Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2)

by Candace Knoebel

  “Come on,” Jaxen says, taking my hand. “She wants a fight. She’ll get a fight.”

  ICAN’T FULLY DESCRIBE THE walk through the City Square to the Courthouse.

  It’s how I’d imagine walking a plank would feel like, or walking to the front of the classroom to give your first oral speech, or maybe it’s more like walking the path of judgment before you’re sentenced to heaven or hell.

  Either way, I know this is a defining moment in my life. I feel it in my veins, in my blood. Either we’ll walk out of this with Clara put away once and for all, or we won’t walk away at all.

  The crowd of retired Elites and the citizens of Ethryeal City part to either side of the Square, granting us a clear passage to the Courthouse. I don’t know whether I should thank them or despise them. I don’t know anything anymore. All I know is my pulse is throbbing and my blood is draining, leaving me feeling like I’m unprepared for this detrimental moment.

  Two Elites in uniform pull the double doors open when we reach the top of the stairs. Chaotic murmurs wrack the inside of the Courthouse. We pass through the entryway packed full of people, walking straight through to the Court of the Priesthood.

  A hand reaches out from the back of the crowd and, before I can yank away, General Sterling’s face comes into view. “If this goes sour, come back and find me. I will help you and only you. Understood?”

  I nod as Jaxen pulls me away from him, oblivious to what was just said. I nearly gasp when I see Seamus on his knees, in chains made of volation, in front of the other members of the Priesthood. But that’s not what stops me in my tracks. That’s not what yanks the world out from under me and spits me out in the fiery pits of hell.

  It’s raven-colored hair and lavender eyes filled with hate.

  “Good, you’ve made it. Contain them,” Clara says to the Elites behind us. All at once, we’re grabbed from behind and our line of strength is ripped apart. I don’t bother with struggling against my captor the way the others do. An eerie calm settles over me as my gaze locks with Clara’s. Some crazed, maybe even a little confused, part of me wants this to happen. I won’t show her any fear, any sign of weakness.

  I won’t grant her a single ounce of emotion.

  Volation loops around my arms, but it’s not my own. It’s the Elite’s behind me. His Witch is right next to him, and she quickly works a spell to contain my magic. I feel it penetrating my skin, pushing past my defenses, and entering the core of my power.

  I look to my left, over at Jaxen. He isn’t fighting back either. He’s watching me, instilling strength in me. “No matter what, we’re in this together.”

  I blink. My eyes are dry. My emotions have deserted me. Clara slams a gavel down on the raised bench she sits behind, right in the middle of the five other Priests.

  “Seamus Everett Sullivan,” she calls out, catching the attention of every eye in the room, “do you deny aiding the fugitives in falsely accusing and apprehending me?” The Coven’s symbol is painted brightly behind her on a flag pinned to the wall, mocking the very falseness she imbibes.

  I can’t help but think of my premonition—of the flag burning behind her as she waits for me to join her.

  This is one of my choices. Every move I make, every word I speak, will forever change me from this point on.

  “I do not,” Seamus says with conviction.

  Edgar leans into her, whispering something in her ear. She smiles and says something back before turning her attention back to Seamus.

  “And do you deny overstepping my plans for the Everlasting?” she asks, adding more to the pot.

  “Plans?” Seamus asks, as if he doesn’t understand her accusation. But I know he does. I see it etched on his face. He’s making her talk, searching for a weak link in her chain.

  “Yes,” she says flatly, staring him down. “My plans. My training. You granted Jaxen Gramm permission to act in your stead and removed the Everlasting from my custody, did you not?”

  “I did,” Seamus says with conviction, “but when did this Priesthood become a dictatorship? We’re all equal, and therefore, we all have equal say in what happens with the members of our Coven held under our care. Or did you forget the rules you so recently pledged yourself to?”

  The crowd erupts in chatter, all looking to one another in confusion. Clara’s left eye twitches. She folds her hands neatly in front of her. Looks left to right, catching the eye of every remaining member of the Priesthood. I can tell who’s on her side, and who’s bowed down for strategic reasons. A few barely have the strength to look in Seamus’ direction, while the rest gloat in their small victory.

  “A dictatorship?” she asks, her voice lilting on the high side.

