Breaking the Storm (22 page)

Leafing
through the stack of documents we found at Jeff Hunter's apartment led to nothing but more questions. It was absolutely useless. “These are all copies,” I said while feeding the documents into the shredder. “We are so fucked right now. The thief still has the originals.”

Light's
fingers fumbled the glass of water, splattering it everywhere. “As far as we know, they could be creating handouts for the news media,” she responded. “This is not good. And no one can convince me that all of this is not connected.”

“I
don't believe in coincidences.” Running my trembling fingers through my hair, I racked my brain for a rational explanation, which was an exercise in futility. Nothing was logical about the Others. “This just feels all wrong… like somehow we're not connecting the dots.”

Light
gulped her water thirstily. I knew that she wished it was numb-inducing alcohol, but she was trying to keep a clear head, an effort I respected. “We should start by making a list of our enemies.” She pursed her lips. “With the Gildens at the top.”

I
bit my bottom lip. “I'm pretty sure it's not them. We have more dirt on them than they do us and they know it. Besides, exposing us to humans would be bad for business, something neither of us wants. No, this seems too calculated.”

“But
that's what the Others do, hide in the shadows and plot. A prime example is the war brewing between the shifters. There's been a peace treaty between them for years… then bam! Out of nowhere it's raining shifter bodies.”

“
Since when have you been interested in Other business?”

Light
shrugged. “Since bodies started piling up at such alarming rates that humans are even noticing. It's just dumb.”

Pushing
away from the desk, I walked over to the window and stared. “Dumb?”

She
snorted. “Yes… dumb. It's like they forgot what happened centuries ago when Others were openly hunted and killed by the few humans who knew of our existence. And you know what happened to them. Others banded together, exterminating all of those whacked-in-the-head humans.”

I
smiled at her. “Look at you. My very own Other historian. Nice!”

She
rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. All I know is that if bodies continue to drop, humans are going to figure the shit out. And poof… there goes the veil of Other secrecy. Exposure central.”

As I p
aced back and forth, a thought was forming. “Exactly, it doesn't make sense. Others don't like attention. Can you imagine the chaos if humans find out that we do exist?”

“Total
anarchy. Never mind the fact that history would repeat itself with humans hunting Others and Others hunting humans. It would create a clusterfuck extinction of all races.”

History.
Something about the word kept echoing in my head. “Last night, Luke said something that bothered me. He was rambling about something about history repeating itself.”

Light
shrugged. “Maybe he was talking about you and him.”

I
looked at her like she had lost her mind. “Highly unlikely. No, he had this real snarky look on his face like he was dying to let me in on some secret.”

“He
was born with that snarky, elitist look on his face.”

“No,
I'm pretty sure it’s something else.” There was something about him showing up out of the blue that was bothering me. That compounded by the crazy history remark. If this was about history, then I knew where to start. A place I never wanted to go—the Credence library. With trepidation, we walked out of the office and toward the library immediately off the gallery at the front of the house. I just stared at the dreaded, heavy mahogany door and portal to the scary library.

Taking
a calming breath, I punched in the door code. Then I pressed my thumb over the custom-made lock. The lock whirled, delivering a quick prick to the fleshy skin of my thumb, sampling my blood for entry. We took a step back when the lock clicked.

“What
are you looking for?” Light asked.

Pushing
open the door, I shivered as the cold air in the temperature-controlled room brushed against me. “Answers.” The dark, expansive room was quiet except for the whisper of air circulating. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined every surface of the walls.

Light
shivered. “It must be real serious if you decided to woman up and come back after the alleged”—she did air quotes—“incident.”

I
shot her an annoyed look. “There's no alleged about it. That woman was standing in here looking at me.” I shivered when I thought about that day from hell. I was only thirteen when as clear as day, I saw the back of a strange woman walking into the library. Naive and yes, just plain stupid, I followed her into the library only to find her standing over the
Book of Mirrors
.

I
recognized her immediately when she turned to look at me, pointing to the book as she whispered, “The truth shall set me free.” I literally wanted to piss in my pants from fright. But instead, I ran out of there screaming bloody murder. No one in my family believed me then or now. But I know who I saw… Solista. And there was something in that book she wanted me to see. Now I was brave enough to find out what.

Standing
before the ornate pedestal was intimidating at best. But touching the large, antiqued, brown leather journal lying on top of it sent a shiver down my spine. This was a treasure that had been passed down throughout the centuries—the Credence
Book of Mirrors
. I ran my fingers over the gold filigree attached to each corner of the book. Then I traced my finger over the gold Celtic dragon carved out of real gold that was framed in the center. It filled me with awe. Centuries of Credence women had scribed their thoughts, feelings, and experiences in this book—each woman adding on, preserving the rich history of the bloodline. Opening it carefully, tears welled up in my eyes at the first name signed at the top of the page—Solista Credence.

Light
rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Storm, you're wasting your time. Grandma Solista was declared insane.”

I
didn't care. All I knew was that Grandma Solista was notoriously known throughout family history for being a shrewd businesswoman. She set the Credence women on the path of wealth and success. A fact that was overshadowed by the truth that she was so consumed with some insane theory about the Credence Curse being a lie that she ended up dying alone. “She wasn't crazy, Light. She was eccentric. How in the hell can a woman as smart as she was be crazy?” That was a contradiction at best.

