Jamb (The Cornerstone Series)

by Misty Provencher

  Garrett’s eyes have turned from fire to a lethal ice and I don’t know why Zane isn’t backing off and apologizing already.

  “That’s the old way of dealing with The Fury,” Garrett growls. “The game’s changed. You know that. They know our moves before we make them now. How many people do we have to lose before we all figure it out? I’m not putting Nali up as a road block, when we don’t even know what’s coming at us. She hasn’t been trained nearly enough to handle it yet.”

  “To handle it?” I snap, but Zane steamrolls right past me.

  “Well, that’s a big ol’ plate full of fear, right there, buddy,” Zane says.

  “Careful,” Sean warns, but Zane just pops a handful of almonds into his mouth as everything human in Garrett’s expression disappears.

  Even I know, the way Garrett’s eyes flash at his friend, that Zane’s skated out too far. He’s gone way past danger sign, way past even the thin ice. But Zane, being Zane, ignores it. Garrett’s jaw sets, his eyes lock on Zane, and Garrett suddenly looks the most frightening I’ve ever seen him. A furious, lethal machine. And Zane is still sitting there popping almonds, oblivious. And then, as if he can’t stand not to make it worse, Zane opens his mouth, not to put more nuts in, but to let his crazy talk out.

  “You gotta suck it up, G, and let Nali Girl do her job.”

  Only one thought makes it through my head before Garrett launches himself out of his chair.

  Oh...dummy.

  In a lightening-fast move, Garrett throws a perfect hook punch that sends Zane sailing out of his chair. Zane all but splatters against the half-wall that separates the eating area from the kitchen. Garrett takes another step toward his friend.

  But I’m on my feet too.

  I jump on Garrett’s back, curling my legs around his thighs and banding my arms around his biceps, so he doesn’t keep going. He could throw me off if he wanted to, but I know that my weight on him will at least slow him down enough to make him think, before he totally creams his best friend.

  And I’m right. There’s a tense moment, before Garrett finally exhales. It takes another couple seconds before I feel his muscles relax beneath mine. I slide off his back.

  Garrett rights Zane’s chair, slamming the feet down on the floor. Then he puts out his hand to help Zane up and Zane takes it with a slap of the palms. Garrett heaves his friend onto his feet, and Zane rubs his jaw with his free hand.

  “You’re a master with that hook, brother. I’m gonna need some frozen peas or something.”

  Sean gets up and retrieves a bag from the freezer. He tosses the bag to Zane, who catches them with one hand, slapping them straight onto the side of his face. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, exercising the muscle, before he says, “I keep forgetting that Nal’s your Vieo too. But I think that hook got the memo to me pretty solid.”

  “You only said the truth,” I tell Zane, before turning on Garrett. I feel the fire rise up in my own eyes and I don’t even care that Garrett still looks like he could level a building. This boy that I once thought I could never have—and now I’m about to set him straight and let him know he can’t have me if he acts like this.

  “You better remember that I’m Contego now, Garrett,” I fume. “And protecting the Addos is just as much my job as it is yours. You better start seeing me as an equal and let me do what I’m here to do.”

  Garrett’s hooded gaze remains vicious as he growls, “You aren’t ready for this. You just started training and you’ve already been thrown into things that were way over your head.”

  Sean cracks his knuckles. It draws all of our attention, but Sean only focuses on Garrett.

  “Nali’s handled everything that’s come at her, little bro.” His voice is hardly louder than a whisper and then he laughs, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually think Zane-boni’s got it right this time. You’re never going to believe Nalena’s ready because you want to keep her safe, but you’ve got to let her stand on her own two feet now. We need her.”

  Garrett’s shoulders crumble a little and turns away from us. He crosses the room in silence. He opens the bedroom door and disappears inside. The door wafts closed and only a moment passes before I hear Garrett’s fist slam into the wall.

  “You guys should go,” I say. “I better go talk with him.”

  “Take these,” Zane says, tossing me the bag of frozen peas. The two of them make their way to the door leading into the Courtyard.

