Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles) (4 page)

BOOK: Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles)
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“Oh Ellen,” Zavebe says, his eyes still raking over me, “your daughter is very exciting! She'd make a fine trophy to take back home with me. Maybe even get some points from my lord...that is, if her fa—”

I interrupt his rant by raising my sword and pointing it at his chest. “I'm not going an
ywhere with you, you piece of
—”

“Gracen, don't,” Mom strictly orders, her hand guiding my sword downward. “You're not ready for this.”

I'm unable to hide my disappointment, openly gawking at her. I stay speechless, but can't believe what she's saying. All the hard work I've been doing, yet she doesn't think I'm ready? It's not right, not right at all.

“Besides,” she continues in a voice just above a whisper, “I've taken care of it.” Her silver eyes gaze intently at me and that's when I know—something's about to happen.

That's when it did.

A loud boom sounds on the far end of the room, catching the demons and the fallen angel by surprise. A boarded up window had exploded, sending pieces of plywood through the air, some stabbing into the unsuspecting demons. A figure dressed all in black from head to toe emerges from the window, throwing little grenades into the crowd. I also see he's carrying some sort of flares.

“Y'all ready for a real party?!” a man's voice sounds, and I immediately know who it is. Before I can say anything mom pulls me into the hallway behind the curtain, pushing me into the closest room.

“Mom, it's Jude—”

“I know, honey,” she cuts in, pushing me to the ground. “That's why we have to take cover.”

I'm about to ask a butt load of questions when a huge blast, louder than the first, shakes the entire building. I crouch down, hands covering my head. I think Mom does the same. Screams of pain and torment rage in the air, the sounds so strident I'm afraid my eardrums will explode. Pieces of ceiling, sheet rock, and brick fall to the ground, landing all around mom and me. I now know what Mom meant by “I've taken care of it”. She'd called Jude, he'd brought his homemade weapons of demon destruction along, and slaughtered all the otherworldly dirt bags, sending them on a one-way trip to Hell. Thank God for Jude's brain and demon-killing skills!

Chills overtake my body as one voice sweeps over the rest of the anguished wails, the verbal message sent in my direction. The message freezes my body all the way through to my bones.

“I'LL BE BACK!” Zavebe shouts angrily, his tone laced with vengeance. “YOU WILL BE MINE, GRACEN! YOU WILL BE MINE!”

A sound like a tornado mixed with a hurricane roars loudly, followed by an eerie silence. I stand up on wobbly, unstable legs, and find that my mother has already left the room. Walking into the hallway I begin to cough, the air thick with dust and asbestos. I enter the main room that just minutes earlier had been filled with a hundred vamp demons and one terrifying Fallen Angel. Now the room is nothing more than a trash can full of blown up rubble. I'm amazed at the amount of destruction Jude has constructed. Chandeliers and strobe lights dangle freely from the high ceiling, the bulbs all busted. The ground is littered with broken glass, pieces of furniture, and miscellaneous stuff I can't identify.

I make my way over to Mom and Jude, stepping over huge pieces of debris. With the exception of looking like an eighteen wheeler had pummeled over him, he seems to be fine. They see me and Jude waves, a painful expression covering his face.

“Hey,
Silva Sista
!” he calls, then lets out a moan and grabs his right shoulder. “Ooh, that's really gonna hurt later.”

“What in the world did you use, Jude?” I question.

He grins through the pain. “Oh, just some homemade bombs, magnesium flares...you know, the usual.” I'm not impressed.

“You could have killed yourself, Jude!” I turn and glare at Mom. “And why did you call him into this? We could have handled it.”

She shakes her head and sighs. “Gracen, we were outnumbered. We needed his help...”

“And that's my job,” Jude
adds strongly
, his voice quivering as if wounded by my words. “Oh, and by the way—your
welcome
.”

I become contrite, stating,
“Jude, I was just trying to say that—

“We've got to get going, the police are on their way,” Mom interjects hurriedly, taking Jude's arm and helping him over the carnage. On cue sirens begin to sound in the distance. If we didn't leave now we'd run the risk of being seen and questioned.

Jude suddenly goes limp and mom picks him up. We start to run, our super speed getting us to the Mustang, and we're on the road in no time. Jude is out cold in the backseat, and I'm kind of happy he is. If he knew that my mother had just ran with him in her arms it would make him feel weak, and the fact that he'd just sent over one hundred demons back to Hell would not make a difference.

