The Wanderer's Children

by L. G. O'Connor

  Didn’t he ever crack a smile? Cara wondered.

  Constantina’s expression soured. “We need to find the connection to Brett. I must say, I expected Le Feu to be responsible.” An old nemesis of Constantina’s and one of Lucifer’s Lieutenants, Le Feu was the name assumed by Achanelech, the Demon King of Fire. He’d been their only active enemy up until now.

  Angel shrugged. “So did we. We’ll find out.”

  “Any news from Luke?” Constantina asked, referring to Kai’s Guardian.

  Shaking his head, Angel snorted and leaned back in his chair. “He’s been busy. At least now we know how the demons keep getting into their house. Kai and Luke found a portal sigil on the back of Melanie Solomon’s neck, right before a gang of demons poured out of her.”

  Cara froze as she mopped the last of the sauce from her plate with a piece of bread. “What happened to Melanie?”

  He waved his hand at her. “Don’t worry, señorita. Everyone’s safe. Luke took care of business, and Señora Solomon is in Sequoia Park Hospital.”

  Relief flooded through Cara, but why hadn’t Kai let her know about the demon attacks? She made a mental note to text him after dinner.

  Angel’s brow tightened as he turned his attention back to Constantina and stayed silent.

  Constantina eyed him suspiciously. “What are you holding back, Benedictine?”

  His eyes turned from liquid brown to hard black coals. “Before I answer that Eae, I need to understand what you know.” Angel and Constantina shared the longest history of any two people sitting around the table, well over four hundred years across Constantina’s many human incarnations. And Cara had been around Angel enough to know that there was no such phrase as “where angels fear to tread” in his vocabulary. He would go toe-to-toe with anyone, even Constantina.

  Constantina shifted in her seat and stared him down. “What are you implying?”

  All eyes turned to her. Simon frowned but remained quiet while Michael held his breath.

  Angel’s eyes bore into Constantina. “Eae, I know you wouldn't knowingly play games with us. But you aren’t in the habit of sharing everything you know, either. I think the time has come to share what you know.”

  “Benedictine—”

  He pounded his fist on the table. “Don't say it! I respect you as much as my own mother, but forgive me when I say—screw noninterference and free will.” He pointed around the table. “Look at these faces. Do you want to get us all killed? We might as well declare defeat right now and hand over humanity to the Dark Ones wrapped in a big bow.”

  Cara’s mouth dropped open. “Michael, Simon, what the hell is going on?”

  “Heck if I know…” replied Michael.

  “Not sure, love,” said Simon. Cara cast a glance at him and noticed a muscle jump in his jaw.

  Constantina gathered her petite frame and rose from her seat, glaring at Angel. “Benedictine, what is it that you know that leads you to believe I’m placing those I love in jeopardy?” Angry energy flowed off of her in a current that pricked uncomfortably at Cara’s skin.

  Angel dropped his voice. “The Wanderer’s children… who else knew about them?”

  Where’s this going? Cara wondered, suspecting yet another layer of secrets.

  Constantina’s eyes hardened and her voice held a strict warning. “Let us gather them first, Benedictine. There’s a reason for the order of things. Do not force revelations upon those who are not yet ready to handle them. Otherwise, it will be you who kills us all.”

  “Have it your way. But don’t expect me to walk like a lamb to slaughter,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I’ve always respected your opinion, Benedictine, even when it meant breaking the rules. My expectations of you are unimportant. It’s your expectations of yourself that you should be questioning. But I do ask that you trust me.”

  Angel tensed at her words, his teeth grinding behind his twitching cheek. “Don’t make this about me.”

  “Your grief makes this about you. It fuels your impulsiveness and your exile.”

  Rage mixed with pain behind Angel’s eyes. “I’m going to forget you said that.”

  “Enough!” barked Simon, slamming his fist on the table. “This is counterproductive. Benedictine, what are you getting at?”

  Angel’s lips tightened in an angry, thin line. “Eae, do you want to tell him or should I?”

