Glory Reborn

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Glory Reborn Page 11

by Sherry L. Brown


  The front foyer space we are standing in is about eight feet long, the ceilings about twelve feet high. Straight back from this is a space sixty feet long, super high ceilings and a back wall with freaking windows damn near twenty feet tall. The floor is gleaming white marble. As are the walls, and quite a few pieces of the furniture.

  “What the?” I trail off, my eyes taking it all in. The space is actually quite sparse.

  The far left corner holds a white marble desk with Persian rugs underneath it. In front of it, just one comfortable looking club chair in dark blue. Contemporary leather chair and full bookshelves - also marble - behind it.

  A chaise lounge - again carved marble - faces out to the windows. It’s covered with several pillows and throws. Guess marble gets cold. The right wall holds a fireplace so huge I could stand up inside it. There’s not currently a fire there. But a roaring one would heat this place nicely.

  “Quite the decor, huh?” Nick says as he crosses to the desk at the far back. “Go ahead, have a look out the windows. It’s my second favorite part of the house.”

  He sits in the chair, begins shuffling some papers around.

  I do as he says. Huff out a breath when I see the view he’s talking about. A full spread. Valley below us, mountain range straight across. I bet the moon is spectacular at night over that range.

  Right now, with the sun behind the clouds, the filtered light is bouncing off all the white in a softening way. I’d bet it’d blaze on sunny days. Warm the space.

  I spin, my eye catching on the kitchen across from us at the front of the house. White marble countertops - of course. Huge center island, again with the marble. A stainless steel double door refrigerator. Stainless steel stove top. But warm wood cabinets. It’s a natural, comforting look - wood and stone.

  “They call it the Watchtower.” Nick supplies with a sardonic lilt.

  “I can see why. It cuts all the way through the mountain? Where’s the bathroom? The bedroom?”

  Curiosity and awe has loosened my tongue.

  Nick smiles. Like the cat catching the canary.

  “Never mind.” I mutter. I drop into the blue chair in front of his desk. I’m here for answers.

  Not to scope out his sleeping arrangements. Oh god! What if the brunette lives here with him?

  I tuck my hands underneath my thighs, suddenly awash with weird feelings. Jealousy and confusion, guilt and anger, shame and uncertainty.

  My eye catches on a small red ceramic pot on his desk. Inside it is the succulent he purchased when he came to see me at the store. Next to it a silver picture frame. He flips it down as he rounds the desk toward me. I only glimpse enough to know it’s a family portrait.

  “First.” Nick pulls my attention away from the curious feelings the picture and the succulent have pulled through me.

  Nick offers what’s in his hands to me.

  I recognize the fat volumes for what they are. The instant my fingers curl around the leather bindings a flash of remembered vengeance. Satisfaction.

  I’d destroyed. Yet here they are. My mother’s journals.

  “I’m sorry, Glory. We had to go through them for information. To find out if there was any possibilities…” He trails off. Drops his hands.

  The books sit heavy in my lap. I don’t want this between us. It’s as if my mother is reaching up from the grave even now. Tainting the love I have for him. Pushing me away.

  I clear my throat. Clear the sadness and anger from my heart. “Possibilities of what?”

  “If your mother was working to let the Other side through.”

  I don’t think that’s all. But it’s a reasonable enough answer for now, so I nod my head.

  “You know then. You know what I am.” I lift my head from my lap. Tears blur my vision of him.

  Leaning back. Butt resting against the white marble desk, legs out and crossed at an angle. Arms crossed too. His body language is closed off. Defensive.

  “Yes.” Again no apology.

  I stand. Dropping the books into the seat behind me. Needing space. I cross to that marvelous glass wall. Look out over the cloudy day.

  A hawk glides effortlessly in the far distance. Over the mountain ridge and too far for me to see anything other than it’s dark shape.

  So many mysteries in this world. So many unknowns. Am I good? Am I evil?

  Is there a heaven? A hell? Is that where I belong? There’s only one way to find out.

