Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2) (49 page)

“How’s your side?” I ask, pointing to his wound and biting my lip.

“All better,” he says with a small smile, the lust in his voice hot enough to make my knees feel like melted butter. Strong enough to bring back images of our time together in the shower last night. Slick kisses, roaming hands, and passion unlike anything I’ve yet to feel from him before.

He lifts his shirt just high enough to reveal a mouthwatering set of abs that drifts below his low-hanging jeans. There isn’t a mark to be seen, just like last night.

I force out a smile, my mouth going dry as he drops his shirt and focuses back on my mouth.

“That’s good,” I say, trying to detach my eyes from his body.

I know I’m supposed to be doing something, checking on something, but the closeness of his body is like waving food in front of a starved mouth. A pan clinks against a stove in the kitchen.

The voices!

“Come on!” I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him the rest of the way to the kitchen. Gavin’s at the stove, stirring a pan of scrambled eggs with fervor. A quick scan of the room tells me the female voice is nowhere to be found. “Smells delicious,” I announce.

“That’s ’cause it is,” he says with his head now in the refrigerator. I hear the smile in his voice as he pulls out a small jug of milk and sets it out on the table. “I’m the best cook in this house.”

Jaxen grunts a laugh.

“And only you two know of this place?” I ask as my eyes skim over the country layout of the kitchen. The linen curtains, deep sink, and white cabinets. The herb cabinet and long, rustic wooden table. The colorful flowers that look a few days picked. The piled-up dishes that look like they’ve been sitting there for a while.

“We’re the only ones left in the Gramm family, so yeah,” Gavin says.

I glance back over at the wilting flowers.

I smell lies.

“So who was that I heard this morning?” I keep adding to the pile of questions, hoping it will eventually come crashing down to reveal the truth.

His shoulders tense slightly, just enough for me to notice. “Huh?” he asks, turning to face me with the steaming pan in his hand.

I stare at him with my arms crossed, waiting for the truth. “I heard you talking to someone this morning. Someone I’ve never heard before. Who was it?”

“Wait, you were talking to someone?” Jaxen asks. There’s an insecure note in his voice that twists my stomach a little.

Gavin walks the pan over to the kitchen table, filling a plate with steaming scrambled eggs, never looking up at us. Never answering Jaxen. He chuckles nervously as he pours four glasses of milk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice is cool and collected.

I purse my lips. “Gavin…” I drag out.

“Who was it?” Jaxen asks, this time with more persistence.

Gavin’s shoulders sag. “It was an old friend who stopped in,” he admits, his voice dying off in arrest. His eyes find mine with a sense of pleading.

“An old friend?” Jaxen repeats. He’s not buying it. “An old friend who just so happens to know about this place?”

“Yeah,” Gavin says, refusing to look at him.

My lips form into a thin line. “Where’s Cassie?”

Gavin laughs. “Sleeping. As usual.” He sets down a plate of bacon and points for us to sit. We do.

“Look, you two really need to liven up. My birthday’s right around the corner, so I expect some slack.”

Jaxen groans and rolls his eyes.

“Your birthday? When?” I ask.

“Days away. April first,” he says with a small grin. “The big twenty-five. I expect a party too.”

Jaxen grunts his thoughts. “Stop changing the subject.”

Gavin sighs. “Look, really though, we’ve been through a lot. An old friend stopped in to check on us. That’s it, so can we eat now?” He takes his seat at the other end of the table, reaching for the plate of bacon in front of him.

I peer over at Jaxen and wish that I could help settle whatever is lurking in his mind, casting shadows in his eyes. He takes the serving dish of eggs and dumps a hefty amount onto his plate, angrily clanging the spoon against it. When he has enough, he hands it to me.

I put a little on my plate and then hand it to Gavin, who swaps the plate of bacon with me. Putting a couple pieces on my plate, I hand it over to Jaxen. All of this is done in awkward silence.

“We need to get the plan for the Unholy Seal intact when Weldon comes back,” Gavin says through a mouthful of bacon. He reaches for the salt and sprinkles it over his eggs.

Jaxen laughs bitterly. “Two Covens against us now. Seems unlikely that it’s even possible to consider,” he says flatly. He pushes his fork through his eggs.

“We have no choice now. With one seal down and Claire and Faye’s parents held up down there, we have to keep going. It’s the right thing to do,” Gavin points out.

My appetite disappears.

“Why don’t you stop changing the subject and tell me who you were talking to,” Jaxen asks coldly, unwilling to let it go.

Gavin drops his fork. Swallows his food. He pushes his chair back and says, “Look, I’m going to go wake Cassie before the food gets cold.” Getting up, he heads out the door just as Jezi enters.

“Where’s he going?” Jezi asks Jaxen as she takes a seat across from us and fills a plate.

Jaxen’s answer stalls on his lips when the back door leading into the kitchen swings open. When Weldon steps in and closes it, Jezi tenses at the sight of him, stuffing a piece of bacon in her mouth with annoyed force as he sets a basket filled with tomatoes down.