  Calm slipped back over Constantina’s expression and she remained standing, her back rigid. “Angel wants me to admit that I believe there’s a traitor on the High Council.”

  Cara gasped. “Could that be possible?”

  Neither Michael nor Simon replied to her telepathic question.

  “Well, do you? Believe it?” Angel asked.

  “Why is it that you do?”

  Angel narrowed his eyes at Constantina. “Because you know as well as I do that the Wanderer was murdered.”

  Cara’s gaze fixed on Brett as the color drained from his face.

  Chapter 15

  CARA

  New York City. Fifth Avenue Penthouse. Thursday, May 23, 10:45 PM ET

  “SIMON, would you mind pouring us all a nightcap?” Cara asked, extricating the key from the lock and following Simon, Constantina, and a trotting Chloe into the penthouse. After single-handedly consuming a full bottle of wine over dinner, it wasn’t like she really needed another drink. Then again, another drop of alcohol might help to dull the ferocious ache in her bones—an indication that she might wake up taller again tomorrow.

  Her plan was to detain Constantina long enough to untangle their messy evening, and get some answers before they all headed off to bed.

  The dinner conversation had ended abruptly with Angel’s unceremonious revelation about Brett’s father’s murder and Constantina’s subsequent departure from the table. In Cara’s opinion, Angel had fully earned the Alexander Pope moniker for fool after tonight’s fiasco by doing exactly what she’d expected—“rushing in where angels fear to tread.” Michael’s news about increasing security due to an uptick in Dark One activity—yada yada yada—paled in comparison to the bombshells Angel had dropped.

  With a nod, Simon headed for the bar in the living room, while Constantina unclipped the lead from Chloe’s collar and then followed Cara to the seating area.

  No sooner had Constantina sat in the love seat across from Cara than Chloe hopped up beside her and nestled into a ball, resting her head on Constantina’s lap. Chloe stuck to Constantina like a magnet to a refrigerator, making Cara feel like leftovers.

  The little traitor.

  Constantina let out a heavy sigh as Simon returned with three glasses of tawny port. “My apologies for the disastrous dinner discussion,” she said, accepting a glass. “I’m sure you both have questions.”

  Understatement, Cara thought, and took a sip from her glass. Her eyes opened wider as the layered taste hit her tongue. Simon had pulled out the good stuff they’d been saving; it was from their bottle of thirty-year-aged port.

  “Yes, many.” Simon placed his glass on the coffee table and sank back into the couch next to Cara, a frown etched deep across his forehead. “Can we start with the possible breach in the Council? Followed by the murder, and then what Benedictine did to put such a chip on his shoulder and throw him into exile however many years ago?”

  Constantina gave them a wan smile and petted Chloe. “That may be a tall order. Benedictine’s story is… complex. I’ll tell you what I’m able, but I daresay, finding some of those answers will be part of our collective journey.”

  “More is better than less right now. Anything you can share will be appreciated,” Simon said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs.

  With a nod, Constantina said, “I’ve long suspected a possible breach within the Council— since before Cara’s birth. But there’s been no way to prove it short of catching the person. If my assumption is correct, then it certainly explains how the Dark Ones found out about Cara and n
ow Brett. The question we need to be asking is, ‘Why?’ ”

  “What’s your theory?” Simon asked.

  “None of my theories make sense,” Constantina replied with a frown. “Until they do, I will journey forth with caution in mind.”

  A light bulb popped on in Cara’s head. “Can we access the historical records in the Flow like the Tribunal did with me and Simon? To see if any of the Council members interacted with the Dark Ones?” Like a cosmic digital recorder, the Flow recorded and stored every moment of human history on Earth. Cara would never forget their Tribunal hearing when all the intimate times she and Simon had spent together were plucked from the Flow and projected in all of their three-dimensional glory for the Council to witness.

  Constantina shook her head. “I’m afraid not, dear one. Access to the Flow’s archives is restricted to Council members. Requests are usually made by committee, though can sometimes be individually entertained. Not to mention, the Council has special privileges around their own recorded activities. In the same way diplomatic immunity protects ambassadors in the United States, we are protected by the Irin, our archivists, from one another.”

