Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2)

by Candace Knoebel

  My hand flies up to my mouth. “Jaxen!”

  “No!” Jezi shouts through our mental link.

  He’s hobbling down the walkway of the intricate garden toward the Manor, limping on his left side. A scream rips past my throat when he loses footing and falls onto the white, wooden steps, his hand curling around his stomach as he moans in pain.

  “The gunshot,” I shout out as I make my way across the cobbled steps in a rush.

  I don’t breathe. I’m too afraid my emotions will crash my ability to reason. My ability to help. Nothing matters but reaching him, healing him. I drop to my knees in front of Jaxen as the skies open up above us. He pulls his trembling hand away from the wound just enough for me to watch the blood gushing out. It careens a path to the bottom of the stairs that’s splattered away from the tears of heaven crying for him.

  “Hang on!” I shout out as lightning strikes nearby, momentarily brightening the shadows all around us.

  I focus all of my magic and intent on the wound, but nothing happens. Wind rips and beats away at my back. Cold, sharp rain slices against my exposed skin.

  “The bullet. Cursed,” Jaxen forces through chattering teeth. “Remove it. Hurry.”

  I want to throw up and cry. I want to go back and finish Clara off, but I can’t because I can feel the poison in him, spreading through his veins like scalding hot syrup. I harden myself, shutting everything off, and keep my eyes on his. I nod more times than I can count. More times than are necessary when he tells me to use whatever means necessary.

  Footsteps rush up behind me. The others have caught on.

  I rip the fabric away that covers his abdomen. The release of pressure causes his blood to pump harder with every beat of his heart.

  I’m sure I’ve died inside. I know all of my blood has joined his, drained and gone with guilt.

  He tries to reach up, but there isn’t enough strength left in his limbs. “Faye,” he breathes out, his eyes rolling back into his head.

  “I-I’m so sorry,” I say as I plunge my fingers into Jaxen’s wound, searching for the bullet.

  Gavin drops to his knees with Weldon on the other side. Together, they hold him down as he writhes against the pain. “Hang on, brother,” Gavin states, his words thick with shock.

  I have to swallow back the acid that climbs up my esophagus. Pushing past skin, muscle, and blood, I feel something warm and slick. The bullet. I try to use my magic to pull it out, but the curse placed on the bullet is immune to magic.

  I glance up at Jaxen, cursing myself for looking. Pale. Eyes sealed shut. Mouth twisted in agony.

  “Either get it done, or get the hell out of my way,” Jezi shouts through our connection.

  I wrap my fingers around the bullet, tugging as hard and as fast as I can. Jezi moves in behind me, already working a healing spell to take care of the wound. Another strike of lightning cracks in the distance, and in its momentary illumination, I see the Coven’s symbol etched onto the side of the bullet.

  I drop it as if it were coated in poison. Weldon picks it up. “Fitting, isn’t it? Shot by our own.” He hands it to me.

  “I don’t want it,” I say, unable to even look at it. “It nearly took Jaxen’s life. It could have ruined everything.”

  He turns my face to look at him. “Exactly. Keep this as a reminder that a single bullet can kill more than just a man. It can kill a whole society. It can pierce the whole foundation we built, splitting open the hidden secrets and destroying the innocent intent that started it all. And if you don’t want to keep it for that reason, then keep it to remind yourself exactly what you’re fighting for.”

  He drops the bullet in the palm of my hand and heads up the stairs, walking toward the front door. I don’t have time to digest what he said—what this bullet really means—because Jaxen grabs me by the shoulder, spins me around, and crushes his lips against mine. There’s no heated passion in the kiss, just pure frenzy to know that I’m okay. To show me that he’s okay.

  To tell me the three words he feels without having to say them.

  And I feel them, all the way to my bones.

  When he finally lets up, we help each other to our feet and turn to the Manor. It’s then that I can finally breathe again. That I can finally feel a small bit of relief for having escaped Clara and the Coven so easily.

  “This is my home away from home,” Jaxen says through the side of his mouth. He hasn’t taken his eyes off it. “It’s been in our family for as long as anyone can remember.”

