Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2) (19 page)

The door to the room bursts open, and heavy footsteps storm in by the handful. I’m spun around and flying backward from a hard punch to the nose. Hard enough to shock me back to the present, disrupting the connection between my power and Clara’s soul.

The lights flicker back on the minute my magic is cut off. Blood drips down from both Clara and Jonathon’s nose and ears as color slowly returns to their skin. Two stacked Elites grab Clara by the arm and help her up, asking her what she needs and if she’s okay.

No one bothers to help Jonathon.

Clara yanks her arm away the minute she’s standing, wearing a murderous gaze meant only for me.

Nausea hijacks my stomach when I realize what I’ve done. What I was so close to doing… to becoming.

She grabs Jonathon by the shoulder and hoists him up. “Seize her!” she shouts at him, dabbing at the blood draining from her nose.

Jonathon doesn’t move at first. He looks lost in indecision, in loyalty.

Clara pulls a gun from the waistband of the Elite next to her. “Do I need to repeat myself?” she asks, pointing the gun at him.

He drops his gaze, and then makes his way over to me, eyes filled with sorrow. I don’t fight him when he pulls my hands behind my back. Shame has suspended my ability to move. It’s poisoned my instinct to survive.

I never intended to harm him.

When he has enough volation around me to hold me in place, Clara marches up to me, her face pressed in a mask of murderous intentions. “That was a very stupid move,” she pushes out through her teeth. Her face is a dark shade of red, and her eyes slits.

She takes the gun and, with a shaky hand, presses it against my forehead. The steel is cold and somewhat inviting. I wait for the fear to set in, for the awful feeling of my mortality being strung out on display to kick in, but it doesn’t come.

Because it’s my intention to make fear, fear me.

“Do it,” I say, looking her dead in the eye.

Her eyebrow dips.

“Kill your only chance at finding power again. Do it.”

Her lavender eyes narrow, lips disappearing into a thin line. She pulls the lever back and tilts her head to the side, wearing an unfathomable smile. I think she might do it. I think she’s crazy enough to. Closing my eyes, I let go of everything, ready for the pain to come.

Ready for it to be over.

But then, a familiar leathery scent encompasses my senses. My eyes flit open as the mark on my arm warms.

One second, Clara’s in front of me and I’m being held by Jonathon, and the next, Jonathon is on his butt and Clara’s being pulled out of the room by a team of Elite’s I’ve never seen before.

“It’s okay now. I’ve got you,” Jaxen says, pulling me close against his chest.

I can’t form any words, can’t figure out why I’m still here and not lying dead on the floor. Why Clara’s screaming in the hallway, and Jonathon’s telling me how sorry he is. I can’t because I’m numb.

I’m finally numb.

“
W
HAT’S THE MEANING OF THIS?”

Clara’s shouting from within the pack of Elites who have surrounded her with guns aimed at her head. They have her on her knees with volation chaining her hands behind her back.

“Lower your guns! I demand an answer, this instant!” Clara shouts erratically.

“This is just precautionary, High Priestess,” one of the Elites says to her uncomfortably. “Just until we can safely remove the Everlasting from your quarters.” They slowly withdraw their guns and allow her to stand.

I’m too shocked to function—too frightened to form my thoughts into coherent words. All I know is my nose is throbbing and my entire body feels drained of energy from what just happened. I feel like I’ve been dipped in lead and strung up to dry by my feet. Everything is off its axis. Nothing makes sense.

Especially not the green eyes that are glued to mine.

Jaxen takes every inch of me in without a trace of his earlier disappointment. He scans over my face. Drifts down to my uniform. His jaw tenses. His throat bobs uncomfortably, as if he’s struggling to swallow down the sight of blood staining my uniform. Or maybe it’s the sight of pure hatred etched so plainly across my face, molding me into a new kind of monster.

The kind that has no end.

Clara marches over to him. Pushes him hard, only to stumble back herself from the firm stance of Jaxen’s frame.

“I don’t know just who you think you are, Jaxen Gramm, but I will have your head for this!” she screams out, her eyes bulging and her hair in a frenzied disarray.

Jaxen finally looks over at her. He’s standing so terrifyingly still, so distinctly firm, rigid, and ready to crush Clara with the strength of his fists clenched painfully tight at his sides.

She backs up a step. Shuts her mouth. Squints her eyes in confusion at the power emanating off Jaxen… the protective barrier he’s woven around the both of us with his volation.

Without any words of explanation, he takes my hand in his, and his soundless steps guide me away from her and down the hall. Away from the monster I could have become.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” his deep voice finally says when my mind can take the silence no longer. “I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t know what.”

I latch on to his voice, to his words, hoping they can pull me from this awful place inside my head. This hellish nightmare I’ve lived in for far too many days.

“When I saw how reclusive you were becoming, I knew something was wrong. And when you tried to push me away, I kind of guessed there was a threat placed on you, because you did what I would do—what I’ve done.

“Clara separated our training for exactly the reason we feared—to control you. She tried to keep us neck-deep in it so we wouldn’t have a spare second to think, the way she always works, but I finally managed to get away just enough to call in a favor.”

He pauses. Looks at me. His eyes darken to a level I’ve never seen before.

“I could kill her myself. I really could.” His voice quivers with an undertone of repressed anger. Of a need to demolish whoever has brought me harm.

“So could I,” I say, shocked by the forceful vow put behind my own words.

