by Cecily White
“Okay, listen up.” Jack set me on the counter like a ragdoll, his hand cool against my neck. “You know I’m with Enforcement, right?”
I nodded.
“And you know I was sent here because of the Graymason…the one who’s been killing Watchers.”
“I figured. But what does that—”
“Amelie…Miss Bennett.” He shook his head. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to finesse this because I realize you have no idea. And I know it may confuse you but you’re going to have to take my word for it.”
“Take your word for what?”
He stared at me helplessly. “You’re the Graymason.”
Chapter Eleven:
Fight, Flight, and Revenge
There are many fabulous ways to kill a romance. For example, you could spend the whole night talking about your ex. Or you could comment repeatedly on your date’s ability to utilize the all-you-can-eat feature of a buffet. Maybe you could finish up by detailing, ad nauseum, the price tag of each aspect of the date.
As effective as those tactics are, I have to say, nothing kills the snuggle urge quite like accusing your date of serial murder.
“I’m the Graymason?” I said.
“Yes.”
My eyes narrowed. “Seriously? That’s the vibe I give off? Bloodthirsty soul-sucker?”
“It’s not a vibe,” he said evenly. “It’s what you are. That’s why I’ve been so weird around you this week. You’re Lucifer’s bloodline. You always have been. If you wanted to kill me right now, you could do it.” He took my hand and placed it against his chest. Threads of heat and light pulsed beneath my palm, gripping my arm like an eager child. “Go ahead. All it would take is a tug. One little tug, and I’d be dead. You feel it, don’t you?”
I ripped my hand away. The thought of killing him, even by accident, filled me with such terror I could hardly breathe. “H-How?”
With a sigh, he stepped back, hands still braced on either side of me. “We knew we didn’t get them all. When the Gabrielites hunted them the first time, some of Lucifer’s offspring survived. We figured the bloodlines went dormant. If they were breeding with humans, we’d have heard about it. Human blood mixed with angel blood is outlawed for good reason. Anyone who’s read the Apocrypha knows that.”
“The Apocry-what?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. We thought they might be mating with Guardians, we just didn’t know who. Until the bloodline resurfaced. With you.” He paused to let it sink in.
It didn’t sink very far. “There must be some mistake. Does Dad know about this? Because he’s going to throw a serious fit—”
“Bud knows. The only reason you aren’t manifesting more power is because he’s been giving you small doses of Otrava every day since your mother died. Your ‘allergy medication.’ It was part of the terms of his custody of you.”
I blinked at him in uncomprehending silence. My own father had been poisoning me? For ten years?
“You were put under surveillance when Lutz’s body turned up last week,” Jack continued despite my silent wish that he would shut up. “The Elders wanted you in lock-up, but Smalley wouldn’t allow it. She knew it wasn’t you doing this. That’s why she called me in. She knew you’d never purposely use your abilities to—”
“What abilities?” I snapped, trying not to hyperventilate. “I can’t even close a damn rift without blowing up half the school. I’m a complete basket case. Smalley knows. Ask her if you don’t believe me—”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Call her. She’ll tell you—”
“I can’t,” he repeated. “Smalley’s dead.”
And time stopped.
Silence buzzed through my head, louder than any silence should. I don’t even think my heart was beating anymore.
“But…I just saw her. She was with Chancellor Thibault. She’s—”
“Dead,” he said with finality. “Her soul was taken, just like Lutz. It happened right after your test. Don’t you remember?”
My test. I slumped against the wall as the details flooded back to me. The portal I had drawn, the vortex, the voice in my head. “Graymason.”
Jack nodded. “That locus code you used took us to her office. I drained as much power off you as I could, but I passed out in transit. The Anakim must have come through the portal after us. By the time I woke up, you were having some sort of seizure and she was dead. The Elders think you killed her, too.”