  I stop when I see the old, white door… the same door in my premonition. I could have taken an out when General Sterling offered it to me, but I didn’t. I chose to break the Holy Seal, and by doing so, I’ve led us here.

  I just hope it was the right choice.

  The house has to be old. Aged brick hidden behind layers of moss reach up to the tiled roof. Steel work and arched windows give little glimpses into the house. Gavin finds a key under an old pot. He grins at Jaxen, and then unlocks the door. Muted light spills in like it’s been pushing and pushing against the doors, waiting for the chance to get inside.

  Gavin flips the lights on, brightening the canary yellow entryway that’s eerily quiet and vastly tall. Dust and cobwebs line the tables decorated with frames and vases along the walls. A set of stairs sweep up the side of the room.

  “No one’s been here for ages,” Gavin says, finding another light switch and flicking it up. A giant votive chandelier hanging from the middle of the room switches on. Rainbows of light dance along the marbled black-and-white checkered floor. “It was a safe house built by our eldest grandfather and passed down through the generations of Gramms. All of our history is kept here.”

  “Let’s pray it stays that way,” Jaxen says. He brushes past me and heads up the stairs, flicking on more lights along the way. Jezi follows behind him.

  “Where are we?” I ask Gavin. He’s standing in front of one of the tables, gazing at the pictures that are beside closed doors. Cassie moves past him and into one of the many rooms.

  “In Salem, Oregon,” he says, lost in thought. “Every lineage in our Coven has a supposed safe house that only they know the location of. A self-preservation thing. This place is warded to keep everything known to the Night Watchmen away. Even demons,” he adds, looking past me at Weldon, whose skin is smoking. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.” Guilt’s in his voice as he watches Jaxen disappear down the hall of the balcony.

  “It’s just a hunch, but I think bullets and Clara screaming out orders of murder might have something to do with it,” I point out, stifling a yawn.

  Gavin chuckles. “That’s an understatement,” he says. He runs a hand through his hair and his mouth opens wide, yawning. When he shakes it off, he turns to me and says, “Look, I’m beat. I’ll take you to a room where you can relax, and then we can figure the rest later. Sound good?”

  “Sure,” I reply, reaching out to Jaxen through our connection.

  “Come here,” he replies. I feel him pulling me in his direction, guiding me up the steps.

  “Got any blood?” Weldon calls from swinging door of the kitchen. “The wards on this place are stinging my demon side.”

  I internally shudder.

  “One sec,” Gavin shouts over the banister. He looks down at me. “Just keep heading up and go right. I’m sure you’ll find Jaxen up there.” After he moves past me and down the stairs, I continue forward, my eyes skimming over the family tree of portrait paintings that line the stairway. Each has a plaque with names and dates underneath, with their ability next to it.

  Jaxen’s lineage.

  His parents are just above his and Gavin’s name. I know them as soon as my eyes fall on their portraits. Jaxen has his mother’s piercing, round eyes and his father’s swoon-worthy smile. Gavin looks mostly like his father, with his mother’s full mouth. I keep moving, feeling Jaxen reaching out to me.

  Before William and Shirley, there are four square spaces where the yellow pai
nt’s lighter than the rest. Pictures were obviously hung there at one point, so why have they been removed?

  Turning away, I make my way up the rest of the stairs. The eyes of the Gramm lineage seem to follow me, leaving a chilled feeling in my bones.

  I turn right and reach the end of the hall, knowing Jaxen’s behind the tall, wooden door. As soon as I open it, I smell the musky scent of soap and steam billowing out of the open door across the room. I strip down to nothing as I make my way toward him. He slides the shower door open when I cross the threshold, water dripping off every part of him.

  He nods his head, motioning for me to come closer.

  So I do.

  MORNING SLIDES HER WAY THROUGH the sides of the golden, velvet curtains. Her long, finger-like rays reach out, stretching and stretching until they’re touching my face, warming my skin, luring me awake.

  I stir out of the edges of a dream, cracking one eye half open. It takes a second for me to finally see. Jaxen’s facing the other wall, with one arm reaching back toward me. After exploring each other in the shower, we fell asleep in the king-sized bed, swearing that we’d find a way to make it out of this mess alive.