  “Yes. A dictatorship,” Seamus repeats loud enough to quiet the crowd.

  “There’s no such thing occurring here,” she says calmly, surely.

  “Then what exactly am I being tried for, Clara? Your means of training the Everlasting were inhumane. And then there was plausible evidence found against you that suggested you were working with the Darkyn Coven. I followed our laws and contained you, awaiting a trial that you have so sneakily evaded, I might add.”

  “And now you’re on trial,” she says with no mercy or feeling. “No evidence was found against me. I was falsely contained.”

  Weldon clears his throat loudly. “I beg to differ,” he says from behind me. “I have evidence.”

  The crowd once again erupts in chatter as Clara’s eyes flick up to mine, and a slow, cruel smile spreads across her thin lips. “Bring them forth,” she demands.

  I spot Mack in the crowd as we’re shoved forward. He’s the epitome of sorrow. Gray-faced and weepy eyed.

  We’re placed on our knees next to Seamus. He keeps his eyes forward, locked on Clara.

  “You say you have evidence?” she asks. She nods to the Elite behind Weldon. He reaches into Weldon’s pocket and pulls the paper from my mother’s Grimoire out. I feel the magic flowing off his Witch as the Elite walks the piece of paper, our lifeline, over to the desk.

  Clara takes the paper, unfolds it, and places it under the screen that projects the image onto the wall across from us. My lungs catch on fire. My brain seizes up.

  “This is a shipping document from the warehouse High Priest Seamus Everett raided,” Clara says confidently. “Twelve loads of salt were requested at my expense. I had them shipped to various Wiccan shops around the country to replenish their stocks since there had been a shortage.”

  “Wait,” I shout out, unable to accept what’s happening. “The Witch, she used magic on the paper. She altered that document. Reverse the spell! The proof is there! You murdered my parents!”

  Everyone is shouting to each other now, unsure of who to believe. Unsure of what’s happening.

  “Silence!” Clara yells, banging and banging on the desk. “You’re being tried for treason, and I command you to show your Priesthood the respect we deserve,” Clara says mirthlessly.

  “Since when did we have to swear our allegiance to you? To any of you? We took the oath of the Night Watchmen in honor of the Coven!’ Weldon shouts out, turning to the crowd of citizens behind us, trying to rally them together.

  “We are the Coven!” Clara retorts, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, “and you went against it the day you crossed me.”

  Jaxen struggles against the magic holding him down. He groans, pushes, and somehow manages to make his way to his feet. A deep, angered growl erupts from the depth of him, quieting the entire room. “You’re the one who’s crossed this Coven, Clara. You set Mary and Russell Middleton up. You captured them when they discovered you were working with the Darkyn Coven. You tried to break their daughter in hopes that you could control her and use her, and now you’re trying to take over the Priesthood.”

  She slowly rises from her chair, her hateful glare fastened on Jaxen. “You dare accuse me of murder?”

  “Do I need to repeat myself?” he asks.

  She turns her head t
o Edgar, whispers something to him, and then turns back to Jaxen. She lifts a file into the air. “This,” she says, “this is the Gramm file. Your file. You think the Priesthood doesn’t know of your wrongdoings? You think Maddock could hide your crimes?” She eyes every one of my friends. “Joe Bordon. A Witch, a part of the Night Watchmen. He was on his way to meet his Hunter when Mary and Russell Middleton apprehended and brought him to Gavin Gramm’s apartment on Ludlow. There, he was executed in ritualistic fashion, in hopes of erasing the infamous Gramm Curse placed on your bloodline.” She drops the file with a loud bang and leans forward, eyes piercing through us. “Tell me, Jaxen Gramm, did the spell work? Will your precious love now be saved?”

  Jaxen and Gavin both struggle and fight against the volation, growling and yelling out.

  “Enough of these games,” Clara says forcefully. “I, High Priestess Clara Ravensmoore, on behalf of the remaining members of the Priesthood, find Jaxen Reade Gramm, Gavin Amery Gramm, Jezibelle Darlene Beaumont, Cassandra Lynn Reed, and Weldon James Jacobsen guilty of committing murder against a fellow member of the Night Watchmen. I sentence you to an eternity in the Underground. All in favor, say aye.”

