Everlasting (Night Watchmen, #1) (19 page)

I’m running down the hall
to my parents’ room, sure that if I can make it in time, I can stop whomever is trying to take them. Their screams pierce down the hallway, wrapping around my heart and throat, constricting my breathing.

“I’m coming,” I yell desperately, but deep down I know that I won’t make it in time. I know that I am too late. I’m always too late, one step behind, a dollar short.

I trip over something, feet away from their door, and slam into the ground. I scream out in horror when my face lands in a puddle of blood. An arm; I tripped over an arm. I turn my head slowly, not wanting to see but knowing I have to look, and find Katie’s arm sticking out of the doorway to the bathroom.

I shove the door the rest of the way open and find her lying in a large pool of her own blood. Bruises and welts cover every inch of her skin where blood does not. “Katie, no!” I cry, pulling her into my lap.

More screams come from my parents’ room, this time earth-shattering. I look down at Katie, my heart pounding and my arms shaking, and carefully lay her back down. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. I turn back to my parents’ room, running for them. I have to save them. I have to fix what I have done.

My hand reaches for the handle. Just as the door swings open, I see it. Blood. It covers every surface. I collapse, a scream ripping from the depths of my soul.

I wake sitting up in bed on the edges of a scream. Frozen fingers of fear are wrapped around my throat, choking off my words, my thoughts. I struggle against the force holding me down, preventing me from saving the ones I love, until I realize it’s Jaxen holding me. He has his arms wound tightly around me, pressing my face against his warm, bare chest.

“Faye, wake up. Please wake up,” he says. It’s the pleading in his voice that prompts realization in the back of my mind. It was just a dream. Katie isn’t dead. My parents may still be out there and okay. I have to believe this. I have to cling to these thoughts.

His grip around me lessens, but he doesn’t completely let go. “I’m awake.” My voice is hoarse and my throat feels raw.

Gavin’s sitting up in his bed, studying us both with a focused gaze. He shuffles inside his blanket when he realizes I notice him and turns away from us. I become all too aware of Jaxen’s strong arms and the way mine are pinned perfectly beneath his, the way my face rests calmly against his hard, yet comforting chest, listening to the quieting beats of his heart, the way his chin is resting against the crown of my head, as if we always did this in the morning.

And yet, I do nothing to stop it from continuing.

Jaxen pulls back to look at me, his hands still resting on my shoulders. There are purple circles under his eyes, and his dark hair is matted to the left from the position he must have slept in all night. I grip the sheets, willing my hands to stay put, and focus on his eyes. I want to lose myself in the profoundness of his eyes, dance within the way he’s looking at me; like I’m precious, like I mean something to him.

“Are you all right? You were screaming bloody murder. I couldn’t wake you.” He sounds just as tired as he looks, and it tugs at my heart.

Reality, a cruel harbinger of truth, crushes away the daze I’m in. I swallow once, then twice, searching for my voice. I know I should turn it off. I should avoid what I feel because it will do nothing but weigh me down, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t bring myself to let go of the fear I felt in my dream. It was so real, so…possible.

“I was dreaming about Katie and my parents. There was so much blood.” My voice breaks off at the word blood. I can barely contain the urge to scream and cry. They’re
out there somewhere, with someone, possibly hurt. “Why hasn’t Mack said anything about my parents yet? It’s been two weeks. They should have some idea by now.”

His face fills with pain. “I don’t know if I should be the one to answer that question,” he says slowly. He pulls me back against his shoulder, almost hugging me, and then lets me go to stand. I watch vacantly as he pulls his sheet off the floor and tosses it in the laundry basket.

“Who should tell me then?” I ask, trying to stay focused on the subject, even though my mind is telling me to get up and keep going, to keep training, to push it away.

“We have to meet with Mack in an hour,” Gavin answers for Jaxen. His head’s in his armoire, pulling out a fresh uniform. “He can explain everything.” He stops and turns to look at me, wearing a grave expression. “He also wants to talk about the incident last night.”

I almost wince from the memory. Mack wants to see me. Great. He probably thinks I’m nothing but a trouble maker, a rule breaker. There’s no way he’s going to put up with me now that I’ve gone against his advising. I lift my hand to my mouth, chewing away my non-existent nails, while Gavin makes his bed. He and Jaxen play a quick game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets the shower first.

Gavin wins by rock beating scissors.