  “I agree to your offer of training.” My words puff small wisps of warm vapor on the glass. Disappearing just as fast as I say them.

  I spin, my vision clear now. My path forward clear as well.

  Nick’s face is not the happy one I envisioned. Our conversation as taken such a serious turn. He’s weary.

  “I have conditions.”

  He gives me the go ahead nod.

  “Don’t ask me to ever transform. To be your weapon. I won’t do it. That’s not who I am.”

  His eyes pinch the tiniest bit, I can tell by the lines that deepen at the corners infinitesimally.

  “I’ll never use...” I clench my fist against the anger pulsing into my hands. I could transform right now just thinking about it. It’s the closest I’ve been to out-of-control since that night. I take a deep breath.

  Being in his presence with her journals, it’s a tangible reminder. I’ll never let anyone control me with knowledge - or lack of - again. Desdemona needs those journals. She needs my help. She needs the answers as much as I do.

  “I’ll never be the berserker.” The words out of my mouth are as much a confession as it is a vow.

  “You deny yourself, then. You’ll never be whole, Glory.”

  Perhaps he’s right. I want to tell him just how bad it is. How ugly I am on the inside. How screwed up. But the shame swirls too heavily.

  “I won’t ever ask you to transform. I’ll never use you as a weapon, Glory.”

  His words ring again with truth, and my heart, god, my heart. It fills with trust.

  “Tell me more about…” I wave my hand through the air, deciding I’m in for a pound now, "...everything.”

  Chapter 27

  “You mean to tell me that the way to get to the other side is through Yellowstone?”

  His chin dips down in affirmative.

  How positively fitting. This amazing force of nature on earth. A place like nowhere else. Leaking magic from the Otherside. A gateway and a maelstrom all in one.

  “Is the volcano underneath…” I try to form the question in my mind correctly.

  “An added magical protective layer to keep humans at bay.” He supplies the answer.

  I’d been spending several hours a twice a week with Nick. We’d train - either firearms or hand-to-hand combat - and then we’d have conversations about the Otherside. Beings and their powers, information I felt I needed to know. Which was a lot. Fae was the simplest definition of the beings on the other side. Besides werewolves, vampires, demons, angels, and demi-gods. On this side all that was mainly left were us, the werewolves, small pockets of vampires and a few covens of witches. Earth’s remaining guardians. Humanity’s last protection.

  We’d never discussed our personal lives and I wondered often if Nick felt that same frustrating sexual attraction I did. It seemed to underlay all our interactions. I craved him. But he’s somehow cut me off. Marked a line in the sand and put me firmly opposite the side he stands on.

  Which is fine with me, as my secrets are piling up.

  I’d been seasonally laid-off from the big-box store (not a secret). But I was working surreptitiously with Justice on two ends: to get Des through her pregnancy and find Indy.

  The first mission had me holding on to hope cautiously. We are in week twenty. Just had confirmed the baby was a girl. Mother and baby are both doing well. Desdemona’s lips are still sealed on who the father is, but I believe that since we are so far into the pregnancy without complications that he is not human. She’s also pretty much a vault on where s
he met Indy. Just confirming that she is alright, protected. I think who the father is has to do with exactly how she met Independence. But I don’t push, happy to have a pack mate. A woman I like living with me. And cautiously joyous at what she’s carrying.

  I’d been precariously dancing on positively optimistic for Desdemona’s sake and preparing myself for the worst.

  The second mission is at a dead end. Justice relayed to me that Gray had angrily confronted Locke about something to do with Indy’s disappearance, but then relented, going home ‘with his tail between his legs.’

  I highly doubted Gray would do something so...sullen. Yet, Justice was not one to embellish her re-telling.

  “Some higher-level beings, like Alastor and Nevaeh, can teleport in and out of the Otherside at will.” Nick continues. Alastor and Nevaeh are more on par with what we would call royal fae. Of the dark court. Not the devil specifically. Although, there is some interesting reading on Nick’s bookshelf about Him. The king of all darkness. I’d read the first two chapters about his origins, his superpowers, then decided since He is currently missing, not to focus too much attention on him. Lucifer. One terrible being at a time. Right?