We make lefts and rights until I can’t tell which way is which anymore, and then we stop outside of a door that looks just like all the rest. I feel like I’ve left my brain back in that metal room. Finding my voice, I ask, “Who was powerful enough to override Clara?”

He looks at me so softly, brushes the side of my face with the back of his hand, and then turns to push the door open to an office that’s dipped in color. Reds, yellows, and soft blues bombard my senses. The earthy scent of magic lifts me.

A voice I’ve heard once before speaks. He clears his throat. I have to force myself to turn my head, to leave the comfort of Jaxen’s face. “I’m not sure if you remember me,” he starts to say.

“High Priest Seamus Everett Sullivan,” I finish for him. “I know who you are. You’re the last Priest who interviewed me during my detainment.”

I know he hears every bit of the disappointment I feel toward the Priesthood. I can tell by the large sigh he exhales as he recalls the memory of our first meeting.

He swallows whatever he was about to say. Tugs in a large breath before plastering a civil smile on his face. “Right,” he says brightly, forcefully. “Well, I want to apologize on behalf of the Priesthood for what you’ve been put through. This is not the standard, nor is it something we condone. Please, sit.”

Just as I remembered, his voice has a melodic quality that makes me want to hear more. A sensibleness that can only come with age. He has silver hair combed to the side atop his rounded head. His crimson hood is pushed back, allowing me to view his face. Pale, thin skin is furnished with wrinkles. Gray, sloped eyes are hooded with age.

Jaxen grabs my hand, squeezes, and then guides me to the two chairs sitting in front of Seamus’ desk. I blink more times than I can count. Swallow until my mouth is uncomfortably dry. So many thoughts flutter inside my head, all surrounded by blood I can’t scrub clean.

“Then why did it happen?” I ask, subtly at first. “Why have you allowed someone so horrible… so, so monstrous into the Priesthood? Why did someone have to
die?
Will there be justice for that? Will that Elite she murdered be rightfully mourned?”

I can’t get that Elite’s face out of my head. I can’t get the image of Jonathon on the floor and Clara choking to death to go away. And I don’t want it to. I want to remember what her almost death looked like—what it felt like.

Everything I’ve repressed surfaces like a tidal wave, crashing down on me, breaking past the point of my control.

“Look at this!” I shout, holding my arm out, showcasing the many holes left from Clara’s sickness. “I’ve been her plaything. I’ve lied to my friends. I almost killed for her. I almost
killed
her!”

Seamus cringes and looks away. He sucks in a breath, unfolds his weathered hands, and then slowly recovers, forcing himself to look at me again. “What Clara has done is being addressed within the Priesthood,” he says lethally. “I’ve been away on business. Otherwise, this would have ended before it even began. It’s not usual that members of the Priesthood meddle in other member’s affairs. There is an unspoken trust between the seven of us. We all have a part to play, and it was my understanding that she was playing hers. She’s only been in the Priesthood for a short amount of time.”

“Almost two weeks,” I force through clenched teeth. Even though I want nothing more than to continue yelling until I have no voice, until these emotions weighing me down are purged and I can finally breathe again, I don’t. I bite my tongue. It wasn’t his fault. I have to remind myself of this. The blame needs to stay with Clara. I sigh and pull myself together as best as I can. “Thank you… for saving me from myself,” I offer, looking directly at him.

His lips lift, and it makes his gray eyes sparkle. “Don’t thank me, thank him.” He’s looking at Jaxen in admiration. “I owed him a favor. This young man saved my life once from a Banshee during his last Trial before his induction into the Night Watchmen. Looking into what Clara was doing with you was the least I could do. He sought me out while I was away, and he’s the reason you’re now sitting before me. I requested a viewing of your simulation training, and, well, the rest was just so horrifying to watch. There was no question that you needed to be released from Clara’s watch.”

I turn to find a field of green in Jaxen’s eyes. One I want to fall asleep in. He looks away, and I notice the subtle blush to his cheek. It makes my heart swell to the point of bursting. This man who has my heart, he’s more than words could ever describe. More than thoughts can comprehend. He didn’t give up… even when I pushed him harder than is redeemable. He didn’t take in the lies I tried to feed him because he knows me… really knows me.

“I want to talk about the seal,” Jaxen says, his voice so deep and mysterious, still swimming in the demons he battles daily. “Since we’ve been here, we’ve been given the run around. She stuck us in with the other Watchmen training to be Elites, and there’s been absolutely no progress. No one will tell us what’s going on. If we aren’t going to train for our next mission, then I want permission to leave the city and return to our daily duties.”

Seamus leans back in his chair, folding his hands across his waist. “You haven’t been told anything because Clara has been running things, and after witnessing what took place, I don’t think she ever intended to put you all on the mission with Faye.”

Jaxen looks away and curses under his breath.

Seamus leans forward again. “From here on out, you’ll be strictly under my supervision. I’ll assign only the best to your side to ensure you reach your full potential.”

I sit straight, despite the fatigue that’s lurking in the back of my mind waiting to take over.

“But with that being said, we must see significant progress. I’ve gone over the files kept by Clara, and you’ve shown little strength considering what you are and what you’ve been predicted to do. Time is running out. I’m not sure if you are aware of the problems in the outside world, but the Darkyns are showing themselves. They’re showing their numbers and what they’re capable of. They’re attacking our kind in a manner we haven’t seen since before Mourdyn’s end.