“Do you think Jude's shoulder is broken?” I ask Mom.

“Not sure,” she replies, her eyes staying on the road. I watch her for a few moments and notice how deep in thought she is.

After a brief moment of awkward silence I work up the nerve to ask, “What's the story with Zavebe?” That breaks through her thoughts immediately, and a rush of feelings flow off of her.

Nervous. Anxious. Grief.

“What do you mean, hon?”

I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. I also know you're nervous about something, so you might as well fess up.”

She stays silent with her emotions, so I continue on.

“You said something about him being there because your daughter showed up on radar, and he knew my
name
. Like he already knew of my existence. And you talked to him like you had some history,
and
for some reason he's clearly adamant about me joining the demon side.”

She sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, an uneasy feeling skittering off of her. “Zavebe is a Fallen Angel, part of the rebel angels that fell from Heaven. He's a liar, a deceiver, and brings devastation and turmoil into the lives of both Touched and Untouched humans. They'll say anything to sway your thinking.”

I groan in frustration. “Mom, you're just spouted out textbook mumbo-jumbo! I already know that story! What I want to know is how this Zavebe knows me and why he wants me so much?”

“Can it wait until later?” she quickly says, her eyes strictly on the road, and I know right then and there that I'm not going to get any answers.

“Fine,” I huff, crossing my arms. The rest of the ride is a silent one.

I know she's keeping things from me, thinking that I'm too young to understand what's happening in the world of darkness. But tonight is different. Meeting Zavebe has opened up a whole new world in my supernatural eyes, and the conversation the two of them had shared left me with unanswered questions.

Why didn't Mom just answer my straight forward questions? What kind of history did the two of them have? And why is he so interested in me? I've been living this life for three years, almost four, and still have more questions than answers.

Life has a way of taking you down paths that you never see coming, and meeting people you never thought existed. Sometimes you do things out of love, sometimes you do things out of hate, and both can leave you feeling misguided.

My life was about to take a strange turn down a wayward path, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

 

31

 

Silver Mortal

 

 

 

 

 

 

chapter 4

 

 

I wake up screaming, my heart pounding furiously and throbbing in my throat. My body is bathed in sweat, the wetness seeping through my shorts and shirt. Fear, confusion, and pain has my bones in a firm grip. All the images come flooding back, and now I understand why I'm soaked in sweat and out of breath. My body shudders and suddenly I'm freezing. I pull the blanket all the way up to my chin and close my eyes, willing the images to disappear, only they become more vivid behind my closed lids.

A knock sounds on my door. The door opens and in walks my mom.

“Gracen, what's wrong?” she inquires, sitting next to me on the bed. Pushing strands of wet hair off my face and behind my ear she adds, “Your scream shook the whole building.” I open my eyes and look at her.

“Sorry about that—had a bad dream,” I answer her, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “I'm fine now. You can go back to sleep.”

“Now you know I can't do that, hon. So go ahead and tell me what has you screaming yourself awake.” She leans back on the pillow beside me. The dark bags under her eyes tell me that she's in need of a good sleep, and her normally spiky hair is flattened on one side of
her head.

I blow out a sigh and give in, knowing she won't leave until she hears my dream. That's another
awesome
gift from the Silver Eagle (awesome really meaning
awful
). We can sense when someone is hurting or distressed. Also our dreams can help us in the future. Sometimes we dream about things to come, whether it's a happy dream or disturbing dream, though my dreams usually stay more on the line of heavily demented.

“Okay, well,” I begin, gathering my thoughts, “it's basically the same dream I always have. There's that white-haired man who's ordering beings around, both demons and humans. I think he's a Night Viper...wait, I
know
he's a Night Viper, and some of the humans are as well, but many are Untouched humans.

“I'm in some kind of dungeon or underground cave, the walls are covered with rocks and lit up with torches and huge fireplaces—at least I think they're fireplaces. Rodents and all sorts of bugs are everywhere, and snakes slithered around my feet.

“Usually when I have this dream I'm the spectator, like I'm sitting back and watching a movie on the big screen, though I've never seen a movie this horrific. The demons are maiming and doing disgusting things to some of the humans, like dismemberment, sexual acts, sacrificial ceremonies...” I shudder again, the sick images so vivid in my mind it causes my stomach to curl into a nauseated twist.

