“You only see the world as if through a spyglass. You miss so much around you as you seek out the wrong things. Because of your limited view, you lost your way and forgot to see the potential in mankind. You dismiss humility, love, and compassion. You think nothing of faith and can no longer see strength in those who have it.”
“Spare me your lecture. I do not need nor did I ask for it.”
“In all those years, did you ever once understand—”
“I understand what I need to. I see the reality of the lies you fed me as if they were sweet nectar. I drank for too long, believing it would cure everything.”
“What truth do you believe in?”
Ignoring the question, Bellig continued ranting, “Your drink is poison! You crippled me with your rules and limitations! Then, when I had the courage to disagree with you, you punished me!”
“You did far more than disagree. There was no strength or courage in your heart. You let greed fill you instead. You let your charges die. Worse, you tortured and orchestrated the deaths of countless innocents to strengthen yourself,” Haki accused calmly.
“What you did is far worse. I at least permit their misery to end. My backstabbing brother and the witch who stole my sight a millennium ago were better than you! They were upfront with me about my fate. There was no trickery. They let me die, and I would have found peace in that death.
“Instead of the quiet oblivion I longed for, you came and fed me your propaganda. You preyed upon my vulnerable state and spoke of injustice.” Bellig spat on the ground as if warding away a curse. “You may have returned my sight, and given me new life, but in return, you forced upon me despair, pain, and the never-ending neediness of weak, ignorant souls.”
Haki shook his head in pity. “You have been poisoned, but it was the Opposer who has fed you these half-truths. Your path was never forced upon you. You made the choice to be one of us as you likewise make the choice to continue with this folly.”
“Oh yes, let’s not forget my free will!” Bellig countered with mock laughter. “Except, you didn’t explain everything, did you? You didn’t tell me about how pitifully idiotic our charges were. I saved them over and over again, only to have the same fools use their precious free will and fail anyway. I can’t count how many wars I fought to save innocent lives when it would have been easier to kill the soul who started the fight in the first place. I got sick to death of watching them create their own turmoil, then being forced to help them out of it.”
As always, Haki ignored Bellig’s caustic tone and remained stoic and calm. He pointed to Bellig and said, “You were once mortal, but you brush that aside as if it means nothing. You were betrayed, and yet you are the betrayer. You see what you choose to see. You are still blind, and I cannot heal you this time.”
“You can’t do much of anything, can you?” Bellig sneered.
Haki’s features shifted to pity, further angering Bellig.
“I will change everything! You tied my hands with those laws, but that time has passed, and so has your power over me. You’re limited by your rules and laws, but I am free of you. Free of it all.”
“Not as free as you believe,” Haki corrected. “Besides, I am not the author of the law. I am merely one of its keepers, here to ensure justice when laws are broken,”
“You are good at that, aren’t you?” Bellig said with dripping venom. “You stole everything from me! Everything but the voices.”
Haki nodded. “I gave you a chance to change your course. Even now, you could make that choice. A guardian’s powers are bestowed to aid mankind, not ourselves. Taking your power and memories was meant to teach you humility, but you are ruled by your arrogance.”
“If you were truly just and merciful, you would have also taken the cries that still ring in my ears. I hear the mewling, whimpering souls every minute of every day as they beg pitifully for help.”
“I am not Mercy. I am Justice. The two are not synonymous. Justice does not promise happiness. It is not even consistently fair. Justice is the essence of consequence and balance. It is precisely just that you hear the calls of the souls you promised to protect. You will hear their cries into eternity for breaking that promise. They call for Strength, and that call should be answered. And yet, they find their pleas discarded like rotten fruit,” Haki explained. “Leaving you with the ability to hear those you ignore is your true punishment.”
Bellig stepped toward Haki’s projected likeness. “I suppose I should thank you then. You’re ‘punishment’ led me to the wolf. His anguish was so fierce, not even I could ignore it. He’s been a useful tool over the years. Tell me though, how did Ramee feel when I stole him from her?”
