A Shade of Innocence (The Illuminati Book 1)

by Jane West

  I sat there numb with shock, speechless.

  Sam sat back on his heels, his face drawn. “Chickadee, unless you come into your massive artillery, ammo loaded, you ain't got much of a chance.”

  Jen snapped her head up at Sam. “Don't say that to her!” Her eyes shot darts at him.

  His arms flailed. “It's the truth. Why lie now?”

  Feeling a cocktail of fear, pissy and face down in the gravel, I butted in, “Why the trouble then, if I'm as good as dead?” I inhaled a sharp breath. “I might as well go back to the castle and offer myself up on their demonic altar.” I raked my fingers through my hair, attempting to pull myself together. “Isn't there a protection spell that will keep me safe?”

  Sam shared a quick glance with Jen and with a long look on his face, he replied, “These diabolical men are lords of the underworld. With their untold wealth and treasures, they have the power to purchase even the devil.” He stared at me, letting me digest this atrocity. “These occultists believe they are a superior. They are convinced that their destiny is to enslave mankind. They have their hands deep in the black cookie jar of magick, and as the past has revealed time and time again, they will use any means to achieve their goal.”

  I scoffed. “What are the Illuminati going to do? Corral everyone like cattle?” I inhaled. “Look, I won't deny that there's some weird freaky crap going on, but some of this stuff is from the dark ages.”

  Sam got this strange look on his face, an expression as if he possessed the cure to the common cold. “Chickadee,” his voice dipped down low, “Have you heard of the New Age, then?”

  “What about the New Age?”

  “It has everything to do with dark magick disguised as the light.”

  Ms. Noel interjected. “Evil has many faces, Catin.”

  My attention fell upon Ms. Noel, “Do you believe there's a conspiracy?”

  “I believe evil lurks everywhere, Babee, and it seems this young man who has watched over you appears to be up to no good! Whether he's part of a secret brotherhood or he's the devil himself, I think you might want to keep your distance.” Ms. Noel never wavered from telling the truth, and I trusted her but…

  My gaze dropped on Jen and then to Sam. “Is there a solution?”

  Sam sprinted to his feet and started pacing vehemently. With each striking pace, he mumbled incoherent words. Clearly, he was struggling internally.

  “Are you okay, Sam?” Jen rose to her feet padding over to Sam.

  He stopped dead in his tracks. His face strained with torment as he glimpsed up at Jen, and then slid his gaze at Ms. Noel and stopped on me. His fist cuffed, raised to his lips, his eyes shifty, nearly black. “I have an idea that might stop the Family from coming after you, or at least keep them from killing you.”

  I sprinted to my feet. “Anything Sam,” I pleaded.

  “You might change your mind once I let the black cat out of the bag.” His lips tweaked into a skeptical frown.

  There was a calm dread that singed every nerve in my body. I had a hunch that he probably was right. Keeping that in mind, what other option did I have? My balls were to the wall, hypothetically speaking of course. “Just tell me how to get Van-zilla off my back!” I buried my face into the palm of my hands, inhaling a few breaths for round two.

  “I'm gonna just say it,” he paused, “You and Aidan both have a similar genetic make-up.”

  “Whoa!” My heart stalled, “Are you saying we are related, like blood kin?”

  Sam's lopsided grin encroached upon something dark. “No, not blood-related, more like altered egos. You are each other's separate self, an exact duplicate of each other. That's why your hearts beat as one.”

  “Wait! How did you know?”

  Sam just shrugged and flashed an eerie grin.

  “Never mind.” I started chewing my nails.

  Sam rubbed his stubble on his jaw line as he paused momentarily. “I do have an idea, either way, I'm bettin' you won't like it.” He made his way over to me and dropped down to his knees, grabbing my gaze. “If you sleep with him on Samhain by the stroke of midnight, you will become infused; your essence with Aidan's spirit will unite as one. This act will bind your powers, but you will be bound to him forever, and forever is a very long time.”

  I laughed. “You mean I have to do the deed, sex?”

  “You are still a virgin, right?” Doubt blanketed his face.

