The Betrayer (Crossing Realms Series Book 3)

by Rebecca E. Neely

  Some wounds never healed. Didn’t she know that better than anyone?

  “It makes sense. And you weren’t a ‘mongrel.’ You were ‘half,’” Curtis corrected. “Now you’re one of us.”

  “The hell she is,” Dev shot out.

  “Careful,” Curtis growled.

  “It’s okay,” Jordan assured Curtis, her voice stiff. Expelling a deep breath, she faced the group-slash-firing squad. She couldn’t permit herself to believe Curtis would remain on her side indefinitely.

  Dev’s glittering gaze could’ve sliced her open as she verified, “And you’re right. We were enemies. I tried to defend myself, same as you. But I was weak from re-purposing the Similitude.”

  “You’ve drained Keepers, been the cause of crime, misery, death,” Curtis’ father accused. “You embody the reason we need to guard humans.” His voice hitched. “Now we’re supposed to forget all that?”

  “Dammit, Dad! And Dev, what the hell’s the matter with you?” Curtis shouted. “In spite of everything I’ve told you, this is what you have to say? What about the Compulsions?”

  Sean clutched his hair like he might tear it out. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been manipulated. Have you forgotten what happened to Dev?” He shook his head as if deeply disappointed. “She sure did a number on you, didn’t she?”

  Curtis exploded. “Enough!”

  Their shouts knocking around inside her skull, Jordan implored, “Curtis, I don’t blame them. If the situation was reversed, what would you think?” Perhaps Sean was right. Had Curtis been blinded by his belief she was his mate? Guilt and shame, both willing, familiar companions, oozed into the empty spaces inside her.

  “They’re right,” she said, half to herself. Stark remorse stabbed her for the countless times she’d inflicted punishment on humans, all for the sake of scavenging dark energy. Everything she’d done was for survival in a brood where she’d never been wanted, save by her father and Magpie, and for a sweet, precious time, her mother.

  Unable to stand still, she paced, her voice tightening as she addressed the clan. “I’ve killed to survive. Instigated violence.” Though the room was air conditioned, sweat greased her brow. “Do you want me to own up to my crimes?”

  Anger dug in with vicious claws, goading her. Now Curtis, all of them, would see her for the black soul she was. “I once separated a mother from her children. Pushed a recovering alcoholic to start drinking again. Encouraged a man robbing a convenience store to shoot and kill the clerk.”

  No one spoke. She read the anguish on their faces. Sick satisfaction filled her, even as it wasted her and tears threatened. “I did those things, and worse, to create dark energy. To survive. If I hadn’t, I would’ve died, either by starving, or I would’ve been killed by a brood master who saw me as a weak link in his almighty chain.”

  Her voice thickened, the memories of those humans and their pain, of her own, crashing into her. “I had no other way. I had nothing else. Believe what you want, but not all of us have a taste for it. There are others like me,” she finished hoarsely.

  Curtis moved to her side, stole an arm around her and kneaded the tension from her muscles. Push him away. But she was powerless to obey, not with his warmth invading her senses. Digging her nails into her palms, Jordan wanted to weep, to scream. To break down, leap into his arms, embrace what he was offering. The need and the desire to belong, to be loved and accepted was acute, a brutal pang of yearning.

  “You’re a Keeper, Jordan,” he murmured, close to her ear. “Right here, right now.”

  Desperately, she wanted to believe it. At the same time, she longed for the floor to swallow her whole.

  A hand patted her arm. Charlotte tilted her chin, and Jordan met her eyes.

  “You helped my son save a child today. And her mother. Yes or no?”

  “I—”

  “You helped save them,” she repeated firmly. “Yes or no?”

  Thoughts ricocheted in Jordan’s mind. From the way the others deferred to Charlotte, she’d already gathered his mother was a driving force in this family. Giving the outsider the benefit of the doubt was risky.

  Though her suspicious mind searched for the angles, she found none. Swallowing, she managed, “Yes.”

