Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2) (19 page)

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain. We have some sort of connection.”

Quinn huffed. “It’s called hormones, Jordan. Don’t put your trust in someone just because he has dreamy eyes and a killer smile.”

“It’s not like that! Whatever this is between us, it runs much deeper. He reminds me of you and Nathan. He reminds me of
home
.”

Why was she even explaining this to him?

“It doesn’t matter. I have my team and we’ll be fine. Once I find this hothead, I’ll be home free.” She swallowed hard. “Unless I’m no longer wanted at home.” 

“What the hell does that mean? Of course you’re wanted, Jordan.”

Her breath caught in her chest. “Quinn, do you still love me?”

“More than anything,” he said without hesitation. “Why would you ask that?”

The tears came but she barely noticed. “Because of what I am. I’m part demon and they’re evil. I don’t want you to think of me like that.”

“Listen to me, okay? You aren’t a demon or an angel. You are Jordan – my sister, and you always will be. Don’t ever forget.”

Her brother still loved her, at least he
said
he did. Jordan was eager to find the rogue demon and get back home. She had to make sure his feelings were true.

“I won’t,” she said. “Should I call Nathan and Uncle Case?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“They have company at the farmhouse – members of the Circle. I don’t trust them. The last thing we need is for Michael to find out we’ve been in touch with you.” 

Before she could ask, he added, “Nathan and Case are fine, so don’t worry. As soon as I see Nathan, I’ll give him your number so he can call when there’s no one to overhear. Deal?”

There was a commotion in the adjoining room. Ivy cursed and Jordan jumped off the bed. Just as she reached the bedroom door, it opened and Xander poked his head in. “Jordan, I’m sorry to interrupt but you might wanna come in here.”

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, his voice rising to compete with Ivy’s cursing. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Jordan started for the living area. “Hang on a sec.”

She passed through the doorway and then stopped so quickly Xander ran into her from behind. Ivy, scowling at the source of their problem, asked “What the hell do we do now?”

“Jordan!” Quinn yelled loud enough to alert security. “Answer me, dammit!”

She clicked off the speakerphone and brought the cell to her ear, unable to believe the mess they’d landed in. “I’m fine – we’re fine, Quinn.”

“What is it?”

Jordan glowered at their new visitor. The object of her disapproval hung her head, too nervous to make eye contact.

“Nothing,” she answered. “My little sister just popped in for a visit. She’s not supposed to be here, so I’d better go and make sure she gets back to Aamon.”

A few feet away, Mazie crossed her arms and sighed.

Chapter Twenty-One

Quinn

Quinn ended the conversation with his brother. He’d called Nathan as soon as he hung up with Jordan to tell him their sister was okay. Nathan was ecstatic, but didn’t agree with his request to keep it from Uncle Case. 

“He’s worried sick! Why do you think he relented and allowed Lucas’ demon in the house? We have to tell him.”

“No, we don’t,” Quinn said. “Case is sure to say something to Lucas and I don’t trust the man. That demon of his has led you on one wild goose chase after another.” He stretched, working the tight muscles in his shoulders. “I don’t like keeping this from Uncle Case, but we can’t risk Jordan’s safety.”

Nathan had reluctantly agreed. It wouldn’t bode well for any of them if Michael learned Jordan was not only a
Paladin
, but also no longer under the protection of Aamon’s wards.

Quinn turned to Gabe sitting on the couch,
The
Oraculum
open on his lap. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

The angel looked up. “Tell who what?”

Quinn grabbed a chair from the small dinette table and straddled it. “Why didn’t you tell Jordan what we learned from the book? Don’t you think she needs to know?”

Marking his page with his finger, Gabe shook his head. “Not right now, no.”

“According to the prophecy, Jordan’s going to fall – whatever the hell that means – and when she does, a massive war will begin.” Quinn arched an eyebrow. “We need to prevent that, right?”

“Of course.”

God, sometimes Gabe infuriated him. He hated having to spell everything out. “The best way to assure the war doesn’t start is to make sure Jordan doesn’t fall. How can she stop it from happening if she doesn’t
know
?”

“Yes, it would be better if your sister knew the details of the prophecy. I didn’t want to give her anything else to worry about right now.”

And then Quinn understood. Jordan was hunting a demon. If she knew her actions could inadvertently cause a holy war, she would second guess every move she made. Hesitation could get her killed.

“We need to find out
how
she…falls. With that information, we can at least advise her on what not to do.”

Gabe opened the book again. “Tell me how the
Paladin
will fall.”

Enochian language appeared and swam on the page. Seconds later, the words aligned and Gabriel read them to Quinn.

The release of an angel’s grace will incite the fall. If the act is committed in defense, there is a possibility of redemption. If the act is committed in rage, the
Paladin’s
soul will be lost.

