Icarus; The Kindred (A Paranormal Romance)

by J. S. Chancellor

  Sounds perfectly logical to me.

  He continues, "You couldn't have cared less who I was or who my parents were. Title and privilege meant nothing to you. Only character and integrity. You put me in my place that day, and those that followed it. I wouldn't be who I am now were it not for you. For your wisdom and grace and patience. In you, I found a real reason for living. A reason to continue on after I lost that title and privilege. I found something far richer and more deeply true in just one moment of being near you than I had in years of living as royalty."

  I already can't imagine anyone describing me as having qualities like wisdom or grace and certainly not patience, but my heart sinks as he speaks of character and integrity.

  You don't know what I've done. The lives I've taken unrepentantly.

  Trinity always arrives at the most inconvenient moments, not that there is a convenient time for the embodiment of all evil to speak in your head. And just how do you think he'll feel when he finds out?

  Jace motions for me to close the wound on his neck. I do and before I can say a word, he repositions us so we are laying down, his body resting over mine. He holds his weight with his knees, and pulls his shirt off with one hand. I hadn't noticed it before, probably because he was behind me most of the time, but he has another tattoo. An ambiguous shape that starts at his chest and winds around his torso.

  How do you think Jacelynd will feel when he finds out what you're still capable of doing—what we're capable of doing together? It's your blood that holds the power, Jess. Your blood that holds the darkness he fights. Ask him why he hasn't taken from you.

  I hadn't considered this. Christ, he hadn't taken from me. He had to have drawn from someone in the last three days. I'd assumed he thought I was too weak for it. Was I wrong?

  Jace, completely ignoring what Trinity has said, slowly unfolds the towel that I have wrapped around me, each second he takes leaving me more breathless than the last. I've dreamed of him. I've seen him half-naked in real life, and with the sad condition of my undergarments that night at the hotel and the effect water had on them, he has pretty much seen me unclothed and I know we have a past together. I know it like I know the sky will still be there when I wake up. But, regardless of these things, I am suddenly reduced to a wordless mess—laying still in fear of Jacelynd's touch. In fear that I will corrupt him somehow, steal from him the innocence that surrounds him and sap from him the strength that radiates from him.

  The gashes on my chest and back have somewhat healed, leaving only scant surface wounds, though the puncture wound on my leg is still a little tender. But overall, I am externally better than I had been. Jace leans to my ear as I start to speak and quiets me, then moves to kiss my neck. His mouth is as insistent as his hands are on the rest of my body and before long I am helping him pull his pants off. There is a stark contrast between Trinity and Jacelynd but it isn't what I thought it would be. Trinity was never gentle or considerate, and Jace his polar opposite, but more than that, more than just my body responding, as Trinity crassly put it, my soul is responding in the same way that it sensed the impending darkness of High Coven. My soul hungers for Jace, for contact with him, and it doesn't give a damn about Blood Tithes or reality.

  And that contact feels like waking up. The cold knot in my stomach and the ache in my muscles momentarily fade. I match Jacelynd's passion, my mouth against his, my tongue demanding quarter. He moans in response and carefully presses his chest against mine. I can feel the tautness of his body as he moves surely over me, his fingers stroking with knowledge only a lover would possess.

  Trinity laughs low, taking my silence as proof of my questioning Jacelynd. The distance between you will only grow greater. You belong with me.

  Jace pulls away, for only a moment, to touch my face as he slides into me. I want to but I can't adequately verbalize this, to Jace or Trinity or anyone else for that matter, so I do my damndest to project the feeling. I need Trinity to know exactly how far apart Jace and I are right now. Clearly it works, because the expression on Jacelynd's face is priceless and I hear a furious roar from Trinity.

  Just as I am about to think a categorically cheeky remark, seeing as I feel I've gained the upper hand here, a debilitating, wholly overwhelming, and utterly unexpected sorrow hits me. It grabs my insides, my lungs and gut. I can't even weep. All I can manage to do is close my eyes and let it crash over me in waves. Jacelynd doesn't appear to be aware of it.

