Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2) (3 page)

“VISITOR INCOMING.”

There’s no time to decipher what I just saw. No time to mourn the fact that my mom is still gone. I look to the small screen sitting on the nightstand near my cot and wonder if today will be the day they let me go. The same woman always appears, announcing the news, the weather, and the messages from the many visitors who come to my room. Her eyes are bright blue, and her lips are pale pink. Even though her voice is soft like silk, it bears no emotion—no matter the contents of the messages she delivers.

I wonder if she’s even real… if anything in this city is even real, but my wondering is cut short by the sounds in the hallway outside my room. The exasperated sigh of the sliding door that leads to my holding cell. The sound of heels clicking against cold marble.

I jump up, smoothing down the front of my jumpsuit, and quickly push the hair from my face. It’s all for show. To make me look whole, complete, and in control of my emotions.

But I don’t feel a single thing.

I haven’t from the moment they lured me away from my friends, telling me that they just needed some answers to the incident at Whiskey Hallow. It was necessary to shut my emotions off just to keep from freaking out and breaking down. To keep from reverting back to the fear I felt when Bael took me from my friends and I realized that I’d probably never see them again, because every time I shut my eyes, it’s his face I see. It’s his anger I feel scarring up my leg.

It’s his wrath I know I’ll meet again one day soon.

I explained this to the Elite Intelligence Counselor in hopes that she’d see my need to be reunited with my friends and grant me passage, but her questions turned into blood work, and blood work turned into a few rounds of testing, and that turned into this never-ending waiting game.

Because of them, I know that my affinity mark is rare. It’s not bound to any one person, as the rest of the Coven is, but by choosing to love a Hunter, I have unknowingly linked myself to him, thus linking myself to Jezi as well.

The only difference is that I don’t need them to use my power the way they need each other. It was proven during the testing when they made sure that I was moved far away from Jezi and Jaxen.

Because of them, I know now that my DNA is unlike anything this world has seen. Similar to the Hunter’s volation—the ability to absorb and harness electrical energy around them to use against paranormal beings, my cells engorge to fatal levels on that same energy, but instead of killing me, my entire body fills with impenetrable strength. Stronger than most metals.

One of the scientists explained that because my cells are this durable, equally mixed with the Hunter’s volation and the Witch’s ability to naturally connect with living beings, I should be able to pull from any source of energy around me.

Including living, breathing beings.

This, of course, brought on a whole new set of questions and experiments. How far does my magic reach? How much energy can I absorb without collapsing? How do I tap into a living being that has a natural defense mechanism to ward off my intrusion?

But most importantly, can I kill with this ability?

These are questions I don’t want answered. This is a side of myself I don’t want to know, but the scientists insist that in order for me to protect myself, and those around me, that we need to better understand my capabilities. And I don’t know how long that will take. How long I will be left in this room and carted to the labs until the Priesthood has had their fill on information.

So here I stand, emotionless, barren, and broken. Waiting for nothing. Waiting for anything. Waiting for something to happen that’ll wake me up. Take me back to my friends… back to Jaxen… back to the real reason I came to this city.

To break the Holy Seal.

The door to my room slides open and in walks the last person on earth I thought I’d see. Clara Ravensmoore—Mack’s Witch. The one who openly despises me. The one who thought I should be turned over to the Priesthood.

The one with an agenda.

“Ah, good, I see you’re all right,” she says, her voice just as cold as I remember it. She’s wearing a white pencil skirt and white blazer with a black lace shirt peeking out the top of the jacket. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, so tight that I think it’s meant to keep her face smooth. Ageless. Firm, just like her presence.

Surprise punches me in the spine, flickering my emotions back on. My words fumble over one another as they rush up to my mouth, each wanting to be the first out. “Wh-why are you here?” I look past her, searching for the same face I’ve looked for since I left the underground safe house. “Where’s Mack? Why isn’t he here?”

She runs a palm against the side of her sleek, raven-colored hair, smoothing it back, and then assumes her assertive image. “Good day to you too, Faye Middleton,” she corrects sternly, her lips pinched together. She’s never been one to shy from pointing out another’s mistake. I would know.

Dropping my gaze, I twist my feet in. “Sorry.”

I count the seconds that prance between us, waiting for her to say something, anything. Hoping that she accepts my apology and offers me news toward my release because my curiosity has its own needs to be met, its own fears to be quenched, and it’s perched on my tongue, begging for the chance to be released.

But she’s enjoying every second of my squirming anticipation. She drags it out, savoring the awkward air as if it’s the only thing she feeds on. And this pisses me off.

I open my mouth, ready to unleash the verbal army that’s marching up my throat, but the words are replaced by her own.

“No matter,” she says quickly, cutting me off and maintaining control over the direction of the conversation. “I came here with news. As the newest member of the High Priesthood, and as your acting Elder in Mack’s stead, I pulled a few strings and have requested you and your… team,” she says with slight disgust, “to be placed under my division.”

I blink once, twice, trying to make sense of what she just said. “I-I don’t understand.”

She straightens her shoulders. Clicks her heels together. Huffs as if she’s dealing with a small child who still can’t understand how two and two together could possibly equal four. “It’s really rather simple, Faye Middleton,” she says dismissively. “My campaign secured the open spot on the Priesthood. Therefore, I am now High Priestess Clara Ravensmoore.” Her chin is high, and her smile is gloating in victory.

