by Tanya Holmes
“Unfuckingbelievable!” Xavier rubbed the back of his neck. “So I was right. She is a fraud. Her whole history was bogus.”
“As is ours, brother. Glass houses, remember?”
“Don’t even try it,” he spat. “Your false equivalency doesn’t work here. Our secrecy is a Yoreck standard for survival. It’s how we’ve outlived our enemies for millenniums. When it’s a matter of life and death for an entire race, I think we get a fucking pass. So no, I won’t be apologizing for that, and neither will you. She, on the other hand lied her way into our justifiably secret lives to spy on you, man. How the hell is that the same thing? And you have the balls to expect me to give up everything for her? We wouldn’t be in this mess if she’d never darkened your doorstep!”
Xavier said all this while glaring daggers my way. The look he gave me cut straight to my heart. It was filled with pain and betrayal, bewilderment and contempt. I had to turn away to escape it. Moments later, when I glanced up again, he was gone, but his rage lingered.
“He hates me,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
“No, he doesn’t. He’s just…” Braeden sighed. “He’ll get past it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“He will,” he said with conviction. “He has to.”
The fog gathered in my brain again. “I have to say this now before I forget.”
“What?”
“It’s about Xavier.” Darkness beckoned, but I fought it with everything I had. “You said…you said you thought you hurt me after I touched you. Then last night, you still wore the gloves. Well, what about now? Can I hold your hand, Braeden? Will the baby protect me?” Tears welled. “I so want to, just once.”
“Sweetheart—”
“No, please listen,” I insisted. “When you were in Ireland, I didn’t just kiss Xavier. H-he touched me. With his hands, he made me—”
“Yes,” he said solemnly. “He told me everything.”
“No, there’s more. He—we held hands. We were washing dishes. We did that, Braeden, and I’m so, so, sorry. That I held his hand… But yours—”
“Shhh.” Smiling, he looked down at me with nothing but love. “You can hold my hand anytime you want, Denieve.” This he said as he gently, reverently, closed his bare hand over my smaller one, swallowing it whole.
I marveled at the warmth and size. The strength. How could something so lethal be so gentle, feel so comforting and safe? I pressed his hand to my cheek, kissed each of his fingertips.
He drew a sharp breath, then exhaled. “My hand can’t hurt you anymore, love. Your body is changing as we speak.”
“Changing how?”
“There’s no time to explain it now. But I will. Soon.”
An emptiness in my peripheral vision caught my attention. I glanced at the other side of the bed, only then realizing Caryn’s book was gone. Luke! He must’ve taken it when I was in the bathroom, but the shocking realization was short-lived. It vanished inside the dark well of forgotten things in my head.
Braeden slipped his glove back on. “What you’re experiencing now is just part of your transition.”
“Transition?”
“Yes, my love. You’re becoming like one of us.”
“How will I be?”
“Stronger. Faster. Healthier. You’ll also have greater brain capacity. Remember our dinner discussion on hidden talents? Mortals only use ten percent of their brain at any given moment, but soon, you’ll be using fifty…sixty percent all at once, giving you superior thinking power. Every Yoreck develops different abilities over time, so you won’t see your full capabilities until after the child is born. But once you’re Sealed, the child cannot be miscarried, and we’ll be bound together as a….”
He could’ve been speaking Japanese for all I knew. My eyes drifted closed as his words blended in with each other. Shadows surrounded me, embraced me, and pulled me under. As if from a great distance, what sounded like a gunshot rang out…from somewhere, but I was too far-gone to care.
* * *
2675 TREASURE COVE RD.
ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND
BRAEDEN
____________________________
Braeden raced to the door at the sound of the blast, taking one last look at Denieve as she slept, before tearing into the hallway. He tackled the stairs only to freeze in his tracks, arriving just in time to witness Luke Antonelli backing away from Xavier while stumbling over debris on the short pile carpet. The center of the man’s light blue T-shirt bloomed bright red as a 911 dispatcher’s voice exploded from the cell phone he clutched.
