Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2) (24 page)

Jaxen takes my hand in his and squeezes one time before letting go. Just enough to give me strength, but not to coddle me, because I need to face her with strength, fearlessness. I need to show her that she did not break me.

Clara makes her way through the crowd, wearing a lavender skirt suit with a brooch pinned to the breast pocket in the shape of a small, black cat, and I think my heart drops to the earth.

It has to be a coincidence. It has to.

Her violet eyes expertly find mine, locking in place. A cruel smile curls across her lips. My fists ball into rounded gavels just waiting to convict her of her crimes. I could kill her right now. Every part of me screams at me to.

“Ah, Edgar, so nice of you to join us,” Seamus says the minute the other High Priest approaches our table. Edgar has black hair styled extravagantly, and small, beady eyes. The blue color is so deep they could almost be mistaken for black. A goatee forms around his mouth in the same shade of his hair with specks of silver peeking out. His frame is small compared to Seamus. He couldn’t be taller than I am.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Edgar’s silky voice croons as his eyes prey over me. He gawks at me as if my mere presence enchants him, like I’m a rare jewel he needs to add to his collection. The smile he wears makes me want to crawl out of my skin. “The Everlasting, in the flesh, what an unexpected pleasure.” He giggles like a schoolgirl, using the back of his hand to cover his mouth. “And here I thought you were a mere legend concocted by Clara as a means to get herself inducted into the Priesthood.” He shoots a pursed look in her direction.

My face is trembling from the extreme amount of effort it takes to smile.

Clara sucks her teeth and swats at him playfully. “Oh, stop, you silly goon. You know very well I would never do such a thing.”

“Mmhm. And Elvis isn’t dead,” Edgar says back with enough attitude to outdo Jezi on her best day. It’s clear Clara and Edgar are friends. The kind that helps pick out each other’s clothes and the knives they’re going to use to stab others in the back with.

“Please, sit,” Seamus says after clearing his throat. I focus my gaze on him, watching for any sign of what to expect. For the reason behind this small setback. Why did he invite her? Did she put him up to this? Will I ever escape her? Truly?

He must be reading my expression because the next moment, he says, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked them to dine with us tonight.”

“You’re damn right,” Jaxen says on a low growl. I don’t try to hold him back or squeeze his hand to calm him down. He’s a perfect storm… a force that can’t be contained—that should never be contained.

Clara’s lavender eyes flash up in Jaxen’s direction. “I see you left your manners with your Elder back at the Academy, young man. Must I remind you that you’re in the presence of members of the High Priesthood?” There’s enough poison in her voice to send me back into another lucid state. I crack my thumbs, and then each of my fingers, focusing on the monetary release of pressure.

Imagining that I’m cracking her spine.

Seamus scrambles, smoothing out the ironed linen covering the table. “I asked them to join us because I wanted to put what happened over the past few weeks behind us, so that we can move forward with ample progress,” he says on the edge of nervous laughter. “I’ve never felt that brushing matters under the rug have ever helped a mental state of mind, especially not one with the weight of the world on their shoulders.” Seamus swallows a sip of his water, and sets it back down. “And I believe there’s something we can all contribute to this new mission. I feel that if we can settle this civilly and quickly, then we can all help one another as we enter a new era in the Coven.”

“Wonderful speech,” Edgar says, silently clapping as he looks between all of us with a primped smile. I can’t tell if he’s mocking Seamus or not. His eyes say yes, but his tone says no. When no one joins in, he slowly drops his hands and reaches for his water. Everyone’s attention seems to gravitate toward me. They’re waiting for my reaction—for my opinion.

I can’t escape the awful memories waiting in the shadows of my mind. They won’t let go of me. They won’t allow me to be free of the resentment that has wrapped its large arms around my ability to forgive.

Because the truth is, it’s easier to resent, than it is to forgive.

“I have nothing to say to her,” I say quietly. I don’t say her name. I don’t have to.

