The Gramm Curse (The Night Watchmen Series) (12 page)

Sparks rain down around the auditorium, kicking up the cowardly screams from the crowd. Every one of us feels her tapping into our power, pulling it from us, but we shouldn’t cower from it. She’s just a girl.

Faye says something to Mack. I notice her yanking and pulling. She’s not trying to do this. She’s trying to stop. The room blackens, and then screams erupt. The light from the quartz is the only thing visible. The more she pulls from us, the brighter it grows, like a beacon calling to its prey.

I take one step and then another, intent on putting a stop to this madness.

“Clara!” Mack shouts, sharply this time. His eyes find mine across the stage, and he nods.

I don’t even hesitate. In a matter of a few steps, I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her. Fear pulses from her pores. She struggles against me, her hands still glued to the quartz, but I’m looking at Mack, waiting for his command. He’s tugging on the other end, trying to pry her hands from the quartz. Her whole body vibrates against me as her power pierces the air in a powerful, electric surge.

The quartz cracks in half. My eyes grow wide as the purest white light seeps from the center.

“Let her go, Jaxen!”
Jezi yells on the edges of my mind.

“She’s going to break the quartz. We have to pull her off,” Mack yells at me. I’ve never seen him so panicked, so afraid. I tighten my grip around her, bracing myself for the impact. Mack taps into his volation and lets it ripple down his arm to the quartz, trying to break through her magic.

The moment I feel his magic connect, I yank hard, pulling her backwards. The lights within the auditorium flicker back on. I can feel her power fading, going back inside her. My chest heaves up and down as pure adrenaline fuels every part of me. Mack looks wild when I glance back over at him. His hair is tossed around. Clara scans the crowd, wearing an uncomfortable smile.

“Get her off the stage!” Mack shouts at me. He covers the quartz and turns back to the podium, putting on a face. “There seems to be a malfunction with the crystal,” he says, the quiver in his voice painfully obvious. He covers the
mic and says to me, “Take her to my office. Wait there.”

I’ve been dropped into a stream of ice cold realization. I haul her over my shoulder without thinking twice. I’m bracing myself, waiting for her to fight against me, but she’s limp. She’s given up. They’ve sucked every ounce of fight from her, and for some reason, it makes me a little sad and even more angry.

Jezi makes a move to follow me.
“Don’t,”
I say a little more harshly than I intended to. She cowers back in line with the other Watchmen on duty and drops her gaze.

I don’t know why, but I feel an overwhelming need to protect Faye, to keep her from others who could hurt her. I take the stairs on the side of the stage two at a time, dead set on getting her away from the whispers and accusations flowing from the crowd of vultures.

“CAN YOU PLEASE PUT M
E
down now?”

It’s the voice of an angel. Faye. She’s speaking to me, and it takes me a moment to remember just who I’m carrying, just who I have ruined.

My heart hardens to the point of crippling discomfort. Her parents…the curse…
No.
I shut my emotions off and train myself to not let it get to me. I can’t treat her any different than I would treat any other novice who just darkened an entire auditorium. I have to do my job and get her to Mack’s office as quickly as possible, because the sooner I get her there, the sooner I can distance myself from the reminder that I am nothing more than a screw-up.

“That all depends on you,” I say as coolly as possible. “I’m not in the habit of aiding loose cannons, but if…”

I feel her head lift up. “Loose cannons…” she snaps.

She’s feisty, and it stirs something in me; something I have no business acknowledging. I tuck the thought away and cut her off as quickly as I can. “
If
you promise not to suck the energy from everything around you again, then I will. Can you do that?”

There’s a painfully long pause. I can’t tell if I’ve pissed her off or not. I don’t know why I even care. All I know is that she’s in a world of trouble, and it’s my job to get her to Mack’s office. If I can just get her there, then I can get to the bottom of what happened to her parents. I can help Gavin and Cassie and hopefully find them, so she doesn’t have to spend another moment suffering.

I’m so caught up in my own thoughts that I barely hear her when she says, “Yes.”

The lone word snaps me back to attention. I carefully set her down, not wanting to hurt her any further, and step back. But the moment our eyes connect, the world shifts and collides around me, jarring the very ethical ground I stand upon.

Her eyes are so blue, so deep, and full of pain. My hand twitches at my side. I want to touch her. I want to reach out and brush her hair behind her ear. I can’t keep my eyes from further exploring. For a small frame, she has the curves of a goddess. She’s legs and hips and breasts, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to root myself back in the present, back to my sanity.

