Embrace (The Gryphon Series Book 2)
Page 4
“Celeste!” Grams called after me. “Where are you going?”
“Out!”
“Let her go,” Gabe grumbled loud enough for me to hear, which I’m sure was on purpose. “Maybe she’ll run into some big bad demon that’ll knock her off her ‘Chosen One’ pedestal.”
I stomped out of the house, crossed the dew moistened yard, and climbed back into my truck. My earlier agenda for the evening all but forgotten. I crammed the key into the ignition and fired the engine to life. Snatching up my cell phone, I punched in the number. Then cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear so I could throw the gearshift into reverse. Gravel flung as I peeled out of the driveway.
She answered on the second ring. Music blared in the background. “Helloo?”
“Sophia, it’s Celeste. Are you still at that club?”
“Sure am, babe!” She bubbled. “It’s called Smokey Joe’s and it’s off the hook!”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
CHAPTER 6
The thirty minute drive back to Nashville went by in a red haze of me stewing in my own anger. My entire family had been deliberately keeping things from me, and somehow managed to rationalize it away by turning the blame back on me. They believed I was “giving up on life”? More like life already gave up on me. This definitely wasn’t how I envisioned my future playing out. Just a few short months ago I’d been so looking forward to dorm life. I planned to discover who I was, and who I wanted to be, through trial and error. Every conceivable experience and adventure would be mine to embrace. Now that could never be. Because the more people I was around, the more lives I put at risk. But fine. They want me to go out and live? That’s exactly what I would do. And if someone ended up dead—or unexplainably evil, like Alec—that was on their heads. Not mine.
Actually finding Smokey Joe’s in Nashville turned in to an endeavor in itself. And one I really didn’t have the patience for. All the tall buildings, claustrophobia-inducing side streets, and loads of people milling all about made me long for the podunkness of Gainesboro. I puttered down 3rd Avenue, peering around for the address. Other drivers honked and threw me the bird because of my snail’s pace, but I couldn’t have cared less. With my mood I could’ve redefined “road rage” for them if they wanted to start something.
A thumping musical beat seeped through my cracked window. I slowed the truck to an idle and squinted down the narrow alleyway toward the sound. A jovial group of kids—teens, maybe early twenties—spilled out from the side of an old high-rise.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I grumbled to myself.
The blue piano shaped sign confirmed my fear. Smokey Joe’s sat back in the tight alleyway, nestled into the basement of the aged brick building. Cement stairs led down to the entrance. Fantastic. And I was supposed to park my truck…where?
In a huff, I drove off to find a place to park. After circling the block four times, uttering every cuss word I knew, and inventing a few new ones, I found a spot three blocks down and a street over. The walk back involved cutting through the kind of dark, foreboding alleys that girls are always warned never to venture in alone. Long, narrow, limited visibility—and not the least bit disconcerting if you happen to be a supernaturally strong freak. Since taking down a three-story dragon, muggers had become significantly less worrisome.
I ducked around the corner of a four story office building and strolled toward Smokey Joe’s. Almost instantly the street noise was silenced by the concrete and brick walls around me. Trash cans were lined up outside service doors, graffiti covered sections of wall, but there were no signs of life. Perhaps the ominous nature of my isolated surroundings were to blame, but a familiar prickling sensation sprang up on the back of my neck. I glanced behind me. Nothing there but a few random leaves blowing around in the nippy autumn breeze. I zipped my coat up a little further, then kept walking. The feeling intensified. No doubt about it, someone was following me. I couldn’t hear whoever it was, but I knew they were there. Despite the quickening of my pulse I kept my head down and stride steady.
With my empathe ability, I reached out for the link to my stalker’s emotions. No living being was anywhere around. Yet, my Conduit instincts told me I wasn’t wrong. I prepared for the inevitable by dropping my purse next to the wall, shoving my coat sleeves as far up my arms as they would go, and striking a defensive stance. The corners of my mouth tugged back in a grin. A little violence to blow off steam was exactly what I needed. And here it came. They entered this realm in five black puffs of smoke.
