Vessel of Destruction (Daizlei Academy Book 4)

by Kel Carpenter

  “You’re telling me,” I muttered. The scent of orange and freesia tickled my senses as we turned a corner. The cracked double doors at the end of the hall gave me pause as my heart sped up and we loomed near.

  I rested my hand on the door when Amber paused.

  “About the elevator,” she started, looking to the ceiling.

  “It’s nothing—”

  “No. It’s not,” she replied, and I stilled. “I see the way you look at it sometimes. I know what you’re thinking, and Selena,” —she caught herself, blowing out a harsh breath— “when you meet the Alpha you’ll understand. He lost Katherina almost fourteen years ago.”

  “When Keyla was born,” I said softly. She nodded.

  “She was the love of his life. His other half. His signasti.” I swallowed hard. “If you go into that elevator searching for her and you don’t come back out, that’s what you’re sentencing him to because he will never come back from it.”

  I had to look away from the weight of her gaze. Guilt ate at me, but not the kind she thought. I didn’t feel terrible for considering it. I felt awful for once again choosing to stay because I was too scared of what I’d find on the other side.

  “I understand.”

  “Good.” She nodded and started back down the hall, then paused. “Selena?”

  “What?” I asked, fingers tightening around the handle.

  “Good luck,” she said softly. Her words carried down the hall to my ears as did her footsteps leaving.

  I turned the handle, and I wish I could say I was surprised at the man who sat in an oversized armchair, sipping tea from a cup. Warm brown eyes looked up into mine. His dark brown hair was longer than last time. It was pulled back with an elastic hair tie. A fine sheen of perspiration coated his skin, making his taut cheekbones appear sharper than they were.

  Still he smiled, and it was kind.

  “Hello, Selena,” he said. I sighed, stepping inside the library. The door clicked shut behind me.

  “Hello, Nate.”

  I stared at him, seeing the feeble Shifter in a different light than when we’d first met.

  Around the reservation talk of the Alpha was common. Who he was, what he did, the things he said, but it was all hearsay. Shifters talked of him like he was some omnipotent being. All encompassing. All powerful. All knowing . . .

  But he was none of those things.

  The Alpha that they talked of was only a shadow of a man, and it didn’t take long for me to understand Amber’s words because I’d met him once. A night not so long ago where I stood beneath this very stained-glass window and watched the twirling shapes drift in and out in a never-ending series of color.

  Nate had been here too, that night, under the guise of a mere man. Not a legend.

  “I see you remember me,” he said. That was a raspy draw of breath compared to what it had been not a month ago.

  “You lied to me,” I told him without thinking. Not that it would have stopped me. He smiled weakly, setting the teacup aside. There was a slight tremor to his hands.

  I knew then that something wasn’t quite right.

  “You were not ready to meet me,” he answered. Despite the fragile state of him there was a glimmer in his eye. A speck of hope that outshone whatever was slowly killing him.

  “I did meet you.”

  “But not as me,” he replied. I took a deep breath and let it go. My feet didn’t make a sound as I started to circle around the library, not looking so much at the books, but at the ceiling. It was as fascinating as the first time I saw it.

  “You called me here to meet you as the Shifter Alpha, but you didn’t send or tell Ash. Is there a reason for that?” I asked slowly, my fingers trailing along the wooden shelves and cloth-bound spines of texts that hadn’t seen the light of day in over fourteen years.

  “He lets you call him that?” Nate asked, ignoring my question entirely. I allowed it, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice either. Of all the ways I expected to meet Ash’s father, this wasn’t it.

  “He does,” I said. “He prefers it.”

  Nate nodded and steepled his bony fingers together, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair.

  “I don’t think you realize how much you’ve healed my family in the short time you’ve been in their lives,” he started. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I chose silence. “You and my son have come a long way from the comatose girl he brought home.”

  “You knew about that?” I asked, not looking away as the window shifted from a cerulean blue to merlot. The color of blood.