  “I’ll be with the Addo, if you need me,” Sean says. He doesn’t wait for my answer before closing the door behind himself and Zane.

  I take a breath with every step on my way to the bedroom. I slip inside the bedroom door and Garrett is leaning with one elbow bent on the wall, his face buried down in the crook of his arm. There’s a crack in the plaster behind the door.

  I’m not sure of what to do. I want to wrap my arms around him, but I don’t know how he’ll react to my touch. He was furious enough with me to punch the wall. But I try to follow my instinct as I step behind him, sliding my arms around him anyway, melting against his back. Soft sobs shake him and having him fall apart like this scares me. All I can do is hang on and press myself even closer.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper. “Nothing’s going to happen to us. We’ll take them down together. I’ll be able to see them coming and we’ll be able to protect the Addos.”

  “What if you can’t? What if one of them slips past me?” he asks, his voice broken. His tears choke me up too. “What if they come at you so hard that I can’t stop them, Nalena? What if I make a mistake? What if I have to choose between protecting the Addos or protecting you?”

  I swallow. The answer is obvious. “Then you would make sure the Addos are safe.”

  Garrett hammers the wall with his fist.

  “I don’t know if I would do that.”

  “It’s what we have to...”

  “I lost my father already! Both my brothers might be dead! I can’t lose you, Nalena. I can’t. I won’t.” I try to soothe him as his body quakes against mine.

  “Shhh...I’m right here. Brandon and Mark are out there, I know it. They’re fine,” I say, but there’s not much hope in my voice. I collapsed the tunnels beneath the hotel myself. Garrett’s two youngest brothers, no matter how well they knew the tunnels, couldn’t have had time to escape. The collapse probably crushed them, right along with any of The Fury that were trying to hunt them down and that is all my fault. Following protocol and knowing that it was what I was supposed to do, still doesn’t take away one drop of the guilt. The only thing I can do is push the thought out of my head, so I can keep moving forward. I have to and so does Garrett.

  “We are not going to be afraid of this,” I say, as I lay my forehead between his shoulder blades. I try to force some kind of reassuring calm out of myself and into him, the same way his touch always feels like a soothing color spreading through my mind, but as his sobs shake his back, I know it’s not working. Instead, the fear and sadness well up inside me too, and my father’s voice pops into the back of my head.

  Nalena! His voice is sharp and takes me back to the most horrible moment of my life, when we stood in Garrett’s kitchen and Roger held a gun to my mother’s temple. It takes me a second to dig myself out of the memory.

  What? The tone I answer with, although I’m only thinking my reply to him, still matches the sharpness and intensity of his. My father helped me out of a serious jam when Addo Chad attacked me and Iris and Zaneen, and I did agree to have him as my Connection, but it doesn’t mean I can forget everything he’s done. Or just go and trust him 100%.

  What do you mean by ‘what’, baby girl? Fear’s what. It’s running through you like a live wire. You know better than that. Don’t tell me the Ianua haven’t pounded that into your head.

  I don’t reply, but I’m sure he can hear my thoughts as I think of how ironic it is for him to say that I would know better than to do anything. He’s such a black pot, he’s got no room to b
e pointing out any kettle-ness that he might see in me.

  My father’s voice returns in my head, You’re right. But I’m here to do what I never did for you in life. I’m going to help you, honey. Stop with this fear. Addo Larry always told me: everything is as it should be. I’m sure he’d say that about this too.

  Ugh. I hate that he’s right. Addo’s said the same words to me before. And although I want to speak with my father and grill him about where my mother is, now that he’s the one in my field, this really isn’t the time for that. Not with both Garrett and I both freaking out at once. This moment really needs to be between me and Garrett, and the only way I’m going to get rid of my father, is to get rid of the fear that brings him into my field to help. So I do what I need to do.

  I take a breath and tell myself this is going to be okay. Things are exactly the way they should be. I inhale and exhale the words in my mind until I relax and my father disappears.

