Forgotten Enemy (The Powers of Influence Book 1)

by C. B. Haight

  Not uttering a single word, Jarrett contorted into a large wolf on four legs. He gave Cade one last, faraway look that seemed to say, if only things were different. Then he bounded off into the woods.

  Collett felt the urge in Cade, that instinct that wanted to follow Jarrett. She laid her hand on his and quietly said, “No. It’s not time.”

  Cade questioned, “What?”

  “It’s not time,” she repeated.

  Seeing Cade standing there stark naked with a puzzled expression on his face made Collett smile. She knew he wouldn’t truly understand. She barely understood herself. Collett turned to him and laid her hands on his chest. She tipped her head up so she could look into his eyes. “Cade?”

  He tilted his head and mimicking her soft tone asked, “What?”

  “Let’s go home.”

  Cade agreed, putting his arm around her waist and together they walked back down the path that Cade and Jarrett’s battle had created, making their way toward home.

  Epilogue

  Six days later-

  The phone rang, once, twice, a click. He heard a hissing, “What?”

  “It’s done.” Came the deep reply from the other end.

  “Ooooh, do you have the body?” Finnawick hissed excitedly. His excitement over this success oozed out in his tone. This would please his master.

  Jarrett ground his teeth at the imp’s gleeful tone. “I have it.”

  “I knew you could do it,” he responded.

  You know nothing! He thought, but Jarrett continued the game. “If you want it, my price has changed.”

  “WHAT? We agreed. I won’t pay more than a million,” Finnawick snapped.

  “Don’t worry. It’s not more money I want. In fact, you can keep the money. I have something else in mind.”

  Apprehensively, Finnawick asked, “What is it you want then?”

  “I want to teach a certain black-haired, pain in the ass, mage a lesson. I want whoever you are keeping for his, what was it you called it? Ah yes, his motivation,” Jarrett replied darkly.

  Finnawick could barely contain his excitement. This was the perfect ending for him. He told Jeffery the first person to kill the girl gets the prize. If he failed there would be no reward. He knew the kind of pain The Hunter could inflict, had seen the battered bodies in the past. Only one thing could possibly make it better, “Can I stay and watch?” he asked inquisitively.

  “No, this is between him and me. Just meet me in Lyons, Colorado at my hotel. Bring my payment, and I’ll give you what you’ve been waiting for. Agreed?”

  Disappointed, Finnawick groused, “Agreed.”

  “Oh and, Finnawick? Bring it to me whole and healthy, or the deal’s off.” He growled. Then flipped his phone closed. Jarrett went to the safe and pulled a long, serrated dagger from it. He stared at the shiny silver blade, remembering the past. Remembering a time when he almost killed Cade with this very blade, leaving a jagged scar on his jawline. He supposed they were even now.

  Shaking off his deep ponderings, Jarrett tucked the blade into his shirtsleeve, concealing it from sight. He moved to the back of the room, putting his back to the corner, effectively protecting his flank.

  Finnawick popped into the room in short order, with a short, plump, grey-haired woman in tow. Her big, brown eyes were wide with fear, and they darted all around the room with panic. When she saw Jarrett, her eyes widened even more. She gasped and back-peddled a step right into the smelly Finnawick.

  She’s smart enough to know death when she looked it in the face, Jarrett thought.

  The imp’s eyes darted around the room too, though his search was not frantic, it was eager. He was looking for something specific, a body. “Where is it?” he snapped.

  Jarrett gave him a cold smile and indicated the answer with a tilt of his head toward the bathroom.

  Finnawick didn’t even think it through, something Jarrett had counted on. Idiots were so predictable. Finnawick pushed the plump woman out of his way harshly. She fell to her knees heavily. Jarrett twisted his neck to the side, an audible pop sounded from his spine realigning itself. He let The Hunter come to the surface, let the anger wash over him.