He disappears into the bathroom, leaving me alone to my thoughts and with Jaxen. I’ve stared so long at the intricate pattern on the blanket, my eyes begin to blur. Jaxen offers me a glass of orange juice, but I pass. My stomach feels like an acid pit. There’s no way OJ could help. He sits across from me, the bed creaking under his weight, and plunges a heavy hand through his hair over and over again. He’s pulling and tugging while I continue to chew what little nails I have left.

What a pair we make.

I hear him exhale, but it’s more of a buckling sigh, like he’s caving in to something. His mouth opens, and then words flow out like welcomed honey. “I umm…I dream about my parents too,” he says quietly, his eyes on the floor. He tugs on his hair one last time, and then drops his hands to the bed, his shoulders slumped over.

I don’t say anything. I want to know, and I know I should ask, but my tongue is in knots and my throat is tight. I don’t want to think about my parents. It hurts too much.

He shifts a little and continues, “I think about my mom a lot, and about my dad…about what happened to him.”

“What?” I ask, my voice as soft as a whisper.

He picks his head up and looks at me. His eyes are green pools of liquid sorrow. “He died.”

I can feel my heart shattering for him, breaking off into tiny, miserable pieces. I try to swallow the lump still growing in my throat, but it doesn’t budge. “I’m so sorry,” I say, clearing my throat as best as I can. My hair falls in my face. I use it as a shield to blink the warm moisture back.

Through my curtain of hair, I see he shrugs and looks away, back to the spot on the floor. I don’t ask him how it happened. I don’t want to open his wound further. My heart is a mixture of pain and relief. Relief that he let me in, even just a little, but pain because inside there is nothing but unanswered questions.

He’s chewing on his lip, probably holding on to just as much hurt as I am, probably living in just as much denial, but one thing I’ve realized, especially after my dream, is that denial is as brittle as glass. It’s solid until a force you never saw coming crashes into it and shatters the thin wall you’ve constructed to protect yourself from the truth.

And when it came to us, I don’t think either of us could have seen each other coming. Even if we had, I don’t think we would or could have stopped it. Like comets in the night sky.

Before I realize it, I’m sitting next to him, pulling him into a hug. He buries his face into the curve of my neck and clings to me. I cling right back. The shadow of hair on his face scratches along the delicate skin of my neck, tickling yet soothing. I can feel his warm breath, coming out slower, calmer now. We stay like this, wrapped around each other, until the door to the bathroom opens up. Gavin takes one look at us, and then shuts the door again.

Jaxen pulls out of the hug and clears his throat. “You umm…you can go before me.” And then he stands up and heads out the bedroom door.

I guess my denial is more brittle than his.

S
tanding outside of Mack’s office
, liquid fear drips down my back and along my forehead. My pulse is thudding in my wrists and throat, making my mind spin, or maybe it’s the room that’s spinning. Jaxen and Gavin are on either side of me, and down the hall on a bench sits Chett with Nathaniel. Waves of menace pulse off of him, rolling down the hall in my direction, but I don’t even acknowledge it.

He got what he deserved and no one could tell me otherwise.

When the door opens to the Elder’s Room, my heart trips over itself. I can feel each one of their eyes on me. They have to know what I am now. They have to know I’m not a dormant, and the sad thing is, they weren’t supposed to know. It’s my fault that they do. This is it. This is the end of something that never even really began. This is me being told that even though I proved not to be a Defect by blood, I’m still a Defect in the mind. This is me losing it all.

Jaxen’s hands are by his sides, bunched up into white-knuckled fists, while Gavin guides me through the door. Six Elders sit behind the table at the end of the room, all wearing blood red robes with the Coven’s symbol woven across the breast. Hoods hide their faces from me, so it’s hard to tell which one is Mack. It isn’t until he speaks that I realize he is dead center. The ring leader.

I have to will one foot in front of the other and force my gaze to remain straight ahead. Mack stands as we approach the table, and Gavin and Jaxen stop, meaning I have to stop. I cement my feet to the floor with borrowed courage.

“Faye Hadley Middleton, is it true that you went against the Academy rules and used power within the dining hall against another novice?” Mack’s crisp, clear, diplomatic voice dominates the room. It demands respect. It demands an answer.

My heart lurches in chaos. I give one brief, brisk nod, making sure to keep my chin in the air and shoulders back. No matter what happens, I have to stand behind my decision. I have to stand behind Katie.

“Care to explain?” a female Elder next to him asks. She pulls her hood back. Raven-colored hair spills down around her round, pale face. Pristine lavender eyes peer up from under a fan of dark lashes, settling a curious, cold gaze on me. Her thin lips are painted a soft pink which matches the slight blush on her high, defined cheekbones.