Ever since moving to New York I'd been having the same dream of this white-headed Night Viper, feared by both demons and humans. There's something about him that screams he's extremely threatening. Yes, demons and Night Vipers are dangerous, but there's something even more sinister about this guy, something that I cannot grasp while I'm in sleep mode. He seems even darker and foreboding than Zavebe.

Mom senses my discomfort and wraps me in a hug. I lay my head against her chest. She smells of spice and sweet perfume.

“You'll feel better if you get it out, honey,” she whispers into my hair.

After swallowing the rock hard lump jammed in my throat I start up again. “Anyway, like I said before, I'm always the spectator, the fly on the wall, but tonight I was actually part of the nightmare.”

Mom's body tenses under me and she inquires, “What are you saying?”

“The white-haired Viper is talking to me, ordering me around, yelling profanities at me, smacking me around...
hurting
me.” I lean up to gaze into mom's face, knowing my expression is pitiful. “It felt so real, mom. Like it wasn't a dream, but actually happening to me. It was horrible, disgusting, and...” I trail off, biting back a sob itching to spring forth.

She pats my head sympathetically. “It was only a dream, Gracen.” I shake my head. “No, I think it means something more,” I argue, afraid to tell her the last part of the equation.

Her forehead creases with worry. “What are you not telling me?”

“In the dream I'm not myself.” I pause, feeling uncertain.

“Keep going,” she urges strongly.

“He called me Ashley,” I inform her in a rush of words. “And I think this Ashley is in deep trouble.”

“Hmm,” she ponders. “Is Ashley an Untouched human, or a Touched human?”

A Touched human—a much nicer way to say
screwed-up mortal
.

I shake my head sadly and whisper, “I have no idea.”

Mom gives me one last squeeze and stands up. I can tell that something is weighing heavy on her mind, and I also know she will not tell me what it is—at least, not yet, anyway. She paces the room a few times, her yellow robe swishing back and forth around her ankles. Suddenly she stops pacing and turns to me, offering me a forced, weak smile.

“I'm going to rest a little,” she tells me, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. “Once Jude wakes up I'll get him to check out remote locations that best fits your descriptions. We'll also see if there's any missing Ashley's around the area. I know it will take a lot of searching, since we have no last name or description of the girl, but we've got to start trying.”

“Um...Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“What if Jude's not up to working?” I question her, adding, “You know, since he was beaten to a pulp just a few hours ago.”

OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but Jude's little venture had left him pretty bruised. Thankfully no broken bones like we'd expected, which was such a blessing since he didn't heal as fast as we do. With the blood of the Silver Eagle running through our veins my mother and I are able to heal faster than the average human. Yes, Jude is an Informant, but his physical human body is very much average.

Though Jude may feel like roadkill later today I highly doubted that he would turn down mom's request. He'd push through the pain like always. After all, he's very dedicated to his job, which is lucky for my mother since she doesn't have a sensitive bone in her body when it comes to someone else in pain.

And just as I suspected, she blows off what I said about Jude being beaten to a pulp. “He'll be fine. After a good days rest he'll feel good as new.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever you say, mom.”

Mom walks to the door then stops, leaning an elbow on the doorjamb. “Gracen?”

“Yeah?” I answer, plopping back down against my pillows.

“I'm not going to let anything happen to you—I promise.” And with that odd little tidbit said she closes the door.

I stare at the closed door a long while, thinking about my insane, Touched life. Really, I've got to be the most screwed up sixteen year old girl on the face of the planet. At thirteen I see a werewolf, find out I'm not completely normal and move up to New York City to live with my neurotic mother. I have dreams about a psycho Night Viper, get superhuman powers after midnight, and kill demons with my pure silver Katana—which I can use skillfully.

Messed-up with a capitol
Screwed
.

In hopes of getting a few hours sleep, I flip over to my side and sink into my fluffy pillow. My mind starts to rest and I feel sleep getting close...that is until my cell phone begins to vibrate. Letting out a groan, I grab it from my nightstand and see that it's Bets. Reluctantly I answer, knowing Bets has my whole Saturday planned out like she always does.

“Hello?” I whisper groggily.


Wassup chica
?” Bets's voice rings in my ear. “Were you sleeping?”

I yawn and stretch, cradling the phone with my chin. “Sort of.”

“What?!” she exclaims shrilly. “You do know it's two in the afternoon, right?”

“I do now,” I reply annoyingly.

She sighs loudly into the phone. “Have you forgotten about the day we have planned? You know, shopping, eating, a movie, maybe talking to that cute waiter that goes by the name Mark Hopkins at Applebee's?”