  A sudden rush of heat coated my cheeks. Embarrassed, I rolled my eyes. “What do you think?”

  Sam blew out a long wind of breath. “Good thing, Chickadee! That's your free ticket.”

  “I don't understand how having sex with Bane will defuse this nightmare!”

  Sam flashed a sly grin. “Have you ever heard of sealing the deal?”

  “Will you get to the point, please?”

  “If you merge yourself with Aidan, the two of you will become untouchable. You know, joined at the hip.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that there's something you're not telling me?”

  The glint in Sam's eyes appeared strange. I held my breath as a sinking feeling washed over me.

  “The catch is that lover boy ain't exactly an angel.” Sam grabbed one of the rocking chairs, dragging it over in front of me and seated himself. He lightly groaned as he propped his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to me. “Aidan's lineage traces back centuries. He's actually part of the Malchut Beit David, meaning Kingdom of the House of David. Most know it as the Davidic Line.”

  “David in the Bible,” I asked as my brow arched.

  Jen placed her hand on Sam to halt his answer. She interjected, “You are correct, although, the story doesn't stop there. Histories reveal that dark magick runs deep in Aidan's family on both sides.”

  “The Davidic Line was the bloodline of Christ.” I shook my head. “I'm not sure I'm following you.”

  “You're right. Be that as it may, history doesn't always paint the full and complete truth, it is imperfect man keeping the accounts. Some histories got lost in transition. In this account, the House of David, there were others connected to the Davidic Line that took another path, a much more sinister path.”

  I leaned my head back, rubbing my temples from a throbbing headache. “I'm not sure I can take much more of this.”

  Jen jumped in. “Yes, of course!” She patted my hand, smiling and then proceeded, “On Aidan's mother's side, the Davidic line, David had a distant relative born at a much later time, after Christ's birth—Anne Montchanin.”

  “What does an ancestor have to do with what I'm facing?”

  “Bear with me.” Jen smiled, though her eyes appeared depleted. “Anne was a medium, she consorted with the spirit world.”

  I shrugged. “Ms. Noel's a medium. She's the purest person you'll ever know.”

  “I absolutely agree, but Anne didn't consort with the light, she summoned evil. She was barren and wanted children. As an act of desperation, she sold herself to the darkness.” Jen forced a smile. “This is Aidan's linage.”

  “Wow! That's startling.” I didn't want to ask, but an inner voice persisted, “And his father's side?”

  Regret smothered Jen's face. “They say on his father's side the bloodline runs all the way to Beelzebub.”

  I gaped at Jen and then at Sam and Ms. Noel. “Isn't that the—”

  Sam jumped in before I finished my sentence. “Old Blue's blood is so badly tainted, Chickadee, it traces all the way back to the Prince of Darkness.” Sam squeezed between Jen and me on the sofa. He grabbed my arms so that he could force me to look into his face. “The Illuminist is tainted with insidious blood, devil blood.”

  “Hold on a damn minute! My father was a member of the Family. He was good.” He was going to take that back or else he was getting a black eye.

  Sam cocked an eye. “Was he? From what I've heard, he's done some pretty low life things that made him a real hardnosed dick.”

  Sam's words stormed at me with a flurry.

  I spr
inted to my feet, fist white knuckled to my side. “Take that back, Sam,” I railed. “That's my father you're attacking.”

  Sam bolted to his feet, meeting me toe to toe. “Why should I? It's the truth. If he had not defected, none of this would be happening.”

  “How can you say that,” I gaped. “If my father hadn't met my mother, I wouldn't be standing here.”

  Sam hovered over me at least a head taller. “That's my point. We wouldn't be in a war fighting to protect you.”

  I fell back, nearly stumbling, but I gained my feet. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

  Sam took a step forward into my personal space, “Inadvertently, yes.”

  What a dickweed!

  Jen stepped in between us. “Sam, we didn't come here to argue over who did what!” Jen placed her hand on Sam's arm to calm his temper, but instead, he flung her arm off, all while he kept his heated gaze on me.

