“Good.” He stepped aside as Benedict walked up to them with his amazingly handsome Angel friend and disappeared into the mass of people. While Benedict’s hair was out of place, and his top lip was cut a little, Azrael looked completely fine. More than fine really, because not a single strand of hair was out of place. There wasn’t even any blood on his suit. How was that possible?
“Is everyone okay here?” Azrael’s eyes landed straight on her neck. “Who did that?”
“The guy is unconscious down that hall to the right.” Thornton straightened as he answered, like he was talking to an army general.
Benedict nodded, frowning down at her. “Right. We’ll sort that out. I want you to take Jaycen away from here. Just while we clean up the mess.”
Jaycen raised her hand, a little confused. “Why am I suddenly getting treated like I’m made of glass?”
When no one answered her, she continued, “I’m not. I totally fought that guy, and I don’t want to brag but I used magic, and I hurt him.” She let that settle in, unable to hide her smugness. Oh yeah, I’m a badass.
“Good for you.” Surprisingly, it was Azrael that spoke first, his face seriously impressed. Yay, the kickass Angel liked that she could fight with magic.
“We’ll talk about that later.” Benedict looked pointedly at Thornton, she had no idea why. “In the meantime, I have a mess that I need to clean up here. We’ll head back tomorrow morning.”
They both nodded and Thornton led her away, going in a different direction from where her attacker lay, thank god. Just as they were leaving the room, one of the tied-up detainees shouted at the top of his voice, “We might have lost this fight, but we will win the war. Magic mixing is killing us all. It’s a poison we need to stop.”
People rushed towards him, shutting him up. But his words stayed with Jaycen as Thornton led them down one of the corridors.
“That guy back there, he asked me my name. He kind of demanded it actually.”
Thornton looked disgusted.
“That’s what the attack was about, wasn’t it? I saw them when we first got here, and at the school after Amy died. Shouting stuff about magic mixing, and pure blood. Whatever the hell magic mixing is.”
Thornton pursed his lips. “Magic mixing isn’t a nice term. It’s horrible, in fact. Don’t say it.”
“Oh.” Well damn, she hadn’t been expecting that.
“They see themselves as pure, because their blood is more violet than some.” He laughed without any humour, shaking his head. “It’s ridiculous; none of us are pure anymore. All of us are diluted.”
“Because your magic gets less with every generation. Yeah, Gemma told me about that.”
“Yeah, well, some people think only violet bloods should be allowed to have children with other violet bloods. That going outside of these bloodlines dilutes their magic even more and should be banned.”
“Oh. But you can’t help who you fall in love with.” She sounded like a ten-year-old, watching Disney movies, and fantasising about finding Mr. Right. She hated that. Growing up with her mother, Jaycen had learnt quickly that true love just didn’t exist. Eventually, people let you down, love be damned. But the thought of not having the chance to find someone, Jaycen found that so unbelievably sad.
“Exactly, you can’t take the choice from people. You can’t tell people who they should marry, and who they should have children with. We’re losing our powers because that’s the way it was meant to happen. That’s it.”
She wondered what Thornton thought about happily ever after; did he think it existed?
“Yeah, totally.”
They came to two large steel doors; they looked so odd next to the wooden, beautifully carved ones. Kind of forbidding and intimidating.
“What’s this?” Jaycen asked, stepping out of the way as a group of crying women exited the room. Whatever was in there, crying wasn’t a good sign.
“This is the cemetery. It’s where our elders are buried.” He explained simply.
The room before them was dark. The slightest blue light shining through, and it was indoors, not like any crypt Jaycen had ever seen before.
“Oh cool.” What else did you say to something like that?
Thornton led the way in. Five columns illuminated by a dark blue light sat in the middle of the room, guarded by three armed guards. Well, we could have used them outside fighting off the psychos.
“Each column has the bones of one of the five original witches and warlocks.” He stopped for a beat, and Jaycen took it all in. Trying to memorise each coat of arms stamped on each column, all of them grand and screaming ‘we’re important.’
“Your magical line comes from one of these five columns.”
That was like a sucker punch to the gut, so much so that Jaycen had to reach out and steady herself against Thornton. One of these piles of bones was her family. She was close to someone, dead or not, who was related to her, other than her mother. That, to her, was mind blowing.
“Are you okay?” Thornton moved them back until their backs were pressed into the wall, giving Jaycen some much-needed support.
“Yeah, I just want to stay here for a minute.”
He nodded slowly, turning to look at the beautifully lit columns. They were almost mesmerising.
Jaycen leant over, only now realising how quiet everything was. Why was no one speaking? Was it disrespectful?
“What’s up?” Thornton, thankfully, spoke first.
“Was this the place you were bringing me to when they attacked?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
He pointed to the armed guards, then to the solid door. “This room is more heavily protected than the Crown Jewels of England. There are lasers and unbreakable steel doors. It’s the safest place to be when something like that happens.”
She scrunched up her face. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”
“Our history is here. Everything that we are, is in these four walls.”
