Keystone (Crossbreed Series Book 1)

by Dannika Dark

  Chapter 7

  Shortly after Christian had left the training room, Niko returned to give me a demonstration on Mage healing. To minimize the amount of energy transferring between us, he made a small cut on his arm and then clasped his hand in mine. Threads of blue light weaved between our palms as he drew healing energy from me, which wasn’t the same as drinking my light. The process worked like a filter and required pulling the right kind of energy.

  We exchanged positions where I was the recipient, and I also made a tiny cut on my arm and watched the skin seal together like magic. It was exhilarating to discover that I could heal like other immortals. All this time, I’d thought I was incapable, but maybe all I needed was the right training. It wasn’t near enough light to heal my bruised back, but that would be gone in another day since I still healed faster than a human.

  After I recounted my sunlight fiasco, Niko laughed and said we’d save that lesson for another day. I still needed to practice to get the hang of it, but he cautioned me to use it only when needed. Mage light was addictive, so bruises, cuts, and the like should be left to heal on their own, while anything broken or punctured I could borrow energy to heal. Sunlight doesn’t have an addictive quality like Mage light, so that was the preferred method.

  When we ended the session and went our separate ways, I strolled through the dark halls of the mansion, although it was more of a castle. It felt like I’d stepped back in time, and it became easy to forget about living on the streets. Even though I wasn’t sleepy, it was comforting to know that I had a bed waiting for me. Yet despite everything, I still felt like an interloper. Maybe that would change once I met everyone else in the group.

  I paused by a window and furrowed my brow when I looked down at the courtyard. The pool had curved edges, the water lit with blue-green lights. But what made me step closer to the windowpane was a woman floating on top. I squinted, searching for signs of life.

  I hurried toward the stairs and reached a crossway. A man burst out of nowhere and crashed into me, holding my arms as we spun around with his momentum.

  He panted, his eyes wide, a slouchy beanie askew on his head. He looked to be a man in his twenties. Without introductions, he suddenly touched my face, mashing my cheeks up and down and lifting my eyelids. My heart thundered—I was completely startled that I hadn’t seen him coming.

  His shoulders sagged. Then he lowered his chin and pointed left. “Don’t go that way.”

  Before I could open my mouth, he fled full speed down the hall to the left, looking back over his shoulder once.

  Barefoot.

  No wonder I hadn’t heard him.

  It made me peer down the direction he’d come, looking closely at the dark shadows that were climbing the walls. I couldn’t even see the end of the hallway since the lanterns weren’t lit.

  A set of hands clapped down on my shoulders from behind, and I spun around, throwing my fist forward.

  Niko caught the punch in his hand. “Viktor wants you in the dining room in ten minutes.”

  “There’s a body in your pool,” I said, my thoughts distracted by the lady in the water.

  “That’s just Gem.” He turned away and kept a steady stride, acting as if nothing had just happened with my attempting to knock his lights out.

  “Should I bring my bag?” I called out, wondering if my training sessions had been less than impressive.

  I briefly returned to my bedroom to grab my sneakers. Walking around barefoot was a simple pleasure I hadn’t indulged in for some time, and while it was a rare treat at first, the smooth stone floors held too much of a chill for my liking.

  I reached the dining room, which was illuminated by the candles on the table and the round chandelier reflecting off the crystal glasses and bathing the walls in gold.

  All eyes fell on me, and Viktor rose from his seat.

  “Come in, Raven. Join us.”

  A breeze blew past me when a young woman in a kimono robe jogged by, a white towel wrapped around her head. “Sorry I’m late.” She took a seat on the left side of the table next to the Chitah.

  I claimed the only vacant chair on the right, next to Niko. No one sat at the left head of the table, and I sure wasn’t going to be the first. But sitting across from a Chitah was making me uncomfortable. I didn’t know these guys from Adam and was having second thoughts already.

  I assessed the silverware on the table in case this conversation turned south.

  “I have two rules in this house,” Viktor began.