Xavier stood stock-still holding papers in one hand and a gun in the other. The room looked like a tornado just roared through it.
“What the—”
The words had barely left Braeden’s mouth before Xavier dropped the papers and balled his hand, telepathically crushing Antonelli’s cell phone to dust, then he flicked his wrist causing the man’s neck to snap like a twig.
“No!” Braeden yelled, but it was too late.
The body had already hit the floor.
Braeden fired a murderous look at Xavier. Using his power, he jerked his head to the left, propelling Xavier across the room so hard the wall caved around him on impact. He crumpled to the floor.
Still several feet away, Braeden lifted his index finger, raising Xavier’s limp body, then he flashed a palm, pinning him against the ruined wall, leaving him immobile. “So you take your anger over Denieve out on an innocent? What in God’s name is wrong with you!?”
Xavier came to and struggled against the binding force. “Put me down, you stupid shit!”
The floor debris parted violently at Braeden’s measured approach. Rage in the form of heat waves radiated around him.
“All I did was clean up another one of your fucking messes,” Xavier barked.
Braeden balled his hand, tightening the unbreakable hold on Xavier’s neck. “You killed him in a fit of temper,” he said in a dead-calm voice. “Perhaps I should give you a taste of your own medicine.”
“I…had no choice,” Xavier gasped out. “He called 911…pulled a gun—we struggled and it went off.”
With another flick of his wrist, Braeden released him.
Xavier dropped to the floor gagging and coughing. “The guy had a…cell phone in his pocket,” he rasped. “And he dialed it behind his back….” He coughed again. “Then he pulled another gun on me. Yeah, another one! Where the fuck he got it from, I don’t know. When I grabbed it”—he gave his throat a hard clearing—“the thing went off. I did him a fucking kindness by snapping his neck. You heard his breathing. The bullet hit an artery. He was drowning!” He shoved to a stand and snatched up the crumpled papers he’d dropped, shook them. “This is a dossier with pictures of you, D, Angela, and Gubczyk.”
Xavier tossed the papers at him. “That’s not all.” He snagged a huge book from the carpet. “Look!”
Braeden gaped at the tome. It was the sacred Scribe’s Oath.
“Luke Antonelli was a dead man the moment he opened it,” Xavier said. “Most mortals croak within hours.”
“Where the hell did that come from?”
“I don’t know, but it’s ours.” Xavier nudged his chin toward a long hallway to his left. “I found it on the kitchen counter. Open to a page that discusses the Yoreck. I didn’t even know it was missing. I kept it in a safe locked up. I’m the only one with the combination.”
“How did it get here?”
“That crazy bitch Caryn probably,” Xavier told him. “You said she’s been feeding D information. So maybe she slipped it to her.”
Shock speared through Braeden as he snatched the book and inspected the pages. “The words are visible,” he said. “How did they unlock the magic?”
Xavier’s eyes narrowed. “You tell me. When’s the last time you saw the key?”
It had been at least a year since he’d even thought about it. Braeden took a sweeping look at the chaos on the floor. He squeezed his eyes s
hut to silence the noise in his head. “The police will be here any minute. I’ll have to destroy all this. And you have to get Denieve away from here.”
“You’re kidding me right? She’s been working with Antonelli all along. I say fuck her.”
“You’re talking out of your rectum again,” Braeden ground out. “Do shut up and listen to what’s left of that festering boil you call a heart! She means as much to you as she does to me. So save the denials. It’s as plain as the stupid look on your face.”
Xavier’s head jutted back. “Oh, really? Well, that’s—that’s fucking irrelevant! And anyway, you knew what she was and didn’t say shit about it. Which is so typical of your devious ass—”
“Give it a rest, will you? I’m not in the mood for another one of your snits.” Braeden sighed as he studied the body at his feet. “We have to atone for this.”
Xavier’s shoulders fell, an acknowledgement of the cold reality staring them in the face. “And how do you propose we do that?”