  I just hope I can live up to my end of the deal.

  Jaxen stirs, and I’m about to curl up against his back when I hear something odd. A crashing sound, like broken china or glass.

  I roll out of bed, tuning into the muffled sounds downstairs. There’s another crash, so I reach for the robe I manifested last night and slip my arms through it. Creeping toward the door, I pull it open. It starts to creak, so I say a quick spell, then sneak past the doorway and stop at the banister, leaning over a little so I can hear better.

  Gavin’s up. I hear him moving about, whistling a song of breakfast. But there’s another voice, a woman’s voice that I don’t recognize. Her voice is elegant, but firm. I try to make out what they’re saying, but she’s talking on a heightened whisper. I catch words like don’t, please, and love, but nothing that makes any sense. I quickly manifest a pair of gray sweatpants and a large, baggy T-shirt, and then jog down the stairs two at a time.

  The voices grow louder as I make my way down the hallway toward the kitchen. I pass a library crammed full, and take two steps back just to make sure I saw what I think I did. Books have overtaken the floor in piles that can’t possibly fit on the surrounding shelves. There has to be every book imaginable in here. Two high-backed chairs and a chaise provide a lounge area in the middle of the room, which seems recently used from the throw blanket and pillow scattered aimlessly across it.

  A door shuts from the kitchen and I turn back to it, but I don’t take another step.

  “Good morning,” Jaxen says right behind me.

  I jump at the sound of his voice, spinning to face him.

  The side of his mouth quirks up in its cute way as he reaches out to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind my ears. My heart does a back flip, sending heat to my cheeks as I lose myself in his vibrant green eyes.

  “How’s your side?” I ask, pointing to his wound and biting my lip.

  “All better,” he says with a small smile, the lust in his voice hot enough to make my knees feel like melted butter. Strong enough to bring back images of our time together in the shower last night. Slick kisses, roaming hands, and passion unlike anything I’ve yet to feel from him before.

  He lifts his shirt just high enough to reveal a mouthwatering set of abs that drifts below his low-hanging jeans. There isn’t a mark to be seen, just like last night.

  I force out a smile, my mouth going dry as he drops his shirt and focuses back on my mouth.

  “That’s good,” I say, trying to detach my eyes from his body.

  I know I’m supposed to be doing something, checking on something, but the closeness of his body is like waving food in front of a starved mouth. A pan clinks against a stove in the kitchen.

  The voices!

  “Come on!” I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him the rest of the way to the kitchen. Gavin’s at the stove, stirring a pan of scrambled eggs with fervor. A quick scan of the room tells me the female voice is nowhere to be found. “Smells delicious,” I announce.

  “That’s ’cause it is,” he says with his head now in the refrigerator. I hear the smile in his voice as he pulls out a small jug of milk and sets it out on the table. “I’m the best cook in this house.”

  Jaxen grunts a laugh.

  “And only you two know of this place?” I ask as my eyes skim over the country layout of the kitchen. The linen curtains, deep sink, and white cabinets. The herb cabinet and long, rustic wooden table. The colorful flowers that look a few days picked. The piled-up dishes that look like they’ve been sitting there for a while.

  “We’re the only ones left in the Gramm family, so yeah,” Gavin says.

  I glance back over at the wilting flowers.

  I smell lies.

  “So who was that I heard this morning?” I keep adding to the pile of questions, hoping it will eventually come crashing down to reveal the truth.

  His shoulders tense slightly, just enough for me to notice. “Huh?” he asks, turning to face me with the steaming pan in his hand.

  I stare at him with my arms crossed, waiting for the truth. “I heard you talking to someone this morning. Someone I’ve never heard before. Who was it?”

  “Wait, you were talking to someone?” Jaxen asks. There’s an insecure note in his voice that twists my stomach a little.

  Gavin walks the pan over to the kitchen table, filling a plate with steaming scrambled eggs, never looking up at us. Never answering Jaxen. He chuckles nervously as he pours four glasses of milk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice is cool and collected.