  The girl with the towel on her head covered her grin, nudging the Chitah with her elbow as if sharing an inside joke. I had a feeling there were more rules than just two.

  “The first rule is that we protect one another. Never turn your back on a brother or sister. You don’t have to love these headstrong people. Piss in their coffee if you so choose; I am not your father and will not mediate fights. But when it comes to life and death, you’re going to swallow that pride and protect their lives with your own. That also includes revealing our gifts or sharing information outside the house. By doing so, you put their lives in jeopardy.”

  I leaned forward so I could see him better.

  Viktor plucked a red grape from a wooden bowl and popped it into his mouth. “The second rule is that we eat at the table. I’m a Shifter, and that’s part of my culture. You might find it arbitrary, but there’s a purpose behind it. It brings people closer together,” he said, lacing his fingers. “It becomes easier to get over grudges when you break bread with that person, and it allows us to see each other as family and not just people passing by in the hall. There will be no eating meals in your room, in the hall, or outside. Fill up at the table, because that’s all you get. We must stay united as a group. If your differences are so great that you cannot sit down at a table across from that person, then you have no place here.”

  “So if I have a date and want to go out to dinner, you all have to come?”

  Niko barked out a laugh. It had a warm cadence to it that was genuine and friendly. It could make even the stoniest man smile.

  “Tell her about the third rule,” someone said with a snort.

  Viktor plucked another grape from the plate and rolled it between his fingers. “What you do on your own time is your business, but you will still join us at mealtime when you are in this house. Even if he fattens you up on beef stroganoff and drops you off early, you’ll sit at the table and be social.”

  “So that’s it? I’m in?”

  He bit the end of the grape. “This is a trial period. You meet all the requirements, but I need to test your loyalty and work ethic.”

  The woman to the right of the Chitah removed her towel and fluffed the ends of her wavy violet hair, which fell just past her shoulders and was parted off center. It wasn’t a deep violet but a lovely, pale shade like raw amethyst.

  Viktor gave her a scolding glance, and she blushed.

  “Sorry, Viktor. I thought we already had dinner, so I was winding down before bedtime.”

  My brows arched as I looked at the food on the table. “How many times do you guys eat?”

  The Chitah boomed with laughter. “If twice a night is a new tradition, let’s keep her.”

  His curls of dark-blond hair covered his ears and nape of his neck. Gorgeous hair. It seemed to conflict with his brutish physique. He was tall, nicely built, and had a V-shaped torso with broad shoulders. Easy to see since he was wearing a white tank top. With all that he had going on, it was actually his mouth that stole the show. It had a perfect Cupid’s bow and somehow softened his fierce features.

  Viktor stood up and pointed at the Chitah. “Let us introduce ourselves. The Chitah across from you is Claude Valentine. He also runs a salon that caters to some of the most elite clients, who of course like to confide in their hairdresser.”

  Ah. That explained his wondrous locks.

  “To his left is Gem Laroux. She’s a Mage with unmatched knowledge—fluent in sixteen languages and is able to
interpret many extinct languages that haven’t been spoken in thousands of years. She knows about ancient artifacts and can also decipher codes.”

  I would have never guessed that from a pixie with purple hair.

  Viktor gestured to the man on her left. He seemed the least friendly, and not because of the hard muscles and buzz cut that made him look ready for a cage fight. It was the cold stare he gave beneath those dark eyebrows. “And then we have Shepherd Moon, our resident Sensor. We obviously use him to investigate crime scenes and other jobs where he can use his gifts to read emotional imprints left behind. His skills are tactical combat and offending random people on the street.”

  Niko sputtered with laughter at the remark and tried to hide it. “Apologies. I had a glass of wine before you called the meeting.”

  Viktor clapped his hand on the shoulder of the man to his right—the same one who had slammed into me in the hallway earlier like a lunatic. “And then we have Wyatt.”

  Wyatt flashed a smile at Viktor, candlelight flickering in his olive-green eyes. He was slender but fit and appeared average height, although shorter than the other men. He seemed to be the one with the most gregarious personality. “Well?” he said, urging Viktor on.