I’m not sure if I should take this as a godsend, or a nightmare. “Con-congratulations,” I mutter out. She smiles appreciatively. “When can I see—?”

But she doesn’t care about my question. Her mouth flies open, and out comes more words that have nothing to do with my freedom. “I oversee the War Division in Ethryeal City, and I have high hopes for the future of our Coven and all the implementations I have set in place. We’re strengthening from the inside, tightening up the ranks. War is on the horizon, which is why I need you on my team. We must…”

She continues speaking, reveling in her glory, moving further and further away from the subject that matters. The issues I want to talk about. The matter that concerns my freedom and reunion with my friends. My fingers twitch by my side. I see her lips moving, pushing more words out, but I can’t make sense of a single one of them. Or maybe it’s that I don’t care to make sense of them since none of them pertains to me.

“Are you listening, Faye Middleton?” she snaps.

I stare at her. Blink again.

She doesn’t wait for a response. Her mouth opens again, and more words rush out in a tangle that I don’t care to unravel. “My division specializes in tactical and strategic solutions. It’s my objective to take our Elite forces and prepare them for the upcoming battle that you will be the center of. When we leave here, you will begin the latest, cutting-edge training provided by my team. We will get to the root of your power, so when the time comes to execute the Holy Seal mission, you will be at your best. I personally—”

I can’t take another minute… another second of her rambling. Of these four walls closing in on me. Of my future being taken from my grasp and placed in the hands of a city that takes me in and locks me away, only to experiment, question, and pulverize what little hope we were given.

I won’t be treated like a puppet waiting for my master to pull my strings.

“No.”

Her gaze cuts over to mine, demanding that I offer a good enough reason for interrupting her.

I know I should shut my emotions back off. That I should pretend like everything is okay, apologize even, since she’s offering her version of freedom, but as the days pass by and my emotions develop arms and feet, it’s getting harder to keep them contained. Tougher to keep them suppressed. Near impossible to follow the rules this Coven has so unfairly broken themselves, many times over.

I take a tight breath, begging the storm inside me to quiet so I can ask the many questions I need answered. She quirks her brow up, waiting on me, and I open my mouth. “I want to know why I’ve been kept separate from my friends. Why I’ve been stuck in this room for the past four days. The reasons I’ve been poked, prodded, and tested to my limits. Why they’ve asked me the same questions over and over until I think that maybe the truth I thought I knew isn’t the truth at all. Like maybe everything inside my brain is one big bubble of lies waiting for the right person to come along and poke a needle through it.”

I don’t know if it’s that I’ve kept these words hostage for far too long, or if maybe it’s because she’s the closest thing I’ve seen to home since the day I arrived in this city, but I feel like my emotions have tipped me upside down and shaken the truth from my pockets. Spilled them onto the floor in front of Clara’s feet, just waiting for her to poke through and examine.

And it makes me feel so unbelievably exposed.

She lets out a breath and tilts her head to the side. “Debriefing, of course,” she says with a sidelong smile.

“I’m not taking another test until I get the treatment I deserve. Until I see my friends again and know that they’re being treated right.” A wave of heat rushes over my body. Irritation has painted itself onto my skin. It’s moistened my eyes and clenched my fists, gearing me up for a fight.

I think she senses this.

She looks down at the screen on the nightstand as if it were a living, breathing person judging her, watching her every move, and then changes tactics. “Listen to me,” she says, “here I am going on and on about myself when all you want is an explanation. How very selfish of me. Do accept my apology.” She clears her throat, purses her mouth, and then, like a chameleon, her entire demeanor shifts, changes, adapts to the situation presented in front of her. “Of course you’re upset,” she says in a concerned tone that doesn’t quite fit her, “and you must be so scared. So worried and confused. You’ve been treated awfully, and by our own nonetheless. I swear I’ll make it up to you. You’ve already done wonders for this Coven, and though we still have a ways to go, the least I can do is provide you with some comfort.” She adds a small frown to her lips, enhancing her show of empathy.

“I’m not scared,” I say pointedly, shaking my head, trying not to get caught in her web. “I just want to know when—”

Without warning, or permission, she pulls me into a hug, and I think I’ve finally lost my mind. Reality has finally taken its exit. “Hush, now,” she coos, rubbing the back of my hair and pressing me tight against her tall, thin frame. “It’s all been arranged. You, and all who came with you, will be registered as members of the city and placed in my division, where you’ll begin training for your next assignment. And it will all be on your terms. Sound good?”

I nod hesitantly, just waiting for the moment truth decides to intervene.

She pauses. Takes a breath. “You can trust me, Faye Middleton. I have your best interest at heart.” She levels her lavender eyes on me, and in them, I think I see sincerity. Enough to take my nerves by the hand and offer just enough solace to soothe them. “Come,” she says with a soft smile. “I’m sure you’re ready to be rid of this confinement.”

She turns on her heel, and the door slides open. For a moment, I stand there, watching her, waiting for when I finally realize this is another lie. A daydream I’ve concocted. But when I look at my cot, and turn back to find Clara standing in the doorway, staring at me with the kind of genuineness I haven’t seen in days, I know that I’m not sleeping.

Not at all. Because, finally, I’m free.