  And the book on the dark court? One sentence on the royal guards. Generally, demons. My father. A demon. Created by the dark one himself, finding his place at the side of a dark faery queen. Looking up demons, there are several classes. From low-level spirits that cause trouble, to fully-horned beasts. I’d been in information overload for days.

  There’d been no book about berserkers.

  “Others have access through other means. Gateways or portals created by someone very powerful.” Nick’s words bring me back to the present. There’d not been anyone powerful enough to do it since the middle ages.

  “Are the witches’ able to create a portal?” I am curious about the coven that Nick is working with.

  Sienna is one of four high-priestess’. She and Nick conferred and met more than I liked. Or wanted to know about.

  “No.” Nick shakes his head. Leans back in his chair and studies me.

  “You’ve been pulling your punches in our trainings.”

  “What?” I had, but simply because I couldn’t bring it upon myself to hurt him.

  “Do you still see me as human, Glory?”

  Only in my memories. But I’ll always see him as forbidden.

  I shrug my shoulders. Nonchalant. Unsure if I want to confront his sex appeal right now. My boxes had been working. Keeping him from finding another place in my heart. He’d become a teacher…of sorts. A trainer. A hard-ass. Always on me to open my eyes and pay attention.

  Forcing me to reach into myself and work harder. Do better. Learn more.

  “Tell me about your family.” It’s been a burning curiosity in my mind since he showed up in Colorado. The diversion works. Somewhat.

  “They’re still human. Living life happily.” He swings his chair to look out the window and away from me.

  Both of us are quiet, contemplating how to bridge this sore spot. My own eyes stray to the spot on his desk that held their picture that very first time I visited. He moved it. Didn’t want to share that part of him with me. It hurt. But.

  Perhaps it's for the best. Keeping my distance. Keeping our lines straight.

  “You won’t tell me about how you became a wolf?”

  “No. You should get home. It’s getting late.”

  Annoying. Just no. He didn’t even hesitate. The light outside the windows is darkening. Navy blue clouds in a twilight sky.

  I’d press my point. But, Desdemona is at home. And It’s hard to leave her unprotected for too long.

  I know she says the father is not an issue, but caution is now my middle name. I’ve learned just how vulnerable we are.

  How powerful the Otherside is.

  “Fine.” I push out of the chair in front of his desk.

  I cross to the kitchen area, grabbing my purse off the counter there.

  “What’s the point, Nick?” I slowly spin back to him. My frustrations have settled into a melancholy.

  “Life. Life is the point, Glory.”

  I contemplate his words when I’m on the highway.

  No tunes blasting through my speakers tonight. The air feels too heavy for it.

  There’s no doubt in my mind Nick is doing what he does to protect his family. To protect humanity.

  Maybe I should have asked him more specifically my conundrum. I’d woken up. Been reborn. And this new form. This form that is taking in all the information she can. Learning. Growing. Experiencing. What’s her purpose?

  Temporarily I’m sheltering and protecting Desdemona.

  Am I meant to protect humanity too?

  Like his family and his whatever he was working on when I wasn’t around, my inner berserker was a topic of conversation we didn’t broach. But I was coming to some conclusions about it.

  It wasn’t inherently evil. Because I’m not inherently evil.

  I care. For Desdemona. Her unborn. Justice. Indy too. The Earth and its creatures.

  So…the logic dictates that I can use my superpowers for Good.

  The question is just how to test it. Safely.

  I remember the oak ripped from the ground. In my normal state, I know I’d never be so callous to something so precious. But the berserk me? That’s just collateral damage.

  Chapter 28

  I’m wide awake. It’s 12:01 AM. The witching hour.

  I roll away from my phone sitting in it’s charging stand, showing me the time. Punching the pillow under my head to get comfy.

  I close my eyes. Nope. That’s not right.

  I flip to my back, fling an arm over my head.

  That’s not right either. Flip to the other side.

