Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2) (27 page)

Chapter Thirty

Jordan

Jordan was drawn to Illyria like water. Her fear of not being able to locate Quinn was unfounded. Turns out, she was more in tune with angels than she realized. Being a
Paladin
had its advantages.

She had a moment of déjà vu when she entered the old factory. Jordan followed the dark passages, trailing her hands along the cold cement walls, knowing she’d find a monster doing God only knew what to her brother at the end.

But this time, she wasn’t alone.

Ivy and Xander were a few steps behind, ready to stand at her side, prepared to die with her –
for her
, if necessary. It wouldn’t come to that, of course; Jordan planned to keep them far away from Illyria. Still, her odds of succeeding in the factory where she’d failed in the mine back in Tennessee went up considerably with them there.

Jordan turned a corner and gracefully tripped over a piece of rebar. Her teeth were set on edge by ear-piercing echoes of metal clanging against concrete in a discordant refrain as it bounced across the floor. So much for the element of surprise.

She stopped the procession, face burning brighter than Rudolph’s nose while Ivy snickered from behind. For someone who was supposed to be an experienced hunter, Jordan made more noise than a house demolition. She took a deep breath, intending to regroup and start again, when a scream split the rimy air. She recognized the voice, but had never heard it under such duress.

Jordan’s heart plunged, and then she was running.

Footsteps slapping, the wind in her ears, Jordan didn’t realize how close they were to Quinn and Illyria. She turned another corner in the maze of metal contraptions and found herself on a collision course with the angel. She only had a second to take in her brother’s prone form, then dropped to her knees and rolled.

Sweeping with her left leg, Jordan’s boot caught Illyria’s ankle, tripping her. A blast of Ivy’s power sent the Aeon careening into some shelves. Jordan placed herself between Illyria and Quinn.

He looked worse than she’d ever seen him, and that was saying a lot. Severe burns covered his head, face, and arms. The smell of charred flesh coated the back of her throat and her stomach flip-flopped. One dark blue eye was open, filled with misery but surprisingly alert. The other was fused shut.

Oh, Quinn… 

Jordan never pictured their reunion like this.

Across from her, Illyria stood as puffed up as a peacock. She smoothed her body suit and then reclined against the wall, surveying her handiwork.

Blood boiling, Jordan was torn between ripping Illyria’s throat out and healing her brother. She knew not to turn her back on the angel. The sword strapped to her back was more than a little convenient, and Jordan knew the damage it could do. 

She thought about Mazie and her insides quivered. Jordan had failed her sister. How could she possibly protect Quinn from Michael’s best soldier?

Sensing her distress, Ivy and Xander took their places by her side. Leaning close, Ivy gestured to Quinn. “I’ve got him,” she whispered. “You watch the angel.”

Her sister kneeled by Quinn, speaking softly while preparing to heal his wounds. A little weight lifted from Jordan’s shoulders.

Xander placed a hand on her back, flooding Jordan with feelings of peace and security. “Don’t let her intimidate you,” he said. “Remember, you’re a
Paladin.
Illyria has no idea how powerful you are. Use that advantage. Don’t hold
anything
back. Understand?”

Jordan nodded, her eyes glued to the Aeon who faked a dramatic yawn.

Soft, glowing light from Ivy’s capable hands reflected off the machinery around them. She was healing Quinn’s wounds.

Illyria scowled, her hair rippling in a sudden breeze. She went from Casual Friday to Manic Monday in the span of a heartbeat.

“You there, Cambion! I didn’t give you permission to heal anyone.”

“You there, Douchebag! Fuck off.” 

Ivy’s tone was cool. She refused to give the angel her undivided attention.

The seraph took a step forward but Jordan blocked her way. Her sister’s brazen disregard for Illyria’s status instilled confidence where, a minute before, Jordan had none. Ivy had faith in her – trusted her to keep them safe. It was time Jordan believed that she
could
.  

Once again, Illyria moved to intercede. Jordan grabbed her by the arm. The angel didn’t appear too keen to address her directly. Was Illyria afraid or simply unconcerned?

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the Aeon said, “I’ll deal with you in a moment, Ms. Bailey. Your brother and I have unfinished business. You will wait your turn.”

“Your business with my brother is done.”

With a thought, Jordan tapped into her power. Instinct told her to hold back, knowing how easy it was to lose control. But Xander was right. Now wasn’t the time to give conscience a voice. 

Pushing her inhibitions aside, Jordan opened the floodgates that harnessed her power and released every drop. Bracing for impact, she rocked on her feet as intensity tantamount to a bolt of lightning brought her to her knees. Fire licked at her veins, burning, consuming, leaving something –
someone
– else in its place.

She screamed.

“Jordan!”

The concern in Quinn’s voice gave her the strength to raise her head. Through sweaty bangs, Jordan watched, helpless, as Illyria slipped around her, taking advantage of the fact that she was momentarily incapacitated. Though she struggled, Jordan couldn’t move an inch until the power balanced out.

Muscles straining, she cursed herself for not invoking the full extent of her power sooner. Then again, she hadn’t received an instruction manual. Knowing the side effects beforehand would have been convenient.

Illyria wiggled her finger and Ivy sailed across the room. Xander placed himself in front of Quinn and, for a second, Jordan thought she saw a hint of blue light in his eyes but then he was moving…
fast
.

Teleporting in and out of existence, Xander kept the angel on her toes. Using his combined powers and Cambion strength, he slammed a fist into the back of her neck and disappeared, only to return and catch her off-guard again.

The place between her shoulder blades began to itch and burn, but the upside was that Jordan could move again. Slowly, she got to her feet. Across the room, Ivy did the same. Her sister hobbled like a geriatric patient but appeared to be okay. 