  Charlotte nodded in approval. “You’re a Keeper.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Jordan said miserably. “I don’t know what to do.” The urge to rest her head on this woman’s shoulder, to seek comfort nearly cut her off at the knees.

  Charlotte thumbed away a tear Jordan didn’t know had fallen. “Yes, you do. Take a breath.”

  In Charlotte’s eyes, Jordan saw uncomplicated acceptance, understanding, and maybe even forgiveness. She had no right to any of it, yet she would cling to it unconditionally.

  “You have an ability, as I understand it,” Charlotte prompted.

  “I do.” Jordan’s throat closed like a prison door bolting shut, her training and countless admonitions to hide her secret demanding she keep silent. But thoughts of the human girl, safe in her arms, crumbled her resolve.

  Because of my ability.

  Curtis smiled, silently urging her to continue.

  “An ability to hear things from great distances,” she finally admitted, speaking directly to Curtis, and it was like the shackles fell away. “I’m not completely sure how it works. As a child, I would repeat things my father had said, things I never should’ve been able to know. Between him and my mother, they figured it out. They knew they had to keep it secret. My father was . . . half,” she said, remembering Curtis’ insistence she not use the word ‘mongrel.’ The joy she embraced in that baby step amazed her. “He was already considered ‘less than.’ He was afraid if Abel found out, he’d use me as a weapon. They feared for my life, so they made me promise never to tell anyone.”

  From a nearby room, a clock chimed the hour. Midnight. Meda scratched Tan’s ears and rose from her spot on a braided throw rug. The tall, dark haired beauty regarded Jordan astutely. “For whatever it’s worth, I consider my dog a pretty good judge of character. I too, have an ability. When I touch humans, I know things about them. I know what it’s like to be different, to be afraid. It isolates you.”

  Libby joined them. “I’m with Meda,” she said resolutely. “I’ve some experience in that area myself.” She tilted her head, as if trying to gauge Jordan’s reaction. “Curtis suggested we work together to try pooling our abilities. I’m willing to explore it if you are.”

  Unsure how she felt about working with two ‘gifted’ women, when she didn’t have a handle on her own, Jordan faltered. “I . . . thank you.” The logic was undeniable, but she frowned, flummoxed by this show of support to a total stranger. She was also warmed by the unexpected offer of what might be friendship—to her, who’d been their enemy not long ago. It validated her in a way the clan could never understand.

  I am a being.

  Not a tool. Not a weapon.

  Not a Betrayer.

  Would she permit herself to believe she could be part of their unit indefinitely, or even short term?

  “You were telling us about your ability,” Libby prompted.

  Jordan took a deep breath. If what I tell them can prevent even one more death, it’s worth it. “Since I’d never been able to openly use my ability, much less talk about it, I’d never developed or had control of it. I didn’t know anyone who had the same ability. Before Curtis began lending me the Vitality energy, I never knew when my uber hearing would kick in. I feared it. Hated it. Sometimes, what I heard was physically painful.”

  “Like when we shout.” Curtis glared at the others. “It’s like a freight train inside her head.”

  Silently thanking him, Jordan continued. “I think the Vitality is helping me to control and filter what I hear. I’ve had spells of
silence in my mind. Peace. Sounds still crash in, but it’s not like the raging storm it used to be. When Abel forced me to re-purpose the Similitude, it wreaked havoc with my ability. The dark energy ramped up the sounds. The noise.” She pressed her palms to her ears for a moment. “I felt like there was an explosion happening.” She gestured at Curtis, agreeing with his earlier estimation. “A freight train.”

  “That’s what was happening when you were at the motel.” Meda’s brow creased in sympathy. “We thought you were sick.”

  “I was. It was killing me slowly.” The certainty of that sliced her. “I can’t prove it, but I know it’s what killed my father.”

  “And that was Abel’s intention,” Curtis added. “For both of you.”

  Sean scoured his face with his hands. “One of his own?” he asked, his disbelief apparent.

