Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2)

by Candace Knoebel

  My stomach is in knots. I can almost smell the sterile scent of my holding cell. “Weldon, please,” I say, but he doesn’t hear me.

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Weldon says very seriously. “But I knew Claire better than that. She knew the deal I made to save my brother. I made her swear she wouldn’t go after me, because unlike you,” Weldon continues, his words snaking their way around Clara’s feet, “I cherished Claire. I loved her.”

  “How dare you,” Clara breathes out, her hand flying up to her mouth.

  But Weldon doesn’t stop there, and I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure how to fix this. I feel like I’m watching scars left behind by both of them being ripped back open, bleeding out onto the floor, and there isn’t anything I can do to stop it.

  “Mack isn’t here to stop me this time. He can’t keep me quiet. So yes, I take it very seriously that you abandoned my brother, after watching the pain Claire and I went through,” Weldon says with much conviction. “You left him behind. Trampled on him as if he were nothing more than a fly to squash, and here you are, gloating in all your glory. I’m sure you wormed your way right into the Priesthood with a bunch of false—”

  “Enough!” she snaps. The sound slices through the air.

  Weldon slowly leans back in his chair, his eyes set on Clara like she’s some kind of wild animal he has pinned in a corner, and he’s waiting for the right moment to deliver his final, fatal blow.

  She smoothes back her hair and slips a fake smile on her face before looking my way. But I see right through it. I see the tension, the regret, and the pain. She’s rattled, and Weldon knows it, revels in it even. “I-I’m doing everything in my power to see that you are all taken care of.” She drags in another breath as if she’s hanging on by a thread.

  He opens his mouth, sure to push out another sarcastic, assholish remark, but then the door that leads to the holding cells across from us opens, and with it, takes all the relativity of time.

  Bright, striking green eyes find and embrace mine from across the room, and I fall into them willingly, effortlessly. I feel like I’m dangling on the edge of a dream, hoping that my legs don’t give out. Praying this is real.

  I blink, and in two long strides, Jaxen’s standing right in front of me. Strong, brave, and alive. His lips twitch, and then slowly, they lift into a secret smile meant only for me, enhancing dimples I thought I might not ever see again. Blood rushes to my cheeks, recharging me with life. Reaching for him, I cup the side of his face, running my fingers along the stubble. I stop over the softness of his lips. He closes his eyes, squeezing them shut, breaking open the cage suppressing my emotions.

  Time has left us for a moment, giving us a gift of solitude. Of stolen moments returned.

  His eyes flutter open and his hands are on my waist, holding me so close. “Are you okay?” he finally asks, taking in every inch of me. Checking for any signs that point to injury. But the damage isn’t on the outside, and for that, I’m grateful.

  I nod because I feel Clara watching us, studying us, and this is the one part of my life that I don’t want examined. This part of my life must be kept sacred. I take Jaxen’s hand in mine, pulling him down to the chair next to mine. Weldon leans forward enough to tip his head in Jaxen’s direction.

  Jaxen nods hello back, and then stares straight ahead in Clara’s direction. “She’s the one who got us out?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say, rubbing my thumb over the top of his hand.

  “Don’t let her fool you,” Weldon says as he leans back in his chair and crosses his legs. “There’s a catch to be had. She just hasn’t thrown the line out yet.”

  I glare over at Weldon, wishing he would just drop it already. Even though her back is turned, I know she’s listening in. She’s nosy like that. All I want is to make it outside of this building. To put as much distance between me and my holding cell as possible. To smell fresh air again.

  And I hope he can see that through the consistent glare I’m giving him.

  But he just looks at me funny and throws his hands up, as if to ask me, “What?”

  Though we are partners, we are still nowhere near close enough to be able to read each other’s expressions clear enough to tell what each other is thinking. He looks away from me as the door opens across from us. Gavin walks out. Jaxen stands at once, and then they embrace, patting each other on the back.

  “For a minute there, I thought they were going to keep us locked up. Did they threaten you with the Disciplinary Ward?” Gavin asks, his hand resting on Jaxen’s shoulder.