  Fragments of memories follow when we are lying naked in the dark in each other's arms. Jacelynd is asleep, his breath coming evenly in my ear. I don't see anything with total clarity, but broken bits of time float by, stolen moments from wherever lost remembrance is held in wait. Whispered declarations of affection, laughter. The sheer terror upon waking, away from the nightclub that night and coming face to face with … Trinity himself. He didn't just know that I would be burned. He has something in his hand, a flickering, burning thing. And all is black.

  I am overwhelmed by pain and sadness again. Something else rests at the tip of my conscious thoughts then, aside from knowing that the event is physically traumatic enough to sever my tie with Jacelynd. I had planned on telling Jacelynd the morning after the club that I was pregnant. And I consider, after my screaming subsides, telling him then because I worry that if I don't, he might never know. But something stops me. Knowing it will break his heart, perhaps.

  I wake from this semi-dream state sweating and with chills. Too much has gone on for me to process that I was pregnant when I was taken … I can't handle it. Trinity took more than just my life … he took my child's life. I must have miscarried during whatever they did to scramble my memories.

  I don't want to wake Jace, so after putting on one of his button-down shirts and a pair of his boxers, I make my way as quietly as I can to the den and pick up the photo album again. It's heavy with years of our lives. Each picture is taken without any foreknowledge of what the one that follows will hold. I touch the last one, a group shot, letting my fingers linger on who I now know is Iris. Though I have no true memories of her, or our life before now, I have seen enough to make me reconsider my capacity for forgiveness. "How could you hate me so much?" I ask the dark.

  And the darkness materializes to answer, "Because she couldn't accept her life the way it was. What she was. She couldn't hate you, because she's too consumed with hating herself."

  "Blake? Where did you come from?" More importantly, how long have you been there?

  "I was dropping this off for Jacelynd. Didn't think anyone would be awake." He is holding a letter in his hands. "You aren't well."

  "You noticed?" I ask wearily. "How can you speak to me without any hint of anger? I kicked your ass. Pretty recently."

  When he smiles, his small features seem even slighter—more boyish. "You've been kicking my ass for centuries, Jess. This was just a hair more organized than usual. Listen, I know Jace is holding back because he wants this to be easier on you, but we're running out of time. They've reformulated Icarus to enslave the human race. Trinity is going to start mass hysteria by infecting a handful of humans with what they will believe is an epidemic, only to introduce a vaccine known as Ambrosia. That vaccine will turn to poison in their systems … and a third of the Earth, those who are not immune to its effects, will be sacrificed as purchase for creatures like the one you fought in Hades … an army to rule the remaining two-thirds of the human race. He will be able to fully open the gates between this world and the world we came from, letting in everything our parents left behind. He will rule as more than a king—he will rule as a god."

  I think back on all the conversations I had with Trinity since this series of events started and feel sick at the remembrance of his excitement. He knew what was coming. "This is what we saw going on in Hades, what Quinn was talking about. Trinity always said that he felt humans were inferior to us."

  And here I was thinking that dosing every seven days was merely a pain in the ass. The world Blake is suggesting is beyo
nd my imagining. Even if those loyal to Jacelynd and the Rebellion tried to reveal the truth, they wouldn't stand a chance against a whole army of creatures like that. And what of human kind? What of my treasured existence in their midst—my coffee joints and loud traffic, polluted air and noisy God-awful music? Creatures who take their mortality far too lightly and their lives for granted. "Why is my blood different, Blake? What makes me so different from you or Quinn? Why won't Jacelynd draw from me?"

  "Our familial line is gifted. In our world, we were hunted and persecuted for those abilities and yet equally sought by those who wished to use them for their own ends. When our parents crossed over and you, Quinn, Iris and I were born, the gifts seemed to have diminished with our changed physiology—for everyone but you. Your mother passed on to you the same gift that brought us all here so long ago. Your blood is unchecked, its potential limitless. Jace doesn't take from you because he doesn't trust himself with that kind of power."

  "That's why you weren't normal. We aren't normal."

  "Quinn and I don't respond to Icarus the way everyone else does. Neither does Iris."

  "So, Trinity's powers are because of my blood? This whole time he's had me, his … this is all because of me. He doesn't have power on his own, does he?"

