“Not many,” Electra muttered. Passion gave her a dry look in the mirror as she stood up and turned off the lights around the mirror.
“I will be back soon,” she said as she walked over to the bed and kissed Electra’s forehead affectionately. “Don’t follow me.”
Passion hurried down the stairs to the main hall of the Pearl Castle. She passed by a number of messengers as she made her way to the stairs that led down to the dungeon. Once she reached the bottom level of the castle, Passion strode through the dungeons and down the hall leading up to Roan’s cell. She was trying to keep her face clear of emotion and could only hope she was successful. Passion tried to find the inner stoicism possessed by her mother, grandmother, and even her daughters. She paused for a brief moment, took a deep breath, and then continued on without stopping.
He was sitting with his back to her when she reached the cell. His reddish blond hair shone under the light. His jacket lay across the bed on which he rested his feet. Passion swallowed, finding her voice.
“Roan,” Passion said firmly. He twisted partway to look over his shoulder, green eyes widening a little. After a moment’s hesitation, Roan stood up and turned around fully so that he faced her. He approached the glass slowly, his expressive green eyes never leaving hers. Passion needed to tilt her head up in order to meet his gaze due to those long legs of his, which made up most of his height. He was as thin as ever; “lanky” came to mind. He still had a pale complexion, as though he hadn’t ventured out into the sunlight often enough. Passion glared at him. Though she thought she had prepared herself to speak with him again, she could feel her anger bubbling to the surface.
“You’re still angry at me. You have every right to be,” he began in his smoky voice.
“You don’t have the right to tell me how I feel,” she snapped, unable to feel anything other than fury.
He cringed. “Okay, you’re a lot angrier than I remember.”
“Where have you been hiding?” Passion demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.
He looked down at his feet briefly, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug. “I've been everywhere, sticking to the shadows for the most part.”
“Again with the vague answers, Roan? That’s not going to cut it,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. The very sight of him made her angrier than she ever thought possible. “At least tell me this: how do I know you’re not an imposter? Last time I saw you, you were sans a pulse.”
He smiled a brief sad smile, which he quickly wiped from his features when he saw Passion was not amused. “That’s not entirely true. After you left I still had a faint heartbeat, but it was so faint no one would have been able to detect it. Someone came to my aid. They cared for me until I had recovered.”
“That’s rather convenient. Does this mystery person have a name?” Passion asked, not buying his story for a second.
“I’m sorry, Passion. I can’t tell you that,” Roan apologized. His tone was always sincere when he spoke with her, which was starting to grate on her nerves.
“Why not?” Passion demanded.
“For their protection,” Roan answered, albeit hurriedly. “Passion, please, you have to convince the High Council to let Jet and Lilly see me.”
“Yeah, because they seek my counsel all the time for decisions,” Passion scoffed derisively. “You have two daughters, did you know that?”
Roan flinched as if she had struck him. He looked at her with an apologetic expression, but she continued to glare at him. Her eyes held anger and scorn for the shape shifter in front of her, fury making her see red. Passion was sure her eyes had changed color and were probably redder than blood.
“Well?” she demanded when he didn’t respond. Roan swallowed and nodded, taking a deep breath.
“Passion, I meant everything I said when you tried to help me,” he said softly. “You have no idea how sorry I am for everything that happened. I would give anything to take back my past actions. I turned myself in with the hopes of doing some good, hopefully atoning for some of my crimes—”
“Don’t! Don’t you dare!” Passion snapped, forgetting her composure again. She put her hands on her hips, dropping her gaze for a moment, gathering herself. Passion looked up at him again, her composure regained. Around them, the dungeon remained calm and peaceful.
“You can’t go back and undo all the damage you did,” she started carefully. “But if you are telling the truth and looking to atone for your past, you can start by helping Jet and Lilly. Tell me what you need to tell them. No more of these cryptic answers or riddles or vague roundabout responses.”
“Passion, I can’t do that. I have to speak with the Monroes directly.”
“Fine,” Passion said, pausing and searching his face. “Why did you come back now, of all times? Why not all those years when the protectors were still looking for you?”
“Isis was in danger. I had to protect her.”
Passion shook her head, dropping her eyes again. She couldn’t believe him. Roan was an assassin, the worst that had ever roamed the world. He had murdered his own brother in cold blood, killed a man in front of her, and now he claimed he had wanted to protect their daughter. Roan wasn’t capable of compassion. No, he was playing some kind of game.
“My rescuer … Passion, something very bad is coming. That flashdrive, what you think is the Key — it’s not. It’s a decoy meant to throw the Monroes off track, which I’m sure they’ve already figured out. I told Adonia before: the actual Key is a living, breathing being and if he or she falls into the wrong hands … it means the end of everything. The Key will be capable of great destruction and their wielder will have unlimited power to the point of being invincible,” Roan stated, his green eyes as intense as Passion had ever seen them.
“How do you know?”
Roan glanced to the side, stepping closer to the glass and lowering his voice. “There are things in this world that not even the guardians know about. These things pose the greatest threat to the survival of both supernatural and mortal species. Look, I can’t tell you what they are, Passion. But I’ve seen what they do in this hunt of theirs. I’ve seen things that are so appalling they’ve been right out of some horrific nightmare. Only they were real — too real.”
