“Oh, you were handling the situation just fine. You seemed to handle each other every possible moment you could. So you can take your hypocrisy and shelve it and while you’re at it, put the attitude and the arrogance there too.”
There was a moment of silence, but the sharp glare continued. I took his silence as a small victory, a short-lived one. He returned to the notepad. “Go through the book and read off all the spells with spirit shade in it,” he said. He flipped over toward the back of the notepad and I began to read all the ones that I could find. In the end, there were twenty-eight out of nearly three hundred spells about spirit shades. Cryptic spells that, without the third book, meant nothing. I felt the same frustration that Josh had earlier. It would take days before I could go through the whole book to translate it, but skimming through it, there were only three spells regarding were-animals. As I stumbled my way through the translations, Ethan, not possessing the same patience as his brother, let out several irritated sighs and we became resigned to me spelling out everything.
“Twenty-eight spells,” I said, sitting back in the chair.
Ethan’s eyes lifted, studying me as I fidgeted.
“There have to be more spirit shades than just me out there,” I said.
The long stretch of quiet contemplation was starting to annoy me. Say something!
Instead, he rested his head on his hands, carefully watching me. “And?”
“Don’t you wonder if there are, and their purpose? For years Maya remained dormant, and all of a sudden, she is making a grand appearance. I can hold magic, manipulate it into dark magic, feed vampires and—” I stopped abruptly. I was about to tell him about our venture to the dark realm, but I didn’t want to discuss it or the fact I saw something there that resembled him.
“And what?” he asked.
“And I feel like something is off,” I said.
He frowned at the lie, his arms folded over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. The cool platinum eyes studied me for a few minutes before he spoke. I had his attention and it wasn’t the best feeling. “I guess you are more dangerous than we even speculated.”
I shook my head. “Just different, because there are twenty-eight spells for spirit shades, and we are nearly a third of the way through the translations and there are only three regarding were-animals. Are the were-animals so innocuous that so few spells are needed for us, or are the spirit shades so complex that more than just three spells are needed to subdue them?” I asked.
“There isn’t any way we can find that out if there are any more spirit shades. Maya is hundreds of years old, and it would be difficult to find one, especially if they are hosted,” he said. But he seemed intrigued by the idea of finding more.
“Well, it would be limited to a smaller number than the masses. They can only exist where magic does, so the host will either be a mage, witch, were-animal, elf or fae. That definitely brings down the numbers,” I said.
“Not enough; there are millions of us,” he said.
“Then we follow the origin and talk to Tre’ase,” I suggested. The thought of finding more intrigued me because I was curious about Maya and vowed to find out who had murdered her and why. Finding others would help that. Why would someone murder a child? That is one of the many things I hated about the otherworld; amoral and unscrupulous behavior was bred from the desire to keep it stable and as safe as possible in a world full of monsters. I suspect most enjoyed the seedy, dark, unscrupulous underbelly of this world and others deemed it a consequence of living in it. I had been pulled—no, I was really dropkicked into it—and held under the swamp-like surface until I screamed uncle. And sometimes I was ready to scream it again at the top of my lungs.
Ethan’s gentle smile seemed foreign. Far too often, it was done to distract from a venomous deed. “That is an idea,” he admitted, “The problem is we only know of one; she is dead and so is her son. We have no way of finding out if other Tre’ases exist.”
I stood examining all the books on the shelves. A plethora of information and yet we were still clueless about so many things in this world. Last year we were able to source the magic and find the Tre’ase’s son, but it was a familiar relationship. Tre’ases were trickster demons that had a long history of causing trouble. They were infamous for providing their services to the highest bidder or those that could wreak the most havoc.
“I am more concerned with the link between you and others that can read the Clostra,” Ethan said.
“We need to determine if it just my family lineage, being a Moura, or hosting a spirit shade that allows me to read the Clostra. If it’s because I host Maya, then that can be a start. I suspect it has something to do with my family since Seena can read them too,” I said, pacing the floor. I returned to studying the books, pulling out a few that caught my attention and scanning over them. I could spend weeks in here reading from sunrise to sunset and never finish all the books in the library. Without Josh, who was the unofficial librarian, it was even more difficult. The various languages were a challenge too. Most of them were in Latin; intermingled among the ones in English were the other languages that I needed Google translate to figure out.
“It’s not your family,” said the melodious baritone voice behind me. I turned and looked up from the book in my hand to see Sebastian leaning against the doorframe. It was always troubling how a man his size moved so silently and undetected, with quick stealth movements.
“Seena isn’t a blood relative. Her hair isn’t naturally dark like the others in your family; I could smell the chemicals in her hair.”
That’s a horrible skill to have. I am sure he is just wonderful on a date as he tells her he can’t stand the smell of her chemically colored hair.
He continued, “When she speaks, her Portuguese it isn’t fluent. She stops too often to think about her words before she responds, which means she learned it at a later age. The small cleft in her chin is another sign. There was a picture on the mantle of the fireplace of her and a woman that claims to be her mother along with a man, who I assume is the alleged father. A cleft chin is a dominant trait; one of them should have one—they don’t. They are not her parents.”