Jaxen sighs heavily. “To wake Cassie,” he says, throwing his hand out to dismiss the subject. He takes a forceful bite of bacon as Weldon pulls a jug of blood out of the fridge.

I cringe and turn away, saying, “I heard Gavin talking to a woman this morning,” to take my mind off it.

They both direct their attention on Jaxen and me.

“A woman? You didn’t say it was a woman,” Jaxen says in alarm. “Are you sure it wasn’t Cassie?” He’s hoping I say I’m not sure. That it could have been her. I can see it in his eyes.

I touch his arm. “Cassie’s upstairs sleeping, Jaxen. I heard the voice just before you met me downstairs. There’s no way it was her.”

“What did she sound like?” Jezi asks. I don’t like the tone she takes, like she already knows what I’m going to say.

I close my eyes and think about the muffled voice. “Older than us. Sharp. Hard even.” I lock eyes with Jaxen. “She sounded kind of like Clara, but it definitely wasn’t Clara.”

The blood drains from Jaxen’s face as he looks past me at Jezi. “I should have known,” he says, plunging a hand through his hair. “There’s only one person in this world Gavin wouldn’t want me to know he talked to,” he says in a disbelieving whisper. “One person left who knows the existence of this Manor.”

“Evangeline Gramm,” Jezi says back to him. She looks over at me. “Their mother.”

Keep reading  for a sneak peek into

EVERLOST (NIGHT WATCHMEN, #3)

The third book in the Night Watchmen Series

J
EZI’S WORDS STILL ECH
O
my brain. “Evangeline Gramm.”

Who knew a name could have the force equivalent to a punch? Because I felt the way it slammed into Jaxen. I felt it through our affinity link, the same way Jezi did. The way his mind, his heart, and his whole entire being seized up into a solid mass that clenched the air from his lungs. I felt the fire in his brain—the hell he could never escape from—roaring up, as if his mother’s name was a gallon of gasoline poured onto the smoldering embers of every memory he was only just beginning to let go.

They’re alive and awake now. Swaying and rising higher and higher in the oxygen surrounded by the two words Jezi breathed out.

And I want to cry for him. For the blender his heart has been dumped into. For the way he has to clutch on to the back of the chair for support. For the way every time he sees the exit sign, it moves back another mile, making his trek to sanctuary never-ending.

It takes us all a second to catch our breath, to separate our feelings from one another and remember that even though we’re all linked, we’re still individuals. Jaxen’s form blurs in front of me as tears invade my eyes. 

“No,” Jaxen says, shaking his head. But his tone is more disbelief than denial. More like a silent plea to whatever God is listening, begging him or her to stop this cruel joke before it gets out of hand.

But Jezi’s eyes are filled with such surety that it rattles me all the way to my feet.

“I-I thought she was gone,” I say. Silly, stupid, meaningless words.

“She was. And now she’s back,” Weldon says, his eyes on the floor.

Jaxen spins around, still clutching the back of the chair. My mind locks up. “What do you mean?” he asks. His eyes move frantically across Weldon’s face, trying to read the truth faster than his mind can comprehend.

Weldon puts the cap back on the jug filled with blood, and sets it on the shelf in the fridge. Moments drag past us as if there they’re tethered by the chains of the truth hiding behind Weldon’s lips. He’s taking his time, though this time, it isn’t for his entertainment. There’s hurt in his eyes, the kind of pain only a friend could feel for someone they deeply care about. There’s tension in his slouched shoulders. There’s a frown on his thin lips, and it tightens the knot in my stomach.

“Because,” he says, clenching his eyes shut. His face twists with regret. “I-I saw her before I left this morning,” Weldon admits, his eyes shifting between the floor and Jaxen. He runs his hand up the back of his neck, pushing at his hair. “I swear, man, I planned to tell you the minute I knew I could get you alone. I just wanted to give you a chance to wake up first before you had to process such a colossal bomb.”

It takes a second for Jaxen to respond. He’s blinking and blinking, with ghosts dancing behind his gaze that I wish I had the power to exorcise. I reach for his curled-up fist, barely able to breathe, and it’s only then that he really looks at me. That he leaves whatever horrible nightmare resides inside his head.

“Jax?” Weldon says, pulling a chair out to sit at the table.

He turns his attention back to Weldon. “Where is she?” he asks, his voice trembling and his fists shaking against the table.

I feel his wounds being ripped open as his walls come crashing down around him. I feel the tightness in his chest… the panic in his mind. I see him as a little boy, watching a shadow of a woman walking away from him, and it makes my eyes burn as I reach for him.

Weldon eyes widen a little. He already knows.

Jaxen is a dormant volcano who’s only just awoken.

“Let’s go talk about it first,” Weldon says smoothly, though even his best control is quivering. “Gavin said—”

I feel the explosion before it happens. Before Jaxen’s chair flies against the wall and shatters into uneven splinters of wood. Before he slams his fist against the kitchen table, nearly splitting it clean in two, sending food flying through the air.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what Gavin said!” Jaxen shouts, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Volation slides down the hard planes of his arms, the sparking energy licking his skin with fierce determination. He turns and plows through the kitchen door, knocking it off the hinges.