  I slid my gaze to Jen. “It's okay. I'm leaving.” Without a glimpse in Sam's direction, I sidestepped him and reached for Ms. Noel, giving her a hug. I smiled. “I need to go find Sara. I should at least warn her that she's in danger too. Can I leave Snowball with you until later?”

  “No problem Catin. You be safe now!” She hugged me back. “Let me know where you at. I'll worry.”

  “I will!” Tears welled.

  I started for the door. When my eyes lifted, Sam was standing at the door.

  “We're not finished.” Sam's eyes had taken on a predatory expression.

  “Oh, we are finished.” My words were stern and precise. I tried to step past Sam, but he halted me by grabbing my upper arm.

  “I said we ain't finished.” This time, he spoke in a low grunted tone.

  I was on my last nerve as my temper started to boil.

  Then suddenly Sam jerked his arm away as though he'd touched a hot burner. He held his palm as seeping blisters popped up. “Mother fucker!” His gaze snapped up at me. “You burnt me!” His eyes were wide with shock.

  I shook my head, freaking out. “I didn't do that to you,” I half shouted.

  I tossed a glance over my shoulder, and I saw Ms. Noel with a cloth filled with ice-cubes. I felt a little better knowing she'd take care of Sam, but this hostile person who looked a lot like Sam wasn't on my friend list.

  I started to bail until Sam called my name, “Stevie!”

  I paused with my hand on the doorknob, keeping my back to him. “What?” My voice was sharp.

  “If you decide to bind yourself to Aidan, you have to do it at the stroke of midnight, or else you lose everything, yours and Aidan's powers and possibly your lives.”

  I paused a moment contemplating this absurdity in my head. I replied with a curt answer, “Thanks.” My voice felt flat and empty.

  Without further discussion, I snatched up my hoodie and flew out the door.

  The Love of a Mother

  As I hurried down the steps shrugging on my hoodie, a light coming from my house caught my eye and I halted. Rain poured off my hoodie hindering my vision, but the soft glow penetrated through the sheets of rain like a beacon.

  I hadn't given it much thought where to look for Sara. Maybe she'd returned looking for me. I needed to warn her about my findings. I couldn't understand why she sold me to Bane, but I didn't want to fight with her either. I wanted to wish her well and be on my way.

  I hoped she and Francis planned to get out of town as well. Despite Sara's betrayal, I honestly didn't want anything to happen to her. Life was too short to harbor ill will, even if the person might be deemed as unworthy.

  I spied Francis' old car parked outside, no sign of the red Ferrari. “Mom,” I whispered. All of a sudden, I wanted my mother.

  Hovering from the gushing rain, I tromped through the mud, half blinded by the cold rain streaming down my face, my eyes were set on the little white house that I once called home. I scurried up the steps and reached for the doorknob.

  Against the howling winds and pounding rain on the rooftop, I heard faint cries as I closed the door behind me. The sobs were coming from the kitchen. “Mom!” A profound sense of worry flurried through me as I rushed to the kitchen. My pending troubles somehow didn't seem as important. All I could think about was my mom.

  When I entered the kitchen, my eyes fell upon Sara, slumped, her face buried in her hands, seated at the table. Tissues scattered across the floor like white dots.

  I rushed to her side and kneeled before her. “Mom, what's wrong?”

  She sniffled, her voice appeared frail. “It's Francis,” she choked through tears, “He's left me.” She began weeping deep from the belly, her shoulders shook.

  “Where is he? I'll call him.” I pulled my cell from my pocket.

  “He's gone,” she roared.

  “Mom, don't worry about him. We need to leave. Where's your things?”

  “Will you stop,” Sara hissed, “Francis didn't leave me, you idiot! He loved me.” Sara started sobbing once more.

  “I don't understand?”

  Sara dropped her hands from her face, aiming her glare at me. “Francis is dead, murdered!” Her accusing eyes sent chills spiraling down my spine.

  Without warning, my stomach roiled, and I couldn't stop the hurl. I dashed to the sink in the nick of time.

  Weak and shaking at my knees, I rinsed my mouth and made my way back to the table. I eased down into a chair next to Sara. I pushed past my bout with queasiness and asked. “When did this happen?”

