Everlasting (Night Watchmen, #1) (34 page)

“What Dagger?” I ask, shaking my head in confusion.

“What Dagger?” Thomas repeats, looking as if I just insulted him. “You mean to tell me you have no clue?”

“Do you think I’d play games right now?” I shoot back, trying to keep myself together.

“Bring them forth,” Thomas says to the other Witches. Weldon, Gavin, and Cassie are pushed forward. “Bind them.” They’re shoved on their faces, magic hovering all around them, crippling them. Blood pours from their mouths, gurgling out in bubbles. “Now, I’ll ask you again. The Dagger. We know you’ve been told about it. Hand it over.”

“I haven’t been told anything,” I say, feeling on the verge of puking.

“Wrong answer.” Jaxen’s brought in with Weldon, Gavin, and Cassie, and I’m forced to watch as they all suffer at the hands of an enemy that shouldn’t be alive, an enemy that should be extinct.

I explode. Magic seeps from my very core and flows out of my hands like swirling vines of electricity. I combine a spell with my volation and send the vines out like whips, lashing through the air. Thomas jumps back, words flowing off his lips effortlessly. He’s seasoned for this. I know he’s trying to counter my spell. The other two make a lunge for me, but my magical whip strikes them and wraps, tangling and trapping them inside my volation.

“You will lose against us,” Thomas says, struggling to take a step. I tug harder, pulling energy from every living being around me. He’s going to pay for hurting them. He’s going to pay for being here. He’s going to pay for breathing. I blast my power into him, breaking his hold over my friends, and advance on him. Something flashes behind his eyes. Something demonic. He catches his balance, and counters with magic stronger than I’ve ever encountered, magic that has a taint to it.

Thomas curls his hands into a fist, and all at once, my oxygen is cut off, killing my magic. I fall to my knees right next to Jaxen. There’s so much blood between him and Weldon and Gavin and Cassie. I can’t breathe. I tug and tug for air, but nothing comes. I
fight to stand, but I can’t move. Spots dance before my eyes. My blood pounds behind my ears.

And the worst part is
, I can’t stop it.

Thomas stops next to me as I fall to my back, the light dimming from my eyes. “I have to say, I’m a little disappointed. I mean, you’re the Everlasting, yet here you lay, helpless and weak. You don’t stand a chance against the power we’ve tapped into. None of you do.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth and drops to a squat, the tip of the nose on his mask only inches from my face. “Now that I have your attention, I have a message for you from your parents.”

My eyes grow wide.

“Want to hear it?” He pauses, tilting his ear in my direction. I try to speak, but no words form. “But of course you do,” he answers for me. He lifts his hand in the air and twirls it with a magical symbol. I wait for something to happen…anything. I want to hear them, to see them so badly, but nothing ever happens. Thomas laughs the moment he sees me realize he’s messing with me. “You thought I was going to let you talk to them? Just like that?”

He jerks his face close to mine. “The world doesn’t work that way. Everything has a price.” He pulls back and says, “You give me the Dagger, and we let them live…at least for another day.” He releases his hold on me just enough to allow me to talk.

I grab my flux off the ground and hold it up as best I can. I hate that my hands are shaking against my will, fighting against the magic holding me down. “Here, take it.”

His mirthless laughter strikes up, but is short lived. “No, you insolent girl. The Dagger of Retribution. You have it, and we need it. You have until the next full moon.” He looks up. The moon is almost full.

“I don’t have that. I can’t help you. You can’t do this!”

“I can. It’s done. You have until then. I hope for their sake you find it.”

They twirl inside their cloaks and disappear just as quickly as they had come. Jaxen manages to pick himself up and rushes to my side, lifting me off the ground. “Are you okay?”

“Okay?” I ask, the word foreign. “No…I’m not okay, and neither are my parents. I don’t have what they want, and I don’t have enough time to find it. My parents…they’re going to die because of me, because I didn’t want to accept my life as a Defect.”

“That’s not true,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll find a way.”

I look up at him. “Will we?”

Weldon, Gavin, and Cassie walk over to us. Healing energy surrounds her, clearing them both of the curse placed on them.

