Everlost (The Night Watchmen Series Book 3) Page 15

  No one can leave, and he knows this.

  “I guess we don’t have much of a choice then,” Jonathon says, walking over to the others in the Rebellion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry before. Fumes practically escape from his ears. He puts an arm around Katie, who’s staring at the grass, refusing to look in our direction.

  I see the pink scar, still fresh on her face, and I suddenly feel like the world’s biggest jerk.

  Evangeline smiles at Gavin, and then turns to face the woods. Her head tilts back, and a howl erupts past her lips, calling to them.

  One by one, they appear, though this time, in their human forms. They make their way toward the house, some with hesitation in their steps, others with smirks.

  But what stops everyone in their tracks is Sterling. He’s moving past us, hobbling down the steps two at a time. One of the women moves through the pack, running across the yard toward him.

  The dark wolf.

  “Ava?” Sterling says as they stop, inches away from each other.

  She runs her hand down his cheek, and it’s then that I realize who she is.

  His wife. The one bitten. The one he lost.

  WELDON TAKES OVER.

  He directs like a true commander, asking everyone to help move those who aren’t capable of walking by themselves into the house. Sofas are shoved out of the way as the library is turned into a makeshift hospital ward. Cassie’s given the task to prepare the rooms for all our new guests. After Jezi grants Evangeline’s pack entry to our home, she takes to the herb garden with Evangeline, gathering what little supplies we have for the many deep healing spells needed. Evangeline assures us that what we don’t have, we can find within the forest.

  I turn and find that devastation has decided to camp outside our house. The grass is tie-dyed in different shades of red. Deep maroons and bright crimsons puddle in different spots where bodies once lay, and I feel like my brain and my lungs have been packed with wool. Like a blizzard has taken up residence in my bones.

  I blink, hoping that maybe my eyes are just fuzzy. Maybe I was just asleep and had this awful dream, but when my eyes open and the sounds of sorrow crawl into my ears and settle deep in my heart, I know that this is real.

  Clara left her mark.

  I turn back to Jaxen. Hold his hand as I overhear Gavin making a deal with Mack and Jonathon to keep the wolves as far away from everyone else as possible until an understanding can be reached and agreed upon by all parties involved. For now, they’ll stay in the small house behind the manor, which he explains was built as a guesthouse.

  It seems for now, survival has overshadowed prejudice.

  “Faye.”

  I look up, trying to see past the daze.

  “Let’s get him inside,” Weldon says, lightly touching my shoulder.

  Inside. Right.

  My mind shifts gears, moving into autopilot, and then I help Weldon lift Jaxen into the air, using my volation to strengthen my grip. Footsteps and angry words have filled our once-quiet house. Cries of pain and sadness have replaced any hope for laughter, and my heart aches in my throat.

  We take the stairs as quickly and quietly as we can, and then head down the hall to my room. No words are spoken between us as we lay him down as if he were made of the finest porcelain. Weldon drags a shaky hand through his hair. Stares at Jaxen for a moment with eyebrows drawn together.

  “I’m going to help the others,” he says without looking at me. Fatigue has nestled in his words. I nod, and then he turns and leaves.

  I watch Jaxen, unmoving, and think that my knees could be made of toothpicks. My heart could be filled with shattered glass. I find my place next to him on the bed, nearly collapsing from the heavy load this day has brought. From the overwhelming need to find some way to undo all the wrong that has happened in the last couple of hours.

  Sterling. The members of the Rebellion. Jaxen. Katie…

  I want to ask life why? Why there can never be peace? Why there are people in this world who want to hurt other people? Why does pain have to hurt so unbelievably much?

  But I don’t, because there is no reason. No answer that would make me understand, because life just is.

  I’m aware of Katie and Jezi, and many others passing through, but I don’t register what they say to me. I just hold Jaxen’s hand, waiting for his mother to return and keep her promise. Waiting for a miracle to finally exist.

  The sun glares against my back midway through the window by the time Evangeline makes her way into the room. I don’t have to open my eyes to know it’s her. The energy surrounding her is powerful. Almost loud.

  She takes a seat on the other side of the bed and sets a small bowl filled with steaming liquid down on the nightstand.

  “What is that?” I ask, sitting up against the headboard. Feeling like air hoses have been plugged into my sides, filling and expanding my lungs with air.

  “It’s a special brew that will help his mind wake.” She slides her free hand under his head, ever so carefully, and lifts, bringing the bowl to his lips. Once his lips part, she slowly tips the bowl, allowing the brew to slip through his mouth and down his throat. Little by little, his Adam’s apple begins to bob as he drinks.

  When she’s confident he’s had enough, she rests his head back down on the pillow and looks up at me. Pain fills the small lines around her face. Sorrow has formed pools in her eyes. “Primevals have a special ability in them that keeps their minds intact when severe harm has been done to their bodies,” she says, her poised voice breaking the silence. “It releases like adrenaline, and it keeps others from entering their mind and tampering with things they shouldn’t be tampering with. I think this is what has happened to Jaxen and, if so, then I know he’ll be okay. This brew will expel the toxins in his bloodstream and allow him to wake.”