  Then I straighten up and lay a hand on Garrett’s bicep. He’s not crying anymore, but he turns and pulls me into his arms. His chest is rigid, so I press my body closer, trying to make myself a warm bandage that will relax the tight muscles. I put my hands on either side of his beautiful face, catching his silky, black hair beneath my fingertips. A few strands are wet at the ends, from soaking up his tears. His expression is stoic, but his eyes are on my lips.

  And instead of kissing him, I make my voice stern.

  “Garrett, we are not going to be afraid of this, do you hear me? We are going to take this whole thing one moment at a time, just like you said before, and we’re going to do whatever we need to, in order to protect the Addo. That’s what we have to do because we are both Contego.”

  He chuffs, breaking into a grin.

  “We are, aren’t we,” he says.

  “Yes, we are,” I tell him and his soft lips drop to mine, erasing anything in the world that ever felt like it could be more important than his kiss.

  ***

  The movement in the courtyard catches our attention. Garrett slides open the door and a wave of noise rolls right over us as we step out. People are leaning over the edges of most of the thirteen balconies. Some are shouting down, and some are shouting up, and some are shouting across their own balconies at each other. It’s a mess.

  Garrett weaves us quickly through the crowd, hanging onto my hand, until we find Sean, standing near a pear tree. His head is bobbing in every direction, trying to follow the shouting. I notice too that the Contego from our Cura are hovering around the outskirts of the Courtyard while their families and those of our Alo, whose faces are becoming a little more familiar to me through repetition, are filling up the rest of the space. I spot Larson and Ms. Neho first, as they stalk around the perimeter, watching the balconies, and then I see Sasu and Carducci, Robin and Zane, Mr. Middleditch and Garrett’s mom.

  Mrs. Reese’s hair is sticking out from a messy bun and her eyes are rimmed with dark circles, but her gaze is still sharp and seems to catch every movement in the courtyard. She looks like a predator as she circles along the edge—the same kind of fluid movement I see in Garrett. And the second we approach Sean, she already knows we’re there. She gives me the slightest nod, but her expression is so deathly serious that I struggle to keep my field from blowing out around me.

  That’s all we’d need.

  A Contego field blowing up would be about the same as pointing a loaded gun into the crowd and announcing that we are ready to fight. I hold my field down, but I immediately start assessing the possible dangers that could pop up in the room.

  “Looks like we’re just in time,” Garrett says to Sean. His stance is so relaxed that I know he’s just as ready as I am, if any violence starts up. He mumbles to Sean, “So what’s going on?”

  “Heema, from the third Cura,” Sean says, keeping his gaze tipped up at the dark haired woman, leaning over the edge of the third floor balcony. The woman is young, maybe only a few years older than me, with light brown skin that seems to glow. Sean shakes his head slightly. “She doesn’t have the patience Addo Gita had, that’s for sure. She’s insisting on seeing the Addo. Right now.”

  Mrs. Neho steps out where Heema can see her. The little Oriental woman tips her head back, and drives her fists down, as she shouts up at the balcony, “Hey!”

  Her voice echoes and the entire courtyard drops into silence. Heads turn. Mrs. Neho jabs one finger up in Heema’s direction and the dark haired beauty on the third floor narrows her eyes in response. Mrs. Neho doesn’t back down an inch.

  “We not being loud!” Mrs. Neho shouts.

  “Let the Addo quiet me!” Heema shouts back. “We were told there would be a Totus, but no Totus is happening and we have not seen the Addo. If you have an Addo, let him be seen. We have waited patiently. Now we want proof.”

  “I want pony for Christmases!” Mrs. Neho shrugs. “Loud not make Addo see you fast.”

  Heema throws back her shoulders. “You need to watch your mouth, old woman, when you are speaking to one of your community’s Procella.”

  “Yah, Heema,” Mrs. Neho dismisses the girl with an air-slap. “You Procella, I know, I know...but Procella not get respect because they loud. You a young Procella and I too old for big talking. I know Addo Gita pick you for good reason, but loud? That not it.”

  “How dare you!” Heema shrieks. From across the Courtyard, an Alo man says, “Can we stop shouting at each other? What good does all of this shouting do?”

  A stringy man, from two balconies above Heema, calls down, “We are all tired of waiting! Can someone from the 13 Cura at least tell us what is happening? All this standing around and hush hush...can somebody give us a straight answer?”

