Icarus; The Kindred (A Paranormal Romance)

by J. S. Chancellor

  She nods, clearly rattled. "I'll be in the lounge. Come get me when you're done." She smiles weakly at him and I catch the slight movement out of the corner of my eye as he squeezes her hand.

  Once she's gone, he pulls the curtain, closing any outside view of the three of us. "Your blood panel came back," he says this with weight … enough weight to give me the distinct impression that he knows why something is wrong with the results.

  I want to say something, really I do, but the floor is steadily feeling less and less solid and it isn't but a couple more seconds before I am on my hands and knees.

  "You're Kindred. Whose side you're on is what's in question. Either way, I took an oath to do no harm. So forgive me, but I have no choice." I feel a sharp sting on my arm and before I can tell him human drugs have no effect on me, my vision grows dim. His voice grows faint, but just before I lose consciousness, I am aware enough to comprehend a name slipping off his tongue in the middle of indiscernible words.

  " … Iris … "

  Words are said in rushed hateful tones in the distance, somewhere beyond the room I'm in now. I open my eyes to darkness. When I try to speak, I find that nothing escapes but a pitiful wheezy mewl.

  I feel along the floor. Nothing.

  Where is Lucan?

  Whatever the hell they've given me still lingers and it's all I can do to bristle when the door swings open. A figure steps in, obscured by the shadows. Why won't they turn on the lights?

  The figure walks near me and I'm simply too drained and drugged to fight. I'm in too much pain. So I remain still.

  "Why? What did she ever do to you? What could she possibly have done to you to cause such rage and resentment? She loved you dearly … would have given her life to protect you, and you repay that devotion by taking that life without reason?"

  Oh bloody hell, this isn't Iris. This is Jacelynd. And he thinks the vampire found with Lucan is Iris—not me. Lucan must still be unconscious.

  I open my mouth to try and speak again, but absolutely nothing comes out.

  Damn it, just turn on the light! Why is he being so incredibly stupid? Because he thinks I'm dead …

  "I was nothing but kind to you, loved you like a sister, took care of you." His voice shakes now, but it isn't with tearful remembrance; it's with rage and if I don't do something, rightdamnnow, he's going to kill me. Or at least try. And aren't immortal wounds enough to contend with while trying to save the world?

  I do my best to sprint past his right side, hoping to get to the light switch that I'm assuming is near the door. I fail miserably and I catch an unforgiving knee in the chest.

  And where the hell are those powers when I need them?

  I hit the floor hard and while I can't speak, I can apparently moan in pain.

  "And what of Damian? He was loyal to the point of accusing Jessica of betrayal and you mercilessly left him for dead. Tell me why I should have any more consideration for your life than you had for even one person who stood by you?"

  Jacelynd picks me up by the collar of my ripped shirt like I'm a rag doll and brings me close to his face. He's seething. "You will answer me!"

  I try again, mostly for good measure this time, and find of course that nothing has changed. This does not keep him from throwing me against the far wall. I hit it with bone-breaking force.

  "Jacelynd stop!" Quinn's voice sounds from somewhere down the hall but it doesn't even register with Jace. He picks me back up again.

  "Jace stop! That's not … "

  I think I hear him say Iris' name in the next few words, but my ears are ringing from the blow to my head. He obviously didn't hear it clearly, either.

  "Answer me!" Jace yells.

  I tear at his fingers, trying to loosen his grip, but it's no use. He's about to make good on that unspoken promise of an untimely end and I brace myself as I feel it coming, when he suddenly drops me.

  Quinn has grabbed him by the shoulders and they scuffle for a moment; Quinn is too winded from running and restraining Jace to say anything right away, but finally he grounds out, "That's not Iris!"

  All movement halts and I can hear both of them fighting to get a deep breath.

  "Lucan woke up. He hasn't been able to say a whole hell of a lot, but he said enough to indicate that he wasn't with Iris." Quinn groans. "Shit man, that was my arm."