My mouth goes impossibly dry when I realize just how much of an ass I am, just how depraved I am to be checking out the Middleton’s daughter; the same people who I am responsible for. I know she’s looking at me by the time I realize this. In her eyes, the attraction I feel is met full force. It stirs within the beauty of her irises, and it makes me feel sick that I couldn’t control myself. It makes me feel awful, knowing what I know and what I’ve done.

“You’re staring at me,” I say distantly, trying to make her feel awkward to erase the look of lust from her eyes.

She shakes her head for a moment, and I wait for her to apologize, to come to herself and shut down like I have…like Jezi always does, but she doesn’t shut down. She doesn’t shy away from me. What she says next pulls the rug right out from under me. “Did you, umm…know that stress heightens sexual attraction?”

I tilt my head to the side as she palms her forehead. A foreign lightness spreads through my chest as her words replay through my mind. This small girl who looks as if she couldn’t hurt a fly has just called me to the carpet; just like that. My lip twitches the way it always does before I smile, but instead of fighting it, I let it go, and it feels good.

“Is that your way of saying you’re attracted to me?” I ask, laughing in relief. I laugh from the lightness growing within my chest, cracking through the emotions I’ve fought so hard to restrain. For a moment, I lose myself with her. Everything… all the problems, all the guilt, it disappears within her confident gaze and uncomfortable squirm.

“I, uh… I don’t know why I said that,” she says, her soft voice lilting with embarrassment. “I kind of ramble when I’m nervous. And state odd facts, not that you make me nervous. I mean, this whole situation makes me nervous.” She breathes out and shrugs. “You know?”

I can’t keep from smiling. I don’t want to stop it. I nod with her, studying her over; every tick, every movement, every part of her beautiful body.

She blinks and looks down at the ground, hiding herself from me. “And now I look like a total idiot,” she says, biting her lip. There’s a note of dejection in her voice, like she’s suddenly nervous. I don’t like that I’m making her nervous.

My mind scrambles. “Really though, what should you feel nervous about?” I rush to say, noticing how she’s starting to pull away from me. I feel compelled to talk to her, to keep her talking to me, to comfort her. “If you think about it, you just watched a crowd full of highly trained Watchmen cower behind their seats because of a power outage.”

She looks up at me like she’s surprised I spoke, and I can’t help but smirk at her. A smile unfurls on her lips, and it feels like we’re in our own little bubble, like we’re in our own safe world. “I’m Jaxen. Jaxen Gramm,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Faye,” she says in a breathy tone.

“Faye,” I repeat, enjoying her name more than I should. It feels so right…so much like I imagine going home would feel like. I want to touch her. I want to pull her close and hold her until the pain of her parents’ disappearance washes away. I almost do, but then Russell and Mary’s faces flicker in the back of my mind. The safe bubble I have come to find myself in with her has burst against my will.

What am I doing? Get it together.

“Come on,” I say with as much reservation as I can muster. “Maddock wants you in his office.”

Disappointment flashes in her eyes, but I ignore it and point to the building. She’s the Middleton’s daughter. She’s going through this because of me…because of my curse. I have to stay away from her. I have to protect her from myself, but most importantly, I have to protect myself from her, because I know without a doubt that she will be my undoing.

Keep reading  for a sneak peek into

EVERLASTING (NIGHT WATCHMEN, #1)

The first book in the Night Watchmen Series

No one in my family
has ever been to college. There’s never been a need for it. When you’re born from a powerful bloodline that serves a higher calling, a calling that maintains protection over humankind, college becomes trivial. To my people, only the Defected go to college alongside the humans we protect. It’s a disgrace, a sign of weakness in the bloodline.

So when the metal clink of the mailbox sounds from across the lawn, I jump. I jump because what rests inside that box is my death sentence to shame. It’s the end of my life as a Primeval and the beginning of a life as a human. A life where my people will forever turn their backs on me. A life of unadulterated banishment.

All because I am the very first Defect in my bloodline.

I know my parents are watching me from the window. I feel their gazes like dripping ice trickling down my back, chilling my blood. They’ve dreaded this day just as much as I have. My mother’s the one who helped me fill out the applications to colleges last year. She wants to see me happy and successful, even if it has to be outside of the Coven. My father, on the other hand, never speaks of it. I think deep down it disappoints him, even though he never shows it.

I shut my eyes against the glaring, orbed sun and try to steady my breathing. It should be raining. Thunderstorms and winds should be ripping through the air the way they rip through my insides, but they’re not. Nature’s mocking me, perching the golden sun in the middle of the sky for all to see like a trophy. Birds sing and kids play in the street, laughing and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

But not me. My bare feet slap against the concrete, carrying me with dreaded steps toward a truth I’ve yet to come to terms with. I know the number of steps it takes to get me there. I’ve practiced this
walk a thousand times, each time training myself to do so with pride, the way my people are expected to walk, but all of my careful preparation leaves me the moment the mailman walks away.