“That’s insane. I didn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jack tightened his hands on my shoulders. I couldn’t breathe, and my whole body shook in tiny, spastic quivers. “The Council had to convict you. You’re their only suspect. As soon as you channeled us out of the test site they knew the Otrava wasn’t working anymore. They figured if you channeled enough power to shield me and keep yourself alive, then you’ve become too dangerous to live. When Lisa testified you’d killed a demon—”
A picture of the Rangor demon popped into my head. “But…we were protecting a vampire!”
“I know. She tried to explain. They wouldn’t listen.”
“What about you?” I demanded, my voice rising. “You were there when the Graymason came—the real one. At my test. Wouldn’t they listen to you?”
“I didn’t testify.”
His words hit me like a slap in the face. “What do you mean, you didn’t testify?”
“I mean, High Elder Akira called for my testimony and I said I had nothing to add.” Jack ran a hand over his forehead. “Look, can we do this later?”
I felt like all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. Jack knew I was innocent, but he let them convict me anyway? Of murder? My whole body shook at the betrayal. “This makes no sense,” I said. “Why wouldn’t you tell them?”
He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated? Am I that much of a pain in the ass? Do you really hate me so much—”
“Hate you? You think I hate you?”
“I know you do. You have since the day you got here.” A few angry tears rolled down my cheeks, alongside a trickle of snot. I sniffed it up loudly. “Why didn’t you just let me die Monday morning? If I’m such a monster why’d you bother to save me?”
“Miss Bennett, please—”
“What, are you going to gag me again?” I dared him. “I hate you. I hate you, I—”
With a sound of frustration, Jack swooped in close and pressed his mouth to mine. At first, it was like he didn’t even want to kiss me, like some reflex or something. His lips were hard and unyielding, as effective a muzzle as his hand had been earlier. I wanted to struggle, to kick and punch like I’d learned in my defensive combat classes. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but cling to him.
A sound like rushing water drifted through my mind as his grip tightened on my shoulders. Around us, the air crystallized, thick and bright and hot, as my power began to merge with his. I forgot about the guards. I forgot about Smalley. I forgot about the guns and the trial and my impending death. All I wanted was him. Which is why I can’t explain what happened next.
I wasn’t even aware of my hand forming itself into a fist or of the fact that we were still kissing until my knuckles cracked against his jaw. He stumbled backward, clutching his face.
For a long moment he stared at me, silent. In the distance, doors slammed and boot soles pounded, the thud of death’s approach. But all I heard was the blood in my ears.
“I’m sorry. That was—” Jack stopped, shaken. His forehead was beaded with sweat and his eyes were wide. “There’s no excuse. I’m sorry. You had every right to hit me.”
He levered himself away from me, my knuckles still aching from the impact. I’d punched guys before, plenty of times, but it usually happened during sparring drills. This was the first time I’d ever hit someone who was trying to make out with me. Ironic, since he was the only guy I’d ever actually wanted to make out with.
“It won’t h
appen again, I swear.” His eyes stayed glued to the floor as he spoke. “Look, for the record, I don’t hate you. And I’m sorry things can’t be different between us. But we have at least twenty minutes before the Otrava is dissipated enough for you to make a portal jump. In the interest of not dying, do you think we could maybe call a truce?”
My mouth opened and closed a few times. I wanted to say stupid stuff, like how I didn’t mind if he wanted to kiss me again. In fact, I’d be up for almost anything he suggested so long as it didn’t involve me getting killed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say that since my mouth refused to form complete sentences.
As if on cue, a rumble of footsteps rang out somewhere beyond the bathroom door. Instinctively, Jack spun so that his body was positioned between the threat and me. Before I could shriek or duck, he shoved me into a corner stall and ran out the door. I heard a few dull thuds and cracks, then he was back, a guard I didn’t recognize slung over his shoulder. He dumped the man on the tile and returned for another one. By the time the third guard’s body hit the ground, I was staring at him with freaked-out eyes.
“You have something to say?” he asked.
