Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2) (30 page)

“Listen to me!” His eyes went from golden hazel to gleaming blue in a flash, irritating her more. “If you killed Illyria to protect Quinn there is nothing to worry about. It was in defense of an innocent.”

She laughed at his false hope even though part of her wanted to curl up and die. She felt a shift in her psyche that was both exhilarating and frightening. Love and Hate tugged her in opposite directions, both promising her something if they won. 

“I thought he was dead,” she spat, hurling the words like daggers. “I wanted her to pay for what she did! There were no thoughts of protecting anyone by the time I made the decision to fry her – there was only revenge.” She flung her head back and screamed up at the heavens. “Did you hear that, you bastards? I killed your precious Aeon because she deserved it!”

“Oh, God,” Gabriel breathed.

Rolling her eyes, Jordan said, “Yeah, you keep praying to Him. Maybe He’ll hear you one day.”

Ivy stepped forward. “What about me?” she asked, addressing Gabriel. “If Jordan hadn’t killed the angel, I’m sure I would’ve been next on her shit list. She was like a starving person with a bag of Lays chips – there’s no way she was stopping at one.”

Trying to ignore the pull from both ends, Jordan said, “That might work if they considered you an innocent, Ivy, but they don’t. To the angels, we’re just damaged goods – vessels without souls. If Illyria had killed you, Michael probably would have given her a raise and a shiny new plaque for her wall.”

“You’re not helping,” Quinn said with a scowl.

“By keeping all this from me, neither did you,” she shot back.

The tugging grew stronger. She felt too thin, stretched to the point of snapping in two. Jordan had no idea what to do. If she stayed, she would put her entire family through hell and her head on a chopping block. If she left, if she went to
him
, the future was unknown and she wasn’t comfortable with more uncertainties in her life.

If you come to me, I will try to help stop this war. Together, we are the best chance humanity has.

What do you care of humanity? You’re a demon.

Suddenly, she saw him in her head. He was beautiful, perfect, like a god. Snow-white wings, blinding in their pureness, hurt her eyes as they unfolded slowly on either side of his strong shoulders. The urge to go to him was almost painful.

Oh, Jordan, I am much more than that.

She nodded, dazed by the vision. Inside, she felt something snap. The tug-o’-war ended in exquisite pain as a mark was placed upon her soul –
his
mark. 

To the victor go the spoils.

When she came back to herself, Gabriel was talking. Quinn and Ivy paid close attention to his words but Xander was staring at her. He was concerned, but there was something else, as well. The flared nostrils, downturned mouth, and clenched fists told her he
knew…
and he wasn’t happy.

“Jordan, no!” he screamed.

Their special connection made it possible for Xander to feel every emotion she did. Jordan had forgotten all about it. He reached out while Quinn, Ivy, and Gabe scanned the factory for an enemy they couldn’t see.

“Don’t do this,” Xander begged. “Fight him! You’re stronger than this.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Quinn asked. “Fight who?”

Jordan ignored her brother. For the moment, there was only Xander. He pleaded with her without needing to say a word, and she tried to recall why he was so important to her. The memories were hazy, as if they took place on a bright, sunny day but she was reviewing them at dusk. She felt a pang of regret. It wasn’t because she was leaving him. The feelings she once had for Xander no longer had any substance. No, the regret she felt was for what she’d lost, and knowing she would probably never get it back.

“Please, Jordan,” he whispered. “You can’t leave me.” Tears pooled in his eyes and she felt a ghost of the emotions he used to evoke in her.

“I don’t have a choice.”

Quinn slammed his hand down on the crippled table beside her, making dust fly into the air. “If someone doesn’t tell me what the hell is going on I’m going to get my gun and shoot all of you in the leg.”

Xander approached slowly and, when she didn’t object or try to zap him, gently pulled her into his arms. Jordan was as pliable as a two by four but he didn’t let go.

“Try to remember,” he said softly. “This isn’t who you are. He doesn’t care about you – he doesn’t care about anyone other than himself. He wants to use your power.”