Poof.
Poof.
Poof.
Poof.
Poof.
The gang’s all here.
I righted my posture and dropped my arms to my sides. “You have got to be kidding me.”
These were, without a doubt, the worst collection of demons I’d ever seen. On the far right stood a broad-faced, pasty-skinned guy who looked an awful lot like Eddie Munster with a Mohawk, signature widow’s peak and all. Next to him were a pair of Siamese twin demons connected at the shoulder with bowl haircuts, and glasses held together with Scotch tape. I even had a couple inches on them height-wise. The third dude was tall and gangly, with reddish-orange hair that stuck up every which way. He had a fish hook nose and Dumbo ears that trumped Professor Nosehair’s. The last guy suffered from some sort of demonic acne. His skin was an angry mess of boils, blotches and puss. After my initial glance, I opted to avoid looking directly at him at all costs.
They were demonic geeks, and seemed absolutely terrified to be here. I confirmed my suspicion by doing a false-start jerk in their direction. They squealed and huddled together. The twins even squeezed their eyes shut. Unless these guys had some hellacious powers, I found it deeply offensive that this sniveling band of goobers had been sent after me.
“The Dark Army sent you?” I scoffed as I yanked my coat sleeves back down my chilled arms. “To do what exactly?”
“We’re supposed to kill you.” After saying it, one of the twins squeaked and tried to hide behind his brother, which of course was physically impossible. Idiots.
My hand paused on my sleeve. I raised one eyebrow at him and did my best imitation of Gabe’s cocky smirk. “Is that a threat?”
I couldn’t tell which, but one of them whimpered.
“No! Our powers aren’t completely developed yet,” admitted the visibly trembling Red. “We don’t even know why we were sent!”
With an exasperated sigh, I straightened up—again. This proved without a shadow of a doubt that Rowan lied. Why would anyone in their right mind voluntarily abduct and demonize these weenies?
But a demon’s a demon, and I was still itching for a fight. “What can you do?”
“Well, I can do this.” Red held up his index finger. He grimaced and strained until the digit began to glow red-hot.
“That’s something!” I encouraged. “You hitting me with a scalding hot fist could do some serious damage.” I waved him forward. “Let’s give it a try.”
He frantically waved his hands in front of him. “No, no, no wait! I can’t make my whole fist do it, just my finger. All I can manage is a menacing poke.” He poked at the air with his glowing digit.
I rubbed my hands over my face. I couldn’t tell if I was more disappointed or exasperated. “You live in the Underworld. Isn’t your whole purpose down there to sit around coming up with more effective ways to be evil? No offense but what the heck else do you have to do?!”
They exchanged determined looks and resolute nods that made my eyes roll. It was Eddie that enthused, “We’re the Dark Army Glee Club!”
I pressed my fingers against my throbbing temples hard. “The Dark Army what?”
“Glee Club!” Answered Boil Face. “You know, like the TV show? We love it! That’s where we got the idea.”
“I even shaved my head to look just like Puck!” Eddie tipped his head down and gestured to the mohawk.
I held up one finger to interrupt him. “First
of all, Puck is hot. You look nothing like him. Second, are you friggin’ kidding me right now?!”
“Nope. No joke,” Boil Face declared. “We aren’t a recognized club, but we meet almost every day to practice. We’re getting pretty good, too. Wanna hear something?”
Together they began, “Just a small town girl…”
“STOP!” I barked. “How is it that an army hell bent on world domination has a Glee Club?”
Red’s eyes widened in an expression of genuine alarm. “Oh, the others don’t know about it. If they found out we’d probably be flogged—or worse.”
“We’re rebels!” Came the muffled voice of the twin with his head partially hidden behind his brother.
I stifled a grin. “Oh, obviously.”
