Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2)

by Candace Knoebel

I nod, not trusting my words, and then open the door. But instead of stepping through, the scenery changes again, carrying us through a shadowy darkness until the shadows disappear and the crypt stands before us. I turn to look at Jaxen. He’s still staring ahead, oblivious to the fact that he isn’t real.

  My heart hardens a little.

  “This way,” I say, determined to get through this. If I can just remember that this isn’t real, then I can do it. I can make it to the end. I can impress Clara and the rest of the Priesthood, and hopefully find an end to her torture and threats.

  We pass through a tunnel carved from clay. The tiny details slip by me. I’ve been in this simulation too many times to count. Torches line the tunnel, casting glowing orange orbs along the ground. We’re steps away from entering the crypt… steps away from being ambushed.

  The switch inside me falters. My steps slow as my heart picks up in pace.

  Shut it off, I tell myself. It’s almost over.

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” Jezi says from behind me with a gun pointed to the ground.

  “It’s dark magic,” Cassie says, agreeing. “I feel it too.” I hear the shiver in her voice. The need to turn back.

  Jaxen closes his eyes and sends out a voltaic wave to check for what could be ahead of us. When his eyes open, he says, “Prepare for the worst.” Sparking tendrils of electricity course down his arms. “There are seven Darkyns.”

  “It’s the leaders of their Coven,” I say knowingly. I’ve seen them too many times to count. Thomas’ scarred face still haunts me in my sleep. His awful, clawing voice.

  “But dark magic can’t enter holy—” Jezi starts to say.

  I cut her off, keeping my gaze straight ahead. “No, a demon can’t enter holy grounds. They can,” I explain as my steps end.

  This is almost over, I tell myself.

  “No matter what, protect Faye,” Jaxen says firmly. “She can’t be taken. You heard the general’s orders. She’s our only hope.”

  There’s a strangeness in his gaze, a disconnect that reminds me this isn’t real. He’s just a shell of who the Witches running this simulation want him to be.

  The mouth of the tunnel widens before us, opening its jowls to the end of the simulation. This is it. I grip the Dagger tighter, begging my heart to steady its beating. Clara’s Witches change the end every time. The element of surprise is the only part of this that’s real… the only part that can’t be planned for.

  This has remained my downfall.

  Shutting my eyes, I drag in a deep breath, forcing courage through my veins. I can’t fail this time, not when I know everyone is watching.

  When I open my eyes, I see the Holy Seal. It takes up the entire back wall of the crypt with holy symbols etched into the walls above it. It’s an old, copper machine that sticks out of the clay walls with a network of rusted pipes and pumps that run in a symmetrical pattern around the center. Oxidized gears slowly spin in the center, all turning in opposite directions and at different speeds. Beneath the gears is a series of levers that control it. Every other minute, a pulse of electromagnetic energy gets pushed out into the atmosphere.

  It was built by the power of the Divine to connect with the opposite end of the machine, the Unholy Seal, thus forming a protective veil that keeps the paranormal chained down in the Underground from escaping.

  And it’s the Priesthood, and the Darkyn’s, intention to drop this veil.

  The Darkyn Witches are chanting when we enter the crypt, all with their hands splayed out by their sides. This is a new scenario. Usually, they come in last minute. Black hoods cover their faces from view.

  I turn to warn my friends, but like every other simulation I’ve been through, Jaxen, Gavin, Weldon, and the Elite Hunters rush in after the Darkyn Witches. They each have fluxes in their hands with the sole intent of killing them. But this time, the Witches have constructed an invisible barrier around them. A shield to keep out the brute, electric force of a Hunter.

  I freeze in horror as they all fly back as soon as they collide with this barrier. Some hit the walls, and some slide along the floor. Jaxen lands by my feet, and I immediately pull him up and check every visible inch of him.

  “I’m okay,” he says sharply. “Stay focused on the mission.” He turns from me before I can stop him and rushes back into the crypt. “You have to counter their spell,” Jaxen says to the Witches with us. But that’s not going to work. They aren’t strong enough to counter dark magic of this magnitude.