Roan dropped his eyes to his feet, shaking his head as if to rid it of some horrible image. Passion stared at him, wondering how much of his words were the truth. She tried to meet his eyes again.
“Roan, if what you’re saying is true, the only way you can help is by telling me exactly what it is you know so I can tell Jet and Lilly.”
Roan leaned forward resting his hands against the glass, his eyes remaining on the floor. He shook his head, swallowing.
“I can’t tell you anything specific.”
“Why not?”
Roan looked back up at her with a rueful smile. “Because I know you. You act on emotion. When your loved ones are threatened, you go off half-cocked. You’d get into this fight in whatever way you could. Passion, if anything ever happened to you, I could never forgive myself.”
Passion narrowed her eyes at him, her nostrils flaring.
“Know this, Roan. If these indirect answers result in the death of another innocent, that’s more blood on your hands,” Passion stated.
She turned and stormed out of the dungeons, aggravated she hadn’t been able to get the answers Jet and Lilly needed. Passion could feel Roan watching her as she left and thought she heard a quiet apology just before she reached the door, but disregarded it.
CHAPTER TEN
Jade and Shae stood in the front room of the empty house. There was a layer of dust on everything, as if no one had lived there in years. They exchanged a look before Shae moved into the kitchen, her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. All the appliances were in place, covered in dust and cobwebs, just like everything else in the small home. The floors were bare, no sign of furniture. The windows that weren’t covered were obscured by grime and dirt. Shae frowned as she crouc
hed down and ran her index finger across the hardwood floor. She held it up to her face and rubbed her thumb against the soft gray dust that stuck to it.
“I got nothing,” Jade said as she moved into the doorway. “The place is completely abandoned.”
“Jet and Sly were here a couple weeks ago?” Shae asked.
“Yeah,” Jade answered, scratching the back of her neck. “It looks like no one has lived here in at least ten years though.”
Shae stood up again, wincing when her knees cracked.
“Nothing around back,” a voice came from the door leading to the yard. Jade and Shae looked over to where Alex and Isis were standing.
“Everything is dead back there,” Isis added. “And yes, I know it’s winter. But there are some coniferous bushes out there or whatever those year round plants are called. They’re all brown and … dead.”
Alex moved inside the house, followed by Isis who closed the door behind them.
“Am I the only one who finds this entire scene to be very weird?” Isis asked no one in particular. The other three shook their heads.
“Do we know of any other instances like this?” Alex asked.
“What? Like disappearances?” Jade replied. Alex shrugged.
“Like that, or,” she paused, running a thumb over her lower lip as she dropped her eyes for a moment. “When I was growing up, I remember Remington telling me a story about things so evil that wherever they walked, death followed close behind.”
Jade stared at her. “There’s a nice little bedtime story.”
“I liked myths of shape shifters. That particular story was from the War of the Meadows, I think,” Alex replied.
“Remington’s kid likes mythology, who woulda thought?” Shae put in.
“Weren’t the plants in my old apartment dead?” Isis asked, looking over at Jade. “That day we went back to get my stuff with Electra, when I came to live at the mansion?”
“You know, I think they were,” Jade said, looking around at the empty house and shivering. The house was very cold, but there was also a strange heaviness to the air.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jade suggested. “Nothing more we can do. Whoever lived here is long gone.”
“Great,” Isis said, hurrying toward the front door, eager to leave the creepy house. Shae went next, then Alex, with Jade bringing up the rear. Jade glanced around the house one last time and then closed the door behind her.
They never noticed the pair of eyes watching them from the upper level of the home. Tracy absentmindedly ran her fingers over the pommel of her sword as she watched the Four leave. She smiled a little, relieved. For a moment, she had been afraid things were going to get a little bloody. It would have been most unpleasant. Tracy raised her arm and glanced at the small watch on her delicate wrist. Ten o’clock, she had places to go. She strode from the house and melted back into the night.
*~*~*~*~*
Ajax knocked on the door of the home of a Ms. Halley Waterson. Malone stood nearby, leaning against the railing of her small porch with his arms crossed over his chest, his coat rustling softly in the wind. He glanced at the modest watch on his right wrist.
“It’s been about five minutes, man. I don’t think she’s home,” he mentioned as Ajax knocked again.
“I doubt she’d venture out any time soon,” Ajax replied, glancing over at his brother before turning his eyes back to the door. “After getting one’s tongue cut out, grocery shopping is probably not high on the list of priorities. Just a hunch.”
Malone spread his hands and shrugged, but remained quiet. Ajax, on a whim, tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. He glanced back at his brother, his brow furrowing.
“If you had recently been tortured, would you leave the door open?” Ajax whispered.
Malone straightened up, concern creasing his features. His hand drifted to the sheath he kept hidden on his waist. The Deverell brothers didn’t carried firearms when out on simple missions, but they always kept at least one blade on hand. There were plenty of separatists and assassins who would enjoy putting them down.