  A weak chuckle escaped him that turned into a cough before cutting off abruptly. Nate sighed before saying, “I’m weak, not blind. I know that you have been training with Keyla ever since you woke. I know that you pulled together the group of exceptionally young but powerful people that are residing in this mansion right now. I know you framed Anastasia Fortescue and that action inevitably led to her death.” He didn’t pause, even as I opened my mouth to speak. “Just as I know that my daughter was attacked, likely because of it—and that you chose to defend her despite the odds of you both dying.”

  I started to shake my head. To refute the claim, but he lifted a hand and motioned to the chair beside him across the tiny circular table. Swallowing hard, I walked on leaden feet toward it.

  “What you did took courage, and it likely saved my daughter’s life. I wanted to thank you for that.” He dipped his head. The brown eyes that met mine were soft.

  “You don’t need to thank me. I would never let anything harm her.” It was the God’s honest truth.

  “I know.” He paused and then glanced up to the window above. The colors shifted from mercury to a royal purple so deep that it appeared to be night. “But that’s not the only reason I brought you here.”

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. My hands clasped together as I tilted my chin sideways so that I could see around the short curtain of hair. “Then what is?” I asked.

  “Who are you?” he replied, the question coming out of virtually thin air.

  “I don’t understand,” I said slowly.

  “You are not the girl that arrived, nor are you the one that awoke, or even the one I spoke to last time. So . . . who are you?” he asked. There was something else in his expression this time. Not just that glimmer of hope, but a spark of something that was searching for an answer.

  I took a deep breath, considering my words carefully.

  He was right that I was none of those people before.

  But there had to be a reason he was asking this.

  It couldn’t just be pure coincidence. I didn’t believe in coincidences. Fate might be fickle, but it wasn’t accidental.

  “I am . . .” My teeth bit the inside of my cheek, but there was only one answer I could give. “Selena Fortescue.”

  Nate smiled, but it was a sad thing.

  “You’ve chosen to take up your father’s mantle.” He didn’t phrase it like a question, so I didn’t answer it. Instead, I asked a question of my own.

  “How do you know it was my father’s mantle and not my mother’s?”

  The Alpha lowered his steepled hands and reached for the steaming cup of tea. It smelled like jasmine and orange, with maybe a hint of honey. “Your mother wasn’t a Fortescue. Your father was. I know because I was his friend a long time ago . . . before life and responsibilities caught up to us.” His eyes took on a misty look, as if he were seeing things that weren’t there. “We went to school together, much like you and Asher.”

  Questions came to mind, unbidden and without permission. I wanted to ask what he was like, if my implanted memories did him any justice, or were they simply a fabrication of magic and childish hopes? But something stopped me because whatever he may have been like, I wasn’t ready to know. I may never be ready to know. The mind was a fragile thing, and mine had been shaken by the games my family liked to play.

  “Why are you asking if I took up his mantle?” I
said instead. It was the safer question. The one I needed to ask. Judging by the pitying look that crossed Nate’s face, my choice didn’t surprise him. It seemed the old Shifter did know much of what went down in his home. But he didn’t know everything.

  No one did.

  Nate took a sip of his tea, his lips pursing slightly as he swallowed with a slight hum. “Actions are what others use to define you. Your choices are what you use to define yourself. But your reasons—those make you who you are.” I blinked, waiting to see the point. “Before I tell you, answer me this. Why did you take on the name of the very people that hunted you?”

  “I believe there’s a war coming. The Vampires in the woods weren’t an accident.”

  “That doesn’t answer why,” he pointed out kindly. Prompting me.

  I bit my cheek and tasted blood.

  “I . . . I’m tired of the fighting. I’m tired of the running. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder anytime I leave these walls—but I can only imagine what it would be like to be someone who couldn’t defend themselves against the Vampires. Supernaturals everywhere are dying. Black markets are open season for hunting, and throughout it all, the Fortescues did nothing. Anastasia was working with the Vampires for Christ’s sake. My own sister was taken and”—I broke off, breathing hard—“I would do anything to get her back and end this. Anything. Even taking the name I hate more than anyone in the world.”