  “Oh,” Cara said, deflated. “So one of you could murder someone and get away with it?”

  Constantina’s hand froze mid-stroke on top of Chloe. “Cara, whether or not an act of willful murder can be revealed doesn’t change the fact that the act has occurred. Something such as murder will be engrained on the soul and can never be hidden from God. Ultimately, we are all held accountable for our actions—seen or unseen. From there, we have only two choices. We may either choose redemption or to fall.”

  “Sobering thought,” Cara said and took another sip of port.

  “That means the Council Member in question is at least forty-five years old in this incarnation. Said another way, at least eighteen when Cara was born,” Simon said, resting his chin on his clasped hands.

  “Dear one, I believe that may be too limiting. Besides, almost all members of the Council are presently over that age with only a couple of exceptions,” Constantina said. “I’m afraid that doesn’t narrow down our suspects.”

  Simon’s expression turned from concern to contemplation. “Maybe we should do a little digging.”

  “No. You cannot,” Constantina snapped.

  “Why?” Cara asked in unison with Simon.

  “A Council Member’s activities recorded in the Flow may be protected by the Irin, but as you’ve already learned, yours are not. Because I sit here with you, this discussion is protected and cannot be viewed. Were you to have this discussion without me, it would be discoverable. Understand? I cannot stress this enough. We cannot let the traitor gain advantage by making ourselves vulnerable through discoverability.”

  Cara gasped. “Does that mean the traitor could be watching our every move?”

  “Not unless the traitor wants to be caught,” Constantina said. “If anything, I suspect they have been gleaning their information using more conventional means. That doesn’t mean when the time is right, they won’t make a move when it could hurt us most.”

  “I’m not following,” Simon said.

  Constantina folded her hands and released a patient breath. “All requests attached to anyone suspected now or in the future to be part of the prophecy have been flagged and appear as part of a daily report issued by the Irin to all Council Members. We’d know who requested recordings and the reason provided. Just because a Council Member’s personal activities cannot be revealed via the Flow, it doesn’t protect their requests to view the recordings of others. That said, I don’t believe they would make such a request until the battle is upon us. On the other hand, the Council may have legitimate reasons to review those recordings, and in doing so, accidentally stumble across damning information. So do be wise in your disclosures.”

  “Wow. I suddenly feel like I’m living in a Communist state. Big Brother and all that,” said Cara, gesticulating with her hands.

  “You shouldn’t feel that way. Most of the daily goings-on won’t do much to help or hinder our enemies. But being aware of the rules around our observance can only work to our advantage. I believe I was able to convince Benedictine of this before we left this evening.”

  Cara thought of something else. “What about the Dark Ones? Can we see them in the Flow?”

  “Lucifer and his Thirteen Lieutenants carry the same exemption as the High Council… to keep it balanced. We cannot access their past in the Flow, but we can view possible links to our future in the Trinity Stones… if the stones are willing to reveal them. And as I’m painfully aware, the future places the heavy burden of nondisclosure on me as a member of the High Council.”

  It struck Cara that certain rules seemed almost civilized. Not something she expected in a battle between good and evil. Then again, the Dark Ones weren’t the ones who had set the rules.

  “Sometimes I don’t understand why you can see the future if you can’t do anything about it,” Cara said, more to herself than to Constantina.

  “It is a test and a testament to Semyaza and the first generation of Watchers who came before us. Just as we wear the mantle of humanity to empathize with your plight, we must face temptation and maintain God’s trust.”

  Cara’s discussion with Constantina next to the Trinity Pool came rushing back. Angels, like humans, were created with free will, giving them the ability to fall and join the Dark Ones. Sounds like one of them might be on their way…

  “What about the Wanderer? Who knew about him?” Simon asked with sudden impatience.

  “That’s the thing, my dear, only Angel and I knew the identity of the Wanderer. No one else. Not even Angelis, our High Council leader.”