  As soon as Finnawick carelessly passed him, Jarrett sprang into action. He wrapped one thick powerful arm around Finnawick’s neck, squeezing with painful and unforgiving strength. With lightning speed, he whipped his left hand around and plunged the silver dagger deep into sniveling imp’s black heart.

  Finnawick’s body jerked hard once. Jarrett twisted the blade viciously and Finnawick could only gasp desperately for air as Jarrett held him firm and whispered cruelly in his ear. “I told you I’d kill you. It was only a matter of time. Now go back to hell where you came from.”

  The thick, almost black blood pumped out of the fatal wound, as the imp’s heart slowed to a stop. When Jarrett was sure the imp had taken his very last breath, he viciously ripped the blade free and let the body fall. It crumpled lifelessly to the ground before his feet with surprisingly little noise. Finnawick was half-man and therefore, would not turn to dust as other demons did when sent from this plane. Instead, he died like men did.

  He turned to the woman on her knees. She had closed her eyes to the horrific and gruesome scene before her. Tears streaked down her dirty face.

  “Now, let’s deal with you, ” Jarrett stated flatly.

  The old woman opened her frightened eyes and stared horrified by the sight of Jarrett standing there covered in her tormentor’s blood. The sight was too much for her. The woman’s eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted, falling to the floor.

  Jarrett shook his head at the weak will of humans. Very few weren’t afraid of him. It is better that way, he reminded himself.

  He bent down and easily scooped her limp body up and left the bloody scene at the hotel. There was one more thing to do before he left town.

  ****

  “Hello Jeffery.”

  Jeffery didn’t even bother to look at the man sitting on the barstool next to him. He knew whose voice it was. He would never be able to forget the voice of the man who forced him away from the only chance he had to save his mother.

  He came here drunk to drink more. Sitting at the bar with a whiskey bottle within reach, and the smell of cigarette smoke all around him, Jeffery knew that no matter how much he drank, he could not erase the sound of his mother pleading for him to help her. He would never forget the sound of Finnawick’s raspy promise of pain and torture.

  The man spoke again, “I am here to present you with an opportunity, the opportunity to save your mother’s life.”

  Jeffery did look up then. What he saw caused him to fall right out of his chair. “Holy shit!” He slurred as he fell to the ground.

  Everyone in the bar looked over to them, curious about what was going on. When they saw it was nothing more than a patron who was just a little too drunk, they turned their attention back to their own business.

  Jeffery tried to get back to his feet, but couldn’t seem to feel his wobbly legs. Finally, The Hunter got annoyed and pulled him up by his jacket with ease, and plopped him back into the chair with a little more force than necessary.

  Feeling his head spin he slurred, “I can’t believe it… was you.” The words catching on his thick tongue as he forced them out.

  The Hunter answered simply, “That’s because it wasn’t.”

  “Huh?” he asked, while putting a hand to his head in order to try to quell the spinning.

  “I am not who you think I am,” The Hunter said vehemently.

  “Yeah, I’ll say, you was helpin that chick, but then you took my job. I don‘t get you man.” Jeffery was starting to think this through as best as his drunk mind could allow. Carefully he asked, “Hey, wait… how’d you know bout my mom?”

  Speaking fiercely The Hunter lost all patience, “Look you scrawny little piss ant, I don’t have time for this. Do you want the information I have or not?”

  Still slurring slightly, but b
eginning to think more clearly, he asked, “W-What’s the cost?”

  The Hunter knew what was coming for him, so he answered with resignation, “You have to pass on a message.”

  “To who,” Jeffery asked.

  “To Cade Werren,” The Hunter then slipped out a small envelope and handed it to Jeffery.

  “I must be really drunk. You just want me to give this to him?” he slurred.

  “Something like that,” Jarrett answered with irritation. “Tomorrow, give it to him tomorrow.”

  Jarrett stood from the stool casually. “What ‘bout my mom, man?” he asked desperately.

  “She is already at your motel waiting for you.”

  Jeffery could only stare after the dark, confusing man, as he walked out of the dimly lit bar into the cold winter night. He looked down at the sealed white envelope that he held in his left hand, the word Cade scrawled across the center, standing out with black ink.