  “Yeah,” Jaxen says bitterly.

  Anger flits across Gavin’s face. “I don’t understand it. We did what they asked, so why lock us up?” He looks past Jaxen at me and Weldon, nods hello, then looks back at Jaxen. “And who the hell got us out?”

  Clara clears her throat.

  Gavin spins around. “You?” he asks, pointing at her in disbelief.

  She nods once, her hands folded in front of her.

  Gavin falls into his chair next to Jaxen. “Damn, man. It’s only been four days. Shit couldn’t have changed that drastically.”

  Weldon leans forward to throw in his two cents again. “Haven’t you read the memo? Clara is an all-mighty High Priestess now. Hell has indeed frozen over.” He smiles, content with himself, and then adds, “Oh, and pigs can fly too.”

  “And in this new, alternate reality, you’re actually funny,” Jezi adds as she makes her way over to us. She stops in front of Jaxen and me, and then looks to Weldon. “Not.”

  Gavin snorts a small laugh. “I guess things haven’t changed that much.”

  Jezi rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “I want a cigarette and a damn shower. And an explanation. I don’t care which order they happen in, they just better happen. Soon. I was stuck in that shoe box-sized room for far too long,” she continues, looking down at Jaxen and me. “Why the hell were we contained anyway? And where’s Cassie?”

  “So many questions, princess,” Weldon says before any of us can answer. “Four days is such an awful amount of time to be neglected and ignored. But you know what they say…”

  Her eyes narrow on him. “Dead people don’t know they’re dead, just like stupid people don’t know they’re stupid?”

  He smirks. “I was actually going to say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I’m glad to hear that you’re finally realizing your faults. This is progress.” He stands abruptly, gesturing for her to take his seat.

  She stares at it for a minute, waiting for whatever gimmick he might try to pull.

  “Sit. I’ve got news that might lift your mood,” he says, ignoring her questioning look. “I can help you with the shower you so desperately need. Not so much the explanation,” he says, wearing a devilish grin. “That you can leave to our savior, Clara.”

  “High Priestess Clara,” Clara corrects as Cassie walks out.

  “Whoa, wait a sec. You’re a High Priestess now?” Cassie says.

  “Yes, and all of you are now under my watch,” Clara answers, turning to address us. “In fact, from here on out, I’m going to oversee your training until the Priesthood deems you ready for your next mission. I’ve vouched for your freedom because I believe you all have something to offer that will benefit our Everlasting. You’ll be shown your rooms and given the night to adjust, but tomorrow, we start fresh. We have a couple of seals to break, now don’t we?”

  Strained, forced laughter bubbles out of her, and I almost cringe from the sound. She says it like it’s nothing… like breaking the very thing that keeps the monsters lurking in the Underground is the same as cracking open a bottle of wine to let it breathe.

  She strides past us without another word, leaving us all standing with dipped eyebrows and lingering questions.

  “Explain to me how we got in this situation,” Gavin says to no one in particular.

  “Because the Tin Man found his heart,” Weldon says, looking over at Jaxen, whose gaze is
trained on me.

  “Oh, right. That’s it,” Gavin says, and then we all follow Clara out into the sunlight.

  LEAVING THE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY FEELS like a dream, as if I’ve finally found the secret to walking on clouds. Like impossibilities have suddenly become possible.

  Clara wasn’t capable of doing something good, but she is now. Freedom wasn’t mine, but it is now.

  I breathe in, hoping the fresh air will keep me from splitting at the seams with joy. Jaxen’s hand holds mine, gripping tightly, offering strength, comfort, and a warmth that heats up every frozen corner in my heart. My friends are all around me, all tossing jokes to one another.

  Everyone is safe. Whole. Present.

  Colors slowly appear as we put distance between us and the four white walls we had come to call home. Life bleeds back into me as Clara spouts off random facts, pointing out various buildings that are all situated in a city that reminds me of a futuristic version of Venice.