  I squeeze Jaxen’s hand, feeling like for the first time today, I can finally breathe. “Thank you,” I say, letting out a huge sigh.

  The corner of her mouth lifts. “I trust you’ll take good care of him?”

  “Of course.”

  “Faye, right?”

  I nod.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” She sets the bowl down on the table and offers a hand to me. I take it, and it’s the first time since all this commotion has begun that I’ve allowed myself to really be in the moment. This is Jaxen’s mom. The woman who gave him life. The woman who left him behind. And I’m sitting here, holding his stilled hand and her hand, really meeting her for the first time.

  I never imagined our first official greeting to be under these circumstances, though I can honestly say I’ve never really imaged it at all.

  I wish I had prepared myself for this moment. Prepared the right words that I could serve to her so I could feel confident that she approves of me, but life gets its entertainment in watching me trip over myself.

  She inhales and lets go, palms flat against her thighs. “I’m glad he found you, Faye,” she says, and I think she really means it.

  I think a flock of fluttering birds has taken up residence in my stomach. And that my mind has kidnapped my tongue.

  She stands. Grabs the bowl. “Anyway, please, let me know when he wakes. I must attend the rest of the injured.”

  She’s heading for the door, and I realize I haven’t said a word. Not a single thing, and my cheeks bloom roses. My ears heat up. I want to shed this skin until I’m someone else. Someone filled with words and a voice, and a reliable train of thought.

  My words trample over one another as they race to be first out of my mouth. “I can help out if you need me.”

  She stops and turns. Smiles a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Just like Jaxen. “There isn’t much left to do but wait. You girls did good with the protective barrier. It will hold for now. Everyone else just needs rest.”

  “Okay,” I say, partly sad, but mostly relieved.

  The door shuts behind her, and I turn back to him. Lean down and kiss his forehead. “Why did you hav
e to be so brave?” I ask, knowing he won’t answer. Knowing I don’t need an answer, because it would be the same as mine.

  Because Sterling needed him. Because we’re Hunters. Because we don’t leave a man behind, and because we don’t quit.

  We survive.

  I lay back and curl up to his side, tucking my face inside the hollow of his neck and shoulder, listening to the quiet sounds of his heart. He still smells like him… like warm, rich leather and earthy electricity, but his skin is so alarmingly cold. My insides riot against my forced strength, and the walls I’ve carefully stood upon finally crumble. The pain, sadness, and longing are too much for me to fight against.

  Tears carve rivers down my cheeks as I silently weep. I cry for Jaxen. For those injured below. I cry for the wolves turned against their will and shoved to the curb, for Sterling’s bravery and strength constantly being tested. For Mack and his mistakes. For Katie and her partner who was raised by hate. For the many more who will die because of this fight. Because of Clara.

  I just… I just cry.

  I’M NOT SURE AT WHAT point I stopped crying and finally fell asleep, but I did, and it’s then that I realize there’s no safe place for me to hide.

  Not even my own mind.

  Images flicker in and out. Horrors I never want to live again take over my non-present dreams. Clara’s cruel, crescent smile spreads like ink, staining the back of my eyelids indefinitely.

  We’re in a field of her perfume; a field made up of lavender and honeysuckle, and some sickeningly sweet red flower, only we’re upside down. Her gun is against my head, and I look down. There’s so much blood between us, covering us both, that it’s hard to tell where I stop and she begins, and I almost want to beg her to do it. To end it all so I can finally find peace in nothing. She laughs and I’m so sure I’m about to die, so sure that she’s won, that I startle myself awake.

  I feel like stones have settled into my chest, making it impossible to sit up. I’m coated in cold sweat, with my heart pounding inside my ears.

  “Faye?”

  My breath catches in my throat. My fears dissolve into ash.

  I roll to face him, feeling like my heart has been inflated with helium, and press my lips against his. Warmth… that’s what his kiss feels like. Like sunshine touching your face on a cold winter’s day. Words hold no weight with him. Love is easily spelled with the way his lips move so desperately against mine. With how his heart beats just as hard against his chest as mine. Walls built from stolen kisses and heartfelt words reform around us, cocooning us in our safe, imaginary bubble no evil could ever penetrate.

  I mutter his name against the softness of his lips, and his hand finds its way into my hair as he meets my kiss with just as much hunger. Just as much sweet longing. His other hand slides under my shirt, just against my waist, and pulls me closer against him, until I can feel the speed at which his heart is racing.

  When the kiss finally subsides, he runs his thumb over my cheek, tracing the line of tears all the way down to my lips.

  “Hey you,” he says, his voice cracking from sleep.

  “You’re okay,” I say, choking on relieved laughter. “You’re really okay.”

  His lips lift into a small grin as I trace his hairline, feeling like grenades of happiness have exploded inside my body. Knowing there’s no other way I could ever feel this good. This whole.

  The sheets rustle as he props up on one elbow, looking down at me. “What happened?” he asks, moving hair from the side of my face.

  Like a balloon deflating, the happiness slowly subsides. “You absorbed too much when you tried to bring an army of Elites down. Weldon found you and Sterling on the roof, and managed to get you here.” I pause, knowing this next bit of information will wipe the small grin from his face.