  But I am.

  “No,” I say, stopping everyone. “I have to do this. I know how to do this.” I don’t wait for their approval. Closing my eyes, I focus on the dark magic. Its layers and layers of spells that need to be peeled away in order to be penetrated. I know I can use volation to break through them, but the amount of power I need will drain me. I won’t be able to complete it.

  But if I use my volation… just enough to put a crack in the layers of spells, then I could slip past. I’m the only one who needs to slip past anyway. I’m the only one who can use the Dagger.

  It’s the only way.

  Pulling hard on the power around me, I let it pulse down my arms until it’s sparking off the tips of my fingers. I take a step toward the circle of Darkyns, then another and another, until I’m battling against the spells, forcing my hands through this invisible shield around them.

  I feel them pushing against me, testing me out, but I don’t back down. I push harder, shoving my fist all the way through the spell. Punching the other through air, I claw my way through the spells until I’m standing in the middle of the circle, covered in electricity.

  The minute that I’m in it, the chanting grows louder.

  I watch as Jaxen shouts my name and beats against the spell separating us. I want to tell him to stop—to hide himself from the circle—but I can’t because a Witch steps out of the formation, pushing the hood of their cloak back. It’s Thomas, the same Witch who attacked us all on the night of my first hunt, searching for the very Dagger I now hold in my hand.

  “We meet again, Faye Middleton,” he croons, wearing the most evil smile. I don’t look away from the scars dragged down the middle of his face that once appalled me.

  “I’m not going with you,” I say, knowing this is what they’re here for. This is what I’ve been warned about from the minute I accepted this mission. The Darkyns need me if they are ever to wake Mourdyn. If they’re ever to completely do away with the Primevals.

  Thomas throws his head back, letting out a sickening chuckle that ambushes every part of the hollowness inside of me. When the laughter dies off, he sets cruel, dark eyes on me. “I beg to differ.”

  He snaps his long, lanky fingers, and Jaxen appears next to him. Neither of us have enough time to respond to it before Thomas hits him with a spell that sends him to his knees.

  “You see, this is what’s about to happen. You’re going to shove that Dagger in the Holy Seal, and then you’re going to come with me so we can finish this. If you don’t, he dies.”

  He grabs Jaxen by the back of the hair, exposing his throat, and I swear his face changes for a split second. Morphs into something more feminine. Something more like Clara.

  “Your call.” It’s her voice I hear—her threat that has me clenching my fists.

  My eyes flit to Jaxen. I thought I knew anger before this moment, knew how dark and deep it flowed in the rivers of my soul. I’ve watched him die over and over… seen his life threatened so many times before… but this… it’s personal. It’s too… real.

  I take a step for him.

  “Ah-ah-ah!” Thomas says, waving his finger back and forth. His face continues to change from his own to Clara’s, and I swear I’m losing my mind. I blink a thousand times, trying to make sure I’m seeing right. “If you think you can save him without doing what I said first, then you’re sorely mistaken. We will not only kill him, but every other who came with you. Do you want all of that blood on your hands?”

  I tre
mble as white-hot fury fills every part of my being. It’s almost blinding… completely stifling. This isn’t real, a small voice says in the back of my mind. No one’s going to die.

  But I’m having a hard time figuring out what’s real and what isn’t.

  I know I could shatter the earth with my fury, take them all out with one blink, but I have to think of a solution. The object is to successfully break this seal without being taken by the Darkyns. I hate that I know I’m being watched. My every move scrutinized. I want to be oblivious like Jaxen. Not real.

  Not me.

  I turn from them, keeping my hands as steady as I can, and walk past the Witches, who part the circle enough for me to get to the machine. There’s a notch above the three levers. That’s where the blade of the Dagger goes. After I slide it in and move the levers, the holy part of the Veil will be broken. Only the Divine can turn it back on.