“What I did, I did for your own good, and that’s all there is to it,” Clara says as she reaches for a roll. “You’re still alive and whole.” She takes her time peeling it open and smearing the herbed butter set before us on it. “Learning independence is the most important lesson a woman can learn. To have the ability to stand on your own two feet, that’s a quality most feared and most revered.” She sets the butter knife down and looks up at me, batting her lashes once. “But instead, you choose to die for love. You choose to bear their curse and give your life. It’s appalling. Tell me,” she says, looking directly at Jaxen, “how does it feel to know there is no answer… no saving grace right around the corner to keep your precious Everlasting safe from the curse?”

“Clara, please, this is supposed to be a healing meeting,” Seamus says, but Clara doesn’t hear him. She doesn’t care who she has to plow over just to get a reaction.

“The Gramm brothers don’t understand this concept, as well as most other Hunters in this Coven,” she continues. “They all believe that women are weak. Seeing as how most women are Witches, they believe that Witches are even weaker. It’s you who gives us a bad name.” She’s pointing at Cassie, and I think Cassie might rip her face off right here on this dinner table.

“Excuse me!” Cassie says incredulously. “What the hell have I done to you?”

Clara ignores her and moves on to her next victim. “You’re quite lucky he’s given his heart to her,” she says to Jezi. “Unlike your friend, you have a chance at life by dropping the dead weight. You have a chance to rise above the rest and show the world that Witches, especially a woman Witch, is just as powerful, if not more so than, a Hunter.”

Edgar leans into Clara. “You’re treading dangerous waters, dear,” he mutters through his teeth.

“Why you stu—” Cassie starts to say, but Clara turns on her.

“What? Do you not agree?” She looks back at Jezi. “Look at her, Cassandra. Do you see a shred of regret in those hazel eyes? Because I don’t. I see relief. Acceptance. Maybe even happiness at knowing she got the best of Jaxen Gramm. I don’t offend you, do I?”

Jezi’s eyes squint. Her lips curl as the scent of magic grows strong. She leans into the table slowly and says, “Don’t mistake my forced manners and fake smile for acceptance, because right now, I’d like nothing more than to show you what I really think about you. And I totally would if I knew it wouldn’t be the cause of my banishment.” Her fists curl against the table as she leans back.

Clara isn’t affected by it. She takes a small nibble of her roll, and then sets it down before covering her mouth with the cloth napkin. After she swallows, she continues, “That’s a shame. I guess I should group you in with the rest of the Witches who bow down to their Hunters. If you ask me, it’s really rather primal.”

“Absolutely,” Edgar agrees with a fervent nod. “But try being a male Witch. It’s much worse. To think that our proclamation hasn’t even put a dent in the social issues presented to our Priesthood on a daily basis is so exhausting.”

“You must be so unfortunate,” Cassie says with a sneer. Gavin flicks his eyes to her, telling her to be quiet.

“No, dear, it’s you that is unfortunate,” Clara says. Her words roll out on a red carpet, heading toward a fighting ring that only she can conquer. “Heeling to the whims of a fatal love affair. Giving your life over to a curse that isn’t even yours to begin with… that’s misfortune at its finest. That’s a sad cry amongst women.”

I know Cassie’s about to snap because I smell the earthy scent of her magic forming around her. I’m the only one who can calm this situation. I see this in Seamus’ probing gaze. He’s watching me, studying me, waiting to see how I’ll respond. How I deal when pressed under a thousand-pound weight of agonizing pressure.

He’s about to find out that I do not crack.

“No, Clara,” I say. My gaze locks on hers. “You’re mistaking independence with solitude. You’re the most unfortunate at this table. It’s you who will die alone, without anyone left to mourn for you. You think you’ve won by cutting everyone who matters to you from your life? By abandoning them? Well, you’re wrong, because the end is approaching for you, and when you reach out for that one small thing that has made your life worth living, that one thing that will carry on your legacy, you’ll find nothing but an empty wasteland.”

She drops her napkin. Her face turns to a bright shade of pink. I think steam rolls out of her ears. “You think I’m such an awful person?” she snaps back, crossing her hands in her lap. Straightening her spine. “So untrustworthy? You spit my progress back in my face, thinking that you’re attacking a weak link in my armor, but you’re far from wrong. You’re so naïve and trusting that it’s disgusting. Why don’t you start in your own circle of trust?”