Red shook his hand and blew on his finger. “It’s kind of weird, though, that she sent us after you. You’re famous in the Under World, especially after the way you took out Barnabus. No one really liked him. But to send us of all people after the Conduit? Guess everyone else was busy.”
I snapped to attention. “She? She who?”
All five of their pasty faces went ashen. Their jaws hung slack at the slip up.
“She? There’s no she.” Eddie was just about the worst liar ever.
I thought back to the tale Alaina had weaved for me of how Barnabus gained power. He had sought out the help of a former woman of stature that had been chased into exile because of her dealings with the dark arts. Could it be? I narrowed my eyes and took a step closer. They all cowered back. “By chance, did you mean the Countess? And that would be the same sorceress that helped Barnabus turn himself and his army into demons, correct?”
When they didn’t answer right away I took another step forward. Squeals rose up as I backed them into the cement wall.
“Yes! Yes! Please don’t hurt us!” A twin shouted.
“Is she running the show now?”
“No,” Red tried to deny in a weak whine of a voice.
Two strides forward, and I pulled my arm back to strike. The “hiding” twin tried to scurry further behind his brother. They spun in a circle before landing in a heap on the ground.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Red pleaded. He held his hands up for mercy. “You’re right, okay? It’s the Countess. She’s been in charge ever since Barnabus enlisted her help. She tried to talk him out of going up against you himself, but he wouldn’t listen. So, she refused to let him take the army with him. She made him face you alone and he died because of it. That’s all I know, I swear! Please don’t hit me, I bruise like a peach!”
“And scream like a girl,” I added.
I often wondered why Barnabus came after me alone. Now I knew. It hadn’t been by choice. The power hungry ex-soldier lost control of his own army. My gaze wandered over the ragamuffin demonic group before me. They seemed harmless, but if I let them go the Countess would know I was on to her. I couldn’t let that happen. My change in stance and demeanor didn’t go unnoticed.
“We won’t say a word! We swear!” pleaded Boil Face.
My muscles tensed in preparation for the violent explosion to come. “I just don’t think I can take that chance. What if she were to torture you? From the looks of it, none of you would last long. I really am sorry. I promise I’ll make it as quick as I possibly can.”
The twins were locked in a terrified embrace as they sobbed in unison, “No! You don’t have to do this!”
“I kinda do.” I sighed and shrugged. “It’s my job to destroy the Dark Army. And you are, in fact, part of said army.”
Even though he quaked with fear, Red bravely stepped forward. “You’re even worse than the Countess,” he declared. “She may be an evil witch—with a capital B—but at least she’s honest about it. You’re the Conduit. You’re supposed to be one of the good guys. But here you are acting like a bully. We didn’t ask to be part of this army, and you know we can’t take you. We’re no threat to you at all. If you kill us, you’re nothing more than a hypocrite!”
I just got told off by a demon. Hello, rock-bottom. We meet at last.
But he was right. I didn’t need to hurt them. I was just looking for a release after the crappy night—no, months—I’d been having. It was wrong, and honestly kind of twisted.
My posture relaxed. I had no intention of chasing them, but still I said, “How about if I give you a ten second head start?”
Their nervous gazes flicked back-and-forth between each other before they chorused, “Okay.”
“Alright, then.” I closed my eyes and covered them like we were playing hide-and-seek. “One, two, three…”
That’s as far as I got. The Dark Army Glee Club harmonized as they vanished into the night.
“Good-bye!”
“Good-bye!”
“Good-bye!”
“Good-byee!”
“Goood-byyyyye!”
They were right, they were good.
I absorbed the silence around me. Emotionally I was drained. Tonight I had almost out badded the “bad guys.” Something had to change. Red had it right, I fight for the good team. No, not just good—the divine. It was about time I started acting like it.