  The entire Priesthood before us says aye.

  “High Priest Seamus Everett Sullivan, and Faye Hadley Middleton, you’re sentenced to the Correctional Facility where you will be held in the Disciplinary Ward. Take them away.”

  I don’t breathe. Not even a little bit. My whole body has gone numb, cold, lifeless. All I can feel is my hands. All I can see is them wrapped around Clara’s neck, squeezing the life from her eyes. I make a move against the volation I’m uncomfortably cocooned in. It doesn’t budge. Not at first. But then I push, I shove, and I put everything I have into my movements and somehow, the energy I’m chained in snaps loose and is absorbed by my skin.

  I’m left standing in front of everyone, in front of the entire Priesthood and Coven, with a spelled shield around me and a look of murder in my eyes. I know what I must do now. I know the choice I’m supposed to make.

  Stand and fight. Fight for the Coven that she’s destroying.

  “You’re a liar,” I say, my blood boiling beneath my skin. I look up from the ground and meet her gaze with more hate than I’ve ever felt in my life. “You’re a traitor. You’re a thief. You’re sick. You took my parents when they found out about you, and now you’re doing everything you can to cover your tracks.”

  Clara’s mouth startles open. She’s caught off guard, and it gives me more delight than I could ever ask for. She scrambles for words as a hushed murmur spreads like wildfire across the room. I watch as shade by shade, her skin changes from a pale white to a rattled red.

  “You’re a Darkyn disguising yourself as a Priestess, and if you aren’t removed, you will bring this entire Coven down with the awakening of Mourdyn Roush, the Divine who is responsible for the making of the proclamation!”

  “Heresy!” Edgar shouts as he jumps out of his seat.

  “Seize the Witch-hater now!” Evelyn Carter shouts before smirking in my direction.

  Clara slams her fist against the desk. “Take her away!” she yells at the top of her lungs.

  “No!” Jaxen yells out.

  Jaxen and Gavin fight against the volation holding them down. Veins bulge. Words fly aimlessly. Jaxen is the first to break, but he’s taken down by three more, who barely have enough power to hold him back. I lock eyes with Weldon, and in that moment, I know what I have to do.

  The only thing that will save us all.

  I darken the room with one blink.

  SCREAMS ERUPT AS THE EMERGENCY lighting flicks on.

  There are so many bodies, so many people running, that it takes me a moment to locate everyone. I tug hard on all the energy in the room, directing my drain to every Elite and member of the Priesthood. I take their magic and energy filling me, using it to form shields around my friends and me.

  “Let’s go,” Weldon shouts out, offering his hand out to me.

  Jaxen grabs my hand and tries to pull, but I stand still. He looks back at me, confused.

  “Not yet,” I say, turning in Clara’s direction.

  “Apprehend the Everlasting now!” Clara shouts as she stumbles back against her chair.

  I stalk toward her, hell-bent on ending her existence. An Elite Hunter and Witch rush either side of me, but I send them flying with a simple flick of my hand. And it feels good. So, so good.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” Clara asks, scrambling backward.

  “You said I was weak, that I was an abomination. You said I needed to learn how to control my powers.” I stop right in front of the desk, staring up at her. “I’m in full control now, Clara, and I’m ready to avenge my parents.”

  Edgar’s the first to jump out of his chair and rush out of the side door. Evelyn, Celeste, and the rest follow, leaving Clara behind.

  I blink, sending a wave of energy out toward her. She flies back into her chair. I put all of my intent into my hand, using my magic to lift her into the air. She scrambles against the invisible hold on her neck, her legs kicking aimlessly.

  “Put me down!” she shouts as Elites continue to try and rush me with magic. “Shoot her, damn it!”

  I hear the guns clicking—hear the deep inhales settling the nerves of every shooter. And I hear my friends taking them out, one by one, as I drop Clara onto the ground like the garbage that she is.

  “You’ll stop this now or I’ll have every head that you love,” she says, working her way to her feet with murder in her gaze.

  “No, Clara. I’ll have your head,” I say with so much absolution that it makes her eyes widen. I squeeze my fist shut, and she falls as the breath is choked out of her. But it’s not good enough. I want to feel her life slip away. I want to watch the light dim from her eyes.