I
started reading the beginning of the book where she wrote about her happy youth. Her love for her family. Her love for her childhood friend named Tiber Alfero, the only son of the Alpha from the strongest wolf-shifter pack in North America. Then there was a gap in dates, which resumed months later with her listing every Credence born and their subsequent mates with X marks next to each name that the Credence Curse touched in addition to noting the date they died.

I
read her next entry aloud. “Mother is the most foolish Credence alive. After only months of warlock Morpheus Brasson courting her, she's suddenly agreed to marry that most vile man. A man consumed by the women of the family. As was his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather. The family's pleas to call off the wedding have fallen on deaf ears.”

Her
next entry noted,
“I hate that man. Morpheus is evil and conniving. He's tried everything in the book to break the Credence family. No topic makes me angrier than the fact he married Mother to elevate his standing within the coven, then killed her with a death spell when he got what he wanted—Credence money and power.”

I
skimmed through, stopping at a curious page. “I have my suspicions about the Brasson family. Morpheus's nephew, Tomas, has taken a liking to me, but I have refused his disgusting attempts to court me. Even though Tiber has broken my heart, I'm happy for once in my life. Victor, the village doctor, has shown quite an interest in me. He's human and far removed from the prejudice and inner workings of the Others.”

I
looked over at Light with wide eyes. “Brasson… That's Luke's last name.”

She
snorted. “Are you serious? Luke is not a warlock. An idiot, yes, but most definitely not a warlock.”

“How
can you be sure? For centuries the Others have been blending into human society for survival. They’re like chameleons. Besides, you and I wouldn't know an Other unless they chose to reveal themselves to us.” It was embarrassing but true. Typically, witches couldn't detect Others’s signature scents like Shifters or Vampires could. So to compensate for this weakness, powerful witches like Mom and Aunt Lia had honed their magical powers to such precision that their senses were just as keen as Shifters and Vampires. A skillset I didn't give a shit about—until now.

Light
rolled her eyes. “I'll give you two reasons why he's not a warlock. One, he's so cocky that he would have outed himself day one of meeting you in college. And two, warlocks are notoriously powerful. And as desperate as he was to keep you back then, he would’ve thought nothing of using magic to bind you to him forever.”

“Damn,
that's true. There goes that theory.” I went back to the book, stopping at one lonely statement on the next page underlined multiple times.

“So
it begins again. Tomas has threatened me and my human.”

I
flipped to the next entry. “Only the truth shall set me free. A statement that struck fear in Morpheus’s heart—just like I expected. A statement that was more of a warning to him and his secret cohorts… Drop the false charges or face the wrath of a vengeful Credence. He knew I wouldn’t hesitate to expose his plan to bring down the Others. It didn’t matter that all of my information was more speculation than hard evidence. I knew enough to make the always-suspicious Others dig for the truth. And just like I expected, Morpheus mysteriously disappeared, leaving the Council gnashing their teeth with frustration and bitterness… No Morpheus meant no trial. That also meant that the trial by the foolish Other Council was finally over. Chance wept openly with relief, foolishly believing this was the end of the witch hunt… but I know that Morpheus is not done with the Others or the Credence family—this much is written in stone. But this also meant the pieces of the game of the Shadows have been reset. I am one step closer to discovering the root of the curse and eradicating it forever. This is the truth that will set the Credence family free.”

The
date of the next entry skipped a couple of months and it read, “I am inconsolable. They have finally succeeded in destroying my world. My Chance has been brutally killed and the Other Council refuses to find the culprit. Sadly, my pleas to Tiber have fallen on deaf ears. No one will listen… They have labeled me a raving lunatic. But I will make them all listen. I have summoned the Fae within me to curse them and their descendants. Soon, they will understand how it feels to lose everything.”

T
he next page listed all the names of the Brasson family like some sort of family tree. It was bizarre to say the least.
At the bottom of the list was one lone line.
“The truth will set the Credence family free. Vengeance will be mine.”

Light
rolled her eyes. “I told you she was crazy.”

I
pointed to the writing on the bottom edge of the page with a strange symbol drawn over it. “It's Latin, but it doesn't make a bit of sense.”

“
Uh-huh. Just like I told you. She was insane.”

“Wait
.” Flipping the
Book of Mirrors
upside down, I translated the words “
Beware, the Shadows are watching.
”

“Okay,
enough of this shit. Let me know when you find something remotely credible.” Light walked out, mumbling to herself about needing a shot of tequila.

“Come
on, Grandma Solista,” I mumbled. “Give me something here. Prove you're not some crazy woman.” I paged through the book, perplexed at not finding any other entries from Solista, when my cell buzzed.

“Yes?”
I answered.

“Come
to my concert tonight,” Knox demanded.

My
heart almost stopped. “No.” My tone was cool, but my body reacted to his voice immediately. It craved him, but I refused to cave in to him so easily. He had to work if he wanted me. Plus, I wanted… no, needed his apology for his hurtful behavior last night.

He
cleared his throat loudly. “That thing I said last night was rude and uncalled for. Can we just get past it?” he growled.

I
rolled my eyes. I was learning to pick my battles with him and this was the most I was going to get from him as an apology. “You're a prick, you know that, right?”

“I've
been called worse.” His voice held amusement.

“I
bet you have,” I said. “And since I've recognized that you are mentally incapable of apologies… give me one reason to overlook your behavior.”