“Ms. Waterson?” Ajax called out, taking a cautious step into the house. Nothing but silence greeted him, which unnerved him more than he cared to admit. The house was dark and most of the curtains had been drawn. Malone stayed right on his brother’s heels, his hand resting just above a carefully concealed knife. He tapped Ajax’s left shoulder, pointing to his nose when his older brother turned to look at him. He was picking up a faint scent, so faint that even with his sensitive nose he was unable to identify it. Ajax nodded, indicating he had also noticed the odor. He pointed, signaling it was coming from somewhere in front of them. They paused at a corner and Ajax peered around the bend.
There was a short empty hall. Ajax cautiously crept out from behind the bend, noticing a flight of stairs leading to the second floor. He carefully made his way up the stairs, his ears and eyes alert for even the smallest movement. Reaching the top of the stairs, Ajax noticed three doors. One was open a crack, light spilling out. Ajax had a feeling of dread as he made his way to the door. He pushed the tall door open and sighed at the scene before him.
There were a few open empty pill bottles on the floor. As Ajax took a step inside the bathroom, he could see the tub was filled with dark red water. The protector could see Halley’s body at the bottom of the tub, her glassy blue eyes staring at nothing.
“Is she …?” Malone asked, entering the bathroom behind his brother. Ajax nodded, taking out his gloves from his pocket and pulling them on. He crouched down and picked up one of the bottles, twisting it in his hand so he could read the label. Putting it back in its original spot, Ajax picked up another one.
“Powerful stuff, recent prescription. Judging from these meds, she probably died a couple hours ago,” Ajax murmured, putting the bottle back on the floor. “No signs of struggle, so this was probably self-inflicted.”
“Guardians have mercy,” Malone said, scrubbing a hand over his mouth as he studied the dead woman. She had been a beautiful shape shifter. Even in the bloody water, he could see her hair was chestnut-colored. Malone craned his neck and he squinted as something caught his attention.
“Ajax? Are those gray streaks in her hair?”
Ajax looked over his shoulder, standing again. “It looks like it. She must have been under a severe amount of stress for quite some time.”
“It had to have been a while, right? I can’t remember the last time I saw a shape shifter with graying hair. I mean, we’re constantly hunted and getting in less than pleasant situations and none of us have any gray hair.”
“It’s unusual, but not unheard of. Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll have the Monroes send their contact in the police department to take care of her.”
Malone followed his older brother back out into the hall and out of the small house. Death was not a natural occurrence for shape shifters, but that didn’t mean it was uncommon. Both Ajax and Malone had seen their fair share of death — more than they would like. The Deverell family had experienced plenty of tragedies over the years and there were few of them left. Unfortunately, in their lives, death was unavoidable.
*~*~*~*~*
Jade pulled up the driveway to the mansion. The winter nights lacked the heavy darkness of warmer months, due mostly to the glistening snow that still coated everything. A kind of serenity had fallen over the mansion, as it usually did in the colder months. Most of the shape shifters who resided in the mansion had gone south for the winter, preferring the warmth of the sun to the chill of the snow.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Jade said as she stopped the car in front of the garage. “Hey Isis, the object of your indifference seems to be back from his date.”
Isis glanced out through the windshield. Sure enough, Jensen was in the driveway near the garage, leaning against his sleek silver Jaguar. He had his long coat on, the collar up so it shielded the back of his neck. His back was to them, but they knew he heard the purr of the car Jade w
as driving. He turned his head a little at their approach, but gave no other indication he heard them. His hands were hidden in the pockets of the jacket.
“Isis,” Shae suddenly said as Jade pulled into the garage and parked the car. “If you’re not going to take him, can I have him?”
Isis laughed as she got out of the car. She moved toward the open garage door, which spilled bright yellow light across the freshly shoveled driveway. Isis stopped on the other side of the car.
“You’re back awfully early,” she observed. Jensen turned around and leaned his hip against the side of the car, a small grin crossing his face.
“Are you complaining?” he asked.
“Yes, actually,” Isis responded with a half-smile. “Thought I’d have a night of peace for once.”
Jensen chuckled. “Nero doesn’t have a type, but I’m afraid I can be a bit pickier. They were nice enough, but her interests were vastly different from mine. It made for very poor conversation, I’m afraid.”
“Uh huh,” Isis said, arching an eyebrow. “I would have taken you for a player.”
Jensen squinted at her, still smiling. “Are you suggesting I’m easy?”
Isis leaned down, holding his gaze. “I’m sure you’ve been called worse.”
Jensen laughed again and looked back up. Isis followed his gaze into the clear night sky, which was like purple velvet decorated with millions of tiny diamonds. The two stood together for a moment, enjoying the peace and quiet. The moment was interrupted by the screech of tires. They both turned to where the noise originated, further down the drive.
In the distance, they could just make out a red Porsche squealing to a stop at the gates, pausing only for them to swing open before tearing up the driveway. It drove inside the garage and screeched to a halt.
“That was the Deverells’ car,” Jensen said, moving to stand next to Isis. She glanced at him, noting the look of concern on his face, and then looked back toward the garage. A flustered-looking Malone and Ajax exited the Porsche and hurried into the mansion.
Through Storm and Night (The Shape Shifter Chronicles Book 2) Page 18
