Everlost (The Night Watchmen Series Book 3) (24 page)

A BRIGHT CRESCENT MOON HANGS above us, framed by a sky full of twinkling eyes that have seen all the world’s deepest, darkest secrets.

Even my own.

It’s been thirty minutes since dinner ended and everyone gathered around the bonfire, sitting on logs placed out by Jaxen and me. Ten minutes since I pushed food around my plate and tried to engage in mindless chatter so Katie and Jezi, and all the rest of the Rebellion, wouldn’t know that I’ve been slowly dying on the inside. That I’m a barrel of mistakes running on fumes of pure luck, rolling down a hill toward an ocean of catastrophe.

I haven’t seen Jaxen since our conversation in the mudroom, and I’m beginning to think that I did more than just unsettle him. I’m beginning to think I made him mad, maybe even disappointed.

And I don’t like how it makes me feel.

I don’t like that I can’t stop moving. Can’t stop messing with my shirt or my hands or my hair as I chew on my lip and stare at the back door of the manor, waiting for him to come out. I don’t like that my insides feel like they’ve been dipped in acid and crammed back inside me. Or that my heart feels like a million hooves have trampled on it.

I know what I suggested came from a harmless place, but why didn’t I think like Jaxen did? Why didn’t I shove the thought away the moment it came to me in Katie’s room? I replay the moment with him over and over, and I feel like I should have figured that on my own. I should have known that it was a bad idea from the beginning, because everything he said is true.

Society can’t function without rules, and the kind of power we possess is dangerous when given free range. Even more so when used by the wrong hands. Hands like the Divine Mourdyn’s, who was the cause of the Proclamation. Who was the reason our powers were given limitations.

My head feels like it’s on someone else’s body. My thoughts feel like enemies inside my mind.

What’s wrong with me?

Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe it’s from facing so many challenges with barely any time to recover, but I suddenly don’t feel very much like myself. I suddenly don’t feel like my head is in the game.

So how can I possibly bring everyone together?

I look across the glowing fire to the many faces that have come to the manor, searching for some form of unity. Something to signify that we can survive together as a group, but all I see is a bunch of faces I don’t know and a level of discomfort I’m not even sure alcohol could sway. There’s a weird silence in the air. It’s as thick as the rich, gray smoke rising from the flames with a dark, woody scent. No one has said a word as we wait for Evangeline’s pack to join us. I don’t think anyone really knows what to say. We all feel a high amount of tension knowing the wolves are somewhere nearby, hunting. And we all know we can’t do anything about it.

Biting back the instinct to hunt is like trying to restrain from eating. It’s impossible. Painful. And it leaves you feeling all too empty.

I stare into the fire, watching as the smoldering wood brightens in spots from the soft gust of wind that drifts over my shoulder. Seamus sits with his arms resting on his thighs, staring into the fire with a furrowed expression. He looks stuck. Like he’s a part of a tireless conversation with himself that will probably never cease. All the mistakes. All the missteps. All the pricey decisions he’s made. This is just as hard on him as it is for the rest of us. Everything he’s ever known, gone. Everything he’s ever strode toward, gone. His principles, his livelihood… it was all taken. He lost just as much, if not more.

Cracks splinter through my heart.

“Hey.”

I jump at the sound of Jaxen’s voice.

“On edge?” he asks with a small smile.

“No,” I say a little too quickly.

He sees right through me, and his face softens. “About earlier,” he says, taking a seat on the log next to me. “I shouldn’t have jumped to—”

“You don’t have to explain,” I say, cutting him off as I tug on the ends of my sweater. “You were right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t even think I was thinking. And I just—”

My thoughts are drifting on a cloud being pushed by a hard breeze, and I can’t catch up with them. I can’t remember what I had planned to say. All I can think about is how disappointed he looked. How angry he seemed.

“Faye?”

“I just wanted to say that…” I pinch my forehead, wishing I could think past my emotions, but I’ve got nothing. Nothing that will explain why I even considered splitting something I have no business splitting. Nothing that I think will erase that conversation in the mudroom.

But he’s looking at me, waiting, and I can’t leave him hanging, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Did you know loneliness literally causes over-thinking, and over-thinking tends to make things worse?”

His forehead furrows. “So… are you saying you’re lonely, or you’re over-thinking things again?”

I close my eyes. Breathe through my rapidly firing mind. “No.” I pause. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m just nervous.”

He grabs my hand. “Nervous about what? It’s just me, Faye.”

I stop. Look up into his solid green eyes that offer a safe place to land, and I feel the hole in my heart leaking out everything I wanted to say. “I’m nervous about failing, Jaxen. About disappointing you and everyone else. About making huge, irreversible mistakes that I can’t afford to make. This life doesn’t come with second chances. I have to get it right the first time, and our responsibilities just grew by twenty-plus heads.” I drop my gaze, hating the heat burning behind my eyes and say, “I just want to be the force of good that I know I can be.”

He pulls my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “You could never disappoint me, okay? If you think what happened earlier did that, then the fault is my own. Every single one of your thoughts are valid, and they should be discussed. You don’t give yourself enough credit. I know I freaked out earlier, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t want you to think you can’t come to me.”

“I don’t think that,” I say, feeling like I can finally breathe again. “I just… didn’t know what to think, I guess.”

He kisses my forehead. Pulls me against him.

“What did Mack have to say?”

Jaxen exhales and looks up. I follow his gaze. Mack’s pacing back and forth in front of us, hands crossed behind his back in his usual fashion. His gaze jerks from Chett to Katie to Jonathon, and then back to the ground in an incessant cycle. His lips quietly move in a debate that I have a feeling won’t be settled any time soon.