  My vision has adjusted enough to vaguely see Jacelynd try his legs a few feet away. After a second, he regains his balance and moves toward the door. He has his back to me when he flicks the light switch. "Then who the hell … "

  I don't expect the light to be as fluorescent as it is and I fight to keep my eyes open, a hand over my face to shield as much of it as I can.

  "Jacelynd if you were anybody else, I'd kill you myself," Quinn breathes.

  Jacelynd kneels, unable to show both disbelief and remorse at the same time, his features torn between the two. When he touches my face, I jerk away in reflex because he touches an immortal wound. This elicits a fanged hiss from me and a broken laugh from Quinn.

  Quinn wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "I'd pissed too. What the hell were you thinking?"

  Jacelynd says, hushed, "The Tithe with Tristan is broken."

  He's looking for whatever wounds would cause a break, but he isn't going to find them. At least, this is what I think until I see his eyes shift to that unearthly jade color. He lowers his head into the hand that isn't braced against the wall hand.

  He knows. He's seen the wounds.

  "She probably won't draw from me. Be careful with … " Jacelynd turns to Quinn and starts to move aside when I manage to grab his arm and muster a feeble shake of my head.

  "I'll go tell the others," Quinn says as he rises to his feet. More tears choke him as he starts to say my name. He laughs and wipes his hand roughly across his mouth. After another moment he nods at us and leaves the room.

  Jacelynd sweeps my chin with shaky fingers. "I wasn't the only who thought you were dead." He flexes his jaw, visibly fighting the anger he so aptly demonstrated on my ribs with his knee. "I spoke with Tristan yesterday. And even had he not confirmed it, I felt you draw your last breath. It wasn't like it was ten years ago. There was no question this time."

  If he's waiting on some heart-wrenching moment of forgiveness for kicking the shit out of me before he gives me blood, we're going to have issues. I reach for his shoulder, best I can. Luckily he reads the gesture and leans down for me to draw from his neck.

  "God, I caught you in the chest … " his voice tapers off as he reaches to pull aside the fabric of what's left of my shirt. He sucks in a breath in sympathy. "There aren't words for the kind of regret I'm feeling."

  That's a funny coincidence because there are words for how idiotic it was to leave the lights off.

  My senses are returning little by little and once I am well enough, I reach up and warmly touch his cheek. He might be an idiot, but he's my idiot. It's far from the hug he's probably looking for, but it will have to do for now, at least until I'm finished replenishing what the IV depleted.

  He gathers my hair into a low ponytail at the nape of my neck, ties it off with something—can't tell what. "Immortal wounds." He swallows hard. "You're on borrowed time." This almost comes out as a question, but it's hard to know without looking at him.

  I seal the wound and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand as I sit back against the wall. It takes me a second to speak audibly and when I manage to, it's fatigued. "Lucan's soul … Iris promised his soul to the guardians. He has a mark on … his wrist. We're all on borrowed time."

  Pale

  "I don't care what you want!"

  I wake to the sound of Jacelynd's raised voice. He's in the hall and obviously pissed off. I roll over and check the clock on the nightstand. It's nearly midnight. Something moves beside me and I turn to see Lucan, still out like a light. Poor little guy's exhausted, and it's only going to get worse from here.

  "Please, just let me see that Lucan is all right!"

 
Wonderful … it's Trinity. This ought to be good.

  I struggle to my feet and make my way to the door. The pain from my wounds has lessened enough for me to be lucid. Though I don't know how long that will last.

  "A third of the Earth is dead," Jacelynd hisses, "an unbeatable army is being ushered into the world my family died protecting and you want mercy from me?" He barely flinches as I open the door behind him. "Go to hell, Tristan."

  Trinity grips the wall behind him in shock as I step into the hall.

  I say, "Lucan doesn't understand what's going on, Jace. He doesn't know what really happened. He thinks Iris is to blame for everything and I don't think this is how we want him to find out. He's had enough betrayal in his life already."

  "You're alive," Trinity gasps. He doesn't even try to stop the tears. He looks to Jacelynd in question, as if he wants to ask why Jace didn't tell him. But we all know why.

  "Alive? Jessica and my son are both bound by the guardians of the gate because of your hunger for power." Jacelynd's strong frame shakes with anger, his form held rigid, his posture defensive.