Gavin pushes her hand away and looks at Jaxen, his brows scrunched. “How the hell did they find us?”

“Does the ‘how’ matter?” Jaxen barks, staring at Weldon. His body is tight with anger, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Just what the hell is your brother up to?”

Weldon’s hands automatically fly up in defense. “Calm down, Jax. I know just as much as you.”

“At least we know what they want and why they want her,” Cassie says hesitantly, eyes on the ground.

“She’s not a target, Cassie. She’s a person. They can’t just throw her out here like bait.”

“The book…” I say distantly. They continue arguing, but Cassie and Weldon flick their head in my direction. “The book Mack gave me, the one about Whiskey Hollow.” I stop and grab Jaxen’s arm, making him look at me. “He did give me that book for a reason. For this reason, Jaxen. Before we came, the chapter I was on was about the Dagger of Retribution, the same Dagger they spoke of. This has to be what Mack wants me to know.”

“Yes, Faye, but that Dagger is a legend. For all we know, it was never real,” Jaxen says seriously.

“It has to be if the Darkyns are going through all this trouble over it,” Weldon says. “What did it say, Faye?”

“I didn’t get to read all of it. We have to go back. Maybe…maybe the answer is in the book,” I say. A small, tiny bit of light forms at the end of this very long, dark tunnel.

“And then what? We’re going to hunt for it? You witnessed what happened. How strong they were,” Jaxen says a little too harshly.

I glare up at him. “Then we have to be stronger.”

The wintry morning sun begins
to rise behind the Academy by the time we pass through the old iron gates. Shimmery golden light streaks through the trees surrounding us, offering rays of warmth. Snow has settled on the ground and rooftops from the storm last night, the night I still don’t want to think about.

No one has said anything since we left the abandoned street. I think they’re scared to say something, scared to set me off, but I’m not angry. I’m terrified. I feel unsafe in the silence. My thoughts sit like expert marksmen waiting to gun me down, waiting to kill what little bit of hope I have left.

Gavin shuts the engine off and sits back in his seat. The leather creaks from his movement, the sound startling me. Here we sit, rule breakers coated in dried blood and shame, waiting for some sort of solution to form. We stare straight ahead, as if the answer lies within the walls of the Academy. Students, like tiny ants, make their way across campus to their first class. I wish I was with Katie.

“Mack’s not going to like this,” Gavin says. “We’re not even supposed to be on campus anymore.”

“He doesn’t have a choice,” Weldon says.

“I need a shower before I deal with anything else,” Cassie says.

“Me too,” Gavin agrees.

“And maybe a nap,” Cassie adds. “I’m sure our rooms are still vacant.”

Gavin turns in his seat. “I’ll let Mack know we’re on campus and set a meeting up with him. Head to your old room and try to rest. Maybe try to eat something. I’ll come and get you when it’s time.”

We all get out of the car, tired and shocked. I grab my bag out of the trunk. I barely remember the walk to my room by the time I cross the threshold. Weldon follows me and Jaxen, unaffected by fatigue.

“This is all Mack’s fault,” Jaxen says as he plops down in the chair by the window.

Weldon rolls his eyes. “Blame is a tool of deflection meant for the weak minded. You aren’t weak minded, Jaxen, and blame doesn’t wear well on you.”

Jaxen huffs through his nose, the sound releasing more than just air…more than just frustration. His hand rests on the back of his neck while his other hand is tucked deep into his pocket.

Weldon eyes him over for a long moment with something like recognition passing over his face. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you,” he says, tilting his head as his brow creases. “I knew you liked her, but this goes beyond like.”

Jaxen stiffens, stands up, and then pulls Weldon out the bedroom door, slamming it behind the both of them. It takes me a moment, left in deafening silence, to realize what just happened.

Weldon is Jaxen’s best friend. If their relationship is anything like me and Katie, then Weldon can read him like an open book, and if he’s right, then that means that Jaxen really likes me…like bordering beyond like. Like what I think I might feel for him…four letters that bear more weight than the heaviest metal on earth.

