Mercy Temple Chronicles Box Set

by Ciara Graves

  Vampires could only track if it was fresh, as in within a few minutes. I had a great sense of smell, but not enough to track, especially with the storm that was pounding against the windows.

  Bowen was right. If we wanted to track the attacker, we needed a werewolf…

  I sat up straighter as an idea formed in my mind.

  Todd. He was a werewolf, and though he was a Fed, the others didn’t need to know that. Only that he was a werewolf who I had contact with. I got up and went to join them.

  “I might have an idea. That is if you trust me to help you find the bastard who did this.”

  Damian and Bowen exchanged a look.

  Damian spoke. “I’m listening.”

  Chapter 12

  Mercy

  All around me was a mass of swirling colors in a never-ending storm. My feet never touched the ground, but I wasn’t scared. It was peaceful here. There was no pain or fear. Only the weightlessness of floating through the glowing colors that cast patterns across my skin. Memories teased me, passing by in little glimpses, but I shut my eyes, unwilling to see them.

  I need to wake up…

  I frowned, turning away from my own mind. Pressure struck my shoulder and hip suddenly, and I gasped at the onslaught of pain. It tore me from the peacefulness and then I was falling down and down into nothingness.

  Voices echoed around me.

  It felt as though someone took hold of my hand, but I remained alone. A part of me knew what this was, but another part had no need to acknowledge the truth of what occurred. The pain increased.

  I screamed when my feet finally touched down and collapsed in a ball of agony.

  Glimpses of the fight struck me, and I begged for it to stop.

  My magic burned, wanting to break free, but it was too weak to do so. It churned in my stomach.

  I hunkered down even lower, curling in on myself.

  A voice came to me again, growling my name. A soft ghost-like touch caressed my cheek, and the pain eased.

  I was able to sit up, and the darkness around me faded away into a very familiar setting I’d never expected to see again. The walls of the room returned in vivid detail. The desk in the corner was covered in drawings and colored pages. The unmade bed overloaded with stuffed dragons and unicorns. Clothes littered the floor. Near them were a pair of bright purple rain boots and sneakers. On the nightstand, a lamp in the shape of a heart was on, just as it was every night when I went to bed in this room.

  My room. At my house.

  The sound of rustling covers caught my attention. I turned slowly about to find a tiny version of myself, hair all blond at this point, sitting up in bed. She—me—clutched a blue dragon to her chest, rubbing at her eyes with her other hand. I stayed perfectly still, unsure of what I was looking at exactly.

  Voices drifted through the closed door, growing louder, then softer, as someone shushed them.

  Younger-me crawled out of bed, dragon in tow, and headed for the door.

  “I remember this,” I whispered then clamped a hand over my mouth.

  Younger-me made no indication she heard me and opened the door all the way. Light from the hall poured in, and she stepped out.

  I had no idea what night this actually was, but while I was growing up, I vaguely remembered countless nights when I was told to go to bed early because my parents were having a meeting of some kind and I wasn’t supposed to listen in. Mom always told me it was adult stuff, and I’d be bored, but she’d lied. I knew this because I was so much like her. When she lied, her eyes crinkled and mine did exactly the same thing. Wondering what night this was, I followed younger-me out of the bedroom and to the end of the hall. The living room was empty, but the dining room wasn’t. Most of their backs were to us as younger-me wandered toward Mom where she was seated at the head of the table.

  My heart leapt to my throat when she turned and smiled, not at me, but at younger-me.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” she asked as the other voices quieted down.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she replied as Mom picked her up and set her on her lap.

  “Are we too loud?”

  She shook her head and curled into Mom, who held her close.

  “What’s up, kiddo?”

  “Dad,” I whispered at the blond-haired mage ruffling younger-me’s hair.

  Though he grinned, his face was furrowed in worry, and his gaze continually flickered to the front door.

  “You can stay out here, but you have to be quiet, alright?” Mom told younger-me.

  She nodded and hugged her dragon closer.

  I walked further into the dining room then froze, as one by one, the supes sitting in what had been my house all came into focus.

  Bowen was the first one I saw, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, with a bottle of blood nearby. His eyes were downcast, and from his stance, it was evident he was not happy. He was not the only surprise that left me shaking my head in disbelief. Rufus, the bloody gob, stood in my house looking as if he’d been there plenty of times before and was perfectly at ease lounging at the dining room table.

  “She’s grown up so fast,” a familiar voice said. Wesley was at the table, smiling at younger-me like he was a grandpa and not a crotchety old gryphon.

  “She has,” Mom agreed.

  “We should get this wrapped up.” Shep. That was Shep’s growling voice. I’d have known it anywhere. He stood behind Wesley’s chair. His protector, as always.

  “What’s got you all nervous?” Dad asked.

  “He’s been like this for a few days now,” Wesley replied.

  “The atmosphere feels off tonight,” Shep stated. “We need to stop meeting here. It’s not safe.”

  “The house is warded, I’ve told you this plenty of times,” Dad said. “They won’t find us here.”

  “You can’t know that for certain,” Shep argued.

  “He’s right,” Bowen chimed in. “The moon was red two nights ago. You know that’s a bad sign. The others moved to a safer location. We should join them before it’s too late.”

