Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2) (17 page)

My head lolls to the side, eyes blinking too slowly. “I-I don’t feel right. I-I just need a-a minute to-to collect myself, Clara. Please. I just—”

She grabs my arm and yanks hard, trying to pull me to my feet. “I don’t care how you feel, you little brat. It’s been my hope to put some strength into you, but that problem you said you took care of is still holding you back, and it will continue to hold you back.”

Her words are like chirping crickets that won’t stop singing in my ears. I can’t breathe in this uniform. Pulling down on the neck, I try to find some breathing space, but it isn’t helping. I feel like I’m stuffed inside a tiny box with no light, buried six feet under the ground. Sweat beads along my forehead. I wipe at it with the back of my hand, but it just keeps replenishing.

If I could just get out of this uniform. If I could just—

“Did you hear what I said, Faye Middleton?” she snaps. “I demand a response this instant!”

My hands rush up to my neck, rubbing at the skin. Clawing at what isn’t really there. I feel her words looping around my neck, squeezing tighter by the second. “Th-there is no problem,” I say, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

She leans forward, her eyes disappearing into snake-like slits. “Oh, but there is, and it goes by the name of Jaxen Gramm.”

My blood drains to my feet. A torrential breeze rips through my insides, leaving me cold and shivering.

“I-I told you I-I handled it,” I say as evenly as my chattering teeth will allow me.

She purses her lips. Flattens her gaze. “Right. And I’m blind,” she says sarcastically. “As soon as he comes to you, whispering all the things you want to hear, you’ll break. I know you will. Girls like you always do.”

The wind blowing through me turns into a blazing fire, lighting up every cell inside of me. “I’m not as weak as you think I am,” I say with as much force as I can as I press my palm against the floor to support myself. My palms are shaking from the force of my weight, but I hold firm. “I have the Dagger of Retribution, don’t I? I got away from Bael, didn’t I?” I cough loud and hard, trying to clear the choking feeling in my throat that won’t go away. “There’s no need to threaten me, or anyone else for that matter.”

A sick smile takes over thin, pink lips. “And you also have God-awful scars marring your leg because of it. Don’t think your anger-induced bravery fools me. The only reason you have that Dagger is because of a lucky fluke, Faye. Not because you were in control. And as much as I hate to admit it… because of Weldon saving you.”

I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut. She’s right, and I hate her for it. “I can do better.”

She barks out a sadistic heap of laughter. “You can do better. Right,” she spouts off. Bending to a crouch, she meets me at eye level. “Let me ask you this, do you want to save your parents?”

My heart strums back to life. I’m barely breathing as I meet her eyes and nod desperately. She has me where she wants me now, and she knows it, boastfully wearing it in her smiling eyes. She knows Jaxen isn’t my weakness… love is. I almost laugh at the cruelty of it. The very organ that’s strong enough to sustain life, that never quits working even when my brain wants to, is also the weakest part of who I am.

At least, in her eyes it is.

“Then I suggest you start listening to me, because your version of better isn’t good enough,” she says as she stands back up. “You have to be better than the best, Faye. You have to be in control of yourself and your emotions at all times. You have to let go of your fears, and allow yourself to tap into your true abilities.”

“I wasn’t born with a manual,” I point out flatly.

“But you know enough. You know that Hunters can only pull from and manipulate the electrical currents around them. That their bodies can absorb and process electricity, and then use it along with force to trap paranormal beings. And you also know that you can pull from anything.” She levels her gaze, her tone deepening with greed and hunger as she says, “Or more importantly, anyone. You can drain them of life. You can absorb their entire being. You must embrace this gift completely, and then learn to control it.”

I see the dog yelping, and my friends suffering. A freight train of images plows through my mind, filling me with panic. I tug at my suit again, wishing I could change. Wishing I were outside under the moon with a deep, soft breeze blowing past me.

“I-I can’t.”

“You can,” she counters.

I shake my head. If she would just go away… if I could just take a deep breath. “No,” I say again. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

It’s building inside of me. Energy is filling me even though I haven’t called to it. It’s as if the energy wants to be within me. It wants me to control it. To use it. I can’t stop the images of blood, pain, and tears from taking over my thoughts. I can’t control the pace my lungs are rising and falling. I want to scream, yell, and rip Clara’s hair out, but I know they’re watching. The little red light on the end of the camera is blinking.

I’m a show. A freak show.

“I said why not, Faye?” Clara asks again, her patience trickling away.

Her words are pushing me. Her gaze is poking me. Eyes are prying in on me, and I can’t take another single second of it. Something breaks a little inside of me. Rips open. A deep place where all my suppressed rage and pent-up frustrations have gone to hide. They break free, and I can’t keep them from flying past my lips.

“Because I can’t control it!” I yell out at the top of my lungs, eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t stop when I start! I can’t control who I pull from! I refuse to be a murderer! I refuse to become a monster!”

She’s barely bothered by my raised voice. And that scares me more than anything.

She takes her time drawing in a breath, like she’s already expected this to happen. As if she was waiting for this very moment to reveal what really comes next. With her tone neutral and her eyes dead set on me, she says coldly, “You must, and you will. Starting right now.” She turns to the door and says, “Bring me an Elite. Now.”