  By the end of my rambling, Nate was watching me far more intently. No longer pretending this was an idle chat between old friends or the father of one’s significant other.

  “You took up the name to change the world. To give them either someone to fear or someone to respect. Someone they could rally around,” he said. I nodded slowly. “But so far you’ve done nothing but collapse a building, cause an earthquake, and destroy the Las Vegas black market.”

  “I wasn’t at fault for what happened at Daizlei,” I replied a bit terser than needed. He nodded grimly.

  “No, but it was a Fortescue, nonetheless. I look at you, and I see hope. I see a person who is willing to do bad things for the right reasons—and that makes all the difference.”

  “All the difference for what?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “You need allies, Selena. People who are willing to fight with you. Currently you have the name of a family that has done terrible things to Supernaturals and other paranormals alike. Some might get behind you out of fear, but if you want to stand a chance in winning this war before it really starts—you need whole factions of paranormals to back you. People that see you as the weapon and the wielder.” I leaned back in my chair, brushing my hair aside to turn and stare at him fully. “I couldn’t publicly support you as Selena Foster, my son’s unbonded mate. I can support you as Selena Fortescue, the next co-Alpha, and a current member of Council—but without other allies it would be problematic.” He looked away for a moment, letting out a cough.

  “Shifters alone can’t rise against the Vampires and expect to win,” I surmised. “And without a guaranteed win, this would turn into an all-out war that would span into the human world.”

  He nodded. “You need backers. Enough so that the Vampires are willing to end this before it becomes a true war—one we might not be able to win.”

  It was smart, what he suggested. Enough groups of the paranormal community uniting as one front may just be enough to push them back into submission. Maybe.

  “As you’ve so nicely pointed out, I don’t have the greatest PR and the Supernatural Council is splintered. So tell me how exactly you think I’m going to get other factions on board with this?” I raised an eyebrow as he blew out a breath, readjusting in his seat.

  “You go to them and you make friends. As the representative for the Fortescues, you still have a certain amount of sway. You’re going to need that, because to stand a chance we have to do something that hasn’t been done in a thousand years.” A shiver went through me and the skin along my spine prickled. “We have to unite against a force greater than ourselves.”

  “And if I can’t keep those promises?” I asked him.

  A heavy pause stretched between us as I started to understand.

  “Sometimes people do bad things for good reasons,” he replied. I narrowed my eyes, curling one hand into a fist to rest my chin on.

  “If that’s the case, why aren’t you out there doing this?” I asked him, and he gave me a deadpanned look.

  “Look at me.” He motioned to himself. “No one in their right mind would agree to go to war when this is what the Shifter Alpha looks like. Not even my own people would be on board if they realized how far I’ve deteriorated . . .” he trailed off, panting softly from the tension. “You’re the strongest Supernatural that’s ever been. Despite your name, that will count for more in this world. The other leaders will see you and think long and hard before turning away your alliance—because while you haven’t proven to be the greatest friend, they do not want you as their enemy.”

  “So you want me to coerce them?”

  “I want you to do everything possible to bring people to our side and try to prevent this from escalating further,” he answered—non-answer that it was. I scowled.

  “And if it doesn’t work?” I asked. “If they don’t back down and it does become a full-scale war?”

  His lips pressed together and for the first time I saw some semblance of Ash in those features—in the strong jaw as it clenched—in the eyes that had a way of making it seem like they saw straight to your soul. In his youth, the Shifter Alpha would have been a sight to behold. He would have been Ash.

  “If it comes to that, you’re capable of doing bad things for the right reasons,” he repeated. I blinked.

  “Would you actually send the Shifters?” I asked him, needing to hear the answer.