  Nick rose from his perch on the arm of the couch, nodding in grim understanding. “I know I speak for my father, for all of us, when I say family is everything. Jordan, I think we’re all deeply sorry for what you’ve been through. We too, have suffered. I know the Compulsions never lie. I also know they have at times, been manipulated.” He extended a hand toward Dev. “Curtis was sent to help you, and I believe your ability can help us. The bottom line is, can we trust each other?”

  Jordan considered. “I was raised to believe trust is earned. Not given.”

  “On that we agree.”

  She ordered herself to focus on the loss of life, both brood and clan, and to celebrate the fact she’d been able to help Curtis rescue the human girl and her mother. “I’m sure you also agree the killing has to stop,” she said vehemently. “If there’s something I know, or I can do to help, then I will.”

  Maybe if I help them, they’ll help me find Magpie.

  Instantly ashamed of herself for calculating what might be in it for her, guilt bombarded her.

  Nick nodded, his ice blue eyes warming. “Then I consider it a start. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already begun earning our trust by helping to save that girl.”

  Sneering, Dev sidled closer to Jordan. “I for one am far from convinced. You’ve lived as a Betrayer your entire life.”

  Cornered, Jordan came out swinging. “My knowledge of dark energy could give the clan the edge.” She scowled back at him. “You’re right. I think like a Betrayer. Behave as one. I haven’t even had twenty-four hours to adjust.”

  “How do we know you have this ability?” Dev persisted. “Because Curtis says so? Because you do?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Prove it.”

  Fury and fear wrenched their way through her. Seething, she gripped Curtis’ arm. “You want me to prove it?”

  “Jordan, you don’t have to prove anything,” he told her.

  “No.” She let go of him. “If I was any of you, I wouldn’t trust me either.” Purposefully, her gaze rested on Meda.

  The rhythm resonated in her mind. Rapid. Familiar. One she’d heard many times over the years.

  The words formed on Jordan’s lips, weapons brandished in defense of Dev’s attack. Widening her stance, she locked eyes with him, aimed, and fired.

  “Your mate is pregnant,” she blurted, heedless of who did or didn’t know—including Meda. Unconcerned with any consequences beyond trouncing Dev, in that moment, she didn’t give a damn who she hurt, or that she ground the clan’s offer of friendship beneath her heel. “I can hear the baby’s heartbeat.”

  Silence crushed the atmosphere. Dev gaped. “No, no.” He paled. “Libby’s the pregnant one. Meda, she can’t . . . Meda?” He stared at his mate.

  Meda wiped away tears. “Dev. I thought, I wasn’t sure, I wanted to wait . . .”

  Dev yanked her into his arms and kissed her lavishly. “Bless the gods.”

  The entire clan encircled her, crying, hugging, and laughing, including Curtis.

  Squelching her emotions, Jordan remained where she was, mortified and alone. Would they hold what she’d done and said against her, even though she’d been defending herself?

  Minutes passed. Slowly, the clan dispersed. Curtis strode toward her, his face sober in spite of his apparent happiness moments ago. Jordan hadn’t a clue what he was thinking or feeling.

  Though obviously delighted with the news, Dev continued to eye her with suspicion.

  Nick cleared his throat. “Well,” he said awkwardly. “Back to business. Jordan, do you, or does anyone in the brood know how to restore Similitude to Vitality?”

  “No.” She returned Dev’s narrow-eyed stare. “If I did, I’d tell you. No one knows, to my knowledge.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” Nick gestured in Meda’s direction. “It would seem, as you say, the Vitality is helping you gain control of your ability,” he said dryly. “Maybe even to the point where you can tap into it when you choose.” He paused. “As an early warning system, perhaps. Like listening in on the brood’s plans,” he finished, his statement sounding more like a proposal.

  Jordan comprehended it for what it was, a turning point for the clan and herself. “I’ll do it. In fact, I insist,” she stressed quickly, before she lost her nerve.