I groan. “Bets, I've already told you—I'm not interested in dating him or anyone right now, so quit pressuring me!”

“Come on, Gracen! I'm your best friend and I'm only trying to help you out!”

I laugh out loud. “Bets, really, you don't have to—”


Please
, Gracen?” she whines. “Please let me help you get some!”

Bets has been on my case for months to start dating, and I keep telling her over and over again that I'm not interested, but she's too stubborn to listen. I'm not saying this Mark guy is a dog or anything. On the contrary he's quite nice to look at, with his wavy brown hair and hazel eyes. When he smiles a dimple appears on his left cheek, and his body looks muscular and fit under his waiter uniform. Not to mention being the perfect height in my eyes, just topping six feet. And whenever we visit our favorite restaurant Mark is always there, even when he's not waiting on us, talking to us and being super nice and...

OK, here's my point. It's not that I'm uninterested in him—it's because I
can't
be interested in him. My life is chaotic enough without adding a juvenile, romantic relationship into the mix, so I figure the single life is the only way to go. And anyway, a boyfriend would just make matters even more strained, and I was stressed enough without having a guy to deal with. Of course I can't tell Bets all this. She's my bestie and all, but she doesn't know my secrets; I also plan on keeping it that way.

“Look, how about this,” I remark, trying hard not to laugh at her antics, “why don't you just come pick me up and we'll have a girls day, alright? No boys, no
getting some
...just girly crap. Sound good?”

“Fine,” she replies. I can almost hear the pout in her voice. “I'll be there in an hour, and since I'm conceding to your harsh no boys rule, you've got to listen to what happened to
me
last night!”

I groan, knowing that the details would be juicy. Not a good juicy, but a
nasty
juicy.

“Did the cops come?” I inquire curiously.

She giggles. “No, but I know someone who did!”

“EW, Bets, NO!” I interject swiftly, majorly grossed out. “You really, really don't have to tell me all about...
that
! Seriously. That's just sick!”

“Get ready to hear about the most
naughtiest
night of my life!” She laughs and hangs up.

Even though Bets is vulgar and a total open book when it comes to her sexual trysts, I'm so thankful to have her as my friend. After a night of demon slaying, meeting a Fallen Angel, and having the most disturbing dream thus far in my short life, I can always count on Bets to keep me grounded to humanity. Today I could look forward to a normal day shopping with my best friend, with no demons crashing my day.

At least I
hope
they wouldn't crash my normal day.

***

“Mmmm! OMG, they have the best nachos in the world!” Bets exclaims through a mouthful of chips, cheese, and jalapenos, spitting some from her mouth in the process.

I wipe my arm off with my napkin. “Bets, have you ever heard the phrase “Say it don't spray it”? I think you may benefit from it.” She responds by opening her mouth wide and showing all the contents inside.

We're sitting in our favorite booth at Applebee's, pigging out on nachos and cokes. After shopping and seeing a dumb romantic comedy (Bets's choice, not mine), we had decided to visit the eatery, though it was almost eleven o'clock when we arrived. Fortunately for us they were opened until midnight—unfortunately for me the only waiter available was Mark, the guy Bets is always trying to set me up with. To my surprise, though, she hasn't said one word to or about him. Instead I've been forced to listen to her electrifying bedtime romp the night before with hottie Billy Stanton, star quarterback at our school and Bets's new plaything.

“So he asked you to be his girlfriend
after
the sex?” I ask in astonishment, adding, “And you actually said yes?”

She sighs, staring dreamily into empty air.

“You have no idea how he made me feel last night,” she tells me with a wicked smile on her face. “The way he held me after he—”

“Stop!” I quickly say, not wanting her to repeat all the nasty
gag me
details. “I don't need anymore imagery—once is enough. I'll puke if you go into that again.”

She giggles, her gaze back on me. “But Gracen! It was the first time I'd ever—”

“Nope, not listen
ing!” I cover my ears and yell,  “
Lalala
! Can't hear you!”

She reaches across the table and yanks my hands from my ears. “Jeez, Gracen, lighten up! I swear, you're such a virgin.”

“And proud of it,” I remark proudly, shooting my chin up gallantly.

Just then a male voice breaks into our conversation. It's Mark, our waiter and all around hottie with a cute
butt. W
hoa, where did
that
come from?

BOOK: Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles)
11.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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