“Wait,” Quinn said. “So, an angel’s death causes the fall?” He shook his head.

Why did the damn book have to talk in riddles?

Gabe’s face sagged like a deflating balloon. “Yes, if Jordan takes the life.”

“But angels are immortal. Demons can’t kill you.”

“The only way we can die is by another angel’s hand.” Gabe bit his lip. “And Jordan is–”

“–part angel,” Quinn finished. “What does the rest of it mean?”

“If she kills an angel in defense – her own or to protect someone else – there is hope for her soul. If she kills the angel in a blind rage, Jordan will belong to Evil.”

“There’s too many
if’s.
We need to know for sure, Gabe. This is her life we’re talking about. Not to mention all this could bring a war down on our heads.”

The puzzle was slowly coming together but missing key pieces still made it impossible to see the picture as a whole. For days, a nagging feeling had buzzed in the back of Quinn’s mind – an irritating mosquito he kept swatting at. It would go away for a while and he’d forget, only to have it come back with a vengeance.

When Quinn’s cell rang an hour later, he snatched it off the table, eager to silence Nathan’s assigned ringtone. “Fly From Heaven” by Toad sounded ominous under the circumstances. Gabe practically folded in on himself. Any phone call they received now was bound to be important and, more than likely, bad news.

Quinn put the phone on speaker.

“Hey,” he answered, “what’s up?”

His brother’s voice was easy, upbeat. “Uncle Case asked me to call. He would have, but he’s busy sending Lucas and his boys on their way. He wants you and Gabe to come home.”

Across the room Gabe smiled. Quinn, however, had doubts.

“What changed his mind?”

“Now, don’t get mad…” Nathan began.

Quinn groaned. When his brother began a sentence that way, what followed afterward usually pissed him off.

“I told him about Jordy’s call.”

“Great.” Sometimes, Quinn hated being right. “You did exactly what I asked you not to do.”

“He had a right to know! Jordan is like a daughter to him.” Nathan’s tone was condescending. “Frankly, I’m surprised you wanted to keep Case in the dark. I knew you were ticked at him, but that’s low, even for you.”

“Don’t go there,” Quinn growled. “You know damn well the only reason I wanted to keep it from him was so he wouldn’t blab to Lucas. He didn’t, did he?”

“Give him a little credit. Uncle Case isn’t stupid.”

“Really? Because I haven’t forgotten why I left in the first place, Nathan.”

In the background, Quinn heard the sound of typing.

“I didn’t call to argue,” his brother said when the clicking of keys stopped. “Are you coming home or not? I could use your help. Case still doesn’t know about the prophecy. ”

Though his uncle had rubbed him the wrong way, Quinn knew every decision Case made was with their best interests at heart. The details of the prophecy could very well send him over the edge. Quinn needed to be there. The only hope they had of making it through this was to stand together.

“I’ll get packed,” he said. “We’ll be there in about an hour.”

<><><>

Background music replaced conversation in the car. While Bob Seger advised him to turn the page, Quinn thought about the impending reunion with his uncle and Gabe watched the passing scenery.

Case accused Quinn of falling back on old ways – unable to trust others – when he’d tried to warn him of Lucas’ intentions. A faint echo of pain rippled within.

Turn the page
, Bob sang. Quinn felt he had. He wanted to begin a new story but no one could forget the old one.

When he and Gabe arrived in Dixon’s Bluff, Quinn made a quick stop at the only convenience store still open to grab some beer. He called home on the land line to see if they needed anything else but didn’t get an answer. That wasn’t unusual. If Nathan and Case were upstairs, outside, or in the basement, it was difficult to hear it ring. Next, he called Nathan’s cell. It rang several times and went to voicemail. Quinn didn’t leave a message. Frowning, he called his uncle’s phone. It didn’t ring at all, going straight to voicemail as if he’d it turned off. It was late but not
that
late.

Something was wrong.

Quinn left the case of beer on the counter and rushed outside to the Mustang.

“What’s wrong?” Gabe asked.

Quinn cranked the Mustang, revving the engine. The only other patron in the lot, Terry Simpson, who kept late hours at the small gym he owned, turned and stared. When he saw it was Quinn, the man shook his head and went back to pumping his gas. Sometimes, living in a small town had its perks. Everyone knew everyone. When he laid rubber squealing out of the parking lot, Terry didn’t bat an eyelash.

Quinn quickly explained the situation.

“And the fact that they didn’t answer their phones is cause for alarm?”

Quinn glanced sideways. Gabe swayed back and forth in the passenger seat as he took turns at break-neck speed. Of course, after flying with wings, riding in a speeding car was probably no big deal.

Showoff
.

