Inception (The Reaping Chronicles, 1) (44 page)

Chapter Sixty-nine

Javan ~ An Opportunity

Several weeks earlier Javan had woken up just as he had when he fell asleep—thinking about Gabrielle. He was confident that day that Gabrielle would return to him once she had freedom from Yahuwah. He was also confident his plans to get the Book would work. He allowed himself to let his guard down—to rest. But by the time he’d opened his eyes from that nap, his certainty about both outcomes had waned—considerably.

He hadn’t rested since.

Now, as Javan continued to busy himself laying the groundwork for his plans, he tried to remember what it was he’d dreamt about that day that so radically altered his outlook. He was unable to bring the reason back from the sleeping world and was still unable to revive the memory now. Whatever was in his dreams that day caused him to immediately doubt his intended outcome.

In the days since, agitation and a sense of urgency replaced any light mood his nap began with, relentlessly becoming a part of his demeanor. Whatever he couldn’t bring forth in his mind was still spurring him on subconsciously, making sure he was doing everything he could to ensure success.

At one time, when he was still in Yahuwah’s fold, he had the same Knowings all angels possessed. Since falling, the Knowings disappeared, semi-prophetic dreams taking their place. But they were rarely lucid or easy to recall, always just out of memory’s reach. He could barely remember even the smallest detail.

Quite a bit of time had passed since he had begun putting his plans in place to get Lucas to New Orleans, more than he’d realized. He was so busy setting everything up and trying to guarantee no holes were left that he hadn’t realized it was the end of October—three days before Halloween.

Mara and Cecily had been in and out of his loft for weeks, sometimes at the same time, but there never seemed to be any tension between them. It still bothered Javan but not enough to be distracted. He wouldn’t let his ego get in the way of his purpose.

All the effort he and others had been putting into finding an opportunity to get Lucas away from Gabrielle had been for nothing, and it was beginning to infuriate him. He might need to take the risk of creating a reason that would make Gabrielle leave Lucas alone. Putting something like that in place was risky, though. She wasn’t stupid, and it wouldn’t take much to tip her off. If that happened, he’d lose his chance.

Javan considered using a different person to retrieve the Book, and though he could force someone to do it, he wouldn’t get the same satisfaction. He wasn’t ready to give up on having Lucas carry out his plan.

As he looked out the window of his great room onto another morning, he felt the chilly northern wind push through the open door to his balcony. It pulled at branches, attempting to pluck more leaves off limbs that had succumbed to autumn’s possession. Javan imagined that the wind wanted to bring the leaves to their end, hurrying up the process of being returned to the earth through their decay. He couldn’t help but feel as if the same wind was pulling at him, encouraging him to accompany it on its plunge deeper south, toward what he wanted most—toward bringing his search for the Book and Lucas’s life to an end.

It was too soon, though. Javan closed the door, ending the goading wind’s intrusion on his day. As he turned toward his room and the awaiting hot shower, he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

He opened it, expecting either Mara or Cecily, but saw no one. He stepped into the hallway and looked, listening to try and catch even the most subtle sound, but there was nothing to hear. He wondered if he’d imagined it as he turned to re-enter his loft. Instead of an open doorway, he ran into a dwarf.

“Damn it, Som! What the hell are you doing here?” Javan peered to one end of the hallway, then the other. Satisfied no one had seen him, he closed the door.

Som looked amused—as much as a mature, large dwarf was capable of looking.

Javan had called on Som to help him with his endeavors since before he’d fallen, and he was who had first confirmed the existence of the Book.

He always wore the same clothes: a long, faded black robe tattered and torn from many years of use loosely tied with a thick, brown, frayed rope, and well-worn black leather boots intended for battle. Javan was surprised he had missed the presence of his musky smell that now wafted around him.

The battles of his long life were declared by scars on his face, neck, hands, and arms. Dwarves were notorious fighters and looked for any opportunity to wield their axes and daggers.

Necklaces of heavy chains or leather cording hung from his muscular neck, each adorned with at least one pendent. Some were announcements of heritage or tribe; others were trophies from battles won; the rest were a mystery to Javan. As he looked into the unsettling red glow of Som’s eyes, Som spoke. Javan was struck, as usual, by his deep, gruff voice. On its own, it would make a human shudder with fear.

“Stop wasting time seeing if I was noticed. If I hadn’t used a Glamour, how could I have gotten past you at your own front door? I know what I’m doing,
demon.
Why don’t you concern yourself with something that needs it, like how things are going in New Orleans?”

Javan smirked. Som certainly didn’t make up for his appearance with a pleasant personality.

“Tell me,” Javan said as he walked past him toward the kitchen. Som would want the strongest drink he could pour, so he opened a bottle of whiskey. “How are things going in New Orleans? On schedule, I suspect.”

Som looked around at the seating options as he always did. He would complain, sometimes verbally and sometimes, like now, with his expression and body language that said everything Javan had to sit on was too soft.

‘Made for humans and their frailty,’
he would say in a caustic tone.

It’s something a dwarf never wanted to be anything like—a human. Som preferred a hard rock or trunk of a fallen tree to sit on, if he even acted as if he was in need of rest at all since dwarves also never wanted anyone to think they were tired.

As was also customary for Som when he visited, he chose to stand.

Javan gave Som his drink. He downed it in one large swallow and indicated he wanted another. As Javan started to pour, Som answered his question.

“Would you have asked me to help you if you thought I wouldn’t have everything ready? All we need is for you to tell us you’re on your way.”

Som always answered a question with one of his own first. A way to make you stroke his ego. Then, he would give a direct answer to what you’d asked.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have faith in your ability to get the job done,” Javan answered, playing along. “I’m glad to hear something’s going according to plan.”