  Canals hold streams of what looks like liquid turquoise. Short, aged-iron bridges with intricate floral detailing carry people from one side to the other. Vendors drift down the canal in small, mechanical boats that hover above the water, offering different types of food. Clara says something about them, but I can’t really focus on her words. Not with the growing audience beginning to build all around us.

  Faces of every shape and color fill the sidewalks, all wearing different radiant hues of fabric. Some join in on the brisk walk to our living quarters, while others step aside as we pass them by, whispering to each other. We’re the only ones in white jumpsuits with numbers sewn across the front. Labels meant to mark us—separate us from the rest. To them, we could be criminals. Traitors. Darkyns even.

  I have to force my eyes away from the faces and back onto my friends, ignoring the curious charge in the air that traces red against my skin. Clara guides us over a bridge and out into an open square of concrete surrounded by statues carved out of stone to resemble the Divine six.

  “This is the City Square,” Clara says grandly. “That is the Courthouse.” She points to a large brick building across from us with tall, white pillars. A multitude of poles stretch to the sky, flying white flags with our Coven’s symbol that wave proudly in the wind—the very same flag I saw burning behind her in my vision. It takes me a split-second to catch my breath and remember where I am. Jaxen looks over at me, maybe sensing my momentary stiffness, but I just smile at him as we continue forward.

  Above the Courthouse is a large Jumbotron. The same woman who appeared on the screen in my holding cell is on it, dishing out news about the outside world.

  I act like I don’t notice when the words ‘The Everlasting has surfaced’ plaster themselves across a picture of my face. A picture that my parents once had of me. One the Priesthood must have taken after they raided and confiscated the objects in my home after my parents’ disappearance.

  I don’t even squirm when I watch a recap of the Priesthood coming together behind a large desk adorned with microphones, answering questions about what it means for the future of our Coven now that I’ve been identified and brought into the City. Or when they say that I’ll bring an end to the Darkyn Coven and am preparing for the mission that will bring our Coven to deliverance.

  I pretend not to feel anything when an overhead view of the Academy appears, or when the words ‘War is coming’ paint across the top of the screen. I tell myself not to think about Katie when a strip of news scrolls across the bottom, talking about how small attacks on Night Watchmen are occurring more and more in areas surrounding the Academy, led by Darkyns and the leader of the Underground.

  Bael.

  The name scrolls by so quickly that I think I must have imagined it. It’s my mind playing tricks on me. But there’s a choking feeling in my throat and a fist clenched in my gut. I might be able to lie to the world, but I can’t lie to myself. I can’t ignore my own truths, because I know that Bael won’t stop.

  Not until he has me.

  Panic breaks my hope in half. I look around. Only a few people here and there actually stop to listen to the message. No one seems to notice. Or maybe it’s that they’re so desensitized to it, they don’t care. And why should they? They live in the safest part of our Coven. A part where the Underground’s fingers can’t reach.

  And this tears me up inside.

  Jaxen squeezes my hand. He tells me in his gaze that we’re okay. That everything is going to be all right. And I believe him. I have to.

  By the time we pass through the City Square and stop in front of the Military Compound, I’m sure the news of our arrival has spread because there are too many faces lined up outside the building, all waiting and watching. All staring at the seven of us like we’ve come to deliver salvation. Or maybe a nightmare.

  “Move along,” Clara says in one swift note. Only some scatter, heading back to wherever they came from. Clara turns to us and passes out six cards, each with a letter and number on them. “Here are your room keys. You’re all on the third floor. Head up to your rooms and get situated. The hour is growing late, and you’ll be sent for first thing in the morning. Uniforms are provided in your room. Wear them. Arrive on time and sharp. Understood?”

  “Anything else, Your Highness?” Weldon asks, not sounding the least bit civil.

  She exhales loudly, and walks away from us, leaving us to make the rest of the trip up to our rooms alone.

  “Thank the Goddess. Now I can get a damn shower,” Jezi says, tugging at her jumpsuit. She turns to Cassie. “Do you think they sell cigarettes here?”

  “They don’t,” Jaxen says flatly. “Looks like it’s your time to quit.”