  Jeffery stumbled from his seat and walked out the door to follow. When he got outside into the freezing cold air The Hunter was already long gone.

  ****

  After seeing his mother, Jeffery was eager to deliver the message to repay the debt as asked. Jeffery blinked himself right into of the heart of the enemy, so to speak. He knew he was supposed to wait until tomorrow to deliver his message, but he just couldn’t wait for some reason.

  When he popped into view of the house, Jeffery immediately knew his timing sucked. Twinkling white lights decorated the trees, and an extravagant floral garland adorned the entrance of the home, as well as the railings on the wide stone staircase. Several cars were parked outside, indicating several guests must be inside.

  After careful thought, he decided that maybe it would be best to wait until tomorrow. He stepped back once more and started waving his hand, when suddenly, something knocked his legs right out from underneath him.

  He hit the cold, ice-covered ground with a painful thud, releasing a curse as he smacked his head against the pavement.

  “Lookey here, James. Look what I found.”

  Jeffery groaned and rolled over. A man with sandy blond hair and blue eyes now stood threateningly over him. He was wearing a tuxedo, but that didn’t make Jeffery feel any better, fancy suit or not, this man was tense and ready to fight.

  “Man oh man, I would sure hate to be in his shoes right now. He didn‘t even come dressed for the occasion. Doesn’t anyone have manners anymore?” Another man voiced sarcastically.

  “I don’t know about manners,” replied the blond man next to him. “But him showing up here tonight might save me two-hundred bucks. I have a bet with your old man.” Then he bent down and roughly scooped Jeffery up by his shirt collar, lifting him easily.

  The man he assumed to be James painfully wrenched his arms behind him, holding fast to keep him from casting any spells, while the man in front of him patted him down, taking the envelope from his pocket. Jeffery started to protest when the man said, “Ah, ah, let’s go see what Cade thinks, shall we?”

  Jeffery let go of a shaky breath. Feeling defeated he reminded himself, this is what I came for right. This is what I want, to see Cade. He tried again to tell himself, you’re doing the right thing.

  Though, he couldn’t help but be afraid. He and Cade didn’t exactly have a great relationship. In fact he was almost positive Cade would kill him slowly and painfully on sight.

  As they walked him inside, he noticed the lights and floral décor extended throughout the expansive house as well. The fresh perfume of hundreds of roses and soft white orchids hung heavy in the air. White, tapered candle groupings with lush greenery wrapped around them, were lit and sat on either side of a wide entrance to another room down just a little further.

  Jeffery bowed his head low thinking. Yep, my timing seriously sucks.

  Shortly after entering the house, they took him into what looked to be a lavish office or a den of some kind. James pushed him forward forcefully. He stumbled a step. Then losing the battle for balance, tripped over his feet and fell to the ground.

  No one bothered to help him up. He knew no one here probably cared. He had given them good reason not to. As he hit his knees, Jeffery’s gaze fell on two very shiny, very large, men’s dress shoes no more than two feet away. His stomach flipped. He let his gaze travel up to the owner of those shoes.

  There he was. Cade Werren stood tall and imposing before him. His hand was frozen on the cuff of his sleek black tuxedo, as if only a moment ago he had been adjusting it, and had forgotten what he’d been doing upon seeing Jeffery thrown at his feet. His shiny black hair was perfectly groomed. A small, white rose adorned the lapel of his jacket, completing the entire look.

  The expensive attire only made Cade look that much darker, that much more dangerous. Jeffery knew personally, underneath it all was a fierce and frightening monster. His feral and angry expression gave Jeffery a little hope… yeah, a little hope that his death would be quick, instead of painfully slow, he thought.

  Cade growled low in his throat. His rage at the sight of Jeffery here, on this day, would allow no words to come forward.