Voices rise and fall with heated passion on the other side of the door. I want to listen in. I want to hear what’s being said, but I also want to respect the man who’s fast become more than just a friend in my life.

Minutes later, they both stroll back through the door. Weldon looks pleased with himself, and Jaxen looks as distraught as ever.

“Aside from Jezi and her way of making you feel guilty, we have bigger fish to fry. The Maddock kind,” Weldon says. “That’s why we’re here. The book my brother gave you, where is it?”

I pull it out of my bag and toss it to him. He flips to the chapter I read last. His eyes skim over the page, taking in every word, every hidden meaning his brother left behind.

“Here,” he says, pointing to a page. “He underlined this paragraph.” He walks the book over to me and sets it on my lap, pointing to the passage.

After the eradication of the Divine Mourdyn Roush, it is said the Divine Alesteria Roush splintered the Dagger of Retribution in half and hid the two pieces; one within the Coven to a trusted bloodline, and the other amongst the battle field. No one has seen it since
.

My Grimoire falls off the top of my armoire. I look up. Midnight is staring down at it, his tail flicking back and forth pensively. He hops off and circles the Grimoire, meowing loudly.

“You have a cat?” Weldon asks.

I nod as Jaxen picks my Grimoire up off the floor, his brows creased in confusion.

“I hate cats. They spook me.” He looks up at Midnight and scowls. “Especiall
y that one. There’s something...familiar about him, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

I glance over at Midnight as Jaxen says, “The cover has been torn to shit.” He lifts the scratched off piece of bark. “There’s something…” He stops and looks up at me, his face a ghostly reflection of awareness. He holds the book out to me.

I take it, my head tilted, trying to figure out why he looks…almost…scared. I pull at the remaining piece and a glint catches the light from the window.
A gleam?
I pull it the rest of the way off, and there rests half of a dagger’s blade, split clean in the middle.

I look back up at Jaxen, my stomach bottoming out. My heart feels like a drummer beating incessantly against my chest. My legs feel like twigs bearing the weight of the world, on the verge of snapping.

“This can’t be…” I hold it up. Weldon rushes to the bathroom, grabs a washcloth, and then snatches it from my hand, closing it in the cloth.

“I think it’s time my brother does some explaining.”

By the time it sinks
in that Midnight has managed to find half of the Dagger in my mother’s Grimoire, my family’s Grimoire, I find myself standing outside of Mack’s office. Weldon left my room and summoned the rest of our group together. He moves faster, and with more threat, than anyone I know. Including Jaxen.

Now
, we’re waiting for Mack to finish up with whoever is in there. Nathaniel stands near us, watching each one of us with an inspecting eye. Jezi hasn’t even looked at me.

As the minutes pass us by, the piece of Dagger wrapped in a cloth in my hand grows heavier. Either that, or the choice I know I’ll be faced with haunts the back of my mind, making the weight of what this Dagger means heavier. All I can think about is my parents. I’ve avoided any direct thoughts about them since they were taken, but now that saving them is within reach, I can’t stop.

Gavin’s hand plunges through his hair and he lets out a large, deep breath. “Mack will know what to do. He has to.”

The door opens, and a student I’ve never seen before walks out. She walks past us not even paying attention to us. Mack’s at the door, welcoming us in. He looks unusually tired, the dark crescents under his eyes hallow and large. His hair has grooves from running his hands through it too many times. Lines mar the sides of his mouth, accentuating his age. Compared to Weldon’s boyish smile, he looks more of an older brother than a twin.

I wait for everyone to go first, counting the seconds it takes for me to catch my breath. Jaxen waits too, a silent, pendulant force that cannot stray from my side. We’re two magnets drawn together through love and tragedy. We both stand there like statues, waiting for someone to knock us over so the many cracks can shatter into a million pieces.

“Come on,” he says softly, his hand finding mine at my side. We walk through, and then the door shuts behind us.

“What is it?” Mack asks as soon as I find my seat on the couch. Although it’s a general question, his eyes are trained on me, seeking the answers we’re about to give him.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” Gavin says with severity.

Mack grips the mantel of the fireplace, his back to us. The tension in his shoulders is painfully obvious. “All right,” he says, his tone neutral. The air turns to ice when he turns back around and his eyes land on Weldon.