  "No, he doesn't. Your blood in Tristan's system is what kept Jacelynd from finding you," Blake says matter-of-factly. "He took the name Trinity on the off chance that there might be a thread of your Tithe with Jacelynd left. If Jace were ever to hear your thoughts again, he didn't want you to use his real name."

  "But why didn't Jacelynd just take my blood ages ago and defeat him?"

  "You'd have to ask him that." Blake lays the letter he's been handling onto the table, the ends all crumpled up. "Damian has gone after Iris. I can't let him to do this alone. It's a double-edged sword. With your blood, Trinity has what he needs and yet without it … " his voice trails off.

  I finish for him, "Without it, I'll eventually die. Question is, which will come first?"

  Blake says gently, "I am leaving tonight. I wanted to make sure that you got here safely, and I cannot thank you enough for pulling me out of that hellhole. But what I learned there isn't something I can ignore. Iris will help Trinity any way she can, even if that includes forcing information out of Damian. He's looking for you and it doesn't matter how many blindfolds we use or how much Damian doesn't want to talk. For Iris, I genuinely believe he would lead Trinity here voluntarily. If I can get to him first … "

  I'm not hearing this. "No. You were in that hellhole to begin with because of me. And you don't have a prayer against Trinity—no offense."

  Blake doesn't get what I'm saying. "Jacelynd planned on leaving as soon as he was convinced that you were going to be all right here."

  I laugh. "I don't think so. I'm not just going to sit here and wait like some damsel in distress. Christ, what century are we in? Had I known that was his plan, I could have saved us this trip."

  "Jess, you look like death warmed over. What are you going to do? You place us all at risk by going near him. Did you miss the part about your blood being the key to the gate?"

  "A key that can lock that gate—yeah, I caught that. And I have to do something. Where do I find out how all this works? Who would know?"

  Blake shrugs. "Iris knows. She's the one who told Trinity about the human sacrifice. She found it in her studies of our past."

  "I won't be able to keep my hands to myself once I see her and it's kind of hard for the dead to talk. Next option?"

  "Well," Blake sighs, "I've heard stories of sacred scrolls held at High Coven. There is a chance they would reference it and how it could be prevented."

  I laugh, "Nice. Okay, no big deal. I'll just ask politely. The clerics seemed to like me pretty well the last time we all hung out. Piece of cake." I stand. "What's your plan? Rescue Damian while taking out Trinity?"

  "Kind of. Yeah." Now that I have made him voice it aloud, his expression shows his understanding of how stupid that idea is.

  "The way I see it, I'm on a limited time clock anyway. And I have a score to settle. I'm going with you."

  Blake holds up the letter. "Care to amend this then, or are you telling Jacelynd to his face?"

  "Would he let me leave if he did?"

  Blake shakes his head.

  "Then give me the letter."

  Eyes on Fire

  "Jace is gonna be so pissed when he wakes up," Blake says nervously. He'd seemed just fine when we were still in the living room. Crossing the threshold to the woods—and reality—has rattled him.

  I shrug. "Well, not right when he wakes up. More like when he figures out that I'm not there. He'll look for me before assuming I just up and left."

  "Then he'll read the letter and get pissed."

  "Good news is we'll live. Well—you guys will anyway." I smile, but Blake doesn't see the humor in this. He isn't anywhere near as light-hearted as his brother is.

  "Are you sure you and Quinn are related? You're so different."

  We are taking the road less traveled in an ancient 4Runner with the hope of avoiding as much contact with others as possible. Blake stares at the road ahead of us while I drive. "We aren't that different."

  "Denial much? Yes, you are. Quinn doesn't have a serious bone in his body. Are you saying you were light-hearted before I got a hold of you?"

  He grins. "Covenant? I knew you were an assassin, but damn. Didn't see that coming. I guess it has changed me a little, but it wasn't you. It was being in Hades, and seeing Iris and …. "

  I suppose I shouldn't do this, but it's too tempting. If I am ever going to remember anything about who I was before now, I'm going to need more than one opinion, right? "What was I like?"

  He cocks an eyebrow. "You haven't asked Jace?"