The atmosphere around the table grows tense. Edgar riddles his fingers together, a smile forming across his face. This is pure entertainment for him, and it makes me sick.

“Why don’t you put your own ‘friends’ to the test?” Clara presses on, raising her eyebrows.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, but I already know. It’s about the secret they all share—the secret Jaxen has yet to let me in on.

Jaxen’s so still, so quiet. Panic has forced his eyes wide. Clenched his fists against his thighs.

My heart turns sluggish. Coldness settles into my bones. There’s a sour taste in my mouth because I think that whatever it is he’s been hiding from me, Clara must be a part of. She, and everyone else, knows, and I’m the only one dangling in the dark.

Stupid me.

“Your parents, they worked with the Gramm brothers and their partners before, correct?” Clara smiles deviously, knowing she has me right where she wants me. Like always.

Jaxen tenses next to me, and I feel it all the way to my core. Dread like spiders crawls up the back of my spine and settles in my mind, waiting to trap my trust in its web. My fingers grip the edges of the chair. “Jaxen?” I hear myself say, though the strength in my voice is not my own. It’s a mask constructed to keep the laughter spewing from Edgar and Clara’s lips from tearing me apart.

He shuts his eyes, presses his lips tightly together, and then exhales out every bit of the lies he’s held within. “I saw your parents the night they disappeared,” he says. Regret and remorse slink in between each syllable, trying to offer comfort in the words my mind digests.

“What?”

“We were on a mission, Faye. Mack assigned us to investigate a Witch who was dealing with Bael and trying to raise the Darkyn Coven. Your parents… they were the head of that mission.”

I think I might be having a heart attack. I know what I thought betrayal felt like before, feels nothing like what I’m feeling right now. It can’t even touch the sick feeling that’s wracking through my stomach, shaking in my shoulders.

“Wait… you’re telling me that you were there with my parents? The night they disappeared?” I’m surprised those two questions came out as easily and as calmly as they did, because on the inside, I’m surely dying.

He nods, looking everywhere but at me, and I want to slap him. I want to force his eyes on me so he can see the pain that’s ripping me into shreds. I want him to face me in all his deceit because he owes me that much for opening my heart up to him. For
trusting
him.

“You knew what happened to them, and you didn’t tell me? All this time… all this time that I’ve questioned, wondered, and suffered over not having any answers, and you’ve known
all along.
You could have put some of that pain to ease with just telling me the truth.”

I can barely get the words out. My mind is on fire. It’s singeing through my skull, burning through my body. He tries to take my hand, but I yank away from him. Shame and sadness pool in his eyes.

I look around the table at the rest of my friends… at everyone else who knew and never told me. Even though I’m pissed at them, it still doesn’t burn the way it does when I think about Jaxen. When I think about all the thoughts and feelings I’ve shared with him… the times I’ve cried on his shoulder, mourning the loss of my parents, and never once did he open his mouth.

I scoot my chair back, pressing my arm against my stomach to contain the urge to vomit. 

“Faye, please. I don’t know what happened to them. None of us do. All I know is that they caught wind of someone’s involvement… someone in the Priesthood. I tried to stop them from digging any further. I tried to tell them it would only get them killed, but I was so caught up in dealing with the Witch we had contained that I didn’t get a chance to go after them. I couldn’t protect them.”

I don’t realize I’m standing.

I barely even hear Clara and Edgar’s laughter as I rush out of the restaurant. All I know is that I can’t breathe. My lungs are compressed in betrayal, and no matter how hard I try to suck in air, it won’t come. I bump into too many faceless people and stumble down a foreign street that never seems to end.

Moonlight spills onto the concrete before me, its guiding beam seeming to point me in a direction I can only follow. I don’t stop until I reach the edge of fountain, collapsing onto the marbled seat carved around it, trying to catch a breath. Just one. I’m too numb to cry, too numb to feel the pain I know is pressing against my shattered heart.