Everlasting (Night Watchmen, #1) (20 page)

My face reddens as my blood pressure rises. I never asked for this. I never even showed a sign that I would go against the Coven. I just want to do what’s right, what my parents would want me to do. I want to find them, and then hopefully complete my training to be a Night Watchman like them, but not if everything they did was in secret and resorted to means of spying.

“You spied on my future?” I can barely get the words out straight. Just thinking about someone knowing something I didn’t about myself…it already happened once. Look where it got me. I wasn’t about to let it happen again.

“We attempted to, but I wouldn’t label it as ‘spying’,” Mack says. “Look, before you get upset, you have to understand. We work alongside of the United Nations. We have to maintain our security and our place in this world. So long as we keep our Coven in line, we can continue to work under them, using their funds to take care of our people. We don’t have to hide.”

“Yet the only ones who know of us are officials in the government. We aren’t free. We still hide in plain sight,” I say boldly, knowing those words are better left unsaid.

Mack looks at Clara. Her eyes are raised, bordering offended. “This is what I mean,” she says. “Uncharted territory. Wild, reckless, dangerous.”

She can’t be talking about me.

“She needs to be handled. We should leave this to the Priesthood,” she continues.

She must be talking about me. I can’t even hear Mack’s response because of the deafening drum beating in my ears. I look up at Jaxen and Gavin, searching their faces for some form of how I should be taking this, but they look just as unpleased. “Handled?” I breathe out.

“We will not discuss this right now, Clara. There’s still plenty of training to be had. I expect her to be given one hundred percent of Gavin and Jaxen’s attention.” When he looks back at me, there’s a placidity to his eyes, as if none of this occurred. “You are dismissed.”

I stand, walking to the door without looking back. I don’t want anything to do with them, at least, not right now. At least, not until I figure out what the hell is going on around here.

Gavin and Jaxen escort me
back to my room. I try to make sense of what just happened. Sure, I had been let off the hook when it came to the dining hall incident, but only to be placed on an even bigger one. I now have the High Priesthood to deal with, to fear. I’m seen as a threat, but a threat to what? What, other than not needing a partner to control my power, could I possibly do to them? What the hell could they possibly have to protect that I could pose such a threat to?

I let these questions move around my mind, because it helps to keep me from thinking about my parents, about the fact that I never got to ask Mack if there was any word, about the fact that he had no word to share. If I let myself go down this road, thinking these thoughts, then I know I’ll begin to question why I’m even here and not
out there looking for them. I’ll begin to doubt my reasons. I’ll find a way to make myself leave.

And I’m not ready to do that, not when I’ve finally found some small form of control.

“I think we’re going to skip practice today,” Gavin says after I unlock the door to my room. I walk in, setting my jacket on my bed.

“No,” I say firmly.

“Faye,” Gavin starts to say, but I hold my hand up.

There’s a fist around my heart, squeezing off my ability to feel. “After everything that just happened, I think a couple hours of mind-numbing pain is what I need. Before I can,” I glance down at the Grimoire on my bed, “before I can even try to make sense of this all.” I look to Jaxen. His eyes are intense and set on me, his arms crossed in their usual way. Maybe that’s his relaxed stance.

“Are you sure?” Gavin asks, slipping a hand into his pocket.

I nod. The fist squeezes tighter, constricting my ability to think, to speak.

“Okay, then,” Gavin says hesitantly. “Change into your training clothes and we’ll head down to the weapons room. Grab your flux.” Jaxen looks at me for a moment more, and then follows Gavin out.

After the door shuts, I walk to my armoire and pull out a fresh pair of training clothes. I slide black stretch pants on and pull a black tank top down over my chest. I carry my socks and shoes over to the bed and sit to put them on.

When I’m fully dressed, I toss my hair up into a ponytail and stop in front of the desk. My father’s flux gleams under the natural light coming from the window. I hesitate and then pick it up, tucking it into the built-in weapon belt that all the uniforms have. I meet them out in the hallway. Jaxen’s eyes skim over me before he turns for the stairs. I look down and want to hide my chicken legs. They’re only just starting to fill out. Could that be what he sees when he looks at me? Gavin hangs up his phone and offers me a kind smile.