“What are you doing?” I ask as liquid fear pumps enough life back into my limbs to grant me the strength to stand. I wobble at first, and then follow her, reaching out, wishing the Belladonna would leave my system.

She turns on me so fast I nearly stumble back. There’s something in her eyes that horrifies me. A sickness in her smile I can’t even begin to stomach. “We’re running out of time, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let an insolent little girl stop me from reaching the goals I have set for myself,” she says under her breath. She says with such control that I wonder if she’s even real. If she even feels at all.

My hands itch to wrap around her neck, to watch the life drain from her eyes, and a small part me whispers in the back of my mind to just do it. To succumb to what she’s asking of me, because at least then I’d be rid of her.

But I don’t have to be my monstrous parts. I can choose to be good.

Swallowing down my weakness and fear, I shove it as far away from me as I can. I meet her gaze head on. “I don’t understand why I have to use this ability, when there are so many other things I can do. If you could just give me a chance. If you could just try to find it inside yourself to meet me halfway, then—”

Her bottom lip pokes out, and every word I had planned on saying seems to disappear. There’s no regret to be found in her cold, hard gaze. Just judgment and cruelty.

“You want me to meet you halfway?” She laughs as if I just told the punchline to a good joke. “You freeze up every single time during the Holy Seal simulation, Faye. You
choose
not to follow my commands, and there lies the problem. You, in your natural state, are defiant. Rebellious. Wrong. That’s what makes you dangerous. That’s why I need to know how to keep you contained; at least until we can separate what makes you different from us in your DNA. Harness it to help us better understand how we can unbind ourselves from our affinity partner without losing our power.”

I feel so broken. So lost for words that this is real. That this is actually happening.

“You’re sick. This is sick,” I say with disgust, trying to keep calm so I can think rationally. But it’s getting harder. I don’t want to spend another minute in her presence. “I want no part of this anymore. Lock me away. I don’t care. Do what you have to.”

“You think I’d let you go that easily? You know nothing about me, Faye Middleton. You’ve only just begun to see what I’m capable of, and from here on out, you’d be wise to bite your tongue unless I ask you a direct question,” Clara says harshly. “Obedience goes far with me.”

My gaze cuts to hers. “I guess Mack never got that memo,” I bite off, enjoying the slight look of shock that rattles the plastered smile on her face. I think she might say something, but an Elite walks in through the doorway dressed in the Night Watchmen uniform with a rifle held tight against his chest.

Her smile is too triumphant. Too glorious for me to stomach.

“We’ll continue this lovely discussion another time,” she says deviously. “But right now, you’re going to show me some results. No more games. No more simulations. Maybe some warm flesh and a beating heart will put some motivation into you.”

Dread is spreading inside of me. It’s replacing my blood—my thoughts—taking over every part of me that can think clearly.

“Clara, I don’t know—”

“Enough!” she snaps.

My breath catches.

She grabs the Elite by the collar and yanks him until he’s standing directly in front of me. My crazed eyes are blinking too fast to take him in. I don’t want to see his face. The last thing I want is to have it etched in my memory. I need to think of a way out of this.

She shoves him forward until he almost bumps into me. “No more excuses, Faye. You’re going to do what you did in that simulation and learn to control it. Now.”

“No,” I say firmly, shaking my head, refusing to look the Elite in the eyes. “I’ll kill him. I won’t be responsible for that.”

She stands right beside me, her face inches from mine. The corner of her lip twitches. Her eyes narrow on me, and I suddenly wonder why I pushed her. What I thought would come from this. What she’s going to do because of it?

Seconds tick between us, and I feel my heart beating in my throat. My mouth goes incredibly dry, and no matter how many times I swallow, it does nothing to ease the ache. Something terrible is about to happen. I see it in her eyes, which hold no mercy.

Without words, she turns, grabs the Elite’s gun from his hands, and then shoots him in the head. My screams pierce through the metal walls as blood spatters all over everything. All over me.

She turns back to me wearing blotches of crimson all over her white attire, and I just keep blinking because everything is so blurry. Coated in a red I’m sure will never wash away.

She opens her mouth, but all I can hear is this awful ringing sound. This pulsing in my ears that I fear is melting my brain.

“Now,” she says coolly, sounding so far away from me, smoothing her hair back from her face and smearing blood on herself in the process, “you’ll either do as I say, or I’ll continue to kill for you.”

She grabs my hands, holding them out for me to see, and I think I’ve died inside. Warm, sticky blood coats my skin in large splatters, and I want to dissolve away into nothing right here. I want to wake up from this nightmare. I don’t want to be a part of this moment. I don’t want to be responsible for this. I feel like I’m being pulled against my will… pushed into a reality I can’t escape from.

Because I can no longer deny just how deep I am inside the shit storm Clara has created.

“Blood will be on your hands either way, Faye Middleton,” she says too brightly, too surely. A conquering smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “I suggest you don’t take it too far if you don’t want another murder on your hands.”

Vomit flies past my lips before I can stop it with my hands. The sound of her heels carrying her away from me blends with the cold amusement spewing past her lips. Three Elite’s enter the room and only two leave, carrying the body of the dead one with them. When I catch my breath, I look up and can barely stomach what’s before me.

It’s Jonathon… Katie’s father.

I
SWEAR HE COULD B
E
a ghost.