I shook my head, mouth clamped shut. The only things I had to say would far exceed my four-letter-word quota and probably wouldn’t be very useful.
Lazy beams of moonlight spilled through the bathroom window, casting an incongruously gentle glow across his face. It was weird, like I could see two people inside him at once; one, a violent psychopath and the other, a guy so sweet and cool, I wanted to curl up in his arms and suck on his earlobe. Too bad I had no idea which one was real.
It took us a few minutes to get down the hallway to the middle school campus. I held my breath as he pushed me into the paper supply closet and pressed his ear against the door.
“Wait here. Someone’s coming,” he whispered, motioning me back.
I crouched behind a stack of textbooks while Jack drew his sword. In one swift motion, he threw open the door and grabbed another stunned guard by his collar. The guard’s head smacked against a box of staplers as he fell, releasing a perfumed cloud of…Drakkar Noir?
“Jack, wait!” I threw out a hand. “It’s Lyle.”
Jack halted the sword strike midair. “Who?”
The boy on the floor grunted and tried to push himself up. It took Jack a second before recognition registered.
“Mr. Purcell, what are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?” Lyle frowned at Jack, rubbing the knot on his forehead. “I’m rescuing my girlfriend.”
“Your girlfriend?” Jack’s eyes narrowed.
I felt my face flush. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to ask you.” Lyle scrambled to his feet and crossed the space between us. “Lisa told me why you dumped me and I wanted you to know, I wasn’t just trying to have sex with you.”
I glared at him, doubtful. “You didn’t want to have sex with me?”
“No, I did,” he admitted. “I’m just saying, I think we could be good together…even if your dad’s a defector and your mom’s a traitor. If you’ll give me another chance, I’d like to make it up to you. We could go out for real this time. I mean, not anywhere public—”
Jack’s gun made barely a whisper as he pulled it out and, at point blank range, put a tranquilizer dart into Lyle’s jugular. With an ungraceful thump, Lyle fell to the ground, unconscious.
“Sorry.” Jack shrugged. “Reflex.”
I didn’t have time to do more than shoot him a dirty look before another siren started screaming in the distance. Without thinking too hard, I rolled Lyle over and pulled the black T-shirt over his head. Not the most fashionable minidress in the world, but if I was going to be on the run for my life, I would not be doing it in synthetic fabrics and Curious George.
“Turn around,” I snapped at Jack.
“What are you doing?”
“Duh, what does it look like?” I untied the hospital gown, inching it down over one shoulder. He whirled so fast you’d think I’d fired a bottle rocket at his retina.
We made it across the hall to an empty classroom without further incident. From the look of things, the guards had already tossed this sector. Furniture was overturned, bookcases peeled back from the walls. Even the air had taken on a smoky haze. Jack pulled me to my knees behind a toppled desk in the back of the room, his hand resting possessively on my back.
“Miss Bennett,” he whispered. “Can you try a small channel?”
I tried to minimize the sarcasm as I answered, “You know, we’ve made out twice now. You can call me Amelie.”
His eyes narrowed for a second as he considered this. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with that.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
And, just like that, the topic was closed. As long as I live, I will never understand guys.
“Okay, whatever.” I held out a hand, palm up, and tried to clear my mind. It was an impossible task. Everywhere Jack had touched, goosebumps ran up my skin. It took a few seconds, but soon the air began to thicken, a silvery mass collecting over my hand in a tight swirl. “I can do it. I think.”
“You think? Or you’re sure?”
“I’m sure…ish.”
With hesitant motions, my fingers scrawled out the containment wards. No one would follow us through this time, but I didn’t want to take the chance of opening a demon rift in the wake of our escape. Maybe I was a Graymason like Jack said, but I certainly wasn’t a killer. I just hoped I’d have enough power left over to close the portal once we landed.
“So, Smalley knew, huh?” I asked him, finishing the last of the wards. “That’s why she gave me that incantation…to portal us back?”