“The Witches are going to meet us there,” he says.

“Okay.” I smile back, but don’t feel it. I just feel lost and remain that way all the way down to the gymnasium. Cassie and Jezi wait outside the front doors, huddled up against the cold. I tense up when I see her. She is in his mind, but can she see everything? Does she know about last night? Can she tell there’s something between us?

Gavin throws his arm over Cassie’s shoulder and walks her through the front door. Jezi watches Jaxen. She searches his face, waiting for something that never comes, because he walks past us both without looking and disappears through the hallway.

I’m almost scared to look at Jezi. I know she is glaring at me. It’s burning the side of my face, making the hair on my neck stand. She huffs past me, letting the door shut in my face. “Nice.” She must know. She must see. Why else would she hold so much malignity toward me? I pull the door open with a grimace and make my way down the hall. There’s only one way to make her happy, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it. I’m not sure I can deny the connection between me and Jaxen.

The weapons training room has
a sterile smell to it, like blood is constantly spilled and then mopped up. Shadows fill the corners, bringing a fitting darkness to the atmosphere. Life-like dummies sit at the end of the room under single hanging lights. A red bull’s-eye is painted on each of their chests. A large, cushioned mat rests in the center of the tiled floor with odd, dark red stains; blood, from fight training. Tables line the edges of the room. The cabinet with the weapons sits snuggly against the wall by the door. Jaxen unlocks it and pulls out a plethora of knives and daggers, splaying them out on one of the tables off to the side.

I walk over to the table, running my hand over each weapon. A thrilling spike wraps around my spine and shoots up to my brain. Thinking about using them, training myself to become a Hunter, a fighter, excites me. I can fight back. I can defend. I can protect, but protect against what? I turn away, forcing the thought of my parents away, shutting it off.

I feel the stares of Cassie and Jezi, like they’re waiting for me to slip up and embarrass myself. Stupidly, I glance over in their direction. Jezi’s scowling at me. She leans into Cassie and whispers something. Cassie’s eyes grow large, and then a sad smile spreads across her face, like she doesn’t want to laugh, but needs to for Jezi’s sake. Edges of her words drift through the air, picked up by the telepathic link Witches share.

I close my mind off. I don’t want to know what Jezi said.

“You used your volation,” Jaxen says, startling me. I don’t know why he so easily does. I guess it’s because I don’t expect him to speak. Ever.

“What do you mean?”

He shuts the cabinet, the harsh sound ricocheting off the barren walls, and turns to me. His face is flat, lifeless, militant. “When you fought Chett, you used your volation. We’re going to start with that, make sure you can use it properly, and then move on to using weapons. You should fly through this.” I nod, not liking how aware I am of his distant tone; not just his tone, but his eyes too. He’s shut down, turned off, the green falling away like leaves fallen from a tree.

My eyes follow his steps, silently counting them as they carry him away from me and over to one of the dummies. Jezi waits against the wall near him, her slim, long arms crossed over her ample leather-covered chest. Her eyes are like drills, poking and prodding, searching him for signs of betrayal. If he’s aware, he doesn’t show any signs.

“Volation comes from the same place as a Witch’s magic-the mind. Our brains allow us to use parts that humans will never be able to access, but unlike the Witch who uses elements and emotions, we as Hunters use electricity. It’s a necessity when capturing and binding paranormal beings. Though they can best us in other ways, they are powerless when it comes to being ensnared in a volation trap.”

His hands are tucked behind his back the way a teacher’s would be. He paces back and forth, mechanical and precise in his movement, his knowledge so easily accessible and understandable. His words wrap around me, filling me with confidence and strength. I am a Hunter.

“Our bodies are strong enough to contain electricity without being shocked. Like you did in the dining hall, you must recognize the electricity around you and then tap into it. It will become second nature to you. Come, stand in front of me.”

I push away the thought of all the eyes in the room, all eight of them, all set on me, and do what he says. My feet are close to his, inches from him.