Jaxen leans in closer to me. Lowers his voice. “He pulled Jonathon in on the conversation. Jonathon has been Mack’s right-hand from the beginning, and he assured us that Chett is trustworthy. Said he’s just rough around the edges.”

I reflexively stare across the fire at Chett and Katie. He’s got his arm around her, whispering something in her ear that’s making her smile.

“Maybe I’m wrong about him,” I say, wishing my heart felt the words I just spoke. “Not every relationship is the same. I can’t compare my happiness with hers. I can’t compare you against him. He came from a bad background.”

“And because of that, Jonathon has agreed to talk with Chett about his aunt to see what he knows and how he reacts. Mack has also asked that eyes remain on Chett at all times. He isn’t to go anywhere by himself while he’s here.”

“That’s good,” I say, looking back over at Jaxen.

Jaxen shrugs. “For now. Jonathon also asked to get in touch with Katie’s mom.”

“And?” I ask, holding my breath for Katie.

“And Mack gave him a carrier to send to her.”

“Is that safe?”

“Yes. There’s no way for Clara or anyone to know where it came from, should someone else get a hold of it.”

At least something good is happening for Kat,
I think to myself.

Jaxen grabs a long stick and uses it to move the wood inside the fire. I watch as the amber light curves around his squared face, brushing the tips of his lashes like tiny embers.

“Anyone want s’mores?” Cassie asks, looking around at everyone. She’s sitting on the ground with her legs crossed, leaning against Gavin’s chest for support, holding a plate filled with all the ingredients needed.

Slowly, everyone shakes their head, trying to find a neutral place to look at.

Cassie’s hopeful smile deflates.

“They should be here by now,” Mack says, stopping in front of Jaxen and me. He looks over at Gavin and Seamus. “Do you think she’s changed her mind?”

“She’ll be here,” Gavin reassures, his gaze firm.

As if on cue, there’s howling in the distance, and everyone turns their head in the direction of the forest. Muscles flex like ripples in a wave, growing and spreading from one person to the next. The oddly formed wolves emerge from the edge of the forest in the shape of a V, with Evangeline front and center. Slowly, one by one, they shift back into their natural state, wearing large, loose-fitting clothing.

My breath catches when I realize Sterling is with them, walking next to the woman who must be his wife.

Jaxen stands, then me, then Gavin, and then everyone else, watching in alarm and curiosity as they make their way over to us.

“Hello,” Evangeline says when they approach the fire.

Mack dips his head in welcome.

“Sorry we’re late. We had to go a little further than expected for tonight’s meal.”

I can’t help but notice some of her pack looking over at Sterling as if she was talking about him. Maybe she was, and this makes me wonder what he chose to eat, and how this has affected him. One look at him, and I can tell it isn’t easy. He won’t look at any of us. Not even his wife, who’s hanging onto his arm like she’ll never let go again.

“We haven’t been waiting long. We only just finished ourselves,” Mack lies. “Please, sit.”

Each member of her pack takes a seat on the opposite side of the fire, staring openly, almost defiantly, at every one of us.

Everyone except for Evangeline. She’s looking at Jaxen.

I can almost hear the way his heart slams again and again against his chest. The way he’s breathing raggedly, like he’s been out of practice. It takes a moment for this to register around the fire. For the quiet whispers to cease as they all slowly look up at a reunion twelve years in the making.

Jaxen tugs in a deep breath of air, and then lets go of my hand. He stands up, and Gavin follows, watching every one of Jaxen’s movements for any sign of anger. Jaxen walks around the fire to her. Stops in front of her, and I don’t think anyone is breathing anymore.

Then he does something that robs me of breath.

He opens his arms.

She almost falls into the hug, pulling him so tightly against her. “My son,” she says, tears staining her voice. “I’ve waited for this moment for so long.” She looks up to the skies and squeezes her eyes shut as he buries his face against her neck.

I have to look away from them for fear of dissolving into a puddle of tears. I didn’t think relief could take heartache by the hand and skip tracks through my heart. I didn’t know pain and sorrow could hold hope in such a warm embrace. The mark on my arm heats up as Jaxen’s emotions swarm mine. As he finally lets go of all the ugly that has polluted his heart and mind for so long.

When their embrace ceases, he turns to the rest of her pack. Runs the back of his hands across his eyes as he gathers in a good breath. Everyone’s waiting for them. Waiting to know what we should do next. Not wanting to ruin this moment for them.

Jaxen doesn’t make us wait long. He smiles at his mother, and then faces everyone with more strength, hope, and love in his eyes than I think I’ve ever seen in him. “I used to think the impossible could never be made possible,” he says, his voice shaking with emotion. “That love was nothing more than a weakness. But I was wrong. So very wrong.” He looks down at me, and I swear I could touch the heavens just from the strength of love shining in his gaze. “Love taught me that pain is temporary,” he continues, smiling at me. “That hurt can be overcome. It taught me that prejudice is just another word for fear, and fear has no strength when put up against the heart.

“I was wrong for judging you,” he says, turning to his mother. “Wrong for thinking that you were lost to us,” he says, looking at Sterling. “I was wrong about a lot of things that I’m now realizing were all built out of fear—a feeling I thought I had conquered long ago. But that’s the thing about fear; it has the ability to change shape. To disguise itself, and just when you thought you had conquered it, it shows up somewhere else. But we’ve been given a chance to put an end to that. A chance I don’t want to waste.