Jack paused, then nodded. “She wouldn’t have called me here if she didn’t care about you.”
I swallowed the prickle behind my eyes. There wasn’t time for tears now. This portal would have to be smaller than the one at the test. Even with Jack drawing Crossworld power off me, I wouldn’t have the strength to hold a big one. The frantic energy was already seeping out of my limbs, replaced by a deep physical exhaustion. Smalley was dead. I was wanted for murder. And apart from a semi-deranged Watcher with intimacy issues, there was nothing standing between a legion of executioners and me.
“Ready?” he asked.
With a quick nod, I spoke. “Caret initio et fine. Ab initio—”
Down the hallway, doors slammed, desks clattered against the floor, and men shouted at each other. I shut my eyes, pulling hard against the rising tornado.
“Ab initio. Ad patres. Deficit omne quod nasciture.”
I had just finished the incantation when the door to the classroom exploded, Ms. Hansen’s petite form filling the doorway. She looked like an ancient warrior goddess—bosom heaving, arms outstretched, black hair whipping wildly. I ducked as shards of the shattered door hit the wall behind us.
“Terminé,” she screamed.
In a heartbeat, the gusts slowed, my wards dimming to gray.
“Dammit.” Jack stood from behind the desk, his gun leveled at her face. “Lori, back off. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Have you lost your mind? She’s a murderer!” Hansen yelled at Jack, her doe-eyes wide.
“She didn’t do this.” Jack’s finger tightened around the trigger, but he didn’t fire. “You know it. The Elders know it. This isn’t justice, Lori.”
I crawled under the fallen desk. Even if I could get the portal open again, I wasn’t entirely sure where it would send us. Smalley’s incantation had been linked to a locus code for her office, so I couldn’t use that again. The only exits I’d ever established were for school pranks and dares. Odd places. Places you wouldn’t want to drop into unannounced.
“Justice?” Hansen gaped at him. “She’s Anakim, Jackson! A soulless, remorseless killer. She should never have been allowed to live. The prophecy says she’ll bring death to the Sons of Gabri
el—”
“The prophecy says a Gray One will. It doesn’t say it’s her.”
“‘Blood of taint and hair of fire?’” Hansen quoted, furious. “Who else could it be? You’re helping her bring the end of your own bloodline—”
“Leave it alone, Lori,” Jack said, gun still pointed at her head. “It’s none of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t!” She shook her head, stunned. “You told me it was over between you. You promised—”
“It is,” he insisted with an uncomfortable glance in my direction. “That’s not what this is about.”
I had no idea what they were saying, and, frankly, I didn’t care. The more time they wasted, the closer the guards got to us. Jack already looked a little beat-up, and I doubted he could dispatch them so easily with Hansen breathing down his neck.
I edged around the side of the desk to reach for Jack’s ankle. Maybe we weren’t bonded, but he’d boosted my power before. If I was in contact with him, I might be able to channel enough—
“Revelo!”
Hansen’s wrathful little voice shrilled through the room as soon as my hand came into her view. Before I could flinch, the desk flew straight up into the air and slammed into the ground a few feet away from me. The legs snapped off it with a hard crack, drawers splintering into a thousand pieces. I ducked as Jack threw his body in front of me, his arms coming up to wrap around my head in a protective hug.
“Desarmé!”
The gun ripped out of Jack’s hand and smacked against the blackboard at the front of the room. Tight wind tunnels whipped through the air, little tendrils of electricity spiking out of them.
“Lori, stop it,” Jack shouted. “You’re better than this.”
“You’re right,” she hissed, “I am. Doloré!”
Jack grunted at the sound of the curse, his body jerking away from me. It was as if someone had poured gasoline on him and lit a match. His spine arched, fists driving into the ground. Hansen stepped forward, her pretty face twisted with fury. I didn’t have to read the handbook to know it was against Guardian law to use a curse like that on one of our own.