Grab the letter. It’s just a piece of paper, Faye. It can’t hurt you
, I tell myself as my fingers hesitate over the mailbox. But I know better. It can hurt me; it’s about to hurt me in all the worst ways. I blink, and a million, stifling emotions turn my knees to jelly. A fist of deprecation forms around my throat, and I can’t breathe.

But my father’s watching me with the stern eyes of a Hunter. I can’t let him down. Not again.

With a deep breath, I harden myself, tucking the crushing pain down as far as it will go, and open the box, making sure to smile up at my parents. A swipe of the hand later, and I hold the letter, staring down at the word Columbia on the top left of the envelope. I already know my fate. I made it in. My exceedingly high grades and parents made sure of this, but I don’t feel any relief. All I feel is unyielding shame. Shame that I can’t find even the slightest bit of happiness in knowing I at least excel in something.

I find my footing and trudge back over to the blanket I’d set out on the lawn in front of my parents’ house. I lay down, still clutching the letter against my chest, and stare up at the afternoon sky. It’s a cloudless sort of day; the kind where the vibrant sun feels warm against the fall New York air. I stretch my fingers out from under my navy green jacket, framing what would be the perfect photo. There’s a surety I get when gazing at the sky, a sense of stability that everything is exactly as it should be. No matter what, night is night, and day is day. Clouds are clouds and rain is rain. When the sun sets, the moon will rise. Nothing can change that, not even the most powerful person in the world. The photos I keep pinned on the walls of my room remind me of that day after day. They remind me of exactly who I am.

I am Faye Hadley Middleton, and not a single person can say otherwise.

But when I look away from the sky and over to my best friend Katie, the truth comes crashing down around me. It’s because I’m Faye Middleton that there
is
a person in this world that can say otherwise. An Elder, to be exact. And that Elder is waiting to deliver my fate tomorrow.

I stare blindly as Katie’s fingers type text messages. She’s probably trying to enjoy her last bit of freedom before it’s all taken away, before she’s wiped off the grid and accepted into the Night Watchmen Academy like our parents and their parents have before us. Before she goes from being Katie to just another Watchman. Her phone beeps with another message, probably from a guy who unknowingly doesn’t stand a chance with her. We don’t marry outside of the Coven. It keeps our bloodlines pure.

My hands fall back to the ground as a tide of resentment creeps up the shore of my mind. Katie’s the Thelma to my Louise. You won’t find one of us without the other, and when you mess with one, you get both, but, just like in Thelma and Louise, there's a cliff we’re about to approach, and I’m not sure we’ll survive.

“You’re doing it again,” Katie says, never looking away from her phone.

“Doing what?”

“That squinchy face you make when you’re upset. You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” She pauses to look at me, raising one insightful brow.

I huff and roll back to stare at the sky. When am I not thinking about it? Tomorrow’s the day of the Culling, the day we’ll be given the quartz that will determine which side of the affinity bond we stand on inside the Primeval Coven; Hunter or Witch, fighter or magic caster. After that, we’ll be inducted into the Night Watchmen Academy for four years where we’ll learn to harness the magic on our side of the bond. We’ll each meet our partner who will be forever linked to us.

But there will be no partner for me. And knowing this has turned me into an empty shell filled with cobwebs of predetermined embarrassment.

She nudges me, loosening the truth stashed in my throat.

“How can I not think about it, Kat? I’m about to shame my parents and the Coven. You don’t know what that feels like. You’ll probably be told you’re a Witch and then be on your merry way to meet your hunky Hunter. But for me, I’ll be told I’m a Defect and then everyone will know. And they’ll laugh. This is proof.” I hold up the letter from Columbia, shutting my eyes to silence the haunting echoes of laughter dwelling on the edges of my mind.

Sadness fills her eyes because she knows I’m right. I’ve known from as far back as I can remember. My mom’s a Witch, and one of her many specialties is in clairvoyance. She saw my future the moment she first held me. She’s known forever that I’d never be a Watchman. The genes cruelly skipped me. No one except for my parents and Katie know. I’ll be neither Witch nor Hunter, while Katie travels down a path I can’t follow. A path that will most likely be the death of our friendship, because, like everyone else in our Coven, she’ll be expected to turn her back on me.

“I’ll never turn my back on you. Ever. You can’t think like that,” she says, picking up on my inner thoughts. It’s a sign of being blessed by the Goddess and walking a Witch’s path. She’s been psychically sensitive for over a year now. Signs always begin a year before the Culling; a year before we graduate human high school.