  “I am not leaving yet. We’re not finished with our part of the plan,” Dad said, taking a seat at the table. “We stay until it’s finished. That is the oath we all took. If you wish to leave before it’s fulfilled, then leave. I won’t stop you.”

  Bowen hissed in reply, but whatever he said was cut off by loud knocking at the front door.

  Younger-me and I jumped at the same time.

  The adults stilled.

  The knock came again, followed by a whistled tune. It was familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to it.

  Bowen went to answer the front door as the others relaxed.

  “About time,” Bowen said to whoever was there.

  The newcomer stepped aside.

  I about fell over.

  This was too much. Too damned much and there was no way it could be real.

  “We have a problem. She’s on the move. I don’t know where she’s headed. Not her or her fanged-face followers,” Damian growled as he entered the dining room. “We need to go. Now.”

  “We’re not leaving our home,” Dad argued as Mom’s arms closed tighter around younger-me.

  “He’s right. Our home is safe, Damian,” she insisted.

  He came closer. “Bianca, please. Listen to reason. She said she would make you pay for not joining her.”

  “And has she?” Mom asked. “It’s been nearly a decade since she said that, and where has she been? Not coming after me. We can’t leave until we shut down this branch of the organization. You know this. All of you do. We’re so close. All we need is three more days.”

  “You aren’t going to have them,” Damian snapped.

  “I appreciate your concern, but we will be fine,” Dad told him, not sounding worried at all.

  Damian, on the other hand, looked ready to knock them both out and drag them from the house. His worried frown turned to younger-me. “At least let me take her with me. Let me get her so
mewhere safe.”

  “I will not be separated from my daughter.” Mom shook her head. “No, she has torn too many families apart. Mine won’t be among them. We’re strong together. All of us. Together.”

  “Do you even hear yourself? It’s not safe here,” he said with a harsh whisper.

  As if that would stop younger-me from hearing and being frightened.

  “I can get her to the others. She’ll be secure with them, with me, you have my word,” Damian persisted.

  “You might be her guardian,” Dad said, “but we’re her parents. We will finish what needs to be done and then join you. Trust me, friend, nothing will happen to us.”

  My heart gave another leap at that. My guardian?

  Damian snarled.

  Bowen moved as if to restrain him. “Don’t do this. Please.”

  “That is our final word on the matter,” Mom stated. “Three days, Damian. We’ll see you in three days.”

  Damian sighed as he backed toward the door.

  The others stood to leave with him. His gaze never left younger-me. His expression was one of heartbreak, as though he thought he’d never see me again.

  Then they were gone.

  I was left staring at the front door.

  My face tingled as my parents spoke quietly behind me.

  The images swirled around me.

  Things changed. There was Mom. She was screaming again and yelling for me to run. Dad’s magic lit him up like a brilliant torch of white and gold flames.

  Then I was outside, running alongside younger-me as she crashed through the underbrush and was smacked by low-hanging branches. Her bare feet were blue and stiff from the cold snow, but she pushed on.

  A figure blocked her path. She ran right into him.

  It was the bastard who cursed us.

  Every night when I dreamt of this moment, I was sure it was a nightmare, but know I knew everything I witnessed was real. All of it. The man leaned down, and his face was illuminated by the full moon’s light as clouds moved in around it, blocking it a second later.

  Snow began to fall as I backed away, not able to watch myself being cursed all over again.

  His face, I’d seen his face. Fangs and all. He was no one I’d seen before, but his face would be forever burned into my memory now.

  Younger-me screamed, and then the sound cut off harshly.

  I spun around, but I was alone in the snow and darkness.

  The snowflakes had paused in their falling, hovering around me. Slowly I moved through them, unsure of what was going on.

  “Mercy.”

  “Rafael?” He stood in the moonlight, a soft smile on his face. “What—how are you here?”

  “You’re dreaming. You need to wake up now.” He held out his hand and waited.

  “Dreaming? No, this was real. It all happened.”

  “What did?”

  The words lodged in my throat and I held my hands to my head. Where was I? Why was I even dreaming? And why was he here? Flashes of a fight came to me again. My shoulder and hip throbbed in pain. And those worms. I remembered the jar of dreamweavers shattering against my blade. They’d fallen on me.

  “Dreaming?” I asked again.

  “Yeah. And now you need to wake up. Take my hand.”

  He offered it again.

  I moved toward him. If I was dreaming, was he really here? Or was this all inside my head? I closed the distance between us but ignored his hand and placed mine against his chest.

  His brow furrowed, and his hands found their way to mine, holding them against him.

  A question was in his eyes.

  One of his hands slid down to my hip as mine moved up, cupping his cheek in my palm. Here in this dream world, this version of him seemed to have no cares, no weight of a past that dragged him down. This might only be a dream, and this was ridiculous of me, but I wanted another kiss. One that wasn’t spur of the moment to distract everyone at a reapers’ ball. I wanted to see if the inferno I felt building inside me was real or a fluke. Logic said I wouldn’t be able to tell that from a dream.

  As if reading my mind, he lowered his head, and our lips met.

