“Or a portal to open,” Nick concluded.
“My gods.” His father paled. “The stones the Betrayers stole during the first Rebellion. It’s how Abel got started stockpiling dark energy. How he even conceived of the portal. According to our Scrolls, both the number and location of the stolen stones is unknown. I’m betting the other brood masters were privy to the location of at least a few. They brought them here to the ‘Burgh.”
Jordan tapped her foot, clearly restless. “I don’t have proof. But I don’t doubt it.”
Nick downed what remained of his coffee. “That brings us full circle. Haenus and Abel both failed at crossing realms through the portal in our network.” He lifted a hand. “Why wait for another opportunity to get inside the network when they could create their own portal? Plus, we’re expecting them to try it. We’re prepared.”
Curtis’ head spun. He dealt in facts, information. How could the clan be at such a loss? “How is it possible we, as Keepers, haven’t been aware of the brood’s efforts to create a portal?”
“No one thought the creation of Similitude was possible. It had your full attention,” Jordan said. “So did the dark energy bombs against humans.” She lifted a shoulder, as if in apology. “Stealth is in a Betrayer’s blood and the brood is in its element beneath the earth.”
Her explanation made sense, but alarm bells jangled in Curtis’ mind. What else didn’t they know? Refocusing his thoughts on Jordan, what they planned to do, he tucked one of her dreadlocks behind her ear and considered. “What about the numbers?” he asked.
His mother slanted a look at both Jordan and him. “What numbers?”
Hesitating, Jordan spoke. “They’re something my father shared with me. Curtis wondered if they might help us somehow.” She proceeded to explain in detail.
Nick listened intently. “We have to research it. I’m willing to try anything.”
Jordan gnawed on her bottom lip. “We have a lot to think about. Re-purposing the Vitality. Getting to the fallout shelter. Magpie and Kemp. What about the connection among us?” She gestured to Libby and Meda. “When do we explore it? How?”
Nick stood, placing a bracing hand on Libby’s arm. “We have to prioritize. Finding out whatever we can about the portal has to take precedence for now. All Keepers should continue to research and test ways of reversing Similitude. When we return, the three of you can begin working together. In the meantime, Meda and Libby can brainstorm.”
“When we return,” Curtis repeated, on alert. “When are we leaving?”
“As soon as we can all get a handle on re-purposing the Vitality.” Nick included everyone at the table with a resolute nod. “I’d say we have no more than twelve hours to do it.”
Resigned, Curtis silently gave his agreement. But he voiced his reservations. “Has anyone considered it might not be the smartest move to go through the warehouse? It’d be like returning to the scene of the crime. Hell, the brood might have it barricaded for all we know.”
Jordan piped up. “We’re not going through the warehouse. There’s another entrance, through a manhole cover in the Strip District.”
“How are we going to see down there?” Dev asked, lowering himself to the edge of his chair. “Using flashlights or headlamps would be like announcing ourselves to Betrayers or anyone else.”
“There are torches on the walls every hundred feet or so,” Jordan explained. “There’s also a few industrial lights. The brood managed to tap into the humans’ electrical supply. Unfortunately, there are sections which are completely dark. But I know the tunnels well. I can navigate for us.”
A plan was taking shape. Thoughts and possibilities churned in Curtis’ mind. He voiced his greatest fear. “What if the brood finds you, Jordan? Captures you? Like they tried to on the street, when my clan saved us? If Abel finds out you’re alive . . .”
Curtis reached for the Vitality stone, and from his pocket withdrew the Flint no Keeper should be without. “It’s time to give you this.” Leaning close to her, he inhaled her scent and reveled in the nearness of her.
He swept her hair aside, exposing the long column of her neck, and an intricate tattoo gracing the back of it. His heartbeat quickened. He’d only glimpsed it once before, at the reno, but he planned to have intimate knowledge of it. Soon. With sure fingers, he secured the leather strap around her neck and prayed he could protect her.
“Not so fast,” Dev said coolly. He shot from his chair and reached Jordan in two strides. Without taking his eyes from hers, he slapped a stone into her hand and clamped her fingers around it.
“What are you doing?” Curtis jolted from his chair, sending it crashing into the wall. He pried her fingers open and stared at what Dev had thrust on her. “Similitude,” he ground out. “The stone she wore when we first found her at the warehouse.”
Jordan paled. “Haenus’ stone.”
“What if her transformation isn’t permanent? What if this is all some kind of an elaborate ruse?” Dev barked. “If she’s a Keeper, like you say, it won’t hurt her. Or us.” He glowered. “Only a Betrayer can invoke its dark energy.”
Towering over Jordan, he pounded his fist on the table with enough force to rattle the dishes. “I’ve heard a lot of talk today about chances. Choices. Risks. Call me a bastard if you want. I’ve died for this realm and returned. And before I’ll do it again, I want to be damned sure I know who I’m fighting with.”
Chapter 21
Behind the clan’s Victorian, Jordan lounged on a wooden bench. The sun hadn’t yet dipped into the horizon. Roses, lilacs, and greenery surrounded her in a riot of color and scent. These minutes were the first she’d had to herself today. Though strangely touched the clan trusted her enough to give her some down time, alone, she was certain there was at least one pair of eyes on her.
