Phoenix's hands pull mine away from my face so as to look me in the eyes. Meeting his gaze I feel the affection he feels for me, the sorrow, and a new one...

  Love.

  “Listen to me,” he says in a husky voice. “You're not a monster. You're Gracen Potts. Doesn't matter who your father or your mother is, you are you. Nobody can take that away. You understand me?”

  I nod, wiping at a stray tear on my cheek.

  “We've got a lot to talk about, Gracen. You're going to have to tell me every little detail of your dream. That's how we're going to find them.” He cups my cheek in his palm. “But first, you've got to do something for me.”

  “And what would that be?” I inquire, wondering where he's going with this.

  “Take a shower,” he tells me, scrunching up his nose. “You stink.”

  CHAPTER 20

  The shower head is on full blast, and I bask in the feeling of hot water on my bare flesh. I shampoo my hair and the smell of apple blossoms wash over me, reminding me of Tink—she'd smelled like apple blossoms last night. Again tears burn my eyes. I wash them away by sticking my face directly into the stream of water. I had to keep a clear head; I had to stay strong. For Mom, for Jude...

  For Ash, my brother.

  Why hadn't Mom told me the truth, that my dad was a Night Viper? And not just any Viper, but the Viper, Botis's right hand man. Most importantly, what had she been thinking (or smoking) when she had relations with the most horrible man alive?

  Now knowing the truth, my anger issues make more sense. I have both types of blood flowing through my veins, both good and evil battling it out to see who becomes the victor. It explains why one minute I want to help the innocents, while the next minute I want to destroy them all. It also meant that I'm way more different than I previously thought.

  Now I really didn't belong anywhere in this world.

  My thoughts drift to Ash. Poor, crazy, screwed-up Ash. Regret weighs heavily down on me. I'd raged all over him when he had not deserved it. He'd done what was supposed to be done, but my anger had swelled, exploding in his direction. Though he must have forgiven me for the incident, since he'd literally saved my hide from being ripped apart by a werewolf. Thinking back to that precise moment, right before Alexander showed himself, he'd been about to spill out that I was his sister—his half sister, that is.

  A vision of Zavebe plays across my closed eyelids. His three rows of teeth, his tar-colored eyes, his black claws. A shiver rips through me despite the hot water that's falling over my skin.

  Zavebe had found me, knew who I was the whole time, set a trap, and now Alexander had all the rebel Vipers, Mom, and Jude—everyone that I hold dear to my heart. I had to face the cold hard truth...

  All of this was my fault.

  Turning the shower nozzle off, I step out and wrap my hair in a towel. I snuggle into a white cotton robe of Reagan's, tying it tightly around my waist. Phoenix had promised to find me some clothes while I showered. I sure hope he'd found me some. The clothes I'd been wearing stank of werewolf.

  Exiting the bathroom, a chill runs through me. The bathroom had been warm and inviting, but the rest of the warehouse is freezing cold. Phoenix, hearing the bathroom door open, gets up from the couch and walks toward me, bringing me a pair of jeans and a sweater. When he catches sight of me he freezes in place, his dark eyes roaming my body from head to toe. His awestruck expression causes a blush to creep across my cheeks and warmth to skitter in my belly.

  “Um,” he begins walking over to me. “These may work. As for, you know, undergarments...”

  “These will do,” I tell him quickly, taking the clothes from his hands. He hurriedly starts to walk away when I notice two red scratches on his face.

  “Oh no!” I react, seizing his arm and inspecting his face. “What happened?”

  “It's nothing,” he says, leaning away from my outstretched hand.

  I gawk at him. “Oh yes it is! Did this happen when we were fighting the werewolves?”

  He shakes his head. “No, this one is a little...fresher.”

  I raise an eyebrow, not comprehending at first, but realization eventually smacks me across the face.

  “I did it,” I whisper in disbelief. “When I attacked...” I trail off, not wanting to hear the words out loud. After my dream, when I found out he'd known all along that Alexander could possibly be my father, I'd let my anger rise and took it out on him.

  “Gracen,” he begins, staring deeply into my eyes, “I'm fine. It's no big deal—”

  “Yes it is!” I interject quickly, turning my back to him. “I'm such a screw-up!”

  Sudde
nly he wraps his arms around my waist, leaning his chin on my shoulder.

  “You're not a screw-up,” he tells me, whispering in my ear. “You're amazing, you're smart. You're caring, you're loyal. You're beautiful.” He whips me around in his arms, his face lowering to mine. “And I'm falling in love with you.”

  His declaration causes my breath to catch in my chest and my heart to skip. Never in my life have I felt such emotions rolling off one person, all directed at me. Contentment, hunger, affection, warmth.

  Love.

  “You haven't known me long enough to love me,” I say, my heart pounding hard. When his forehead touches mine, that familiar heat falls into my belly.

  “It doesn't matter how long we've known each other,” he murmurs. “All I know is that I've never felt like this about anyone—ever. You make me want to be a better person. You make me feel like I'm worth something. When I close my eyes, all I see is you. When I think about the future, all I can think about is you.

  “You are my world, Gracen Potts, and I love you.”

  I've never heard more beautiful words. I've never felt wanted like this. His feelings are authentic, and for a moment I forget about the world, the situation, everything happening in and around us. That's when I rake my hands through his hair and crush my lips to his, wanting to just get tangled up inside of him. He answers my kiss with hungry kisses of his own, his strong arms folding around me, pulling me closer to him.

  Passion roars between us, my body melting from the heat pouring off his body. I gasp in surprise when he picks me up, cradling me to his chest. The towel holding my hair loosens and falls to the ground, my damp hair cascading down my back. He walks over to Jack and Reagan's bed, gently lowering me onto the black sheets. His hand travels down my waist and grips the side of my thigh, his eyes following his hand. My heart does cartwheels when his eyes travel back up and rests on my mouth, his lips softly pressing into mine. I close my eyes and savor the taste of him, not wanting to forget the feel of him against my body. It seems he feels the same way as he caresses my lips lovingly, his hand now rubbing the underside of my knee.