  Trinity looks at me in horror.

  "Show him, Jace," I say.

  Jace unbuttons his shirt and bares the mark on his chest.

  "Iris took me that night because I'd just told her that I was pregnant," I tell Trinity. "She knew Jacelynd would eventually go back to the gate, like he did with his father ages before. She promised them both Jacelynd's and Lucan's souls in exchange for the gift that was supposed to have only passed to me. Blake was right, Iris wasn't born with power in her blood … but she certainly has it now. Iris didn't just set me up, she set us all up."

  "I felt the Tithe break. I felt you die. I heard you scream seconds before." Trinity bravely reaches out to touch my cheek and I'm stunned that Jacelynd lets him.

  "Imagine," Jace says, "ten years of never knowing for certain. Of hearing her scream your name in agony and being completely unable to reach her." His eyes flare bright green.

  Trinity moves to sweep my jaw with his thumb and opens his mouth to speak, but his words don't come and I know that it's because Jacelynd has made it possible for him to see my immortal wounds. He pulls away his hand.

  "I knew you'd come, I knew it! I totally said you would." Lucan pushes past me. Trinity scoops him up into his arms, then buries his face in Lucan's shoulder to hide his grief. Lucan's youth is finally evident as he wraps his legs around Trinity's torso and clings to him. For a long moment they stay that way, Lucan's hands gripping Trinity so tightly they lose their color.

  "Lucan, there's someone here who you should … " Trinity's voice breaks as he sets the boy back to his feet, keeping his large hands on the boy's shoulders. "Your father is here."

  Lucan turns around and eyes Jacelynd. "My real dad? I thought you didn't know my real dad."

  Trinity closes his eyes and I'm about to say something to spare Lucan the pain of learning about Trinity's deceit when Jacelynd does the honors.

  "We just met," he says. The look that crosses between him and Trinity tells me that Jacelynd means more with this simple phrase than Lucan understands. Jacelynd pulls an iPod from his pocket and hands it to Lucan. "I believe this is yours."

  Lucan nods and stares at it in his hands. Jacelynd seems just as lost and unsure what to do as little man, but finally reaches out and touches Lucan on the cheek and crouches down to see him better. They both smile that crooked smile and I think my heart might just fall out of my chest. Not that it would matter … I'm pretty sure I don't have a pulse right now.

  "Jess—I mean mom—said that you'd waited for me … "

  Jacelynd laughs through his tears and says, "Only for about eight hundred years or so."

  Lucan throws his arms around Jacelynd's neck and hugs him. I'm reminded then that Trinity had told Lucan his father had walked out on him and Iris. This is exactly what he needs to hear to begin to repair that damage.

  "I'm so sorry, Lucan," Trinity breathes.

  Jacelynd, Lucan still in his arms, says, "He didn't know, Lucan." With tears rolling down his face, he looks up at Trinity. "He didn't understand."

  Lucan is back in bed, where he should be at 1 a.m. We've moved into the den, along with Quinn, Blake, Liv and Nico. Trinity mistook Nico for his twin, Oran, at first and that was fun. And bloody. Now we're listening as Quinn fills in the blanks for me on our Celtic heritage. Trinity sits on the couch between Blake and Nico. Quinn leans against the wall behind them. Jacelynd and I are on the love seat, Liv nearby in the recliner.

  " … the stories are numerous and run together—enough to fill whole volumes of myth and lore. The druids worshiped our parents as gods. Then, after the druids' time had come and gone, our people were seen as abominations … feared and exiled because of our differences. The religious wars of the human world only made things worse."

  Tristan rises to his feet. "That religious persecution led to centuries of our people being burned alive and having their heads lopped off. A great many fled to other countries to escape the massacre."

  I can't stop myself from adding, "Like … Transylvania? Isn't that where the stake thing originated?"

  They all look at me with censure in their eyes.