Tapping a finger to the frosted glass of lemonade she held, she watched a bead of condensation skim along its side and marveled at the entire universe reflected in it.
And tried not to think about the dwindling hours until she and the clan left for the tunnels.
The notes of the violin reached her through an open window. Slow and mournful, they mesmerized. One song ended. Another began. Compelled by the music and the player, she stood and moved toward the house.
Opening the French doors quietly, she slipped inside the great room, not wanting to disturb him.
Curtis never stopped playing but he followed her every movement.
Almost as if he’d been waiting for her.
Indeed, this was the first time she’d gone to him. Hadn’t her longings driven her here to his side? What an outrageously sexy picture he made, standing in front of the fireplace, bathed in the last light of the day. Muscular limbs. Lean lines. His jeans, frayed at the cuffs. His feet bare on the polished wood. His fingers commanding the bow as if it were an extension of himself, the movements honed from countless hours of playing. She surmised the instrument appealed to his methodical nature as well as his complex mind. It was one more facet of him she had the privilege of knowing. He was part of the music, the music part of him.
As he was part of her.
She waited until he’d finished. “You play beautifully.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He set the bow and violin on a nearby chair. “You should try to get some sleep. We’ll be leaving soon.”
He was right.
And any of us could be killed on this mission.
Banishing her dark thoughts, she touched the Vitality stone at the base of her throat, marveling it was hers, that Curtis had given it to her. Itchy needs tingled inside her. Focus on the business at hand. “You’re a good teacher. But I still don’t have the hang of the Vitality. It’s not like I’m a stranger to finessing and channeling energy.” She sighed. “How can something that sustained me, healed me, be this diffi
cult to control?”
“Because it’s that powerful.”
“You, Dev, Nick, and Saxon were all faster at learning how to re-purpose the Vitality.”
“This is a whole new ball game for you. We have to believe the Vitality is stronger and at the end of the day, we can win.”
Stepping forward, he clasped her hands in his. “I assume you know how to drive a stick shift.”
“Sure do.”
“Do you remember that feeling when it all came together? Once you get it, you never forget it. Let’s try something. Focus.”
His warmth flowed through her and she breathed him in as she closed her eyes. “Focusing.”
The stone pulsed and glowed, and she allowed its energy to flow through her for several moments.
“Open your eyes,” Curtis said softly.
He extended a hand to the fireplace. Tiny flames curled around the logs in the grate.
“We did that,” she breathed, amazed.
“We did that.”
“I couldn’t handle the Vitality if I was still even remotely Betrayer. It’s almost like I’m still convincing myself.”
“I’m sorry about what Dev did and said.”
“You’ve already apologized for Dev. You know, in a weird way, I’m glad about what he did. It proved I’m a Keeper to everyone, including me.”
“He should’ve taken my word.”
“I’m used to people not accepting me. In a way, his reaction to me is more understandable than everyone else’s. He’s a tough one.” She fiddled with her dreadlocks. “He’s not going to give me an inch, is he?”
“No. But once he’s on your side, and he will be eventually, there’s no one you’d rather have there. Jordan, I don’t want you to doubt yourself.”
She gave a short bark of laughter. She worked in doubt the way some artists did oils. “Yeah. I’m still trying not to.” But she offered him a smile, deeply touched. Thoughts of the time she’d spent with Curtis, however brief, filled her mind. She wanted this man—who’d brought such an unexpected brightness into her life, who’d enabled her to accept more things on faith than she ever had before—to know her.
Even though she still couldn’t bring herself to use the word ‘mate.’
She cleared her throat, squelched her nerves, and willed him to understand. Licking her lips, she held out one of her dreadlocks. “These. They started as more of a rebellion, when I was sixteen. I’ve kept them ever since.”
He nodded slowly. “They suit you.”
“This.” Scraping them to the side, she exposed the base of her neck, revealing the black ink tattoo. An ornate floral pattern dipped between her shoulder blades. “Another rebellion.” She grinned. “Guess I needed the dreadlocks to hide it from my father.”
Grinning back, he pored over the design, seeming to memorize its every detail. “It’s beautiful. So unique. Like you.”
She held up her left wrist. “‘Cuimhnigh i gconai.’ It means ‘Always remember’ in Irish. I read it in one of my father’s books after my mother died. After I lost him, I remembered it. It honors both of them.”
Curtis traced a finger over the words. “Thank you for telling me that.”
Self-conscious, her face heated, but she forged ahead. “I know a lot about cars. Trucks. Just about every kind of vehicle. A lot more than how to steal them.” She sighed, thinking back. “You said before about driving a stick. My father taught me. Only days after I learned to finesse the clutch, the gas, and the brake without stalling, we boosted this beat-up Subaru. That’s when I started to scavenge for dark energy, for the brood.” She said in a thin voice, “I was good at it. Good at my missions.”
His mouth curved. “And you’ll be just as good a Keeper.”
She longed to believe that. “I hope.”
“You said you knew more about cars than just stealing them?” he prompted.