  I want to look back at Jaxen. Every fiber in my being is screaming at me to save him and run, but I don’t. Sliding the blade into the notch, I blow out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I close my eyes. Think. If I can break through even a smidgen of the spell, then I can bring the whole thing down. If I bring it down, then we can fight back. We can get through this. But the only way to do that is to weaken the Darkyns, and the only way to do that is to pull the power straight from their essence… just like I did with the dog.

  One by one, I pull the levers down, and then the machine grumbles and stutters until it pulses out its last breath. Grabbing the Dagger, I pull it back out, and then draw as hard as I can on the energy in the room and in the air. There’s so much, it’s hard to tell who and what I’m pulling from. Power fills me as I pull harder and harder, unable to stop. It’s taking up every inch of my body and I feel like I’m going to explode from it. I have to expel it—to release some of this tension.

  Shoving it toward the spell surrounding the Darkyns, I watch as it burns off into a wisp of smoke. I know the others should be attacking now. That was my intention. But what wasn’t my intention was to pull so much power from my surroundings that I had pulled from them, weakening them.

  “That was a stupid move,” Thomas says. He drags the blade across Jaxen’s throat, and blood spills out onto the ashy clay.

  “Nooooo!” I scream as hands wrap around behind me, and then I’m taken.

  I’ve failed the simulation.

  Again.

  “NO. NO. NO. NO!” CLARA’S cold, cruel voice rings out.

  My eyes flutter open against my will. An aching fire scratches at the back of my throat from the screams still echoing in my brain. My heart’s still pounding out fear that feels like ice water through my veins. I’m trying to run, to move, to do anything, but my body’s cemented in terror. Lost in a nightmare it can’t escape.

  Slowly, the simulation disappears as the Belladonna ventilates out of the room. The four metal walls reappear, and the moment they do, I suck in a huge, desperate gasp of air. My cheeks are tight and cold from the dampness left behind. I clench my eyes shut and regret it the moment I do. Splattered images of blood attack the back of my lids.

  How many times will I have to watch Jaxen die until it doesn’t affect me like this anymore? Until I’m numb?

  Probably never.

  A subtle breeze cuts through the stale air, alerting my senses. The door swings open, and the florally scent of Clara’s perfume rides the draft. A part of me doesn’t want to open my eyes… doesn’t want to enter back into this hell, but this one is an eternity better than a hell where Jaxen no longer exists.

  Digging my fingers into my palms, I open my eyes. Clara’s lavender gaze pierces through me like arrows dipped in acid. She wears her fury like steel-plated armor. She’s impenetrable. Inhuman. She’s a monster.

  “Get up!” she calls out.

  I try to stand, but my legs won’t budge. The Belladonna’s like sludge in my blood.

  “I thought I told you not to fail this time,” she says, her voice deathly low.

  “I thought I had it under control. I thought—” I stutter out, but she isn’t listening. Her own voice pummels over my words, shoving them off to the side.

  “You thought, you thought, you thought…” She waves it off with a swish of her hands. “I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being diplomatic. It seemed like the humane thing to do, but all this coddling is giving me a headache,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What’s it going to take to make you live up to your potential?”

  “I don’t know,” I mutter out. I’m still trying to find the feeling in my hands.

  At my words, she lets go of her nose and looks down at me like she only just realized I’m still on the ground. “For Goddess’ sake, Faye! You look like a twisted pretzel lying there on the floor like that. Get up, I said!”

  “I’m working on it,” I say cuttingly, my voice dry and hoarse. My stomach’s turning and twisting in on itself, and I can’t help but wonder if she gave me too much Belladonna. If she’s decided I’m more of a hindrance than an asset and wants to be done with me.

  She snorts under her breath. Looks over her shoulder at the camera, and then back at me. “The fate of this Coven is on the line, and all you have to say for yourself is you’re working on it?” she says sharply, placing her hands on her hips. Leaning forward, she whispers, “Do you know the embarrassment you just put me through? High Priest Seamus is already on his way reporting your failure to the others.”