That was a sore subject for me. “If they raised her, then they are her parents,” I said in a sharp tone.
“Semantics. The issue still remains; she isn’t related to you. Her ability to read the Clostra is not linked to your lineage. Your family are low-level witches, but since she is the only one able to read it, I assume it isn’t linked to that either.” He slipped into the chair next to Ethan, and they pondered over this. “There has to be a link between you and Seena as to why you two can read them.”
What did he want from me, to play nice to get information? That was something I knew I couldn’t do. The resentment pricked at me each time I thought about what they did to me and the blatant confirmation that I didn’t have any family I could depend on. No, I didn’t care to know any more about the people that tried to kill me.
Sebastian studied Ethan with astute intensity, taking a long moment before he spoke. When he finally did, he was careful with his words. "Chris knew a lot about Gloria, right?" he asked. Gloria was the first Tre’ase I met, over two years ago, when we were trying to find out more about my past and my odd abilities.
Ethan’s head barely moved into the nod.
"She knew about her son, as well?" he asked.
Again, the nod was negligible.
"She seems to be privy to information that we aren’t. Sometimes ahead of us by steps."
"She is good at what she does…or rather what she did," Ethan responded, cool and despondent.
"We should see what she knows."
"Of course."
Sebastian watched him cautiously, but Ethan didn’t offer much for him to read. He was stolid as usual and would never show how he felt about visiting his ex, who he had been willing to let die instead of allowing her to be changed into a vampire after she had sustained near-fatal injuries.
> Ethan didn’t object when I offered to come along. The looks he shot in my direction didn’t bother me, I was so used to them that if he didn’t give me one every now and then, I would be concerned.
Sebastian was right, Chris had a lot of information, which she wasn’t always willing to give and it was often accompanied by her trying to obtain just as much information from the questioner. As a Hunter, her lack of implied loyalty to anyone made her the go-to person for most things that occurred in the otherworld. Nearly two years ago, she had been contracted to kidnap me for the vampires. I had every right to hate her, although I knew to her, I was just a job, nothing more or less. And she was good at her job.
When she lay in the pack’s hospital near death, there was a part of me that didn’t want her to die. I didn’t like her, but I respected a person that managed to survive in the otherworld, and she got a few extra points for doing it as a human. But that wasn’t the case anymore. Now she had been a vampire for almost three months.
CHAPTER 8
The ride to Chris’ home was uncomfortable and teeming with tension. I wasn't sure what to expect: anger, violence, the intense sexual tension that often marked every moment Chris and Ethan were near each other.
When we pulled up to her post-modern home in the small neighborhood, a large coppice surrounded most of the area, giving sufficient privacy to the few homes on the block. I guess when your life consists of catching and killing malicious things and socializing with creatures of the otherworld, privacy is needed.
It took her a while to answer the door. I wondered if she stood on the other side debating it. Eventually the door opened; an assessing look stayed on Ethan for several moments before she stepped aside, in near silence with nimble, graceful steps.
Dressed in a black tank and a pair of jeans that had to require feats of acrobatics to get into, she looked different but the same. Her skin had maintained its pecan hue, with a pale undertone. She slid her fingers through her sable hair, refocusing her chocolate eyes, which were veiled by long lashes and thick eyeliner, on us.
Her soft features no longer displayed relaxed confidence; instead, she looked guarded and dour.
“What do you want?” she finally asked, walking away to stand near Demetrius, the Master of the Northern Seethe, who was seated on the sofa.
Ethan focused on him. His dark hair was chin length, a lot shorter than it was when we first met, under terrible circumstances. The anthracite eyes remained on Ethan as he came to his feet, like an elusive wave nearly imperceptible to the eyes. The black marbles narrowed and he stood taller focusing on Ethan. The coolness of Demetrius’ ire drifted throughout the room.
I guess there is going to be violence after all.
Chris quickly stepped between them and then turned to Demetrius. "I need you to leave," she requested softly.
His eyes widened at the invitation before he shot us a baleful glare, that landed and remained on Ethan. "I'm not going anywhere."
When she spoke, it was firm but gentle. "This is business." She turned to address Ethan. "Right?"
"Yes, I need to ask you something,” Ethan said, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off Demetrius. Their resentment towards one another was so deeply ingrained that it had become the norm. They were two men that would each gather great satisfaction from standing over the other’s dead body. Sometimes I wondered if it was really about Chris. I had a feeling their animosity pre-dated even her. It was the same when Demetrius and Sebastian were in the room. Could two powerful men ever coexist in a space without feeling the need to assert their dominance and power?
“It will be quick, I can assure you,” Chris said.
“Then you will not mind if I stay,” Demetrius protested.
“He will not speak to me in front of you.”
“Then he should leave,” Demetrius said with a look that implied he was prepared to assist Ethan in doing so.
“Please,” Chris said. “It is not his request, it is mine.”
Demetrius split his attention between me, Ethan and Chris before he said, “I will be back in half an hour. It will be best if he is not here when I return.”