  The attraction was instant, and we clung to each other in that heated moment as if we were the only ones keeping each one another alive. His arms closed protectively around me as mine wove around his neck, pulling him as close as I could get him.

  The moment I opened my eyes, reality would crash back down around me along with the truth I plucked from my mind. This, being here with Rafael, might be enough to get me through whatever insanity came next, be it real or all inside my head.

  His hands cupped my face, his thumb roving over my scar, and I was comforted. Leaning into his touch, I studied his confused face, and then he kissed my lips again, barely touching them, and I wished I would never wake up.

  “No,” he said suddenly. “No, you have to wake up, Mercy. Open your eyes.”

  “But you won’t be there,” I whispered. The emptiness was gone when he held me and losing this sensation scared me. How could I keep being strong after knowing what I was missing was so damned close?

  “I am here,” he replied. “I’m right here with you, but you have to wake up. This is a dream. The longer you’re in it, the higher your chance of being lost. Please, wake up. We need you.”

  “We?” I asked.

  He clenched his jaw. “I need you,” he mumbled. “Wake up… Mercy… wake up…”

  He faded away, and I was left alone once again. He wasn’t really here. He couldn’t have been. The real Rafael would never admit his feelings, not when they went against everything he stood for as a Fed.

  I shut my eyes, willing myself to wake up when a stick cracked nearby.

  My eyes shot open.

  I tensed at the sight of a robed figure a few yards away. It made no move to come closer until I backed up.

  It followed.

  When I stopped, it stopped.

  “Who are you?” I demanded.

  The figure remained silent, its robe fluttering around its legs though there was no wind.

  It reached out a hand, fingernails long and stained with blood. A deep guttural growl echoed from under the hood.

  Then it was gone in a blink.

  I froze, wondering if it had even been here at all when it manifested right before me. The talons slashed my face. I yelped in alarm, stumbling backward and hitting the ground hard.

  “Soon,” a raspy voice warned. It raised its arm to attack again.

  I screamed as fear enveloped me, yelling at myself to wake up.

  When that didn’t work, I thought of Rafael, and when I shut my eyes, everything went silent.

  Then I was falling.

  I finally stopped. Something soft was beneath me.

  Voices argued quietly nearby. Bowen was one of them.

  And the other, Rafael.

  “Quiet,” Gigi’s voice snapped. Then her voice turned soft. “Mercy? Can you hear me?”

  I squeezed her hand.

  “Careful,” she instructed. “Sit up slowly. There you go.”

  I opened one eye then the other.

  Gigi giving wore an annoyed yet grateful look.

  Bowen, Rafael, and Damian stood behind her all appearing relieved that I was awake.

  “Are you done scaring the shit out of us now? You’re going to give me an early heart attack.” Damian’s voice was gruff.

  “Sorry,” I said, my voice coming out rough and my mouth dry.

  Gigi handed me a glass of water, and I drank it down, not realizing how thirsty I’d been.

  “What happened?”

  “You don’t remember anything?” Rafael asked.

  My face flushed, remembering the kiss we shared in my dream. He gave no indication he had any real part in it, so I cleared my throat, giving myself a moment to get control of my whacked-out emotions. “I remember a fight with a werewolf and nearly losing.”

  “Did you get a good look at his face?” Damian aske
d next.

  “No, he kept it covered, but I stabbed the bastard through the side—why are you here?” I snapped. “You’re going to get your ass in serious trouble.”

  “Your tone says I already am in trouble,” he grumbled.

  He was right about that. We had a lot to discuss, and no way in hell was he leaving here without giving me some answers. I made to stand but sank right back down to the couch.

  Gigi scowled at me. “You were out for almost four days, give yourself a break.”

  “Four days?” My shoulder was sore, and my hip burned. I checked out both to find Gigi’s handiwork. The wounds were already well on their way to being healed. “These wounds knocked me out for four days?”

  “No. The dreamweavers did,” she informed me. “They got on you during the fight.”

  I rubbed my neck. At the end of the fight, the werewolf had thrown the jar at me, and it shattered. He’d run off and I… what had I done? I found myself looking to Rafael again, and it all came back to me. I called him. When I was in trouble, my first move had been to call him. Not Bowen, or Damian, or Gigi. I called Rafael. My cheeks grew even hotter, and I mumbled something about wanting to get up and move around. My legs were stiff from being on the couch so long in a very uncomfortable position.

  Gigi assisted me, but when I faltered, Rafael was at my side before Bowen or Damian even moved. Damian probably didn’t want to get close because he sensed I was about ready to strangle the life from him. Bowen tensed as Rafael supported me. Then he moved further back to the kitchenette, turning his back on us. Men. And they thought women were complicated.

  “Are you sure you should be up and moving around?” Rafael asked, guiding me slowly around the room. “There’s no rush.”

  “There’s every need to rush. I want to find the asshole who attacked me. Too much of a coincidence for him not to be our killer.”

  “Agreed, but we’re already working on a plan for that.”

  I gripped his arm hard when a wave of weakness hit me. We paused until it passed then took a few more steps, my shoulder and hip not hurting as much as before. “I, uh—I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “No? You called, said you were attacked. What did you expect me to do?”