  Curtis turned to her, his eyes filling with a raw tenderness that destroyed her. “Only if it doesn’t hurt you,” he said firmly.

  “It won’t,” she said, grateful for his kindness despite her unceremonious revelation about Meda. Clearly, he’d forgiven her before she’d forgiven herself. No way did she deserve him.

  She gulped. “I already have listened in on them. “Curtis, you asked me before what was going on in the tunnels beneath the warehouse.”

  The words lodged in her throat as if the brood master could overhear her. But her need to both unburden and redeem herself trumped what would be considered an outright betrayal.

  “Abel plans to cross to the Watchers’ realm.” She released a gust of breath, and the hold the secret lorded over her. “Through a portal of his own making.”

  Chapter 17

  He’d had to wait. Now, at almost one in the morning, Abel knew his chances for discovery were greatly minimized. Many of the brood prowled the streets, scavenging and inciting violence. Not only were they reaping the benefits of the dark energy bombs, they were furthering the brood’s cause.

  He’d had to see with his own eyes, and to bury his pathetic hope.

  Abel knelt next to his desk, the trap door raised, and stared into the depths.

  At Magpie.

  His Goth gypsy.

  The praises she would have showered on him echoed in his mind.

  It’s amazing! I always knew you’d find a way to do it. When will it be ready? I’ve told you all along how smart you are. I’m so proud of you. You’ve liberated Betrayers everywhere.

  Purple welts ringed her neck, damning him. His stomach pitched. What had he done?

  He’d distinctly heard the rustling of her skirts.

  Hadn’t he?

  She remained still, lifeless, as he’d left her.

  His breath clogged in his lungs, burning the back of his throat.

  He was a boy again. In his mind, he cowered under his father’s raised fists, shielding his body against the blows.

  Future brood masters don’t cry.

  How many hours had he spent in that closet? Broken. Alone. How many times had Magpie come to him?

  Don’t worry, Abel. I’m here. I’ll stay with you. Hold my hand. I’ll lend you some of my energy.

  The single candle he’d lit flickered, casting shadows in the cramped space. The silver hoop in her lip and the piercing in her eyebrow winked in the low light of the flame. One of her thighs lay exposed, revealing the tattoo of his name, inked across her skin–a testament to her loyalty.

  Or a mockery of it.

  Rage spread in him like a wildfire,
constricting his chest, and for once, his body didn’t shiver with cold. “Kemp,” he ground out. “He’ll never lay a hand on you. Ever again.” He thumped the side of his head with his fist. “Why did you lie to me? Why? You understood. Me. In spite of . . .”

  My weakness.

  Emotions were messy. Discipline provided order. Power.

  Growling low in his throat, he dropped the trap door into place and repositioned the desk. He snuffed out the candle and watched the thread of smoke whisper into the darkness.

  Whipping aside the thick sheet of plastic covering the tunnel’s entrance, he descended into its depths. Always, he’d been vigilant, even paranoid, about not impregnating Magpie or any other brood woman. Reproducing was unthinkable.

  Perhaps, he now had a child of his own creation. He basked in the pulses of dark light. Like an indulgent parent, he smiled. Here, he’d nurtured, labored, suffered. First, the embryo. Now the toddler. And soon, the adult.

  “Just a little while longer,” he whispered.

  Around the clock, the brood foraged for energy. Soon, they would once again feed his portal.

  Unbridled pride rippled through him. Energy swirled, counterclockwise, stronger with each revolution. A storm in the making.

  His.

  Chapter 18

  “His own portal?” Curtis repeated gruffly.

  In the tunnels.

  His gut wrenched. Those tunnels had driven him to investigate further after the attack in the warehouse. Because of it, he’d discovered Jordan was still alive. Like bolts of thunder, thoughts exploded in his brain.

  Finally, he had an answer to the question he’d badgered Jordan with since they’d taken shelter in the reno. So much for his ‘research’ only three short days ago.