  I see the blood of the Elite she killed. I see the look in Jonathon’s eye. I see every life she’s threatened, my parents, and all of the novices back at the Academy wondering where Mack is, and I’m sure I’m drowning in rage. I’m burning inside the flames of revenge.

  I. See. Red.

  I jump on top of her, replacing my magic with my own hands wrapped around her neck. “You killed my parents! You took them away from me! You’re horrible!” I squeeze and squeeze. All I can see is my mom’s face and my dad’s smile and this rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt ripples through me. I’m delirious with power. Unhinged with the need to fill the hole gaping wide open inside my heart.

  She’s going to die. She’s going to die because I will it to be. I want it to happen.

  “Faye!” Jaxen shouts desperately. His arms wrap around me and lift me off her. “This isn’t you! Stop!”

  “She has to die!” I shout, struggling against him, trying to get back to Clara, who rolls over, coughing.

  He pulls me tighter against him, my back pressed against his chest. “No,” he says calmly into my ear. “You’re not a murderer. Don’t do this.”

  She fumbles over to the desk, reaching for something as Jaxen spins me to face him. “Killing her won’t bring them back, Faye. It won’t make the pain go away.” He kisses me once and says, “Come on. We have to get out of here.”

  I nod as guilt slams into my very core. He pulls me over to Weldon and shouts for everyone to get together. Gunshots fly through the air. A smoke bomb is dropped, filling the room with Belladonna. I use the last of my magic, trying to keep a shield large enough to protect us all, but I can feel myself slipping. I’ve already used so much and only just recovered from yesterday.

  “Hurry,” I tell Jaxen as he stops just in front of Weldon. We’re crouched down behind a bench.

  “Where to?” Weldon shouts with his arms extended.

  “Somewhere safe,” Gavin says. “Somewhere they can’t track us.” He pulls Cassie closer to him.

  “I-I don’t know anywhere,” Weldon says.

  He looks to everyone, and they all take turns shrugging.

  “Wait. I know a place. My dad
, he… he always kept a safe house,” Jaxen says.

  Gavin looks over at him. “The Manor?”

  Jaxen nods.

  “Faye Middleton! Where are you?” Clara shouts out. I hear her steps pounding closer, pushing through the Belladonna in search of me.

  “The Manor it is. Let’s go,” Weldon says. “There’s a shadow large enough over there.” He points to the desk the Priesthood sat behind.

  “We’ll never make it!” Gavin says with disbelief.

  “I can hold the shield long enough if we run,” I say, fighting against the fatigue setting in.

  Weldon’s gaze wavers, as if he knows I’m on the edge.

  “We have to try,” Jaxen says.

  “Damn it,” Weldon says under his breath. “Let’s go.”

  He makes a run for the desk, followed by Gavin, Cassie, Jezi, Jaxen, and me. I focus on Jaxen’s feet until he pushes me forward. Jezi’s hand latches on mine, and I take Jaxen’s. The minute my foot steps in the shadow, my magic disintegrates. A gunshot goes off as time shifts around us, moving us deep into the shadow.

  The last thing I hear is Clara’s murderous scream as warm, sticky blood coats me.

  “WE MADE IT,” GAVIN BREATHES out, toppling over from dizziness. “We freaking made it.”

  A crow caws in the distance and swoops overhead, welcoming us to the enchanted grounds of the Manor. Fate lingers nearby, whispering in my ear that it’s not over yet. That it’s only just begun.

  Gavin’s crazed laughter fills the chilled night air with puffs of white as he pulls Cassie down on top of him and kisses her desperately. Weldon grabs Jezi by the waist, pulls her against him, and plants his lips on hers. She matches his kiss as Gavin and Cassie’s laughter grows louder and louder.

  But I can’t celebrate our escape.

  I stumble to the ground, feeling a sharp, searing pain in my side.

  Blood is all over my hands, all over my stomach, soaking through my uniform. My stomach rolls. I immediately tug and pull at my clothing, searching for the wound, but come up short. My skin is covered in crimson, but it’s not mine. The pain is Jaxen’s, pushing through our affinity link from his weakened frame of mind.