“Yeah. I know how to fix them, even restore them.” She took a deep breath. “I want to build a rat rod someday,” she said, sharing her private dream.
Curtis cocked his head. “What’s that?”
“It’s a tripped-out version of a Forties or Fifties style of hot rod, mostly. Built from a hodgepodge of junk car parts. You’ve probably seen them before but didn’t realize that’s what they were called. Kind of like steampunk on wheels. I have ideas.”
“I’d love to see what you could come up with.”
She’d ventured this far. “I like crosswords,” she continued. “Dogs. And cats. And pizza.”
“Loaded?”
“Of course.” Because he was allowing her, even enabling her, to do this, she fell for him even further. “Abel kept his father’s Victrola. He plays old jazz records on it. I hate jazz,” she said vehemently.
Curtis laughed.
The emotional baggage she’d been carrying felt infinitely lighter. “I only ever had a few pictures of my parents,” she said thoughtfully. “And they’re probably gone now, along with the rest of my things, which didn’t amount to much. I didn’t have the warm fuzzy childhood and family you did. That you still do. I don’t have the history, the pictures, the roots.” She moistened her lips. “You asked me about my last name. Because I was a . . . mongrel,” she said, conscious of how the word offended him, “I wasn’t permitted to use one. It made me less of a being. It was a constant reminder I was ‘less than.’”
A muscle ticked along his jawline. He cupped her cheek and took his time answering her. “Do you know what your parents’ last name was?”
“No. My father said not to worry about it when I asked him. He told me I was special and didn’t need it.”
“He was a smart man.”
She bobbed her head in agreement, but her mind had already leapt ahead. “I’ve only ever had sex once. I was seventeen.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I, we wanted to know what it was like.” Releasing a breath, she waited for his reaction. She’d never shared that with anyone.
His eyes on hers, he tugged her close. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Jordan. Your ability to surprise me. By the way, we’re not going to have sex.” He laid his palms on either side of her face. “We’re going to make love. And when we do, it won’t be a teenage experiment.”
The power of his energy melded with hers, fortifying her and making it harder and harder to deny that maybe, she could belong here.
He leaned his forehead against hers. “I want to give you romance.”
Romance. It wasn’t something she was well acquainted with. But oh, she wanted. What woman, held in this Keeper’s arms, wouldn’t?
Jordan rested one palm at the nape of his neck and pressed her lips to his. Slowly she explored his mouth with her tongue, sampled his flavor, and drank.
He moaned, low in his throat. “Dance with me.”
“There’s no music.” She shivered in his arms.
“There’s always music,” he whispered. “When I’m with you.”
“I’m supposed to be keeping you at arms’ length,” she murmured, yet wracked her brain to remember why.
“Says who?”
“Me.”
“Why?”
“It’s what’s best. For the work we’re going to do. For us.”
“What about what’s best for you?”
In answer, she rose on her toes, dragged his mouth to hers. And knew she could never get enough.
Swaying, he released her, twirled her once, then drew her back, and molded his body to hers. One kiss melted into the next as textures, tastes, and warmth enveloped her.
Her whole body sighed in pleasure. How she wished she could entertain the foolish notion they were on a date, instead of training each other how to defend themselves against her brood and the hell raging in the city.
She longed for them to be simply a man and a woman, not student and teacher, nor savior and refugee.
Reveling in the way their bodies fit together, she sank deeper into him, into his well of love, mining and amplifying emotions she’d never imagined. She gave and took. He made it so easy to do both, and she never wanted to stop.
Like fog, the impressions crept into her mind and surged to the surface, evicting the warmth.
Louder. Harsher. Undeniable.
Stricken, Jordan tore herself away from Curtis. “Oh, my gods.”
Curtis clapped a bracing hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”
Trembling, goosebumps chilled her arms. “It’s Magpie. I can hear her. Faintly. She’s calling for me.” Sobs clogged her throat. “She’s alive.”
Chapter 22
Curtis shot one final glance at the white contractor’s van he and the clan left parked beside the loading docks in the city’s Strip District. He wanted to believe the other vehicles flanking it afforded it some cover and could only pray it’d be there when they returned.
Like a dull blade, desperation sliced him. We will return. He couldn’t have misunderstood Jordan’s intentions only hours earlier in the great room.
For the first time, she came to me. Like a drug, her kisses intoxicated him. His muscles tightened. She’d possessed him with her body, pliant in his hands. Enslaved him with her scent, wrapping around him like a fever. She’d opened up, telling him things about herself no one else knew.
Now, the possibilities of what they could be unfurling in him, he longed to begin his life with Jordan, the way his brothers had with their mates.
It’d crushed him to bear witness to their farewells, each with a baby on the way. As he’d done then, he clamped down on his fear and instead channeled it into a burning desire to succeed. Unlike the way he’d felt in the reno, this time it wasn’t to prove something, either to himself or the rest of the Keepers. Gaining information about the Betrayers’ portal and making contact with Kemp could very well save the clan. And hopefully, on this mission that’d commenced hours ahead of their original plan, Magpie could be rescued.
The Betrayer (Crossing Realms Series Book 3) Page 16