The simple noncommittal shrug seemed to be enough for him. He leaned down to kiss her, and she turned, offering him her cheek. Demetrius’ departure was a performance, a kiss on her cheek that lingered too long to be chaste; then he nestled his face in the curve of her neck, his hands roving slowly along her shoulder, back and waist, a casual display of ownership. Then he kissed her again on her forehead. This time she leaned into it enough to comfort him. Shooting another strident look in Ethan’s direction, he vanished without another word.
Really! Not his mistress. Ethan, welcome to denial-ville, population: one.
The tension wasn't nearly as thick as I anticipated, but there was an air of animosity that existed in droves. The large open floor plan wouldn’t be an issue if the situation became violent. Winter and Chris hated each other, and I suspected it was because they were so similar. I had no doubts that the desk in the corner, with her laptop on it, probably had at least two guns in it. If I looked in the closet, I am sure I would find a baseball bat, a sword of some kind and probably a rifle. The lovely pristine white room off to the side with the ceiling-to-floor windows, covered with thick light-filtering off-white drapes, surely had a couple of weapons stored in it. And the small circular ottoman sitting in front of the urban chic sofa, an odd burnt tangerine color, probably had a gun, knife, and maybe rope or handcuffs hidden in it. The clay sculptures meticulously placed throughout the room could be used as a weapon. The dark V-shaped television stand had four drawers, and I imagined at least a couple of them stored weapons of some sort. I knew this because I had stumbled on all this in Winter’s home. I was curious to see if I was right. I stepped back to look in the closet that was ajar. Well, there wasn’t a bat, but there was a nine iron. I peeked into the umbrella holder, and bingo, exactly like in Winter’s home, I found a sword sticking out of the scabbard.
I watched her carefully for any quick movements toward her weapons; but would it really matter? She was a vampire now; her movements would be too fast for me to really do anything to stop her. The only option would be to defend ourselves.
“What do you want, Ethan?” she asked
“How many Tre'ases do you know of?” he asked.
“Hmm.” Her interest was piqued. “I am sure I am not your first stop. Who did you go to first, Ann or Sean?”
“Sean.”
“Did he know anything? Or did he just flounce around like a self-entitled twit, demanding payment upfront for information he didn’t likely have. He’s a piece of work, isn’t he? A true shyster,” she said. She scoffed, “He considers himself to be my replacement since rumors have it that I’m dead.”
“Well, technically—” Ethan stated.
“Don’t.”
Had Sean’s reputation preceded him, or had she gathered that from dealing with him in the past? It had happened almost exactly as she stated. An arrogant young man answered the door of an expensive townhome in downtown Chicago. Dressed unnecessarily in combat fatigues with a gun holstered at his side, a knife at his waist, he was smug when he answered the door. Not only did he keep us waiting, knocking at his door, I am sure he stared out at us from the peephole. When he finally acknowledged us, he didn’t know who Ethan was. Usually I would have dismissed it as Ethan being arrogant, but he was supposed to be a Hunter. The one that had touted himself as Chris’ replacement. After three years at this, and attempting to build a name for himself, how could he not know who the Beta of Midwest Pack was? Sadly, he didn’t know who the Alpha or the leader of the elf was either. Ethan could barely hide his disgust and disappointment. Forty-five minutes later, we were standing at his ex-girlfriend’s house.
She sneered, “He is absolutely useless, more arrogant than competent.” She continued to pace, but this time the focus of her attention was on me. “Terait, odd magical ability, a connection with Ethos, unusual ability to stop a vam
pire’s reversion, and let’s not forget the connection you had with the Gem of Levage, you are a very unique little wolf,” she said.
“And?” Ethan said.
She shrugged. "Usually an anomaly like her would have the Midwest Pack siding with others to rid us of a potential problem that could get out of hand. I guess times have changed." She considered Ethan for a long time, the moue deepening with each passing moment. “I always thought the fall of your pack would be something far more cataclysmic than a doe-eyed brunette.”
Shaking off the idea, she moved to her desk and turned on the computer. For several minutes she browsed it, and when she addressed Ethan, she didn't give him the courtesy of her full attention as she kept her focus on the screen. Her voice was soft as she spoke. “Ethan, you don't need to worry. Your little anomaly has no effect on my life, and until it does, she is safe from me. But I would make sure she is never my problem.” She glanced in my direction and quickly dismissed me.
“Oh wow, thank you. You mean you aren’t going to kidnap me and try to give me to the vampires to be murdered? You’re so sweet. Do you like gift baskets? I should send you a gift basket. Such largesse should be rewarded,” I responded.
Fine. If you aren’t going to play nice, I won’t either.
She chuckled. Her fingers moving swiftly over the keys and a few times she tapped at the screen. “So, Bambi, is it safe to assume they need this information for you?”
“It's Skylar and no, I am just here with Ethan.”
She looked over, skeptical. Although it was the truth, I guess she was so used to so little of its existing between her and Ethan that she dismissed it as being another lie. “I really would prefer to stay out of things like this, but I kind of feel like I owe you, Bambi.”
Now I had to laugh, "It’s Skylar, not Bambi. Do you really think our past—
you know, the whole thing of you trying to kidnap me to give me to the vampires—will be squared by this information?"
Midnight Falls (Sky Brooks Series Book 3) Page 13