“Brother,” Weldon says smoothly, seeming undisturbed by his brother’s weighted stare. He kicks his feet up on the coffee table and sinks back into the couch, his arms splayed out along the back. Mack dips his head ever so slightly, watching Weldon through lowered eyes. It makes me wonder just why Mack’s so uncomfortable around him. Why, when Weldon’s the reason he was able to become an Elder? He’s able to live.

“All games and riddles aside, we know what’s up,” Weldon says direct and to the point.

“And that is,” Mack asks, not sounding the least bit amused. His eyes flicker over to mine.

“The book you gave Faye,” Weldon tosses it onto the coffee table, “about Whiskey Hallow...you wanted her to read about the Dagger of Retribution.”

Mack’s gaze turns astute. “You may say that.”

“So you’re under an enchantment then?” Weldon says. He looks over at us. “Told you. This is why you had to read through that boring book. He always…”

“The point,” Mack says in a short, imperious burst.

Weldon’s head snaps back around. “Calm down, brother. We wouldn’t want you giving yourself a heart attack. What I was going to say was, I’m sure by now you know about the attack by the supposed ‘Darkyn Coven leaders’ last night during our hunt. I’m sure you know, because there was no coincidence to that encounter. That’s why you called an early hunt.”

“And?” Mack says, never denying the accusations.

I want to leap over the table and strangle the composure from his face. I want to smack the truth from his lips. I want to strangle the lies from his heart. Jaxen grabs my hand and squeezes, holding me down in place.

“And they want the Dagger of Retribution by the next full moon. It’s the bargain for her parents’ lives, and she’s running out of time. We have to find it.” His words are short and choppy, jumping between boredom and annoyance.

The grim look that crosses Mack’s face rattles a sick feeling in my stomach. He drops down onto the couch, his head falling perfectly onto a hand. “I apologize for last night. There are forces in place I cannot go against, and I cannot speak of. You were sent on that mission by a command higher in the ranks of the Priesthood, by a name I’m not at liberty to say at this time,” he says, his voice lost as his eyes stare off into space.

“But that doesn’t explain how you knew she’d need the book,” Weldon points out. “Tell her the truth, brother. I can see it hiding in your eyes.”

Mack’s eyes fall on me, and I know in his gaze that whatever he’s about to say, it’s going to shatter me into a thousand pieces. “What I’m about to tell you, can never be repeated. Never. Not by any of you.” He pulls in an encouraging breath and says to me, “Your bloodline was chosen by the Divine Alesteria and Cecilia to protect this half of the Dagger of Retribution. It’s why it was in your Grimoire. Every Witch from your bloodline has been responsible for keeping the Dagger safe within it. I didn’t know of this until your mother came to me when you were born. She knew then what you were truly capable of and asked for my help. I did some digging, and that’s when I discovered the Divine Cecilia’s vision. The vision about the one who would hold the power of both.

“I knew then that we had to hide you. I knew then that you would never be safe unless your powers were covered up. I found a spell that would cloak your abilities. I thought it would hold through the Culli
ng. If it had, then you would have remained in the dark and the Dagger would have remained protected.”

He takes in a deep breath. But I don’t. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. Jaxen squeezes my hand, but it does nothing to calm my rapidly beating heart.

“But what you are is stronger than any spell can contain. What you are is a tool to unlock the very thing that caused our Coven to rethink our way of magic. The Dagger is only the beginning. That is all I can say.”

My mind scrambles to keep up with everything he’s saying. My stomach sloshes around every lie ever spoken from my mother’s lips. The realized truth presses behind my eyes, seeking release. “What you’re saying is…”

My words are trampled over by Jaxen’s. “So then we will do nothing.” His voice is so low I can barely make it out. Jezi snorts.

“But my parents…we have to,” I say defensively. He doesn’t look at me.

“They’ll take you when you offer them the Dagger, Faye,” Mack says.

I look over at him, unable to hide the anger from my features. I want to cram his words back into his mouth. I want to make him stop talking, to keep him from destroying my justification for saving my parents, but he continues on.