Because our powers don’t progress until after we turn eighteen, we’re expected to follow human traditions and go to school with them. It’s a means to teach us how to blend in with them, to accustom ourselves to their world. We’re simply here to protect them, but they can never know this. Once a year, a Culling ceremony occurs to bring the of-age novices in. Touching the Culling quartz awakens the remaining bits of power and solidifies a place within the Coven.

Even though I hold faith that maybe my mother’s vision was wrong, that maybe the Culling will prove her wrong, I’ve yet to show any signs.

“Don’t ignore me,” she says, putting her phone down.

“You sound like my mom,” I say, trying not to sound upset and failing. “I’m going to be stuck in college, trying to make a normal life for myself amongst humans, all while dreaming about what you’ll be doing at the Academy while learning your craft. It just sucks.” I blow out a deep breath that does nothing to ease the tightness building in my chest. I know I’m being selfish by speaking about it, because I know it hurts her just as much as it hurts me, but I can’t stop myself.

“I know,” she says quietly, drawing circles with her finger on the blanket.

I roll back to face her, tucking my hands under the side of my face. “I really am happy for you though. No matter what, okay? I don’t want you to worry about me when you go away. I won’t hold it against you.”

A tear forms in the corner of her eye, thickening the lump in my throat. She looks away from me. Just like me, she doesn’t cry. Crying isn’t what our kind does.

She clears her throat. “Why don’t we just think about it as if we’re going off to separate colleges? We’ll find a way to talk to each other, even if it can’t be all the time.” It sounds nice, but we both know better. The affinity partner usually becomes your world. There’s no way around it. Once you bond after the Culling and are given your shared mark that links your powers, there’s no escaping the connection.

“Okay,” I agree for the sake of being a good friend. I wonder what her partner will look like, how he’ll act, if they’ll fall in love the way most affinity partners do.

She rolls back to face me, a glint of mischief forming a smile on her face. She’s picked up on my thoughts again. “And while you’re away at your college, you’re going to find yourself a boyfriend, a human boyfriend who doesn’t come with all the baggage like the affinity bond creates. At least this way, you can choose who you’re with, rather than it already being fated for you.”

The thing about the affinity bond is every partner is predetermined by the power within the Culling quartz, the power imbibed by the Divine. You just don’t meet them and receive your mark until the Culling. Katie and I always compare it to the way marriages were predetermined in the medieval times. There’s never a choice of who you’ll be bound to for the rest of your life, and our kind lives well past the human age, so the rest of our lives is a long time.

I roll my eyes, laughing despite the fact that I’m not in the mood to laugh. She’s always been able to make a bad day look good. “The opposite sex doesn’t get me,” I say, smiling at her. She’s seen one too many failed attempts throughout our years in grade school. The closest I’ve ever been to an actual relationship was my junior year, and it ended just as quickly as it had started because the guy wanted more than I was willing to give.

“Or maybe it’s the reverse,” she says with one perfectly groomed auburn eyebrow arched.

“Maybe,” I say. “I just haven’t met the right guy yet.”

“You will,” she says surely. “And when you do, wife him up and make a life for yourself, a happy one.” She rolls back to face the sky, and I follow after, trying not to dwell on what’s to come. It won’t change it. Nothing can.

I don’t know how long we lay here watching the sparse clouds pass by, but it feels longer than a lifetime and shorter than a second all in the same. The crisp air whips around us, chilling me to the bones. When her phone beeps again, I know it’s her parents. The sun is quickly setting. The Culling is just around the corner.

“Faye,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to miss you.”

I bite my bottom lip. A fist clenches and jams inside my throat.
Don’t break,
I command myself. “Me too,” I rush out, blinking back tears. I hear her shuffling and know she has to go. Her parents are waiting for her down the street with dinner spread out in ritualistic fashion. It’s tradition to have a feast the night before the Culling.

Without a goodbye, her feet crunch along the grass, carrying her away from me. She doesn’t believe in goodbyes, and neither do I. Every step feels like another rip in my heart, another tear that will never mend. I’m sure this will be the last time I ever see her. She will be with her parents tomorrow and separated from the other novices until after the Culling is over. If I’m in fact a Defect, I won’t be there to congratulate her, to celebrate with her.

Against my better judgment, I jump up and run after her, meeting her halfway down the street.

She hears me coming and spins around with her arms open, ready for me. I hug her as if my life depends on it, uncaring of the heated wetness that trails down my cheeks. When I let go, I look at her one last time, remembering her features; the bronze of her skin, the clearness of her amber eyes, the way her hair always falls in perfect waves all the way down her back. She’s the sister I never had and the friend I’ll never forget.