“We keep our phones near us at all times. One of them should’ve answered.” He pulled his cell from the case attached to his belt and flipped it to Gabe. “Call them again – numbers 1 and 2 on speed dial.”

The phone rang before Gabe could press a button. The screen glowed, bathing the interior of the car in a peaceful blue light. The name “Uncle C.” appeared on the small display and Quinn reached for the phone when Gabe passed it back, quietly berating himself for overreacting. His relief was so great his hands shook, and Quinn swerved into the parking lot of Fred Limberg’s Farmers’ Market. Headlights lit up the front of the store, which was decorated with pumpkins, scarecrows, and Halloween décor. It was one of Jordan’s favorite places to shop. Now, it was dark. Fred had long since rolled up the sidewalk and closed for the day.

“Hey,” Quinn asked, answering the call. “Where were you when I called?”

“Tending to more important matters.”

The voice did not belong to Case or Nathan. Quinn’s stomach twisted into a hard knot of fear. He hit the speakerphone and said, “Lucas? Where’s Case?”

Muffled shouts were followed by the meaty, smacking sound of fists on flesh. Quinn gripped the phone so tight the plastic casing cracked.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Lucas drawled. He sucked on his teeth and Quinn clenched his jaws. “He’s tied up at the moment.”

Someone in the background laughed and hollered, “Yep, he’s tied up real good!”

Quinn looked at Gabe, who nodded and teleported. Lucas’ spoke again.

“Now, here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna come to the house and bring me that nifty book. Once I have it, me and my boys’ll leave, real peaceful-like, and you and your family can get on with your lives.”

“Why in the name of Papa Smurf’s blue ass would I do that?”

Grinding his teeth, Quinn listened, helpless, as more punches were thrown amidst grunts of pain and suppressed curses.

Hurry, Gabe. Please, hurry!

“He’s had enough, Brody,” Lucas directed to his son. “We got orders not to rough ‘em up too much.”

“Orders from who?!” Quinn yelled. “I swear on my mother’s grave, if you hurt them I’ll reach down your throat and remove your fucking spleen. Wonder how long it would take for you to suck that out of your teeth?”

Lucas snorted. “You done now?”

“I’m just getting started. Wait ‘til I get to my house. I’m gonna stomp a mud hole in you big enough for your sons to drown in.”

“Well, in the meantime, I suggest you shut your mouth and listen. Who I get my orders from is none of your business. All you need to know is that she’s one sadistic bitch who’ll kill your family and enjoy a short glass of whiskey when she’s done.” He paused and then asked, “Do I have your attention now?”

“Yes,” Quinn spat.

Where was Gabe?

“Good. I want you to drive up to the front porch, slowly exit your car with both hands in the air, and one of them better be holding that book. We’ll have guns on you, so no tricks. Lay the book on the ground, turn with your back to the porch, and then get on your knees.”

“I don’t know, Lucas; that sounds kind of kinky to me.”

“Is this a joke to you, Quinn? Guess I’ll have to show you just how serious I am.”

A loud clattering noise came over the line, then a single gunshot.

“You bastard!”

Bile rose up his gullet with the force of a geyser. Quinn flung open the door to the Mustang and retched on the ground. The world outside spun in his vision.

Lucas’ hee-haw laugh assaulted his ears. “That was a warning shot – the next one won’t be. Get your ass to the house, Quinn. Now.”  The line went dead.

He couldn’t wait for Gabe. Quinn snatched the keys from the ignition and went around to the trunk. Opening the secret compartment, he removed a shotgun and a Smith and Wesson 45. After a quick check to make sure both were loaded, he stuffed extra shells and bullets in the pockets of his bomber jacket.

Back on the road, he focused on
The
Oraculum
. Quinn couldn’t hand it over to those rednecks. In the wrong hands, the book could be as deadly as the Bubonic Plague. It was important, yes, but he wouldn’t risk Nathan and Case’s lives for it.

He turned away from their small business district and passed the squat building that housed the sheriff’s department. There were three vehicles in the parking lot, including Wellard Briggs’ old Blazer.

Though Sheriff Briggs was an ally, it never crossed Quinn’s mind to stop. The tough old bird knew what they did for a living and tried to help when he could, but Quinn would never put him or his three deputies at risk. Outside help was hard to find when you hunted monsters. Theirs was a relationship carefully balanced on trust and, for the most part, need-to-know information only. Wellard had once told them if an extra gun was ever needed, they could give him a call. So far, they had managed without cashing in that favor, and wanted to keep it that way.

The driveway leading to the house came into view. Quinn shut off the headlights, turned in, and stopped. He looked around, hoping to spot a place to hide the book. He had no idea if Lucas or one of the boys was close by, watching.