Good question. He’d promised Denieve that Antonelli would be safe, and now the angel of death would be here soon to collect the man’s soul.
Unless….
“Give me a second.” Braeden licked a gloved finger and thumbed through the pages. “Where’s the chapter on Ëâpsut?”
“Ëâpsut?” Xavier’s brows crashed together.
“The page, Xavier.”
“Uh, around 600 or so.” Xavier eyed him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”
“The only thing I can at this point.” Braeden skimmed through the ancient text until he found the paragraphs he was looking for and committed them to memory. He snapped the book shut and tossed it at Xavier, then grabbed a pen and a piece of paper off the floor to write with. “If I time this correctly, it should work.”
“Soul harvesting? Have you lost your mind?”
“Hardly.” He’d performed the ancient ritual once before, but that was over a century ago in Yoreck medical school. “It’s the only solution. But please, if you’ve got a better one I’m all ears.”
Xavier scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Okay, I’ll play. Where can you plant him?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Braeden said.
“You’re lying. You know exactly where.” Xavier started pacing a jagged circle. “The Elders’ heads will explode.”
“True, but once his soul takes root, there’s not much they can do about it.”
“And Antonelli? Ever stop to think what he might want?”
Braeden fixed him with a brief, but dark look. “Like you give a damn.”
“I don’t. But I bet he does.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right, but guess what?” Braeden said while still writing. “I can’t ask him yet. You know why? Because he’s dead, thanks to you! Now shut up. I can’t concentrate with you babbling.” He stared into the darkness and started scribbling again. “This is a list of things you’ll need for Denieve.”
“Things?”
“Yes, things. You sound like a bloody parrot.” Braeden continued writing his instructions. “Your car’s parked near enough for you to teleport her and her suitcases in one trip? Yes?”
Xavier nodded in disturbed silence. Alone, he could teleport several miles, but add another person and a few inanimate objects to the mix, and he could only go a quarter of that distance, if not less.
“You need to get her to safety and I’ve got to fix this.” He looked at Antonelli again. “The solution isn’t perfect, but it’s better than the alternative. At least he’ll have another chance.” Braeden slipped a prescription pad from his pocket and as he wrote, he said, “Take the book with you. Whatever else may be in this house needs to be destroyed. So I’m burning it all down.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense if I—”
“No. We’re out of options and you know it. I can’t teleport, but you can. Meanwhile, I’ll…” He scoped the room with disdain. “I’ll handle this.”
“They’ll arrest you.”
“Indeed.” Braeden looked at him. “So are you with me, brother?”
Understanding registered in Xavier’s eyes. Sadness weighed heavy in them. “And the Ëâpsut? Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”
Braeden leveled a frank look at him. “Yes. And if I don’t screw it up, the transition will begin once you do your part.”
“Fucking hell. This is really happening,” Xavier muttered, his gaze wandering the room.
“Can you arrange for the Elders to take him to safety once it’s done?” He fought to meet Xavier’s rootless gaze. “Brother. We’re pressed for time. Are we in agreement?”
Xavier searched Braeden’s face as if looking for another way. When he couldn’t find one, he whispered a curse before answering with a half-hearted nod.
“I wish I didn’t have to lay all this on you, but I’ve no choice.” Braeden hesitated. “You’ll have to convince her about Ian and everything else.”
Xavier paled. “What? You didn’t tell her?”
“I never got the chance.”
“So not only do I have to break the news about Antonelli, you’re dumping the Join and the Seal on me too?” Xavier’s face fell at Braeden’s nod. “Perfect. You don’t ask for much.”
“I know. I should be the one to tell her, but fate has other plans.” Braeden drew a deep breath. “Do we have any police contacts here?”
Xavier nodded again, his gray eyes dark with dread.
“Let them know I’m coming,” Braeden said. “As for Danielle—Denieve—her fever will spike in an hour or so, and once it does, you know what to do. In the interim, you’ll pick up the supplies and follow my instructions to the letter. All right?”