Wrapped in his embrace, the muddy thoughts cleared and Jordan caught a brief glimpse of
before
. Desperate, she dug and tore at the façade, clawing for purchase, but the tiny holes she managed filled back up just as quickly. It was no use. What she desired lay at the bottom of a sandpit and the walls kept crumbling.

She cried out in frustration. Time was running out and Jordan knew she only had seconds before she’d be buried again – her true feelings concealed under layers of lies and false promises. She reached up and touched Xander’s face, memorized the color and shape of his eyes, focused on every blemish and line, softly kissed his lips. It was all she could take with her. Xander couldn’t break the hold Orias had on her now but she knew, one day, he would.

“Save me,” she managed in a strangled sob.

Xander’s eyes glowed with a passionate, almost savage light – an affirmation that he understood…and she was finally able to let go.

As she faded from the room, teleporting from the people she loved, from a life she might never know again, Jordan saw Xander kiss the tips of his fingers and hold them out. He was sending his heart with her.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Quinn

The farmhouse was too crowded or maybe it was just him.

He was tired of strangers in business suits and polished wingtips that clashed horribly with their worn furniture and T-shirts. He was tired of waiting for information. He was tired of doing
nothing
while the fate of his sister and the world balanced on the head of a pin.

Quinn’s knees bounced up and down, jostling Ivy, who sat next to him on the couch. He couldn’t be still. He needed to move, to act, to escape this room filled with tension and dashed hopes.

At a slight pressure on his leg, he looked down. In a gesture totally out of character for her, Ivy reached over and gave his knee a reassuring squeeze. They’d done nothing but argue since she’d moved in a few days before. Like flint on stone, they couldn’t be within ten feet of each other without causing sparks, igniting everything in their paths. Uncle Case had threatened to make both of them move into the barn if it didn’t stop.

It surprised Quinn to find comfort in her touch now. The fact that they’d been sitting beside each other for almost an hour without drawing blood was a testament to just how serious things were. To occupy his mind, Quinn reflected on the events of the past week.

<><><>

After Jordan disappeared from the factory, he had lost it. There was yelling, and accusations thrown, along with a few punches. The last thing he remembered was Xander’s blood splattered all over his shirt. Gabe then took it upon himself to work some angel mojo and knocked Quinn out cold. He woke up in his own bed a day later.

The house had since been a flurry of demons, angels, wards, and information – some useful, some not. On a rare night when things were relatively quiet, he, Nathan, and Case converged in the study. Amidst mugs of steaming coffee and a bottle of Jameson’s finest, they told Quinn what they’d learned while he visited La-La land, courtesy of their friendly neighborhood Guardian.

“Jordan’s in Purgatory.”

Nathan took a sip of coffee and glanced at his watch, as if their sister had simply run down to the Quik-Stop for a gallon of milk and would be back any minute.

On the other side of the refectory table, Quinn frowned. Surely, he’d heard wrong. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the magic Gabe had used.

Purgatory?
 

He wrapped his hands around the warm mug in front of him and waited.

Casen laced his nearly empty cup with a glug of whiskey. When his uncle set the bottle down with more force than was necessary, the sound of glass against hardwood had been comparable to a gunshot in the silent room. He removed his battered Stetson and scratched his head.

“Apparently, Jordan and Xander have…or
had…
some sort of psychic connection. He could tune in to her emotions. He told Gabe that while she was zoned out in the factory, he felt an outside force invade her mind.” Case fingered the brim of his hat and sighed. “When Jordan teleported, Xander had a feeling Purgatory was her destination. When Gabe asked how certain he was, the boy said, ‘“I should know, I used to live there.’”

Xander may have had the 4-1-1 on his old stomping ground but knew little about the “demon” who took him in. When Gabe learned of Jordan’s whereabouts, he questioned Xander on his home and family.

“I don’t have any family,” the Cambion shrugged. “I was taken from the orphanage by a demon and sent to Orias.”

Gabe sank to the floor. “There is only one being in Purgatory who does not belong there. My father condemned Orias to the planet of Lost Souls a long time ago.” He paused, a distant look in his eyes. “He is my brother. His real name is Lucifer.”