“What do you mean?” Som asked and tossed back his second drink. He made himself at home and poured himself another shot.

“Putting my plan into action isn’t happening as quickly as I’d hoped.”

Som looked at Javan with squinted eyes, the red glow seeming even more targeted, and then he huffed disapprovingly.

“Why don’t you just make things happen then? If I had your abilities, I wouldn’t wait. I’d move things along on my schedule.”

“I don’t think you understand my situation. If you think my powers are something to be appreciated, then you would be quite impressed with Gabrielle. She can put a stop to everything I’m trying to accomplish, and I’m too close to screw it up by being impatient.”

“Gabrielle … as in
your
Gabrielle? Isn’t she all cozy and comfy up there?” Som gestured to Heaven with a dismissive wave.

“Yes, my Gabrielle. And no, Gabrielle isn’t up there. She’s down here. And she’s involved—
closely
—with the human I have to get to New Orleans.”

Som scrutinized Javan as if trying to look deep inside him to gain more information that he knew Javan wouldn’t divulge.

“I see,” Som responded, discontinuing his attempt to gain more insight.

He walked over to where Javan stood—bottle in hand. After pouring Javan another drink, he added more to his own.

A dwarf’s thirst for alcohol was as unquenchable as their thirst for battle.

It wasn’t so much the sudden realization of dwarf tendencies that captured Javan’s attention, but his desire not to have Gabrielle, or at least Gabrielle being close to Lucas, in his mind. He let his thoughts drift further into the ways of dwarves as he walked over to the terrace windows and peered out into the bright, chilly morning.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, entranced by his mind’s wanderings. When he finally snapped out of it, he realized Som had left. The only evidence that showed Som hadn’t been something of Javan’s imaginings was a now empty bottle of whiskey and glass on the kitchen counter.

The day drug on after Som left. It was proving difficult, as was common now, for Javan to keep Gabrielle off his mind. Maybe it was because he hadn’t allowed himself the physical distraction Cecily or Mara could offer. He’d been telling himself that he wanted to stay focused on his planning, and he didn’t want problems between the two females to interfere. The truth was that it was almost impossible to know Gabrielle was so near and not miss her more than normal. He longed to be with her again. To talk and laugh together. He’d been able to push those feelings away since falling, but that was when she was far away in a place he was forbidden to enter ever again. It was easier then. Now, she wasn’t just on Earth, she was within a few miles every day. The desire to be with her pulled him like the waters of the ocean by the moon.

It’s just as inescapable.
She’s
just as inescapable … she has to feel it, too.

Staring blankly at the brick wall of his great room, he hadn’t noticed it steadily darkening from dusk settling. He also didn’t notice another with Divine blood nearing until he heard the knock at his door. He was abruptly aware he’d been deeply lost in his thoughts again.

Cursing himself for wasting the afternoon dwelling on something he had no control over, he opened the door to find Mara smiling broadly back at him. She walked past him without saying a word and pulled herself up on the kitchen counter, swinging her dangling legs.

Javan pulled himself up next to her, trying to seem himself. He didn’t want her to realize something was off about him. When he looked at Mara again, she was still smiling at him, but now her smile appeared even larger, and there was an expectant look in her eyes. She seemed to become giddier by the second

“Spit it out, Mara. You’re wasting my time.”

As if she was simply waiting for Javan to do his usual barking of a command, and now had the all clear, she spilled the information almost quicker than Javan could keep up.

“I know when Gabrielle is going to be away from Lucas—at least kinda!”

Javan felt his eyes widen and a smile form. But then his brain caught up with the speed of her words, and his expression rearranged back into a scowl. “What do you mean by kinda?”

She gracefully jumped down from the counter and sat on the arm of the chair to face him.

“I followed the three stooges and Gabrielle to a costume store and heard Gabrielle say she had no intention of participating with them in their Halloween escapades. So she’ll be away from him.”

Elation filled Javan. This was what he’d been waiting weeks to hear, but he still needed to hear the catch. “Fantastic. But what’s the
kinda
about, Mara?” He felt himself return to normal—the way he was when his love for Gabrielle wasn’t trying to take over. Mara seemed to sense a shift, too. With a much less playful demeanor, she began to fill him in.

“She told Lucas she wouldn’t be participating, but she’d still be near him so he shouldn’t worry about his safety.”

Javan didn’t think she’d been tipped off to his plans, so why was she or Lucas concerned about his safety? Javan was frustrated. He still couldn’t figure out how to distract Gabrielle long enough to get Lucas to New Orleans. If she was that concerned about his safety, she’d be watching him even if she wasn’t physically next to him.

“Have you heard them talk about any specific concerns?” Javan asked.

“They talk some about the Qalal and the Gentry.”

“The Qalal and the Gentry. Why would she be so concerned about them? Why would his safety be at risk?”

“I think I can answer that.”

Javan and Mara looked toward the voice coming from the terrace. Cecily sauntered toward them—her eyes fixed on Javan. She looked stunning as usual, wearing all black, and her long auburn hair bounced past her shoulders as she moved.

“Cecily.” Javan said, jumping off the counter and greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. He knew he was being friendlier than normal, but Cecily was hard to resist. “Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in a week.”

Cecily gave Mara a look of satisfaction as he stepped back from her, but when he looked at Mara, she didn’t seem to be bothered.

“Hi, Cecily,” Mara almost cooed her greeting as if she actually liked her. But Javan knew, even if Mara was unaffected by sharing him with Cecily, she wouldn’t like her, simply because she was Qalal. Regardless of what side they seemed to be on, Mara didn’t trust them.

Cecily nodded toward Mara and smiled. It was more an obligatory expression than one of sincerity. “Mara, you look well,” Cecily said coolly.