Xavier looked doubtful.
“Don’t worry, it’ll work out. It always does. Just take her somewhere safe. I’ve got this.” He pushed the papers into Xavier’s hand. “Contact Miss Sikes. Have her alert a Yoreck officer at the police precinct here. I can’t have any of these mortals touching my hand during fingerprinting, okay?”
“Yeah.”
Braeden glanced out the window. “You should go.”
A rare thread of emotion bloomed across Xavier’s face. It was desperation and fear. “We need more time.”
“It’s spent, brother.” He braced Xavier’s shoulders and squeezed. “I owe you this, okay? It’s my sacrifice. So it’s not up for debate.”
Xavier dropped his head. “I…I never wanted that. I just…”
Braeden forced Xavier to look at him. “All these years I resented you for shining a light on the truth. On the real me.”
“On who you used to be,” he clarified.
Surely it was snowing in hell. “Do you mean that?”
“Yeah, asshole. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”
Braeden’s heart warmed. “One word I should’ve said decades ago, but I'm saying it now. I’m sorry for Hannah. For everything.”
Xavier took that in and nodded. “Me too.”
“Her death was my fault. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I know.” Xavier shrugged a shoulder. “I just meant I’m sorry you fucked it up so bad.”
Braeden stared at him for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed. It felt good. “We’re a pair, aren't we?” He gave Xavier’s cheek a good-humored slap. “An impossible pair.”
Xavier’s eyes filled with surprising emotion. “But when we work, we do more than fine.”
“That we do, brother. That we do.” Something rare was happening between them, something pure and good. It made Braeden’s heart glad. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“The plants. How you cared for them.”
Xavier blinked.
“Of course, I’m a little late in the gratitude department—as usual. You know me.” He smiled. “But I appreciated the sentiment.” An unexpected swell of emotion overtook him. He looked away sharply to collect himself. “Now get the hell out of here so I can save the day.”
&nb
sp; Xavier stared at him as the sirens squealed from afar. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye? You're talking as if we’ll never see each other again.”
“You know what I mean.” Xavier glanced at Luke’s still body, bewilderment teeming in his expression. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” He turned away, but not before Braeden caught sight of the single tear slipping down his face. Xavier gave his wet cheek a self-conscious swipe. After shooting Braeden one last somber look, he dematerialized upstairs.
That one tear held so many possibilities, a chance for a new beginning. But the wailing sirens outside yanked him back to the here and now. He tugged his glove off, fisted his hand, and uncurled it slowly. Five blue-tinged flames ignited at the tips of each finger as police sirens wailed closer.
Moments later a voice on a bullhorn yelled, “Braeden Frost, this is Anne Arundel police! Come out with your hands up!”
Braeden glowered at the ceiling. “Any minute now, Xavier.”
The second they were gone Braeden hurled the fireballs, engulfing the living room in seconds. Satisfied, he kneeled over Antonelli’s body, and recited the ancient words from memory. The gray mist lifted from the corpse as a whirling ball of energy, then melted into his naked palm.
Braeden tugged his glove back on, turned to the door, flung it open and walked outside, hands raised, only to be greeted by a trio of flashing police cars and several cops with guns drawn.
Behind him, the house burst into flames.
CHAPTER 15
SOMEWHERE
Denieve
____________________________
Everything is pitch-black except for the orange glow beneath the door. Balled up in a corner, I struggle to catch my breath while death burns closer. Heat prickles my skin. Smoke hugs the air above me. My throat is so dry and sore I can’t scream, can barely whisper. And my blood is boiling.
I’ve never been in this room, yet it’s eerily familiar. Without looking, I know teakwood shelves line the beige walls and a mahogany desk sits to my right. Matching file cabinets bookend either side. Landscape paintings of the Scottish highlands hang nearby, and the door, some ten feet in front of me, leads to the lobby. Then it comes to me. I’ve never been here before, but somehow I know I’m in Braeden’s medical office.