Some of the pieces began to come together and formed the beginnings of a grim picture. By this time, everyone – including Aamon – knew about the prophecy. Nathan had read it so many times he could recite it by heart.

There will come a day when grace shall be returned to the Watchers of the world. They will rise from their prisons and walk the Earth. They will gain followers of great importance and take their fight to the Heavens. A holy war unlike any before will commence between Good and Evil. The beginning and end will depend upon the decision of a
Paladin
. Her fall shall mark them both.

A
Paladin’s
blood, given freely, is the key to Lucifer’s cell.
The Book of Shadow and Light
is the guide. Many lives will be lost. Good and Evil must work together to safeguard Earth and her people. The
Paladin’s
soul must be lifted from darkness by her equal in order for her to descend. Only then can the war be ended.

“Lucifer called Jordan to his side because he needs her blood to escape prison in Purgatory. Her fall made it possible for him to compel her.” Gabe had explained.

“But how did Lucifer know Jordan killed Illyria?” Ivy asked. “He’s locked in a house on another planet.”

“Perhaps he was connected somehow. Maybe an informer keeping tabs on your group–”

“There were no other demons around,” Ivy interrupted. “I would have felt them.”

Gabe sat up straight. “Did Lucifer insist on giving you any personal effects?”

Ivy shook her head, frowning at Xander’s grave expression when he stepped from a shadowy corner of the room.

“Yes, he did.” His voice was soft, hoarse, like rustling leaves. “Orias gave Jordan a pendant to wear. He called it the Third Pentacle of Jupiter and said it was for protection.”

“That’s one of the magical seals of Solomon,” Gabe said. “What did it look like?” Xander recounted the specifics of the silver charm.

The angel groaned. “That isn’t the Third Pentacle; it’s the Fifth. It would have left Jordan open to visions, both to send and receive them. There are forty-four seals that we know of. With a few spectral alterations, any number of them could have served Lucifer, even in Purgatory.”

“What exactly are these seals?” Quinn had asked.

Nathan cleared his throat and raised his hand.

“Really?” Quinn shook his head as his brother answered in textbook form.

“King Solomon possessed the power of nature and the spiritual world. Many believe he was given insight from an archangel to create the seals. Solomon used the seals in rituals. According to ancient Lore, he called upon spirits and requested their help to achieve honest and impartial goals.”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Hermione.”

“My knowledge of the seals is limited,” Gabe said. “We can only hope the same of Lucifer.”

<><><>

Taking the words of the prophecy at face value, Gabe had insisted on bringing Aamon into the fold.

“If Lucifer rises, Good and Evil will have to work together to protect humans. We need every able-bodied being we can get, regardless of status,” he’d argued when Quinn questioned the decision. In a softer tone, he continued, “I know Aamon killed your father but Ivy says he truly loves Jordan. We must put differences aside now. This war could test us in ways we never thought possible. If we are divided,
we will fail
.”

It was also Gabe’s brilliant idea to have Ivy and Xander close by. He couldn’t be there all the time himself, and wanted someone on the premises who could teleport them away if danger came knocking. The Cambions’ impressive powers, he said, made them assets.

<><><>

Quinn’s eyes moved around the room and settled on Xander. The guy sat on the floor by the fireplace, absently scratching Koda behind the ears (leave it to Jordan to befriend a wild animal and bring it home). Xander didn’t talk much, and spent most of his time wandering outside the farmhouse.

<><><>

The day before, he’d stumbled upon Quinn working on the Charger. When Xander poked his head in the makeshift garage and saw who was inside, he quickly apologized and started to move on.

Quinn had suddenly felt sorry for him. It was obvious Xander blamed himself for Jordan’s predicament. He walked around with a faraway look in his eyes, trying to reach her through their bond. So far, he had been unsuccessful. Gabe explained that Purgatory was built with isolation in mind. Special wards ensured none of the monsters that called it home could escape. It would be damned near impossible for Xander to reach her there.

“Hey,” Quinn called when the guy’s head disappeared around the corner of the shed. “You like cars?”