  My whole body feels like a live wire. Electric itchiness from the inside out. I pick up my phone, unlock the screen and ponder.

  My urge is to call Nick. My urge is to go to Nick. Just because he’s been my teacher, my font for answers these past months?

  The minute I think it, I slam the phone back into its cradle. No. No. No.

  I fluff the pillow behind my head and lay back.

  All my muscles are wired. Ready for action. I’ll never fall asleep like this.

  I get up, get dressed in dark skinny jeans, dark hoodie, black leather jacket. I used to live happily and blindly in color. But my wardrobe has been eking into darkness. Knowing what's out there, and what I might have to do to survive. Hide or sneak. Black is better all around for such things.

  I check on Desdemona, see that she’s sound asleep in the guest bedroom.

  Still I leave a note for her on the kitchen counter, telling her I’m headed out for a drive to clear my head and I’ll be back in an hour or two.

  My drive takes me to Nick’s mountain. The quarry is empty. It’s a new moon, and still the whiteness of the rock shines. But. The house. It’s lit up like a beacon. I follow the road to it.

  There’s a crowd up on the mountain. Three SUVs plus Nick’s truck. I park on the last switchback, so as not to block anyone in, and then huff the last quarter mile up to the watchtower.

  It’s cold and my face is numb from the wind. I don’t knock, I just push in.

  Eyes upon me. Witches’ eyes. Wolf eyes. Nick’s eyes.

  He’s shirtless, face unhappy.

  At his shoulder, Sienna holds a pen. It’s point at his skin.

  We are all still. Frozen.

  I take in the markings on his chest, abdomen, forearms.

  Fury. She is marking him. And he is mine. A snarl curls up my lip, and I force myself to straighten my face before a growl comes out.

  He’s not mine. And this jealousy is...unwelcome.

  “Glory.” He says my name, breaking the awkward tableau. My eyes flit to the others in the room.

  Torren is laying on the stone chaise lounge, without his shirt on, while a petite brunette holds a similar pen over his chest. Tall, Dark, and Handsome and Tattoos are in the kitch
en dressed in dark clothes, body armor like I’ve never seen before. Sleek. But hard. Merrick, who runs the gun range, is there similarly dressed. She gives me a smile, while slinging a rifle over her back. I can see the markings peeking out the top of her collar. Multiple open duffle bags are arranged across the kitchen counter, and inside them are enough guns and ammo to start a war. It’s obvious they’re gearing up.

  Two other women are behind Nick’s desk, an open book, and honest-to-goodness cauldron before them. They’re holding hands and their magic lingers in the air with a lava and ozone scent.

  The witching hour indeed. Is this what I felt? What prompted me to get out of bed and call him? If so, I’m not denying my intuition.

  “I’m going with you.” The words are out of my mouth without thought. I have no idea where they are going or what they are going to do. It’s obviously dangerous. But as soon as I say it - I know it to be the truth.

  Nick doesn’t say anything. The whole room holds their breath.

  He stalks towards me. Throws me over his shoulder, quickly, before I can react.

  “What?” I push up. And realize my palms are pressing against his butt. Hard muscle.

  “Put me down!” He’s carrying me through the living room. I catch a glimpse of Sienna’s stunned face, her hand still holding her pen poised in the air. TDH’s smile and shake of his head before he looks back to what he’s doing.

  Nick slaps a palm on the side of the white marble of the fireplace mantle. A slab of marble in the floor retracts. It’s a staircase. I count eight or nine steps as he descends.

  He’s got a secret underground lair. My eyes ping around the room. The bedroom.

  The far wall holds a massive king bed. Scrumptious luxury bedding.

  Floor lamps, a steaming in-ground hot-tub, book shelves.

  No windows, and tapestries cover the marble stone walls leaving the space feeling positively medieval and cozy at the same time.

  He strides to the bed, dumps me on it. I jump up, and he pushes me back down. “Sit. Stay.”

  I bristle, but having never seen him so coldly annoyed before, comply.

  “What is it? What’s the mission?” I ask hoping to glean information from him.

 

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