“Answering that call for vengeance created a force against yourself, eventually. You know Jarrett was not as useful as you believed. Since you lost the power of telepathy, I wonder if you even know how long he kept his twin’s existence hidden from you.”
Bellig’s brows drew together in hate, but ignoring the change in his former student’s features, Haki continued, “Destinies are often altered by a single choice in ways even we cannot predict. You should know one cannot throw a pebble into water and have no ripples.
“Each wolf thwarted you individually for centuries. They made hard choices and harder sacrifices as did Collett in her efforts to protect them. She believed in their potential together.”
His face turned red as sharp resentment sliced through him. Bellig seethed. “You won’t stop me, Haki. Don’t think for an instant I don’t know about your chosen champions. They will need far more than potential to defeat me. Even with my sword, they have no hope of accomplishing your suicidal task. She couldn’t kill me, and she was my equal.”
“No, Victory was always more than your equal, and the task to protect them has always been hers.”
“What happened to her falls on you! You pit her against me, knowing I was more powerful. You forced my hand, knowing what she meant to me! It should have been you!”
“It was not my sword coated in her blood. It was you, who tormented the souls in her care. It was you who betrayed us. You forced her to take every risk to save her charges, including ignoring the law,” Haki pointed out. “She understood the battles in the war against evil are fought by Victory and Strength. Strength failed her, so there is no Victory.”
“Those venomous ideals, your poisoned drink, imprisoned her mind. When she dared break your precious rules, your punishment stole her memories and weakened her, putting her in my path, like bringing a lamb to the slaughter. It’s your fault! You killed her.” Losing his temper, Bellig sent a blast of dark power at Haki, but it passed harmlessly through the projected guardian. “If she would have come with me, she’d still be alive! She had the chance to come with me!”
Unmoved by Bellig’s outburst, Haki raised his brow and started to respond, but Bellig stepped right up to Haki’s face and interrupted him. “I loved her. She was mine! She could’ve had eternity with me. We could’ve saved them all together, but she listened to you!” he spat hatefully.
Haki shook his head. “Love is not a selfish emotion. You are incapable of it, and because you allow your pride to blind you, you will fail.”
“When this is done I will see you all bow before me, begging for your lives,” Bellig vowed.
“We shall see,” Haki replied, and left Bellig to wallow alone in the darkness once more.
Chapter 6
Tracy struggled to calm her ancestral Irish temper. She wasn’t in the mood for any more complications as she tried to focus on positive energy and relaxation during her yoga routine. The last 48 hours had stretched her patience, a virtue she admittedly lacked. She tried to clear her mind, but her troubles plagued her.
Tracy’s life in New York died fast. Her breakup with Derek was the first of many nails in that coffin. Losing her job came next. After professionally presenting a well thought out letter of resignation to her employer, Tracy was told her continued presence was unnecessary, and she would
have been let go if she hadn’t resigned. She was giving her two weeks’ notice, but her supervisor, Jonathan Matthews, made the termination effective immediately.
Jonathan confessed he procured her replacement after speaking to Detective Hall, explaining that Tracy’s recent mediocre performance seemed to confirm the accusations. "It’s for the best," he’d said with a patronizing, superior tone. “The auction house cannot afford a scandal." Jonathan then droned on about how things were less messy this way, and how grateful he was that she decided to move on before he was forced to dismiss her. “Getting fired from a firm as prestigious as ours—well, those sort of red marks stay on your record.”
It was disheartening to find out how little she meant to them. Learning that all the long hours, late nights, and bending over backward to help the business thrive had meant nothing created a tight feeling in her chest. The company held no loyalty for her at all, and if she was honest, that loss hurt more than breaking up with Derek.
Resisting the urge to tell Jonathan where he could stick it, Tracy left him and placed an ad for someone to sublet her apartment that day. The crazies that replied were frightening. Good grief, there is a lot of weird people in the world, she thought again as she shifted positions. She wasn't sure when she would return to the city, and leaving the place unoccupied worried her. Tracy had almost caved and stayed in New York based on that alone, but the pull of home was too strong to ignore.