It’s Mack’s Witch. The one who spelled the Culling quartz.

I know what I say next has to count. It has to be right if I’m going to have a chance at evading punishment. For a moment, I panic. I can feel every inch of me in front of them, every inch of blood and skin and pain underneath the hard exterior of the Watchman uniform. Then I realize that there’s no need to panic. Panicking isn’t going to form my defense. Panicking is for the weak.

I am not weak.

With much force, I shut my emotions off and look over at them with fearless eyes. She’s a Witch. Three Elders on this panel are Witches. I can sense them. If I have any chance of defending myself, then I need to make my story count. I need to appeal to them, to bring them to my side. The thundering of my heart calms to a manageable storm. Chett doesn’t realize how easy he made this by running his mouth about Witches.

I take a step forward and make my peace. “Chett hurt my friend,” I say, eyeing down each one of the hollow spaces inside the hoods. “He’s the Hunter to my best friend Katie. I saw her in the dining hall and went to sit with her. She was acting weird. After explaining that he’d been going on about the fact that Witches are nothing but property to Hunters, and shouldn’t be considered as equals, she finally looked at me. That’s when I saw the mark across her face. It was fresh. He had struck her, and recently, because I saw her not an hour before dinner and she had no marks on her face.”

I can tell I have their attention now. I take a step forward, willing them to understand as the words spill from my lips like water gushing from a fall. “I told her I was going to report this to you, to our respected Elders, but Chett wouldn’t stand for it. He yanked her out of her chair, and I feared he was going to hurt her further.” This next part is the tricky part. I could have left it to Jaxen to handle. I could have refrained from violence. How would I justify that?

I swallow and say, “He was going to hit her. He was taking her out of the dining hall. She tried to get away. He lifted his hand, and that’s when I saw red. I know that what I did could have been handled differently. I know violence is not permitted, and I know using my power was wrong, but I also know that as Primevals, we stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. I couldn’t let him treat her that way. I couldn’t let the dining hall full of novices think, even for a moment, that a Witch could be treated that way. We have to remain a united front, a perfect balance, and the only way we can do that is by respecting one another. I hope you can understand and pardon my actions.”

I step back in line with Jaxen and Gavin and take in a deep breath. The truth is out now
, and I know my parents would have been proud. I’m sure I stood by the way of our people. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Mack stands again. His hands are clasped by his waist. “You say we have to remain a united front, a perfect balance?”

I nod, inhaling.

“Yet, you’re a walking contradiction.”

I exhale and I think my heart takes its exit with the breath. I stammer, reaching for an answer, but there is nothing. I am a contradiction. I am my own balance.

I am a threat.

“We need a moment to speak with Chett, and then we will deliberate,” he says, sending us off without another word. I can’t breathe by the time we’re in the hallway. I reach up to my neck muscles and rub. Chett passes by me. He takes one long look, and then his eyes disappear into slits, his mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

I turn away, feeling another crushing need to hurt him, to wipe the look off his face. Jaxen moves in front of me, blocking him. I don’t know what look he gives Chett, but whatever it is, it pales Chett’s face. Nathaniel pulls him into the room. “He won’t win,” Jaxen says, his voice almost a growl. The door closes in his face, but he still stares, still holds his hands in fists at his side.

I stare ahead of me, feeling like I’m about to lose what little bit of sanity I still have.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. He lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Forget about the reasons why you think you won’t win. Focus on the one reason why you will.”

“What reason is that?” I ask, lost in his eyes and confidence, lost in the embrace of hope.

“Because you’re a fighter.” He lets my chin go and moves back against the wall. His words dance around in my brain and wrap around my heart, pulling tight.

Gavin paces in front of me on the phone. “Yeah. We’re waiting for Chett to finish now.” He pauses, and then sighs. “I know, Cass, but what were we supposed to do? Hide her in my apartment? She’s better off here, at least until she’s trained.” He stops and a small ripple of shock courses over his face. “No, Cass, that’s not how we do things. We don’t go around the Coven.” He stops again. “Because! It’s wrong, Cass.” He flicks a glance at me, and then lowers his voice. “Look, I’ll call you after it’s over. We’ll discuss it more then.”

He hangs up and turns to me. “Your argument was valid and can’t be contended with, not with how you worded it. You have the mindset of a strategist, just like your father. Hunters, the good ones like me and my bro, the ones that make it into the Elite squads, they’re strategic thinkers. They’re the ones who make the big kills, the nests and shit.”