  I purse my lips. “Gavin…” I drag out.

  “Who was it?” Jaxen asks, this time with more persistence.

  Gavin’s shoulders sag. “It was an old friend who stopped in,” he admits, his voice dying off in arrest. His eyes find mine with a sense of pleading.

  “An old friend?” Jaxen repeats. He’s not buying it. “An old friend who just so happens to know about this place?”

  “Yeah,” Gavin says, refusing to look at him.

  My lips form into a thin line. “Where’s Cassie?”

  Gavin laughs. “Sleeping. As usual.” He sets down a plate of bacon and points for us to sit. We do.

  “Look, you two really need to liven up. My birthday’s right around the corner, so I expect some slack.”

  Jaxen groans and rolls his eyes.

  “Your birthday? When?” I ask.

  “Days away. April first,” he says with a small grin. “The big twenty-five. I expect a party too.”

  Jaxen grunts his thoughts. “Stop changing the subject.”

  Gavin sighs. “Look, really though, we’ve been through a lot. An old friend stopped in to check on us. That’s it, so can we eat now?” He takes his seat at the other end of the table, reaching for the plate of bacon in front of him.

  I peer over at Jaxen and wish that I could help settle whatever is lurking in his mind, casting shadows in his eyes. He takes the serving dish of eggs and dumps a hefty amount onto his plate, angrily clanging the spoon against it. When he has enough, he hands it to me.

  I put a little on my plate and then hand it to Gavin, who swaps the plate of bacon with me. Putting a couple pieces on my plate, I hand it over to Jaxen. All of this is done in awkward silence.

  “We need to get the plan for the Unholy Seal intact when Weldon comes back,” Gavin says through a mouthful of bacon. He reaches for the salt and sprinkles it over his eggs.

  Jaxen laughs bitterly. “Two Covens against us now. Seems unlikely that it’s even possible to consider,” he says flatly. He pushes his fork through his eggs.

  “We have no choice now. With one seal down and Claire and Faye’s parents held up down there, we have to keep going. It’s the right thing to do,” Gavin points out.

  My appetite disappears.

  “W
hy don’t you stop changing the subject and tell me who you were talking to,” Jaxen asks coldly, unwilling to let it go.

  Gavin drops his fork. Swallows his food. He pushes his chair back and says, “Look, I’m going to go wake Cassie before the food gets cold.” Getting up, he heads out the door just as Jezi enters.

  “Where’s he going?” Jezi asks Jaxen as she takes a seat across from us and fills a plate.

  Jaxen’s answer stalls on his lips when the back door leading into the kitchen swings open. When Weldon steps in and closes it, Jezi tenses at the sight of him, stuffing a piece of bacon in her mouth with annoyed force as he sets a basket filled with tomatoes down.

  Jaxen sighs heavily. “To wake Cassie,” he says, throwing his hand out to dismiss the subject. He takes a forceful bite of bacon as Weldon pulls a jug of blood out of the fridge.

  I cringe and turn away, saying, “I heard Gavin talking to a woman this morning,” to take my mind off it.

  They both direct their attention on Jaxen and me.

  “A woman? You didn’t say it was a woman,” Jaxen says in alarm. “Are you sure it wasn’t Cassie?” He’s hoping I say I’m not sure. That it could have been her. I can see it in his eyes.

  I touch his arm. “Cassie’s upstairs sleeping, Jaxen. I heard the voice just before you met me downstairs. There’s no way it was her.”

  “What did she sound like?” Jezi asks. I don’t like the tone she takes, like she already knows what I’m going to say.

  I close my eyes and think about the muffled voice. “Older than us. Sharp. Hard even.” I lock eyes with Jaxen. “She sounded kind of like Clara, but it definitely wasn’t Clara.”

  The blood drains from Jaxen’s face as he looks past me at Jezi. “I should have known,” he says, plunging a hand through his hair. “There’s only one person in this world Gavin wouldn’t want me to know he talked to,” he says in a disbelieving whisper. “One person left who knows the existence of this Manor.”

  “Evangeline Gramm,” Jezi says back to him. She looks over at me. “Their mother.”