  “Sorry,” Viktor replied. “I was trying to collect my thoughts on how to segue from a Sensor to a Gravewalker.”

  I furrowed my brow. “What’s a Gravewalker?”

  A few shoulders sagged, and Shepherd leaned back, tossing his fork on his plate.

  “Here we go,” Christian said.

  Wyatt cocked his head to the side and then rose to his feet. “What is a Gravewalker? See, this is the problem I have, Viktor. Nobody ever takes what we do seriously. How is the world going to know about all we have to offer if you don’t educate the young little minds?”

  Gem peered up at him. “The only thing you have to offer, Wyatt, is the potato chips you leave all over the desk in the game room.”

  “There’s a game room?” I asked.

  Viktor heaved a sigh. “Now see what you’ve done? I have no wish to open that room to new members. It’s a distraction.”

  Wyatt folded his arms. “I beg to differ. It sharpens my skills.”

  “Why don’t you tell the truth,” Christian said. “You’re afraid to sit in a quiet room.”

  Wyatt pointed his finger on the table. “Hey, noise distracts them.”

  “Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “What’s a Gravewalker?”

  Wyatt opened his arms dramatically. “Feast your eyes. I’m a Gravewalker. Born in 1803 to Nathaniel and Sarah Blessing. Raised in Tennessee and left home to leave my mark on the world when I was seventeen.”

  “Times were rough?” I asked.

  He huffed out a laugh. “Nine older sisters. You tell me. And before you ask, I lost most of my Southern accent a century ago. Anyhow, back to Gravewalkers. We can communicate with ghosts who haven’t moved on to where they’re supposed to go.”

  I smirked. “And where are they supposed to go?”

  He shrugged. “How should I know? Even they don’t know. It’s all part of the grand mystery,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

  “Why do they call you a Gravewalker?”

  Candlelight flickered against his face, making this feel more like a campfire story. “In days of yore, Vampires were staked and buried alive for all kinds of reasons. Punishment, revenge, or even entertainment. Obviously they can’t scream when paralyzed, and while Vampires have stupendous hearing, even they can’t detect a heartbeat buried beneath six feet of earth. Nor can a Mage pick up on their energy. Gravewalkers know who does and doesn’t belong in a cemetery. People paid us good money.”

  “Interesting. I guess that makes going to funerals super fun.”

  He dropped into his seat. “That’s a negative. I don’t like going where the freshies hang out. They tend to cling like socks out of the dryer when they find out I’m a link to the living world.”

  My gaze flicked down to his hands, and I noticed letters tattooed on his fingers. If he closed his hands into fists and pressed his knuckles together, it spelled out LOST SOUL.

  “Moving along,” Viktor said.

  “You didn’t mention my skills,” Wyatt complained.

  “Ah, yes. Wyatt here is masterful at washing dishes. He can perform a demonstration on polishing silverware after breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Forget I asked, forget I asked,” Wyatt quickly said.

  When Viktor turned to Christian, I said, “You can skip him.”

  Gem laughed. “I like her already.”

  “Might as well,” Christian agreed. “She can’t seem to help herself around all this sexual goodness.”

  Viktor grumbled something and then gestured to Blue—the woman who had searched me for weapons earlier that day. She leaned forward to meet my eyes.

  “This is Blue. She’s a Shifter, like me. Blue has a special gift that not many of us have. Most Shifters eventually black out when their animal takes over, except for alphas of any species. Most of us prefer not remembering; it’s how we evolved, and it serves a purpose. But occasionally there are some who are aware throughout their shift and even control their animal.”

  “I wouldn’t say I can control her,” Blue added. “We understand each other and cohabitate.”

  I rested my arm on the table. “What’s your animal?”

  “It’s impolite to ask, but maybe I’ll show you sometime.”

  Blue didn’t have the bright personality Gem had. She spoke frankly but didn’t come across as rude. She seemed every bit as tough as the men, yet still displayed femininity in the regal manner in which she lifted her glass and took a sip.