He wasn’t sure what made him reach out when he hadn’t given two shits for the guy since he’d been there. Maybe it was because he’d punched him in the factory. Maybe it was the desperation and loss that seemed to follow Xander around like a dark cloud. He looked out of sorts, not knowing how to fit in.

Xander shuffled back to the open doorway and focused on a spot above Quinn’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “What did you say?”

Quinn put down his wrench and wiped his hands on an old towel. “I asked if you like cars.”

“I’ve never had one,” Xander admitted, red creeping into his face.

He eyeballed the Charger with a hungry gleam in his eyes. It was the first time Quinn had seen him show interest in anything since he’d arrived. He knew Xander had grown up in an orphanage before he’d been carted off to Purgatory. There were probably a lot of things he never had.

Quinn realized how lucky he was. He’d grown up in a house where people loved him. They weren’t rich by any means but he’d never gone without. He couldn’t imagine being raised by strangers, sleeping in crowded dorm rooms with no privacy, or never having enough to eat. His stomach twisted with guilt, reminding him once again what a douche he could be.

“Yours looks pretty cool, though,” Xander continued. “There was a janitor at the orphanage who mopped the floors and took out trash with a copy of
Hot Rod
magazine rolled up in his back pocket. He’d leave it on the table by my bed when he finished reading it. I’d sit and look at it for hours.”

Quinn motioned him inside. “My car’s a hot mess right now,” he said with a pang of regret.

“Can you fix it?” Xander asked.

“Yeah,” Quinn replied. “I built her from the ground up. When it comes to cars, I can fix anything.”

Eyes wide, Xander whistled.

Quinn smiled and waved him closer. It was hard not to like a guy who could appreciate good ‘ol American steel and big engines.

<><><>

Shaking off the memory, Quinn dragged his laggard mind back to the present. The living room held the semblance of a wake. Whispers circulated like sinister spirits aroused by apprehension. Uncle Case and Nathan spoke quietly in the doorway. Aamon and two other demons conversed with heavy expressions while sipping coffee by the bookcase. Every so often their eyes flashed white, and Quinn reached for his knife out of habit.

A few weeks before, Quinn had left the farmhouse because his uncle had allowed what they thought was a demon to be summoned inside a Devil’s trap in the basement. Now the fuckers roamed around freely, day and night. He would never trust them and the feeling was mutual. The Baileys’ history in the Circle was legendary. Demons knew what they were capable of, and grudgingly respected them for it.

Still, demons in their house…

The sound of wings made everyone abandon their conversations and look around expectantly. Gabe popped into the room and nodded in greeting. Quinn held his breath. This was why they had gathered together. They were hoping for information, something to hang onto, to build on.

Gabe had finally been able to contact some bigwig angel he’d been in touch with by the name of Yasen. It hadn’t been easy. Michael, furious over the loss of his Aeon and
The Oraculum,
had launched a massive search for his brother, Jordan, and her families – both human and demon. News of the archangel’s actions travelled to the higher-ups (Gabe called them Virtues) and they’d shut Michael down. Unfortunately, this had done nothing for his disposition. Gabe had confessed to Quinn that he felt certain they’d not heard the last of the archangel. 

Regardless, there was still a war to prepare for. They would deal with Michael when they crossed that bridge. Quinn hoped it wouldn’t be for a while.

“Gabriel,” Aamon said, grasping the angel’s forearm in a show of solidarity and good faith. “Do you have any news of my daughter?”

Quinn resisted the urge to gut the demon like a fish. It chafed like a pair of wet jeans to admit it, but he could not deny the love Aamon had for his children. After learning what had happened at the factory, Quinn thought Aamon would have a heart attack (if demons could suffer from that sort of thing). He’d cursed and cried – the tears as genuine as any Quinn had ever seen – then disappeared. The demon had returned an hour later, despair hanging on him like a suit three times too large. Shoulders drooping, pain etched upon his face, he’d told them he’d tried to get into Purgatory to confront Orias/Lucifer and retrieve Jordan but the portal had been closed.