  To Jeffery’s surprise, James placed a hand on Cade’s chest to stop his forward movement. “The suit man, think of the suit. Do you really want to explain to Collett why you’re striding around here naked, especially today? ”

  Cade glared at James with a mean cold look. James even thought he might have seen Cade’s eyes smolder red, just for a split second. “Okay then.” James backed up a step, “He’s all yours.”

  “I think he has a point. You should at least take the suit off before you kill him,” Nate added.

  A soft feminine voice came from the entrance, “Cade, it’s time to decide. Cross the bridge or burn it?”

  Cade’s gaze snapped up, looking directly into Selena’s soft knowing eyes. The other three men were very confused by her cryptic words.

  Understanding something important was happening now, Nate took a step forward. In the awkwardly silent room, the scrape of his dress shoe against the polished wooden floor echoed loudly around them all.

  Cade still could not tear his golden eyes from Selena’s as Nate said to him, “This is all he had on him.”

  Cade blinked and turned to Nate, who held out a small white envelope to him. He roughly tore it from Nate’s easy grip then looked down at his name, written in a sharp manly script. As Cade broke the seal on the envelope and read the letter, he wondered to himself, what he should do next. When it came to his brother Jarrett, could there be any hope?

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at book II in the series,

  The Powers of Influence

  The Price of Knowing

  Coming 2013

  New York, NY December 2nd

  “Jarrett!” The soft and urging female whisper that kept haunting his dreams of late, called for him to wake.

  The dark images of the dream turned off as quickly as if someone had flipped a switch. Jarrett’s eyes snapped open. His heart rapped hard against his chest. The memories of the past were raw and fresh in his mind. They pressed down on him heavily, but he knew that wasn’t what woke him.

  Acting on instinct, and using his lighting fast reflexes, Jarrett rolled to the left, spinning off the bed and landing easily on his feet, while crouching to face his attacker. He barely missed being skewered through the heart by a long wicked dagger. The sleek shiny blade glinted in the dim moonlight, as its wielder lifted it from the mattress where he had lain a second before.

  His preternatural gaze penetrated the shadows of his room, and he looked down the length of the blade to see who his assassin was. Standing on the opposite side of his bed stood a tall thin woman. A thick floral odor permeated his senses the moment she had entered his room. Her sickly sweet odor and the soft dreamy whisper in his memories became his saving grace. He drew in the scent of her again and smelled a hint of something else.

  Demon. The woman was definitely part demon.

  Demons carried a specific
scent that was unmistakable, even if it was diluted. Half-demons were common enough in his world, and often easily dealt with. In fact, most humans dealt with them every day without realizing it. More often than not, they looked completely normal.

  Then again, so did he, but death could often look normal until it came knocking on your door.

  In less than a minute his sensitive eyes assessed his would-be assassin. The woman’s spiked, blond hair looked white in the dim light, and matched her pale, almost translucent skin perfectly. Her ears boasted several small hoops and studs, beginning at her lobes and climbing their way up to the elfin like tips. She wore a long, shiny, white pleather jacket over a tight, low-cut, green dress that left little to the imagination. The picture wasn’t a good one. Years of tapping into the dark side of magic drained her body of its beauty long ago. He had seen the look before, enough times to understand its cause.

  Jarrett rolled his eyes at his circumstance. He knew she was one of The Factions mindless lackeys. She was the first in what would likely be a long line of them. He’d run out of time.

  She stood there looking into his animal eyes with her cold, grayish orbs, holding the wicked blade she had almost killed him with. He’d heard of her before, but he couldn’t recall her name. Not that it really mattered, the name was unimportant to him, just as she was.

  Her thin angular eyebrows lifted in mock surprise, “You are good. I guess I’ll have to earn my money tonight.” Her voice was low and throaty from too many cigarettes over the years. “You’re not bad looking either, too bad.”

  “How’d you get lucky enough to draw the short straw?” He questioned, his tone almost amused.

  She tipped back her head and laughed, “Draw?” she chortled. “There was no need to draw. We’ve all been called out for you. Such is the consequence of failure. Although I‘m glad I got here first.”