Ten feet away, Xander and Illyria moved in a deadly dance. Illyria swung her sword like a metronome, keeping time. Beside them, Quinn, healed by Ivy’s hands, bobbed and weaved like a third wheel, searching for a way to cut in and take a turn with the angel. If he got within the reach of her blade…

“Quinn, don’t!”

Jordan’s outburst distracted Xander. It was the opportunity Illyria waited for. The second he looked away, she thrust her sword into his shoulder. In most circumstances, the wound wouldn’t be fatal, the blow too high to cause major damage. But circumstances were far from ordinary, and the weapon used could destroy in more ways than one.

Time slowed to a dribble. Ivy teleported to Xander and pulled him out of the way before Illyria could turn him into a pin cushion. Quinn’s eyes blazed. It was a look Jordan knew well.  

Her brother sought her out, his face full of love. Jordan saw his intentions, felt his goodbye, and called his name, knowing he wouldn’t listen.

Weaponless, armed with only the hope of buying her some time, Quinn stepped in front of Illyria. The Aeon snorted and made a “come hither” gesture with her hand.

“No!”

Jordan ran. Ivy screamed her name while Xander lay unmoving beside her. Jordan gulped, choking on guilt, knowing in her heart that Xander was dying.

Illyria swung her blade and Quinn twirled out of reach, barely avoiding being ripped in two. Jordan rushed to his side. With a flick of her wrist, the angel propelled her into a rusted contraption that had probably been new when dinosaurs walked the earth.

“Tell me where the book is and I’ll let you live,” Illyria bartered, her sword spinning fast enough to ruffle Quinn’s hair. 

“Why don’t you check your mama’s house?” he countered, and surprised her with a roundhouse kick.

He was going to get himself killed.

Jordan teleported and grabbed Illyria in a choke hold. She pulled, hoping to give her brother an escape. Off to the side, Ivy encouraged Quinn to
move his ass
.

Power oozed from her hands and the Aeon screamed in pain.

“Quinn, go. I’ve got this!”

But he couldn’t move. Her brother was rooted to the floor, transfixed by the scene playing out in front of him. Puffs of smoke rose from Illyria’s hair. The angel howled, struggling to break free. In a last ditch effort, she reversed momentum and pushed into Jordan instead of pulling away. Both of them lost their balance and went tumbling.

Illyria landed on top, knocking the breath out of Jordan. She tried to inhale but her lungs had no room to expand, even after the angel rolled off and staggered to her feet.

Jordan struggled to her knees. Dizzy from lack of oxygen, her heart pounded in her ears while black butterflies swooped in her vision. Illyria tumbled about the room like someone punch drunk, but became more sure-footed with every step.

Once again, she made a beeline for Quinn.

Ivy appeared in a pop of displaced air and grabbed the angel’s arm. From the look on her face, she was giving Illyria all she had. It wasn’t enough. A mid-level Cambion was no match for a seraph. Illyria tossed her aside like a forgotten toy.

Jordan called out to Quinn but still could not breathe, couldn’t get to her feet. All she managed was a choked wheeze that no one heard. 

Illyria drew closer to her brother.

The Aeon’s wounds were healing at a rapid rate. Jordan cursed herself for not using the full extent of her power.

My power
, she thought.
That’s it!

Jordan called upon it, willing it to heal her. Energy coursed through her body. Her shallow breaths became deeper. Oxygen filled her lungs. The dark butterflies faded from her sight. Renewed, Jordan jumped to her feet.

Too late.

Blinding light burst from Illyria’s palms, pinning Quinn against the wall. With a cry born of war and nourished by hate, she raised the sword and buried it in his chest.

I didn’t see that.

Jordan put up a mental wall, blocking her emotions. 

Quinn was fine. That gurgling noise wasn’t him taking his last breaths. Ivy’s anguished screams meant nothing. Her sister was too dramatic.

Quinn was fine.

Xander was fine.

They were both
fine
, dammit!

Anguish fought with rage. The nagging itch – that deep burn between her shoulders – intensified. Unwilling to see what she couldn’t face, Jordan blindly searched for the source of her turmoil.

Illyria reclined against the wall with a big grin on her face – a hunter posing with her kill. Jordan refused to look at the poor soul hanging next to her like a slab of meat. It wasn’t anyone she knew.

But the pain in her heart and her trembling hands said differently. Jordan shook her head. It didn’t matter. The angel started this. The demon would finish it.

Illyria patted her brother on the head.

Don’t look, it’s not him
.

“My negotiations with Quinn didn’t end well.” The angel rolled her head from side to side. Her neck cracked and popped. “Sad, really. He had potential. Still, I’m not above giving a replay.” She glanced at Ivy to make her point, and then pulled the sword from Quinn’s chest. It made a sick, sucking noise as it exited, and he fell to a heap on the dirty floor.

It’s not him
.

Wiping the blood from her blade with a crumpled piece of trash, Illyria continued. “I need that book, Jordan. You will call the remaining members of your inept family and have them come here. One way or another, I will take possession of
The Oraculum
. I assume things will go much more smoothly this time.”

Her cold, condescending smile reminded Jordan of a teacher she’d had in fourth grade. She wasn’t surprised when, years later, a member of the Circle had been sent to hunt her down in Massachusetts for practicing bad witchcraft. With the snap of her fingers, the student of Ms. Sunday’s scorn would fall ill to a three-day stomach virus. Those snaps were always accompanied by the same sick smile that never reached her eyes.

“You assumed wrong,” Jordan replied.

In a whoosh and rip of fabric, wings unfurled from her back. From the corner, she heard Ivy gasp and mumble something about how they had changed from the last time she saw them. Illyria’s eyes bulged and she prayed aloud to God.

“I think,” Jordan said, stretching her twelve-foot appendages, “it’s Michael you should petition for help. God probably doesn’t know you exist.”