So, no, it wasn’t too much. Jaycen smiled to herself. These people valued their history. So, in a sense, they valued her history. Again, she liked that.
“They were kept somewhere else, in an actual cemetery.” He laughed a little. “But then grave robbers found out where they were. The graves were desecrated, completely destroyed, especially one.” He pointed to the column at the far end. “That’s the Izya line, the only bloodline that has died out. It’s probably why they went for those bones; they’re worth more.”
“So now, they keep them safe.”
“Yeah, now they keep them safe.” They both fell into a comfortable silence, embracing it after the last half an hour of chaos.
“A few people called you Thorn back there; is that your nickname?” She wasn’t sure why that came to her head, but it did. He didn’t seem close to anyone here, yet they were calling him by a nickname?
“It’s what a few people call me, people who have known me a while. Or family at least.” She didn’t see it, but she could hear a smile in his voice.
“Oh, okay.” What more could she say? “Do you like it? The nickname?”
“Yeah.” Then, after another beat: “You can call me that too, if you want.”
Oh yeah, she wanted that. “Maybe, I will.”
Then, they both sat there in silence, watching the people come and go.
Chapter 15
Hours had gone by since the attack, and the Cure was back to normal, in a way. The place was still busy, with people everywhere. But the bodies had been taken away, the blood on the floor cleaned up, and she had even seen painters heading off down the hall to where the fire had started. These people moved fast. Like, ridiculously fast.
Thornton had stayed with her in the ancestor room, only leaving when his family had called. They hadn’t been at the Cure at the time of the attack, but they’d heard about it quickly. They’d tried to get hold of Thornton straight away, and panicked when he didn’t answer his phone, unaware that he’d left it i
n the hearing room. So, their message had come via a young man telling him to call his parents immediately.
Somehow, they’d gotten a message to the Cure, and someone had gone out of their way to find Thornton. Because it seemed that was what you did for the Krulls; you stopped what you were doing, and went out looking for their son, just to give him a message that his parents were on their way to see him. Now, that was what Jaycen called respect. Or fear. Either way, it worked.
She walked down one of the main halls, not sure where she was headed until she made it to what looked like a small café. It only had a few chairs and tables, but behind the counter she clocked a coffee machine and a board listed with food. Oh yeah, this was what she needed.
A tall, thin man stood behind the counter and smiled when she walked up.
“Hi, are you still serving food?”
“Of course, we’re open twenty-four-seven.” He stepped aside so she could see the menu better.
She placed her order, gave him her money, and then sat down on one of the small chairs, a chair that she was sure would break if she moved too much. So, she stayed still, completely still.
“Mr. Azrael, welcome back. Your usual?”
“The usual.”
Jaycen couldn’t hide the widening of her eyes as Azrael, Benedict’s badass Angel friend, casually walked over to the counter. He wore the same sharp suit that he’d worn earlier in the day, his black hair pushed away from his face. Jaycen’s breath halted in her throat as his head turned to her, his crystal-clear eyes boring into hers.
“Hey,” she squeaked out, lifting her head in an awkward nod. He didn’t say hi back; instead, he looked at her. A shiver ran through her, and she knew that the man in front of her was dangerous. It wasn’t that she had seen him fighting; no, she had seen everyone fighting. But there was something behind his eyes, something that screamed, ‘run.’
After what felt like an eternity of him just looking at her, he spoke, “I saw the guy you took down, he was large and very well-trained. You did well.”
Even though the words he spoke seemed like a compliment, his eyes and the way he said them said otherwise. It almost sounded like an accusation.
“He took me down,” she corrected, leaning her elbows on the tabletop.
The guy behind the counter passed Azrael his drink, silently watching the exchange.
“Still,” Azrael said, moving to take the seat in front of her, “you got him off you and injured him.”
“Yeah.” Now every hair stood on end, her body screaming that she was in some sort of danger just being in close proximity to this man.
“I’ve read your file. It’s very interesting that your magic has just started to show itself.”
“Yeah,” she repeated, having no idea what else to say to him.
He watched her for a minute, his eyes burning into hers, clearly looking for something. Jaycen stared back, having no idea what he was looking for. Finally, seemingly satisfied, he sat back in his chair, his features softening just a touch.
“Your eyes are very guarded,” he noted, tipping his head to the side just a touch, “but at the same time tell me everything.”
She gulped, trying to put on a brave front. “Good. Did you get whatever it was that you were looking for?” Now he smiled at her, and if she wasn’t sitting down she was sure her knees would have buckled.
“Oh, yes. I got everything I needed.” He took a sip of his drink. “They’re unsure about you; now, I understand why.”
She frowned over at him. “Huh?
He motioned to the building around them. “You have something about you. An energy I can’t put my finger on. It feels familiar.”
That answered nothing; in fact, she had no idea what he was talking about. So, again she said, “Huh?”
He smiled then, and damn he was a good-looking guy, too good looking really. “The Cure. They think you’re a spy.”