With her career in shambles and an unprotected apartment behind her, Tracy packed up a few suitcases and left for Colorado.
Her flight home only added to her building frustrations. She sat stuck between a skinny cowboy who called her, “Honey,” and smelled like chewing tobacco, and an obnoxious, drinking businessman who kept glancing at her chest while he called her, “Sweetie.” Tracy wasn’t sure whose shoes she wanted to ignite more.
When she finally escaped dumb and dumber, Tracy discovered her connecting flight was canceled due to weather delays. She was trapped at the Minneapolis airport for six extra hours.
The final nail was hammered in when she ran into Sweetie, the businessman with no self-control. He tried to coax her to go to dinner with him, and when she refused, he placed an arm over her shoulder. Sweetie actually tried to guide her to an airport lounge, but the trash can nearby mysteriously moved into his path. The man tumbled over the receptacle, and Tracy feigned shock. “Oh my goodness! The trash can jumped right out in front of you. You ought to be more careful, Sweetie.”
By the time Tracy arrived at her childhood home, it was 2:30 a.m. The lack of sleep only made her crabbier. After her parents left to visit Jenny, Tracy had changed into her yoga pants and downed a cup of herbal tea while wishing for coffee. Her mother hated coffee and had raised her kids on teas, herbs, and essential oils, with the belief that coffee was poison and a terrible habit. Tracy cursed the flavored water in her mug while she climbed the stairs prior to her workout.
The training room was much the same as it was before the attack last December. The demons and half-demons that broke in left the third floor mostly unmolested. They found their quarry early on the lower levels. A couple new windows, some new mirrors, and a little elbow grease had restored things up here easily enough. Plus, they added a new security link in every room, courtesy of her brother, James.
Tracy had barely fallen into her deep breathing and complex kapotasana pose when she heard a beep alerting her that someone was driving up their property lane. Irritated by the interruption, Tracy adjusted and glanced at the screen to gain an upside-down view of a restored 1967 Camaro Z/28 coming up the road.
Because of her father’s passion for classic cars, Tracy had learned about them her whole life, and she knew a good looking machine when she saw it. Curious, she returned to a kneeling position, turned, and watched as the blue and white muscle car parked in the drive.
A man exited the vehicle and straightened his clean, but casual clothing, which consisted of snug jeans, a black button-up shirt, and cowboy boots. Cautious and observant of details, Tracy cataloged mental notes on the visitor out of habit. Even without a suit, the stranger still managed to look professional. He was Caucasian, about six-one, thirty to thirty-three years old, had dark hair and a lean, athletic build. He walked with a lazy, yet purposeful stride. His appearance leaned on the handsome side, but not striking.
Tracy heard the bell and debated whether she wanted to answer. As if reading her thoughts, the stranger looked up at the hidden camera, grinned and, tipping his aviator sunglasses down, showed his eyes. He acted like he was daring her to answer. “What the…” she mumbled and descended the stairs to answer out of annoyance rather than good manners.
Tracy flung the door open, uncaring if it seemed abrupt. “Can I help you?” she asked with a snotty tone.
“Why yes, Miss. I was wondering if Cynda’s about?” he responded with a Texan accent. If he’d had a hat on Tracy imagined the stranger would have tipped it in greeting.
“She’s not.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?” he queried politely.
“No,” she answered less politely. “Who are you?”
“Oh, sorry. My mama raised me with better manners. Hall, Detective Hall.” He reached out for a handshake, but Tracy ignored it. As he introduced himself, Jonah saw her bright green eyes turn to a stormy Jade.
Detective Hall knew Tracy would be alone and came wanting to catch this city girl off guard. He hoped to sweet-talk some new info from her. However, he understood immediately Tracy Williams was not gonna play. His mama had raised him right, and Hall knew a furious woman when he saw one.