  Viktor sat down. “You already know Niko. He’s older than my grandfather’s socks and sees what we cannot.”

  My eyes settled on the Chitah’s hands as he broke a loaf of bread. Those things looked better suited for crushing boulders, not cutting hair. I’d never seen such a diverse group of people working together, not just based on their Breeds but also their personalities.

  “We’re going to have to do something about this seating arrangement,” Viktor said, refilling his glass.

  Everyone resumed eating the fruit, bread, and cheeses on the table before us.

  “Why’s that?” Claude asked, chewing off a hunk of bread.

  “Partners should sit together,” he replied.

  All eyes moved to one person who was sitting on the far right.

  “Jaysus wept,” Christian muttered. “You’re not serious.”

  Viktor buttered a slice of bread, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Dead serious.”

  “What’s he talking about?” I whispered to Niko, butterflies swirling in my stomach.

  Niko leaned close. “We all work together, but we each have a partner. We sit beside them. Gem and Claude, Shepherd and Wyatt, and I’m with Blue. That just leaves you and—”

  “Christian,” I finished.

  “She’s a bright one,” Christian mused.

  I leaned back in my chair, narrowing my eyes. “Don’t eavesdrop on my conversations.”

  “It can hardly be helped,” he said, glaring back at me. “Your lyrical voice and eloquent use of vocabulary is sublime.”

  Viktor pointed his knife. “And that is why you must sit together. It’s harder to bicker when there’s nothing between you. See what wonders it’s done for Wyatt and Shepherd?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Shepherd said gruffly.

  Shepherd had a tattoo on his upper right arm that went beneath his short-sleeve shirt. I couldn’t make out what it was, only that the design was elaborate and detailed. Maybe my eyes were deceiving me in the candlelight, but I could have sworn there were scars all over his arms. He lit up a cigarette and stared at me so coldly that I looked away.

  “So what can Sensors do?” I asked.

  Claude held a roll between his fingers, frozen. “Are you serious?”

  I worried my lip, feeling the judgmental stares upon me. “I don
’t exactly hang out with Breed as much as you might think. I know that Sensors can pick up emotional energy and all that, but what are they doing in the back of the clubs when all that glowy red stuff is coming from their hands?”

  Wyatt elbowed Shepherd. “Why don’t you show her?”

  Shepherd lifted a reluctant gaze to Viktor, who nodded in agreement. Shepherd stubbed out the cigarette on his plate and abruptly stood up, rounding the table with an angry stride.

  When he neared me, I almost reached for a pointy fork.

  He placed his rough hands on my shoulders and moved them down as if he were about to feel me up. I reactively gripped his wrists, ready to fly out of my chair, when suddenly…

  “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  A faint red glow emanated from his palms, spilling magic into me. A sensation rushed through my body, so real that it felt as if someone were tickling me.

  I couldn’t control the laughter.

  He let go and returned to his seat.

  Gem giggled and raised her glass. “Wasn’t that fun? Shepherd only ever gives us the tickles.”

  Viktor tapped his knife on the table to get my attention. “I don’t allow sensory exchanges in my house. This is not a circus, and that also goes for sharing light. Unless you have a metal pin coming out of your skull and need to heal, I don’t want you drawing light from anyone. Gifts become curses when they’re not given their due respect.”

  I sat back in my chair. “Won’t be a problem. I hate being tickled.”

  Viktor set down his knife. “Shepherd detects emotions, but he can also pull them from people and store them. That’s how Sensors make their money—sensory exchange. They sell emotional experiences, and in some cases, remove them. For customers it’s temporary, addictive, and recreational. But it can also be used to gather information, and that’s what he does best.”

  “I guess that makes going into public restrooms an unpleasant experience,” I said with a snort.

  Viktor ate two more grapes. “Sensors live for hundreds of years, like Shifters.”

  “Mileage may vary,” Wyatt remarked, loading up his plate with cheese. “Gravewalkers live to a thousand.”