“Close your eyes and let your mind find what’s natural to you. Feel the electricity.” I listen to his words, shutting my eyes and my mind off to everyone but him. “It starts in the back of your neck, a prickling feeling that raises the hair.” The prickling starts up, my hair rising on cue. “Then, you let it in. It floods your system, nurturing and filling you with strength.” I open my mind up to the prickling and feel the electricity sparking in the air. Like he said, it floods me, coursing through my veins all the way to my central nervous system.

I don’t scream when the electricity harboring within me leaks out through my pores and pulses down my body. Instead, I smile, reveling in the turbulent streaks of lightning sparking along my arms. My skin feels alive, and my mind is acutely aware of everyone and everything, like a switch has been turned on.

The left side of Jaxen’s mouth turns up. “Good.” He slips his hand down the side of my waist and over the hilt of my father’s flux. His touch is like a white hot branding iron. Every muscle in my body freezes, tenses, and then melts under his command. The volation on my arms ripples in response, arching and crackling through the air like fingers reaching for him. His dark eyes flick up to mine, and then he pulls the knife out, holding the hilt out toward me.

I hear Jezi hiss and watch out of the corner of my eye as she pushes off the wall, making her way toward us. I know he should be hers, but everything in me, the deepest, truest parts, begs to differ. He should be mine.

When I look back at him, the longing in his gaze falters. Piece by painful piece, the light chips away from his eyes. It’s enough to invite reality between us, to bring us back from the fatal edges of yearning we seem to dance along.

I break from his gaze when I take the flux and swallow the painful fist lodged in my throat. The pain rips down my esophagus and bubbles through the sick feeling in my stomach. This has to stop. We have to stop. Jezi stands beside us, staring up at Jaxen. I don’t want to think about what she could be saying to him. She holds his gaze for a moment longer, and then walks away, moving somewhere behind me.

I focus on the weapon. The smooth texture of the wooden hilt conforms perfectly inside my hand, almost as if it was made for me. I can feel it waiting, wanting me to share my power.

“As you know, a flux is a Hunter’s sole weapon,” Jaxen says after he gathers himself, his voice colder than before. He walks around me, his voice trailing over every inch of me despite my feeble effort to not let him affect me. “The specially made blade holds as much power as you can put into it and distributes it into the being you are battling. It can take the shape of most weapons, excluding guns and bows.”

I already know this because of my father. His words drift away as shooting pain streaks through my heart at the memories of watching my father in the backyard as a little girl, the way he battled the made-up monsters under my bed. He was always one step ahead, one move stronger. It’s how he almost secured his place as commanding officer among the Elite Watchmen. Those were the days I was filled with mesmerizing dreams of being just like him.

Jaxen’s voice drifts back in, vanquishing the distant memory. “Now then, I want you to focus moving the power inside of you into the flux
.
Once you do, you’ll feel a sense of clarity come over you, similar to the feeling you get when standing outside just before a storm, that fantastically frightening calm that you know is only momentary. Let your power become one with the blade.”

With little effort, I send the electricity down into the blade, shutting the memories out. The way the power moves through me is like a dam breaking open. It rushes through, splashing and careening toward the outlet I provide- my hand. The blade brightens to a deep blue with uneven streaks of white, crackling lightning along the edges.

“Good,” he repeats. His hands find my shoulders, and he moves me to stand on the mat. There’s no warmth in his touch this time, no crushing need to want his hands all over me, only a sense of duty. “You’ve got the volation down well enough. It’s time for something harder, putting it against a being,” he says. He turns to the side where Cassie, Gavin, and Jezi are standing, watching. “Cass, bring it to life.”

She pushes off the wall, rubbing her hands together.

“Allow me,” Jezi says, moving to stand in front of Cassie, her chin pointed to the ground. Her round eyes are set on me, revenge lapping around her pupils.

“Jezibelle,” Jaxen says sternly, one arm moving in front of me, protecting me.