CHAPTER 7
“I really am sorry,” I said to Sophia’s back as she stormed past me—again. My failure to actually make it inside the premises of Smokey Joe’s, or call to say I couldn’t make it, had peeved her off royally. She flipped her ponytail and ignored me as she rushed two caramel cappuccinos to table six. I collapsed onto the speckled granite countertop, my head smacking against it with a dull thud.
“You know she’s playing you, right?” Melissa muttered from behind her textbook. She was the most hard-core student I’d ever met. I’d never seen her without a book in her hand.
“I don’t know.” The countertop muffled my voice. “She seems genuinely peeved.”
“Right before you got here she was going on and on about some specimen of raging testosterone she spent the whole night dancing with. She’s just trying to make you feel guilty.” I brought my head up to see Melissa push her silver framed glasses up the bridge of her nose with one slender, mocha colored finger. Her curly hair was sheered short to her head. A look few women could pull off, but on her it was chic.
A relieved smile tugged at the corners of my lips as Sophia approached the counter with Operation Ignore-My-Lousy-Friend in full effect. “Melissa, I need a black coffee and a cinnamon bagel, please.”
She couldn’t do much of anything for the few minutes it would take Melissa to fill the order. It was as good a time as any to try and smooth things over. “Sophia, please give me a chance to explain.” I kept going even though she folded her arms and turned her back to me. “You, as my kind, wonderful, and—may I say—incredibly pretty friend, tried to take me under your socialite wing and I messed up. I got caught up in some crap and …well, that’s not important. What is important is that I’m sorry. I should’ve at least called. And if a situation like this should ever happen again, I promise I will.” She turned so I could see her roll her eyes, then looked away again. I sighed and altered my approach. “Would my apology be easier to accept if I took half your tables for the rest of my shift?”
She mulled that over for about half a second, then did an about face in my direction. “I’ll consider forgiving you under two conditions.” Her professionally groomed eyebrows rose as if daring me to refuse.
Happy we were making progress I slapped my hands down on the countertop. “Name it!”
“First, you do take half my tables. Because I got new shoes that—while insanely cute—are killing my feet.” She held up her foot to show off a pair of cherry red stiletto heels. I kept my judgmental comments about how incredibly inappropriate her choice of food service footwear was, and gave a tight-lipped nod of appreciation. Finally, her icy façade faltered and a smile broke through. “Aren’t they fabulous?”
“Absolutely,” I lied, then tried to steer her back to the matter at hand. “What’s the second condition?”
I actually felt the color drain from my face. “What?” Hearing how high-pitched and squeaky my voice came out, I cleared my throat and tried to sound less panicked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can talk to guys just fine.”
Her waist length ponytail lobbed to the side as she cocked her head. “When’s the last time you talked to a guy you weren’t blood related to?”
“Do my college professors count?”
“Are they hot?”
“Ew! Not even a little bit.”
“Then, no.”
“This is crazy,” I sputtered, and busied myself wiping nonexistent crumbs off the already clean counter. “I don’t need a dating coach.”
Sophia handed me a napkin to wipe away the sweat that had sprung up on my forehead. “Asking you to strip down to your skivvies and streak across the campus would be crazy. Talking to boys is a good thing that you should want to do. Unless…” Her voice lowered to a barely audible whisper. “Are you gay? ‘Cause it’s okay if you are.”
“I’m not gay!” I spat loud enough that several customers stopped to stare. My cheeks burned bright red. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” I clarified to the random strangers.
Sophia ignored my embarrassment and pressed on. “See? Then there’s no reason not to do this.”
“There is a reason,” I argued and flung my sweat drenched napkin at the garbage can. It bounced off and landed on the floor. “A good one. I don’t want to do it. How about that?”
When the last guy you dated turned evil for reasons you can’t explain it makes the prospect of even a casual coffee date seem far from appealing.
She crossed her arms and pursed her recently glossed lips. “Do you want me to forgive you?”
My arms fell limp to my sides as I realized I was going to lose this debate. “You know I do,” I grumbled. “But why do you even care about this?”