  My head lolls to the side, eyes blinking too slowly. “I-I don’t feel right. I-I just need a-a minute to-to collect myself, Clara. Please. I just—”

  She grabs my arm and yanks hard, trying to pull me to my feet. “I don’t care how you feel, you little brat. It’s been my hope to put some strength into you, but that problem you said you took care of is still holding you back, and it will continue to hold you back.”

  Her words are like chirping crickets that won’t stop singing in my ears. I can’t breathe in this uniform. Pulling down on the neck, I try to find some breathing space, but it isn’t helping. I feel like I’m stuffed inside a tiny box with no light, buried six feet under the ground. Sweat beads along my forehead. I wipe at it with the back of my hand, but it just keeps replenishing.

  If I could just get out of this uniform. If I could just—

  “Did you hear what I said, Faye Middleton?” she snaps. “I demand a response this instant!”

  My hands rush up to my neck, rubbing at the skin. Clawing at what isn’t really there. I feel her words looping around my neck, squeezing tighter by the second. “Th-there is no problem,” I say, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

  She leans forward, her eyes disappearing into snake-like slits. “Oh, but there is, and it goes by the name of Jaxen Gramm.”

  My blood drains to my feet. A torrential breeze rips through my insides, leaving me cold and shivering.

  “I-I told you I-I handled it,” I say as evenly as my chattering teeth will allow me.

  She purses her lips. Flattens her gaze. “Right. And I’m blind,” she says sarcastically. “As soon as he comes to you, whispering all the things you want to hear, you’ll break. I know you will. Girls like you always do.”

  The wind blowing through me turns into a blazing fire, lighting up every cell inside of me. “I’m not as weak as you think I am,” I say with as much force as I can as I press my palm against the floor to support myself. My palms are shaking from the force of my weight, but I hold firm. “I have the Dagger of Retribution, don’t I? I got away from Bael, didn’t I?” I cough loud and hard, trying to clear the choking feeling in my throat that won’t go away. “There’s no need to threaten me, or anyone else for that matter.”

  A sick smile takes over thin, pink lips. “And you also have God-awful scars marring your leg because of it. Don’t think your anger-induced bravery fools me. The only reason you have that Dagger is because of a lucky fluke, Faye. Not because you were in control. And as much as I hate to admit it… because
of Weldon saving you.”

  I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut. She’s right, and I hate her for it. “I can do better.”

  She barks out a sadistic heap of laughter. “You can do better. Right,” she spouts off. Bending to a crouch, she meets me at eye level. “Let me ask you this, do you want to save your parents?”

  My heart strums back to life. I’m barely breathing as I meet her eyes and nod desperately. She has me where she wants me now, and she knows it, boastfully wearing it in her smiling eyes. She knows Jaxen isn’t my weakness… love is. I almost laugh at the cruelty of it. The very organ that’s strong enough to sustain life, that never quits working even when my brain wants to, is also the weakest part of who I am.

  At least, in her eyes it is.

  “Then I suggest you start listening to me, because your version of better isn’t good enough,” she says as she stands back up. “You have to be better than the best, Faye. You have to be in control of yourself and your emotions at all times. You have to let go of your fears, and allow yourself to tap into your true abilities.”

  “I wasn’t born with a manual,” I point out flatly.

  “But you know enough. You know that Hunters can only pull from and manipulate the electrical currents around them. That their bodies can absorb and process electricity, and then use it along with force to trap paranormal beings. And you also know that you can pull from anything.” She levels her gaze, her tone deepening with greed and hunger as she says, “Or more importantly, anyone. You can drain them of life. You can absorb their entire being. You must embrace this gift completely, and then learn to control it.”

  I see the dog yelping, and my friends suffering. A freight train of images plows through my mind, filling me with panic. I tug at my suit again, wishing I could change. Wishing I were outside under the moon with a deep, soft breeze blowing past me.

  “I-I can’t.”

  “You can,” she counters.

  I shake my head. If she would just go away… if I could just take a deep breath. “No,” I say again. “I can’t.”