She takes one look at his arm, and her eyes become lines of hatred, contempt, shattered hope. “What?” she bites off, one hand on her cocked out hip. “Scared for her? You can’t fight every battle for her, Jaxen. Honestly, it’s unbecoming of you.” Her eyes cut to mine. “Answer me this,
Everlasting.
” She spits the word like bugs in her mouth. “Are you scared of what I’ll put you up against? Scared to fight?”

Every muscle, every last nerve in my body is tight, shaking, waiting for the chance to lash out at her. The hand free of my flux clenches into a tight fist at my side. “Give me all you’ve got,” I say squarely.

She purses her lips, and then flicks her chocolate locks over her shoulder, turning to the dummy closest to us. I know she isn’t going to make this easy for me. I know I just walked into a trap. I can tell by the way Jaxen’s arm still rests in front of me, holding me back, or maybe, holding
it
back.

I lay a steady hand on his arm. He looks down at me. In one look, he knows I have to do this. I have to stand alone. I have to prove myself. He huffs and walks off, hiding in the back of the corner and glaring at Jezi. Magic streams from her small fingertips. Ripples stream through the air until it reaches the dummy. The ripples wrap around the dummy, creating a whirling vortex of lucent light, changing the shape of the dummy and breathing life into it.

When her magic dies off, a Demon stands in its wake. Red eyes flash, focused on only one person in the room…me. He’s large, towering over everyone. Muscles swell and flex, bulging under dark skin. Black ink markings cover his chest and arms, all demonic symbols meant to brand him to Hell. He wears nothing but a pair of white linen pants and a set of pointed teeth.

“He will remain intact until you stab his stigma,” Jaxen explains from the back of the room. “Most Demons will have many tattoos all over their skin to keep us from being able to tell right away which one is the right one. It’s your job to distinguish the real one by using your senses. You were built for this. Your genes enable you to see what humans can’t.”

“And the fighting won’t end until either you find it, or he breaks you,” Jezi says, wearing a satisfied smile. Either way, she’s going to enjoy this.

The Demon steps forward, his feet heavy. My legs feel weak. He growls, the sound tearing at my composure. Everything in me screams to step back, to move away from the beast that’s advancing on me, but I don’t move. The little strength I have, fueled by pride, keeps me rooted in spot. There are so many marks all over his body that it’s hard to tell which is the real stigma.

“Okay,” I say under my breath, tightening my grip on the dagger and dropping into a fighting stance. The Demon’s steps quicken, running him toward me. My heart is a galloping horse, stampeding around my chest. I squat down, anchoring myself, preparing for the collision. I swing the hand with the flux in it, but miss as he drops and swipes my legs out from under me.

The back of my head smacks against the mat, sending a painful ringing in my ears and dark spots along my vision. We roll and I manage to writhe out of his burly arms and jump back to my feet, hands shaking out in front of me. My heart is lodged in my throat. An angry snarl rips from his mouth, and then he comes up swinging. His fist connects with my face, sending me flying across the room.

My body hits the wall before I land face-first on the tiled floor. I roll over, spitting blood onto the ground. It’s choking down my throat and pouring down the side of my face. I don’t look at Jaxen. He’s standing right next to me, and I don’t look at him.

“Shut it off,” I hear him say harshly.

I pick myself up, my legs wobbling beneath me, and stumble forward. Blood drips into my eyes, stinging and blurring my vision. The Demon’s on the center of the mat, waiting for me. He looks confident, demonic, evil, his teeth gleaming under the light. He’s going to ruin me before I have a chance to ruin him first. He’s going to prove I’m not worth the time; that Jezi’s right. He’s going to be my ticket out of here.

And this doesn’t sit well with me.

I charge after him blindly, and he swings again, this time connecting with my stomach. I land back on the mat and groan, unable to move. The Demon stalks toward me, an evil gleam in his eyes. Another punch collides with my jaw, and then he lifts me up by the throat and tosses me at Jaxen’s feet.

I try to pick myself up, but my arms slip out from under me. The Demon latches onto my foot. He’s dragging me back toward the mat, ready to finish me off. I look up. Jaxen steps out of the light, his arms crossed rigidly against his chest. Murder’s in his eyes, offering me the only weapon I need. Confidence.