  “This morning. I'd left Francis to take care of our—” Sara stopped, apparently hiding her shenanigans.

  “How did Francis die?” An old acquaintance came to mind that I hadn't thought about in a long time, Charles.

  “What difference does it make? He's dead!” Sara choked, barely able to speak, “I found him when I'd returned. He was lying in a river of blood. It was horrible!” She began sobbing, shoulders shaking.

  Something told me that this nightmare was like a merry-go-round of eerie. I sat back, mulling over in my head about Charles and his unexpected death. “Mom, how did Francis die?”

  “His throat was slit,” she wailed.

  “Charles was killed the same way too.”

  Sara didn't have to confirm my suspicions. I read it in the newspaper clippings she'd been hiding.

  Sara's head snapped up. “Why are you bringing up Charlie? I'm heartbroken over Francis,” she snarled, baring her teeth. “Stop badgering me with all these goddamn questions!” She pulled away from me with her back to me.

  “I know Charles died the same way. Why can't you admit it?”

  “What do you want me to say?” Sara tossed over her shoulder. “Yes! Charlie's throat got slashed.” The venom in her voice spewed, “Happy now?” I didn't know why but it felt like the blame shifted to me.

  “Mom, don't you think it's strange that both Charles and Francis are killed in the same way and then Dad's death too? That's three people who have been murdered in cold blood.” I rose to my feet and stepped softly in front of Sara, kneeling. “Do you think someone from the Bane's family has been tailing us?” She had to know it was Bane.

  Sara's gaze finally latched hold of mine. Her eyes filled with rage. “It's you and your father I have to thank for my miserable life!”

  My eyes dropped to Sara's hands. She was holding my cup, the cup that Dad had given me before he died. It was hard to miss with its red hearts, and a small chip broken off the handle. The mug contained no value, but to me, it was priceless. It was the last thing Dad had given me. Everything else, Dad's pictures, all his personal possessions, Sara had burned. “You have my cup. Where did you get it?”

  It was apparent that she'd been drinking. I could smell the Jack Daniel's on her breath before I spotted the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the table.

  “You know, I never wanted children.” Deflecting my question, she spoke in a calm voice, almost a whisper, “Jon insisted. The doctors thought I had a blood disorder,” she caught my gaze, “It was easy. Blunt t
rauma to a new pregnancy is an affected method of birth control.” Her lips twitched into a sneer as she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and a small box of matches. Calmly, she struck the match and lit her cig, taking a huge drag, and then she blew the smoke straight at my face.

  I quickly gathered to my feet and stepped back out of her range. I learned a long time ago that it was best to keep my distance when she was in one of her dark moods. I leaned against the counter, eyeballing her cautiously.

  She flung the lit match at me, obviously to get a rise out of me. I didn't flinch, willing myself to hold still.

  Sara went on with her baleful spiel, “Your father just wouldn't give it up.” She took a long, thoughtful drag on her cigarette. I watched in silence. The cherry of the cigarette illumed. Quietly, Sara flicked the ashes on the floor as she forcefully blew out a long stream of gray smoke.

  Then her odious eyes targeted me. “Not until someone from his family approached me did I reconsider giving your father a child. The gentleman was a distinguished diplomat of Jon's family.” She flashed a wicked smile. “I only agreed to do it for the money. I never wanted you, and I am glad to be rid of the burden.” Her face twisted into someone unrecognizable. “Why are you here anyway? I handed you over to him.”

  “Don't worry. I won't be staying.” A raw and primitive grief overwhelmed me. “You sold me to a monster!”

  “What's a few bruises when you have the world at your feet.” Sara raked her eyes over me as her mouth twisted in disgust. “I think you got the better deal. You're as frumpy as they come.” She took another drag off her cigarette then she broke down sobbing, tears streaming, “Francis is dead! What am I going to do now?” Sara pressed her hand over her face and sobbed.

  Without thinking, I made a step toward her, but then my inner voice stopped me. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to console her, but my better sense warned me against that notion. Sara wouldn't have welcomed me. Instead, my getting in close range of her might provoke her into an altercation, the last thing I wanted.