  He doesn’t wait for her to offer a retort, nor does he take the high five Weldon offers either. Instead, he mutters something about leaving and pulls me through the sliding doors and straight for the elevator.

  “Wait up,” I hear Gavin say as he jogs after us, but Jaxen presses the button and the door slides shut, closing us off from everyone.

  “Jaxen?” I ask, looking up at him.

  Longing simmers in his gaze. “I can’t take another second in your presence without doing this first,” he says desperately, hungrily.

  There’s no time to think before he grabs me by the waist and shoves me against the elevator wall, stealing my lips with his.

  So I don’t think. I simply react.

  In his kiss, I know he’s dreamed of this moment over and over again until it’s driven him completely mad. He’s holding me so tightly against him, like he never wants to let go of me ever again, and I think I’ve finally discovered what true love is. It’s this kiss that sizzles like a lit fuse ran straight to my heart. Like dynamite that explodes inside every inch of me, waking every nerve, every sense, every single inch of skin that cries out for him.

  It’s been so long… too long, and the excitement of being in his arms again is so breathtakingly overwhelming that I can barely keep from bursting at the seams. He swallows my small cry of pleasure as he slides his hands through my hair, and then down my back, until he’s clutching the fabric of my jumpsuit so tightly I fear he might disintegrate it with his powerful grip.

  I skim my hands up his neck and weave my fingers through his thick, dark hair, pulling, tugging, and hoping this moment never ends. As the kiss deepens, he loosens his grip and grabs my bottom. Lifting me up, he pins me between the wall and his rock-solid chest. His kisses move down the side of my cheek, devouring every inch of exposed skin all the way to the arc of my neck, and I swear my body explodes with pleasure.

  His starved words brush against my skin. He says my name like it’s a plea for sanity. Admits that being away from me was the worst pain imaginable, and I’m floating in his words as he glides his lips down the curve of my neck and over the shivering flesh of my collarbone. I’m drowning inside of the soft, lingering kisses he plants that feed the fire raising up under my skin.

  And God, does it feel so damn good.

  When the bell dings, a
nnouncing our arrival on the third floor, I barely hear it. The sound is light-years away from us, from this intoxicating tangle of arms, legs, and kisses that we’ve become. But then he pulls his lips from mine, leaving me reaching for more.

  My eyes flick open.

  He takes my hand in his, guiding me out of the elevator and down the sterile, white hallway. “Come on. Let’s get you to your room,” he says, his voice soft like velvet, yet hard like steel.

  I’m so distracted, so deliciously lost in his eyes and his kisses, that I can barely understand what he’s saying. I feel the sun rising in my cheeks as he watches me, waiting for my reply. I replay his words repeatedly until they begin to make sense.

  “Okay,” I manage, embarrassed by how easily he unwinds me. It’s only taken minutes in his presence to unlace every wound-up strand of my emotions. Every pent-up thought that’s been weighted down by the fists of politics.

  He clears his throat and pulls his eyes from mine, forcing them back on the path to our new living quarters. The scent of magic and electricity brim the air. Harsh laughter and a general sense of camaraderie surrounds me as Elites in training filter past us.

  “Umm,” he says, trying to form coherent words, “I think this is our hall.” He checks the numbers on the door, going off Clara’s instructions. “And it appears you’ll be staying across from me, and next to Jezi and Gavin. Protected from all sides, the way it should be.”

  A familiar, tingly feeling stirs in my stomach at the thought of being so close to him. Being seconds away from his touch. “That’s good,” I say, my mouth going dry.

  I count the steps until we reach my room, and my heart leaps in joyful somersaults. My stomach twists in nervous knots. We both know we can’t be alone together. Not without devouring each other. Not without taking back what has been taken from us for far too long.

  The door slides open, and he crosses the small, egg-shaped room. There’s a bed in the corner, suspended by metal wires from the wall. A small, metal desktop is also suspended by wires on the other wall, along with a lamp and a rack with freshly pressed uniforms hanging from it. Beneath the rack is an open box with essentials stacked neatly.