Her mouth fell open as she processed what he had said. “A spy?” At first it sounded ridiculous. So ridiculous it was kind of funny. “I can’t even use magic properly,” she said, mainly to herself as she tried to understand how anyone could think of her as a spy.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong; I’m learning. One day I’m going to whip the ass of everyone here. But not right now.” She held up her hands. “Sometimes I can do totally awesome things. Sometimes I kick ass, without even meaning to. But then other times zilch, nothing, nada.”
Azrael was laughing at her.
“How could anyone think I was a spy? And a spy for who?”
“You’re a girl who comes from an unknown family, for some reason your magic has just started showing itself, and somehow you’ve got yourself involved in an ongoing murder investigation.” He raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. Well damn, when you put it like that, Jaycen thought, holding up her hands in a ‘hold on’ motion.
“Firstly, I have a family. I have a mother; she isn’t magical but she’s still my family. Secondly, Benedict took me to that crime scene; I didn’t go by myself, and third—” She stopped talking; she didn’t have a third point. “Point one and two were pretty strong, no need for a third point.” She shrugged, ignoring his, now, huge grin.
“Don’t worry about it. Anyone who talks to you for a minute would be able to tell you’re not a spy. The Cure are just worried; they are on the brink of something big, something bad, and they’re not sure if they can pull it back. They’ll be hoping to place the blame for their failure on anyone’s shoulders. Even a ballsy seventeen-year-old who's too confident for her own good.” He pushed his chair back and stood, just as the tall guy from behind the counter walked over to them, bringing her food.
“Hey, I could be a spy if I wanted to; I’m just not,” she shot back, picking at her side salad and eyeing her burger as the guy placed her plate down and backed away.
He didn’t say anything, just smiled down at her. “If you say so.”
Jaycen didn’t watch Azrael go; her focus was now on her food. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was until the burger was actually in her hands. She bent her head, taking the biggest mouthful she could.
“The reason your magic only works some of the time is because you’re over thinking it.”
Her body stilled but her eyes looked up. Azrael was still staring down at her. Goddamnit, he hadn’t left. And now, she couldn’t answer back because her mouth was full of burger.
He smirked down at her. “You don’t over think breathing, or walking. So, don’t over think this, just let it come. Know what you want to happen and just do it.” Then, he turned and just walked away, leaving her there with a mouth full of food and completely baffled.
How could she know what she wanted, but at the same time not think about it? She asked herself that question over and over again while she ate. How could an Angel even know about magic? Was he magical too?
She understood that he had been trying to help, but right then she had more questions than answers.
Finishing off her food, she waved at the guy behind the counter, and headed back to her room. It was getting late and the building was a lot quieter now. A few people still hung around in the corridors and main area but not half as many that had been there earlier in the day.
“Turn left.”
Jaycen stopped walking and looked over her shoulder. She was alone in the hall. Shaking her head, she carried on walking.
“Turn left.”
Now, she completely stopped walking and twisted around, just to check that she was in fact completely alone; she was. Now, Jaycen had never classed herself as normal; she had always been an odd child. Add magic to the mix and she just became even more odd. But, actually, hearing a voice in your head, a deep man’s voice at that, surely that crossed the line between odd and crazy? She peered around the corner to the left; again, it was empty apart from a woman who was walking with her eyes fixed on her phone. She didn’t even look up as she passed Jaycen. Her curiosity began beating back her fear that she was hearing voic
es in her head and slowly losing her mind. She walked down the hall, having no idea where she was going.
“Next right.”
Her step faltered for maybe half a second before she carried on, taking the next right. She was here now, she thought, her pace getting slightly faster; she might as well find out where the voice was taking her.
“Maybe, Zena could go into the girl’s head, see her memories. Then, we’d all know for sure.” Jaycen slowed her pace as she heard the man’s voice, not the voice from her head, a different voice. A voice that was familiar but one that she couldn’t place.
“That spell has been banned for years; how dare you even suggest such a thing,” she heard Henry say, not hiding the disgust in his voice.
“I’m pretty sure Zena performed the spell before, only a few years back if I’m not mistaken. It was for Lilliah, wasn’t it?” the first voice asked. She recognised it now: It was George, Thornton’s dad.
“You really don’t want to go there.” The warning came from Benedict, his voice low and menacing.
“Or what, Benedict? I mean, the girl is lovely. Truly lovely, but what if she is a spy? We brought her here, played right into her hands,” George said.
A spy. Oh, yeah, Azrael hadn’t been lying. Was this what the voice in her head wanted her to hear? She stopped dead at that thought. She really did sound crazy.
“Well, maybe…” She didn’t know who was about to talk and she didn’t care as she pushed open the door and stood in the doorway.
“I’m not a spy!” she shouted, the door banging on the wall behind it and swinging back to her. She pushed it away and stepped into the room. Four pairs of eyes all landed on her. Benedict, Henry, George, and Darius were scattered around the room. Some standing, others sitting. Some looked apprehensive, wary even. Benedict just looked like he wanted to scoop her up and get her out of there.
“Jaycen, please.” He stepped forward, as if he was ready to literally push her out of the door.
“No, Benedict. I know you thought I was a spy.” She pressed her lips together before continuing. “A fucking spy.”
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