  "Look," I say, "we have less than twenty-four hours to figure out how to stop my beloved sister from using a certain undead army that someone brought forth from the dredges of hell to enslave not just the rest of humanity but every living creature on this planet. Caen told me the army would betray her. He indicated that we're basically on the eve of the apocalypse and there isn't anything we can do to stop what's been set into motion. I don't know about you, but I'm not giving up and I can't recall a single time in the last ten years when my sense of humor hasn't saved my ass. So, spare me the attitude. Besides, with the two of them here together," I motion to Jace and Trinity, "there's enough tension as it is to last until the end of time." Of course, the "end of time" might be tomorrow night.

  "We make it to the gate … then what?" Quinn asks. He looks to Trinity as if he has the answer, but I know better.

  "You truly broke the Tithe this time, so you're really not connected to either of them?" Blake asks. I nod. "I hate to suggest this but—"

  "Oh, hell no. And make myself that vulnerable again? Sorry, boys, you're both on Tithe restriction. I will agree, however, that you all need some of my blood in your system before we go to the gate. You saw that thing at Hades, you know what we're up against."

  Jacelynd clenches his jaw.

  "I know you don't want my blood because you fear it being evil, blah blah blah. I get it. But, hello, end times warrant a change of plan, don't you think? Plus you're already pimped out with whatever powers the guardians gave you, so … oh. Wait." Now that I think about it, mixing those freakish powers with whatever darkness lurks in my veins probably isn't such a great idea.

  Jacelynd lifts one brow. "I take it you've realized what a bad plan that is."

  "Am I to assume you're useless now without my blood?" I look at Trinity, who folds his arms across his chest.

  "I'm not useless," he huffs. "Just less effective than when we were Tithed."

  Not. Effing. Happening. "Then it's basically me and Jacelynd against Iris."

  Then an idea comes to me and since I'm not on any sort of mental leash, no one can hear me. If I can make it to the gate by myself, maybe I can open the gate before Iris does and maybe they'll respond to me. Maybe that's what Caen meant.

  Jacelynd says, "I know that look in your eyes and I don't think that's the answer."

  "There's no way you know what I'm thinking this time."

  "The darkness isn't something you can control. You see where we are after Tristan made the mistake of thinking that." Jacelynd puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer.

  "You mean after you both made the mistake of thinking that? That mark on your neck and the one on your chest … you went to the gate. How is what I'm thinking any different? What other choice do we have? Tell me about the gate
and the blood. What's the deal there? How does it work?"

  "Your blood is like a key—it brings from the gate what you ask of the guardians," Blake says. "Iris, knowing that Trinity has made the trade and created the army, can simply go to the gate and summon it. To pull that kind of force over from the other side, though, will take tremendous strength from her. It'll likely drain her."

  What the hell is my sister thinking? "How does she expect to control the army, then? Would it have done the same to Trinity had he summoned the army?" I ask.

  "No," Blake says. "Not with your Tithe to him. And I have no idea how she expects to command it. Maybe she doesn't realize what it will do to her."

  "That explains why Iris tried to kill me."

  "What are our chances of defeating this army?" Liv asks Trinity. "If it makes it over?"

  Trinity rubs his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. "A handful of soldiers … maybe a prayer. A whole army … no chance whatsoever. Whoever rules it rules this world in its entirety."

  Quinn walks to the back of the couch and leans down to glare at Trinity. "You had no backup plan then, in case the shit hit the fan and you lost control of this demonic force?"

  In typical Trinity fashion, he simply ignores Quinn and stares straight ahead with feverish heat in his eyes.

  "There has to be a way," I insist. "I refuse to accept that we're doomed."

  No one says anything right away. Finally, Liv suggests that we all try to get some rest, we have a lot ahead of us in the morning. I can't argue with that. I mean, we're not exactly making any headway sitting here arguing. Liv and Quinn take one of the guest rooms. Blake and Nico leave for the other two. Eventually, Trinity, Jacelynd and I are alone again. Awkward isn't a strong enough word.

  "I have a hotel room nearby," Trinity says. He won't look either of us in the eyes—hasn't for a good two hours or more. The way he stands, his arms slack at his sides, his shoulders slumped, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans, he seems so lost. Like a child standing in the middle of a room full of broken toys. "You have my cell." He turns to leave.