He tried a smile. “You are...” Jonah prompted as he noted her clenched fists. The surrounding wind picked up, and Hall thought it was funny the weather chose this particular moment to act up.
“Me? I’m surprised you don’t already know. In fact, I’m certain you do, because I’ve heard all about you, Mr. Hall—”
“Detective,” he supplied.
“Detective Hall,” she spat. “I’m no fool, and I will not allow you to manipulate me in any way. As it stands, you’ve already cost me a boyfriend, a job, and some of my sanity. So I suggest you take one slow step back, and then another, and get in that sweet little car of yours, which is the only thing you have going for you! Leave now, before I hurt you and we both regret it. Me, because it will land me in jail, and you, because you won’t be able to walk for a month after I get ahold of you.”
Amused by her rant, Jonah grinned. Taking off his sunglasses, he assessed her, boldly scanning her from head to toe. “That is quite a threat coming from someone who weighs—a buck-ten, buck-fifteen tops? You oughta be more careful when you make such comments to a member of law enforcement, Miss Tracy. We don’t take kindly to threats of bodily harm,” he explained in a cocky tone.
She smirked at his arrogance. “Mr. Hall, look deep into my eyes and then tell me, do you think I care?”
Before he could answer, the door slammed in his face. She’s quick, he thought and laughed. Jonah hadn’t even seen her hands. Then again, he’d been focused on those jade daggers glaring at him.
As Jonah stepped away, he thought he heard glass shatter. He glanced back at the house and paused, listening. His investigation into the Williams family might have just taken an interesting turn. Dealing with Tracy Williams might even be fun. Pleased, he whistled as he walked to his car.
Inside the house, Tracy’s fury spiked. Is he whistling? She stomped to the mudroom like a petulant child and grabbed the broom to sweep away shards of broken teacups that had hung on the decorative rack in the kitchen. As she swept, her anger gave way to guilt. Rederrick and Cynda had barely replaced the teacups that got destroyed during the recent attack. She had no right to go about throwing fits like this, and Tracy wondered when she'd become so volatile.
Being tired and worn out made the emotional rollercoaster worse. Tracy resolved to work on finding control again, and there was no time like the present. After cleaning up the
broken cups, Tracy went back upstairs to meditate. Even if it chafed her pride, she would also ask her mother for help when she came home.
Tracy was powerful enough to hurt someone if she lost full control, and she knew she could not take any chances. Her mother had always taught Tracy to act responsibility when it came to her craft and to respect boundaries. Tracy needed to rein in her emotions to keep herself from making the threat to Detective Hall, or anyone else, a reality she couldn’t take back.
The next day, Tracy went with her mother to see Jenny. Her heart fell when she saw the fragile woman again. She stopped at the door and hesitated. If coming home was hard, walking past the threshold into Jenny’s room was even harder.
Memories came flooding back. There were cookies and hugs when she cried, favorite meals when she visited home, and long talks when she was in need of a grandma. Tracy remembered Jenny’s romantic, optimistic nature and how she spoke of Sam, the love of her life.
The figure lying in the bed did not match those memories. The once formidable woman, who stood her ground when necessary and helped build a firm foundation for Tracy and her siblings, was now impossibly frail and meek.
Another pang of guilt assaulted Tracy. How could I have ever thought my job was more important than Grandma Jenny? Tracy then realized going back to New York had taken precedence over her mother’s needs too. Even knowing the burdens her mother carried, Tracy had cut and run the minute the funerals were over.
“I am sorry, Mom,” Tracy blurted out as she sat down to take Jenny’s hand in her own.
“Whatever for?”
“I left you. I left all of you when you needed me.”
“What are you talking about? You came when we needed you. Wasn’t it you who stayed by Jenny’s side those weeks we were in New Mexico? Wasn’t it you who held your siblings together and kept them strong? And I cannot express how much I appreciate what you and Ashley accomplished at the house so we could come home to less of a mess.”
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