I tuck my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes. He compared me to my father, to the man I’ve looked up to my whole life. My heart clenches. I’m a lot of things, most of which are still hidden and undiscovered. I’m a riddle unsolved.

“Hey,” he says soberly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know your dad is highly respected, especially to me and my bro. I can see him in you. That’s all.”

I drop my hands and look at him. I know I must look a mess, and honestly, I don’t care. “I’m not upset,” I say easily. It’s only a partial lie, and lies are something I’m getting good at. “I just don’t want Chett to get away with it. If he does, he’ll probably continue to hurt her, and if he does, that might mean I’ll have to murder him.”

Jaxen stiffens a little next to me. I look out the corner of my eye at him. His back is against the wall, one foot propped up. His head hangs low as he chews on his nails. The more time I spend around him, the more I begin to understand him. I begin to see little pieces of myself in him, down to the way he holds it all in.

“Yeah, well, I can’t see them letting him get away with that. The Elders always fight for what’s right.” The door opens next to Jaxen, and Chett comes out. Nathaniel escorts him down the hall. His head is hanging low; no smirk, no winning grin. My heart beats a little faster. Four of the Elders leave the room soon after, none of them looking in my direction. Crimson robes float down the hall, away from me, taking my fear right along with them.

Mack appears in the doorway. “Come in,” he says, sounding tired. There are faint bags under his eyes. He directs us back to the couches where the raven-haired Witch sits. “This is Clara, my Witch,” he introduces. He doesn’t sound enthused. In fact, he sounds as if he’s on his last leg; worn out, torn, broken.

She stands with her hand offered out. I look at it for a moment, and then take her elegant fingers in mine, shaking it awkwardly. “Pleased,” she says, smiling. There’s no warmth in her smile, nothing for me to relate to. She sits and gestures for me to do the same. Gavin and Jaxen stand at the ends of the couch like Mack does.

“So you’re the Everlasting?”

“Yes.”

Her high arched eyebrow lifts. “And you were able to bypass the magical force that keeps novices from using their powers outside of the classrooms, thusly blowing the cover Maddock specifically asked you to keep?”

“I guess so,” I say, shifting in my seat. I force my eyes to stay on hers. “It wasn’t intentional though. I didn’t really realize I was doing it.”

“No, I assume you wouldn’t have. You’re an anomaly in the Primeval gene, something never believed possible, at least not by anyone with a straight head on their shoulders. You’ve proved them wrong.” She reaches for the tea pot on the table between us and pours herself a cup. She looks to me to ask if I want one, but I shake my head.

“So, what’s going to happen?” I’m too nervous to refrain from asking.

“Chett’s being taken to the disciplinary ward. He will be taught that Witches are his equal before he can return to your friend’s side,” Mack says. I don’t even want to know how he’ll be taught. “What you did, you must keep from doing in the future, at least until we find your place inside this Coven.”

“Her place?” Jaxen says, already stiffening from the top of his head all the way to his unlaced boots.

Mack looks over at him with warning in his eyes. “Yes. Her place,” he says slowly, punctually. “Since her outburst, I had no choice but to speak with the other Elders. I explained the truth of her nature, and have informed the High Priesthood of her anomaly. I must be frank with you.” His steel eyes fall on me. “They are nervous. You make them nervous. Pulling stunts like last night, showing the way you can bypass magic that is beyond your years without hesitancy, will not sit well with them. I’ll do my best to keep this within the Academy, but at the end of the day, I can make no guarantees. When Chett’s parents are informed of his behavior, they will surely want to take this up with the Priesthood, at which point, you will be indefinitely ousted to the Coven.”

“What are you saying?” Jaxen says, moving a step closer to me. Gavin looks over at him, his forehead creased, and then moves with him. Their arms fold over their chests.

Clara sets her tea down with pristine elegance, and then changes position on the couch. “What he’s saying is that she needs to be careful if she is to survive inside this Coven. Change, though welcome, is also feared when the change is directed at the way our Coven views things. Your power is unlimited, not held back by a partner. Just like before the proclamation. You can do what no other in this Coven can anymore.”

I flinch back. “That doesn’t mean I would use it like that,” I say, my voice hardened.

“That doesn’t mean you wouldn’t either,” Mack points out, coming to his Witch’s side. He sits next to her. “No one can predict your future. I’ve had every clairvoyant in the Coven worth speaking to take a look, but none of them can see yours.”