  “If it came to that, I wouldn’t have a choice. Why do you think I’m bringing you here now?” When I didn’t answer immediately, he continued. “My own home was attacked. My daughter almost taken. I wouldn’t have been able to stop it if she had been—but you did. Some of my people fear you for what you are. Some respect you for what you’ve done. If war comes they won’t fear or respect an Alpha that can’t lead them into battle.”

  My heart thudded twice, a damning sound.

  “If you can’t . . .” I started.

  “Then Asher will have to,” he answered. “It’s his duty as the Heir.”

  And there it was.

  The real reason I was summoned alone.

  If this escalates, then Ash will lead the Shifters because his father couldn’t.

  “You fear he wouldn’t come home,” I said. It wasn’t an accusation, but he still answered.

  “He’s young, and he’s cocky. While he may have more power than most of his kind, he’s my son, and the last place I want to see him is in a coffin.” The grim reality of his confession struck a chord. The night Anastasia slit his throat was still fresh in my mind, and it took all I had not to gag from the bile climbing up my throat.

  I understood his fear. I understood it too well.

  “There’s no way either of us could stop him if it came to that. Not that I would try.” He stared at me, and I continued. “He has never tried to stop me from being who I am. He wouldn’t change me or ask me to be any different—and I wouldn’t ask that of him. I understand your fear. I get it . . .” I paused. Both my hands fell to my lap. I looked at my fingers as they locked together. At the edges of my palms where the twin pentagrams sat. A reminder of what I’d done and who I was. “But if it comes to that, the decision will be his to make.”

  It was several moments before either of us spoke, both lost in our thoughts. Then he said, “You remind me so much of Katherina that it’s painful. My son is lucky to have you.” I nodded because I wasn’t sure how people usually responded to that. Thank you didn’t feel right, but neither did silence.

  “I’m lucky to have him.”

  The Alpha nodded, the sallowness of his cheeks clearer when he
moved. He leaned forward to grasp the cup and take another sip of tea. I tried to hide my frown at the not-so-subtle tremors in his hands, but those knowing eyes slid sideways as he said, “Go ahead. Ask.”

  I sighed. “Shifters aren’t susceptible to illness. No paranormals are.”

  “Not a question, but yes.”

  “Why do you look like you’re on death’s door?” I asked him. He smiled up at the stained glass window.

  “Because I am.”

  The truth of that statement shook me to my core. “Ash hasn’t said anything to me.” I paused, dread clotting in my stomach.

  “He doesn’t know.”

  My eyes slid shut, and I leaned forward, running a hand down my face. When I opened my eyes again, he was back to watching me. “I’m going to take a guess that Keyla doesn’t either.”

  “That would be correct.”

  God damn him.

  “How are you even able to keep this from them?” I asked, pressing my lips together.

  He simply smiled. “Being the Alpha has its benefits. Much like my son, I can choose to appear any way I desire.”

  I blinked, and his entire appearance changed. The hair that had been thin and lank, grew long and thick and shiny. His cheekbones filled and his jaw, while still sharp—looked healthy. His physique filled, and with it so did my dread.

  He looked like Ash.

  But it was all a lie.

  Another blink and the illusion was gone.

  “Why would you tell me this?” I asked.

  The teacup rattled as he tried to place it back on the saucer. His movements were growing weaker by the moment. Using his power had clearly taken its toll.

  “The same reason I brought you here.” When I didn’t respond and only gave him a half-attempted glare, he let out a chuckle. “So that you understand. Time is of the essence and Katherina whispers to me from the veil. I stay because he’s not ready—and because I don’t want to pass on a people at war. I saw the signs of what Ivan the Cruel was up to for years and chose to do nothing. The kidnappings. Paranormals being turned against their will. I was so deep in my grief and anger toward the Supernatural community that I, and many others, let it happen. My complacence is unforgivable. As is the other leaders, but it doesn’t change the fact that if we don’t do something very soon—we won’t have a choice. Go to the Witches. Go the Fae. If you manage to convince them, others will come forward, and we may be able to stop this before it starts.”