  The answer comes more quickly than I expect, from one of the courtyard benches, beneath a thick canopy of woven trees.

  “Answers are generally more twisty, if you actually want to understand them, but if you want the short version, I can try to straighten things out for all of you.”

  It’s like the whole place pauses or exhales like they’ve been kicked in the stomach. And in that split second, the other Contego from our Cura rush out from the shadows and surround our seated Addo.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The magnetism, to protect Sean, holds me in place. Even though he is only in the training stage, my Contego instincts insist that I stand by to protect him, since our Addo is already surrounded across the room. Garrett’s instincts seem to be commanding him to do the same, since he is rooted on the opposite side of his brother.

  Zane and Robin are on either side of Mrs. Reese; Carducci and Sasu are beside them. Ash Middleditch, Zane’s dad, stands on one side of Mrs. Neho and Larson is on the other. It feels like we are a stronger presence with Mr. Middleditch here, even though he’s the same short, sinewy man that I see in Zane. At five-foot-nothing, he still seems like the tallest man in the room.

  The Middleditch family is known for being some of the Contego’s most highly skilled fighters, and seeing Ash, Zane, and Robin’s faces now, it only underlines the point even more. They are all scanning the room with meticulous glares. They look ready to kill. Even when their gazes pass over me, a quiver radiates in my spine.

  Mrs. Reese is perched right behind the Addo, hovering, as her eyes also scan the room. When she comes to Garrett and I, standing beside Sean, she grimaces, but gives us a miniscule nod that tells us to stay where we are at. It’s then that I realize we’ve made a mistake. It’s a dead giveaway, with Garrett and I flanking Sean, that he is our Mox, but there is nothing any of us can do about it now. We have to hope that all the Curas present are faithful to the Ianua, or hope that we are enough to protect Sean if they aren’t.

  The entire courtyard goes silent, heads turning and people leaning from the balconies, trying to see the Addo, entrenched behind the moving rings of our Contego. Mrs. Neho, standing to his right, tells him over her shoulder, “Don’t we agree you not do this, crazy man?”

  The Addo answers her with a soft shrug. “I
was craving cookies, Ruka, and you know that makes me just as cranky as Heema.” He leans forward off the bench, grinning up at the 3 Cura’s Procella. “Heema, why don’t you bring some cookies down and we’ll have ourselves a Totus?”

  Then, hopping up on his sandal-and-white-knee-sock-clad feet, the Addo seems to stagger a little before he smoothes down his gray sweatshirt and makes sure the elastic cuffs of his sweatpants are hiked up just under his knee caps. When he’s straightened, he booms to the crowd, “In fact, whoever wants in on this whiz-banger of a Totus, bring down some cookies from your pantries and I’ll make sure your admission is free.”

  The courtyard and above balconies burst into murmurs and squirms of bodies.

  “Where’s the Totus going to be?” the stringy man from the fifth balcony calls down.

  “Right here, Angus!” the Addo says, motioning to the courtyard.

  Mrs. Reese finally steps forward and her voice crests up, over the top of the noise, “Lead Procella are welcome in the courtyard and the rest of your Curas are welcome to listen from their balconies! We ask only to keep a fair distance from the Addo, to ensure his safety.”

  Mr. Middleditch adds, “Anyone approaching him will be considered an enemy.”

  The balconies grumble and growl as the Addo crosses his sandaled feet and says, “Enemy is a little harsh, don’t you think?” Then he shouts up to the balconies, “No one’s going to bother me. Am I right, up there?”

  No one answers from the balconies. I doubt anyone even heard him.

  Garrett and I drift through the crowd with Sean between us, but we even stop at the outskirts of the Contego cloud around the Addo.

  “You’re staying on that bench,” Mr. Middleditch growls to the Addo.

  “Brilliant!” Addo claps his hands together once and Mrs. Reese shoots him a sour glance that only makes him smile more brightly at her. “It has to be done, Miranda. I’m starving and I’d much rather have cookies than another riot, wouldn’t you?”