  Christ, it's like he laid the foundations of the Earth. "Yes, I asked him. Now I'm asking you. I deeply value his feedback, but you're my cousin. I would say blood is thicker than water, but … considering."

  Blake laughs. For the second time since we found him? Sure feels like it. "Touché." He thinks for a moment. "Since we were children, we played fighting games. Even then, I knew if you ever applied yourself, we'd all be in trouble. Jace probably won't volunteer any of this. He never cared much for that aspect of your personality. Not because he didn't appreciate it—he worried too much. Though, I guess he was right."

  That's what Jacelynd meant when he said that he should have stopped me. "Did we argue about that often?"

  "I wouldn't say the two of you have ever had a true argument. Liv and Quinn are another story, but you and Jacelynd have this ridiculous connection. He wasn't thrilled with all of your choices, but whenever he did say he was uncomfortable with something, you didn't fight him on it. I don't know if you've noticed or not, but Jace doesn't ask anything."

  I have noticed, actually. And now I'm feeling guilty about leaving. There's probably a very special rung in hell for someone like me. The seventh one, maybe. "You mentioned a letter when we were back at Belladonna. What were you talking about?"

  "I wrote a letter and gave it to Damian to give you in case things went south. I didn't want you to beat yourself up over what happened to me."

  "You mean … you wrote a letter to be given to me in the event that you died at my hands. Wow. Epic guilt trip."

  "You were doing your job, there's nothing to feel guilty about. You would have done the same thing for me. You and I have always written letters."

  "Well, you have my apology anyway. And one of these days, I want to read that letter."

  "You will, when things calm down. Assuming that Jacelynd doesn't kill me for leaving with you like this."

  "Nah, I'm sure he'll understand." We both know that's bullshit. "Oh hey, you smiled when I called you a naffin. Care to expound?" I ask.

  "You always said you loved me too much to call me an idiot when I did or said something stupid, so you called me a naffin instead."

  Explains why he got all teary-eyed.
"Nice to know some things haven't changed. Well, we need a map and I need to stretch my legs. Not to mention that we should probably fill up." We are approaching the first gas station in miles that doesn't look like something from Deliverance. "You got any cash on you?"

  Blake pulls a fifty out of his pocket and hands it to me. "Jacelynd knows by now."

  Gee, you think? "Feel like calling him?"

  "Unless he's bought another one in the last few hours, he doesn't have a cell. He uses disposables. We all do. He made us dump ours at the hotel."

  "Too easy to trace. Makes sense." I've never had to think about that before, people usually run from me, not the other way around. We turn in and I pull up to the pump. "You wanna pump and meet me inside? I'll go ahead and get a map."

  "Just like a chick to not want to pump your own gas," he teases.

  "Yeah, yeah." I hand him the keys and make my way inside.

  The gas station is your typical chain, coolers in the back and one lone freezer at the far left end with popsicles older than The Cosby Show. I thumb through a couple of maps, ultimately deciding on the one that's laminated. Considering the shit I usually get myself into, it's not an outrageous precaution. I feel eyes on me and peek at the front counter to see a middle-aged white guy at the register who looks like he owns stock in NASCAR and Bud Light. I smile and tip my hand to him in a gesture that in retrospect probably looked a tad cheeky.

  I am just glad to be wearing something decent. Although my fashion sense ten years ago, judging by the only pair of jeans and the long sleeve t-shirt I found in the closet before we departed, leaves a little to be desired. I love causal but I don't recall ever liking Pearl Jam, certainly not enough to wear Eddie Vedder's face plastered across my chest.

  Suddenly, I feel more eyes. I try to ignore it for a minute, focusing on the Bit O' Honey bars instead.

  "Can you fucking believe this?" a gruff voice asks.

  I look up to see the ungainly fellow staring right at me, along with a few of his hillbilly friends and I immediately jump to the unlikely conclusion that they've somehow figured out who I am and which Earth-ending plot I'm trying to foil. I am deciding their fate when I notice the sounds coming from behind me. I turn and laugh at myself when I see a television. That is, until I hear what he finds so un-fucking-believable. Trinity clearly isn't wasting any time.