  “Was he murdered?”

  Constantina’s distress suddenly matched Simon’s. “My dear, that’s mere supposition right now.

  “What about Brett?” Simon asked. “He’s the next to be revealed as one of the Twelve, isn’t he?”

  “In truth, he’s already been revealed. Cara and I have already conferred on the matter. But even though I’ve shared that with you both, you must keep that knowledge to yourselves. Brett’s not ready to learn it. Frankly, there are far more important questions that you should begin to ask as we gather the Twelve. The biggest is, ‘Why Cara?’ or more specifically, ‘What secret is hidden inside of her soul?’ That answer will be the key to all the others.”

  Why me, indeed, thought Cara with a sinking feeling of dread.

  Chapter 16

  CARA

  CONSTANTINA ROSE FROM THE SOFA, delicately stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. “Worry not, dear ones. We’ll discuss the rest of the implications when we’re all together next week. In the meantime, enjoy your leisure time,” she’d said then turned to Cara. “Be a friend to Brett.”

  The thought of remaining close to Brett made Cara blush, but also ignited a fierce desire to protect him.

  Simon retrieved Constantina’s suitcase from inside the front door and followed her down the hall with Chloe in tow.

  “Would you like to join me for another port, love?” Simon asked when he returned, snatching up their glasses on his way to the bar.

  “Guess so,” she mumbled. The ache in her limbs had reached a steady throb, but that didn’t stop her awakening libido.

  She leaned back and stared at Simon as he poured their drinks, memorizing every nuance. A smile crept onto her lips; she never grew tired of looking at him and feeling her heart swell. He’d changed out of his uniform into washed-out blue jeans and a black T-shirt to cook in. His dark golden hair was pulled back in a leather tie, allowing her gaze to dance over the angles and curves of his profile, catching only the side glimpse of his crystal blue eyes before resting on his luscious lips and the unexpected scowl she found there.

  Frowning, she immediately put any thoughts of seduction on hold.

  He carried over the port and sat down next to her, placing the glasses on the coffee table.

  Pressing her lip
s to the base of his warm neck, she gave him a little kiss. “What are you thinking about?”

  A contented rumble rose from his throat, and his hand brushed over her hair before he gently pushed away to meet her eyes.

  “Just thinking about what Constantina shared with us,” he said softly. “I’ve never seen her so worried.”

  “I have to think a traitor is a pretty big deal, especially now,” she said, tucking her legs beneath her.

  “I don’t like how this is unfolding,” Simon distractedly replied, brushing imaginary lint from his jeans.

  Cara narrowed her eyes, sensing something else. “What’s really bothering you?” One of the things she loved about Simon was he always told her what was on his mind if she asked.

  He avoided her gaze, and asked quietly, “Can I ask you something?”

  Her stomach unexpectedly tightened. “Of course.”

  This time he met her gaze. “Do you still love Kai?”

  On reflex, Cara’s face pinched in confusion and her skin tingled with discomfort. “Whoa! What? Where’s this coming from?”

  He swallowed. “If Kai hadn’t saved you…”

  A wave of fear rolled off of him, and hit her squarely in the chest. She understood. Taking his hand, she brushed his knuckles with her lips. “You’re afraid of losing me. Please don’t be,” she whispered, holding his hand to her cheek. “Everything happened as it was supposed to…”

  Anguish blazed behind his eyes. He pulled his hand away and stood up to pace. “I watched… Kai wouldn’t give up. There was love and desperation in his eyes as he did CPR. He couldn’t lose you any more than I could.” His eyes turned glassy, and he growled. “I couldn’t save you…”

  But Kai could, she completed his thought. This time she completely understood. In his mind he’d failed her as he’d failed Calliope, his first love, and Mina, his first Soul Seeker, unable to save them from death.

  Her heart squeezed in her chest and she stood, pulling his large frame into her arms. She rested her head against the hard ridges of his chest. His heart beat against her cheek through the soft fabric. “Why is all this coming up now? Is it because we’re seeing Kai in a few days?”