  I know it’s selfish of me to take my time… to keep the information about his mom hostage for a second more, but I want to enjoy the relatively calm look on his face. The look of victory. Of pride and relief. The look of love.

  “What is it?” he asks, the faint crinkles around his eyes deepening with curiosity.

  I bite my bottom lip. Look off to the side. With a deep inhale, I expunge the remaining bit of information. “And when you returned, you were near death. If it wasn’t for Evangeline—”

  “Evangeline?” he says, sitting straight up.

  I sit up with him. “Yes. She gave you something that helped your body repair. She was here when everything went down and offered her help in return for her and her pack to stay here… with us.”

  I feel each and every one of his muscles tightening past the point of comfort, almost as if they were my own.

  “What do you mean staying with us?”

  My face creases as I chew the inside of my cheek. “I mean, we made a deal with her. In return for their help and protection with the upcoming battle, we will protect them.”

  “Protect them from what?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, looking down at my hands. “We didn’t have a chance to get that far with the negotiation. It was blood and chaos. There were too many who needed tending to.”

  He looks off to the side, shaking his head slightly. His emotions could be a full, living breathing person in the bed between us. They’re coming off that strong. That potent. I run my hand over his shoulder until he looks at me, and then settle into his lap, leaning my forehead against his.

  “And Sterling?” he asks quietly, staring past me, out the window.

  He doesn’t want to talk about her anymore. I can understand, because I don’t like bringing up my parents. The pain is too much. Like sandpaper dragged across your heart again and again and again, leaving it raw and exposed for all to see. But he doesn’t realize that he’s just opened another can of worms for himself. The kind that can’t be caught. The kind that forms into deadly butterflies the moment their released, spreading pain and hurt wherever they go.

  “Did I get to him in time? Were you able to prevent him from turning?”

  I take in a breath. Hold it for a few seconds, and then release it. “He’s okay, but no. He’s turned.”

  My words slam like wrecking balls, one after the other, straight into his heart.

  “Goddamn it!”

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  He runs his hands angrily through his hair. “How the hell is he okay if he’s a freaking vampire, Faye? It goes against everything we know. He’s lost to us now.”

  My heart is a vessel that’s sinking.

  I open my eyes and stare into his, wishing I could erase the smudges of pain darkening the green of his eyes. “I don’t believe so. Your mother doesn’t seem to be. The rest of those in her pack don’t seem to be. Maybe there’s more to it than we know about. Maybe they might have information that the Priesthood withheld from us about what happens to Primevals who are turned.”

  He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “They become one of them, Faye. One of those we hunt. That’s what happens. End of story,” he says heatedly, waving his hands out like a referee giving a final call.

  I give him a second to breathe through his words and anger. To really think about what he’s saying, and then say, “Maybe not. It’s not like they’ve ever been given the chance to defend themselves. The minute it happens, they’re abandoned,” I rally back. “Pessimism takes over, and we abandon them.” I make sure to meet his gaze. To make him really hear me. “Sterling’s wife… the one who was bitten and turned into a werewolf… she’s in your mother’s pack. And now she’s just found out that her husband is a freshly turned vamp. Maybe this is something we should explore. Something we can build on… for their sake, because I refuse to believe anything less.”

  He looks at me, his glossy, green eyes churning with so much rage and confusion. I see so many words forming behind his lips, but their meanings don’t seem to connect with his gaze. Like he can’t agree with his own thoughts. Like war has waged within him, and it’s a battle he must fight on his own.

  He
huffs and looks away again. His shoulders slightly slouch. I wrap my arms around his waist, and settle against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart slowly dying off to a normal rate.

  “Everything is changing so quickly,” he finally says, his deep voice cutting through the denseness of his bones. “I haven’t even had the chance to catch my breath yet, let alone make sense of all this.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  He leans back against the headboard and wraps his arms around me. Pulls me closer against him.

  Silence makes her appearance as a million different thoughts tumble through my head. Too many to make any sense of. There’s nothing but the slow, steady sounds of his breath coming and going to fill the air around us.

  When his body fully relaxes, he kisses the top of my head. Runs his fingers up and down my arm. His voice is so quiet when he finally speaks that I barely hear it. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

  I blink. “Change does that to a person.”

  He sighs. Leans his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes.

  More quiet breathing.

  “You know, a year ago, I never pictured myself here, in this bed with you, with my mom somewhere downstairs.” He laughs, the sound empty and dead of emotion. “I just… I don’t know how to wrap my mind around it.”

  “You don’t have to,” I say, looking up at him. He looks down at me. “At least, not right away. Things like this, they take time to absorb. To understand.”

  He lets out another nervous, shaky laugh that ends with a small frown. A frown that threatens to tear my heart right from my chest.

  “All my life,” he says, “all my life, I’ve dreamed of seeing her again. I even looked for her… for a long time. I almost found her right before I met you.” His eyes swim in a pool of pain. “And now that’s she’s here, I don’t want her to be. I don’t want her to be because I hate her, Faye.” His eyes water as his lips thin and pale with repressed anger. “I hate her for what she did. For what we are and aren’t to her, and I don’t think I have it in me to ever truly forgive her.”