Challenged by Darkness (An Urban Fantasy Novel) (Befallen Tides series Book 2) (2 page)

“In town?” Keaton had crossed his arms to keep from fidgeting, but Winx noticed the muscles bulging there. It was an antsy side to him that she had never seen before.

“It’s closest. We can recuperate for a while. Trust me, my forces have your pack safe on their journey to Seattle, and proper food, drink, and sleep will aid us all far more than acting rashly.”

London really was trying to be understanding. The effort was lost on Keaton.

“How can I trust you people?” he growled. “Look what has happened with the savage problem. It’s completely out of control! And what you did to Winx…” He shook his head. “Stori had the right idea, to go after the alpha herself. I should have gone with her.”

“Keaton, please.” Genevieve gazed at the bandit with deep sapphire eyes. “You have to calm down.” She also looked composed and neat. Her auburn hair was fiery this early in the morning, and her freckled skin was smooth and unblemished. Screw her.

“I’m done listening to you.” Keaton turned on her. “That’s what got me into this mess in the first place. My family has been maimed!”

Genevieve lost some of her patience. “Yes, they have! And so have mine, and so have Winx’s! The only way to beat Chavez, and the only way to cull the savages, is to work together!”

Keaton turned away from them to face Winx, who was still idly staring at the entire exchange from the hood of her car. Their eyes met like fire and ice.

“Look, Keaton,” Winx said. “I can’t get back into that car right now. Even if it’s what you don’t want to hear.”

He somehow managed to look even more betrayed, but Winx didn’t care. He may not be happy with her siding with the lixyns, but he had done his share of things that angered her, too. Besides, London was right. Food and a bed sounded perfect right now. Another stiff car ride did not.

“What if the rest of my family is being murdered while we’re napping?” Keaton asked.

 “Chavez attacked them once when they were most vulnerable,” Winx pointed out, gritting her teeth. “If they’re surrounded by seasoned fighters, then he’ll need to actually plot an attack, not just send his army to their death. He’s going to be cautious with his resources because it’s the only advantage he has over us.” The logic to what she said made him shut his eyes and turn away. “The only one who can control the savages is me. And I’m bloodied up. We’re the ones who aren’t safe, Keaton. Not your family.”

“Fine,” Keaton relented. “But hear this: once I get back to my pack, that’s it. I’m done with all of this eradication force bullshit. The only ones I care about are my family. I am going to do right by them from now on.”

“It’s settled, then.” London pointed to the car. “I think, Your Highness, that you would be more comfortable riding in the vehicle. Roy and I will fly ahead and make arrangements for our rooms.”

“That sounds fine,” Genevieve agreed.

London and his bodyguard took off into the morning light, their giant white wings blurred against the skyline. Winx didn’t ask how they planned to fly to the hotel unseen without a daevor distracting human attention. She wasn’t terribly concerned about it. Maybe some redneck would freak out and shoot them out of the sky. Then London Iragall would be out of her life for good.

Keaton got into the driver’s seat of Winx’s Mazda without meeting her gaze.

Genevieve walked over as Winx hopped down from the hood. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked Winx in an undertone.

“I don’t know.” Winx frowned. “Why are you asking me?”

“You know him the best, don’t you?”

Winx scrunched up her nose. “Actually, I don’t think I really know him at all.”

The three made it to the hotel, and as promised, everything was arranged accordingly. Or that was the way Iragall saw it. Winx wasn’t so happy.

The princess got her own room, as was considered to be in need of her own privacy. London and Roy shared a room, and Winx and Keaton got another room to split.

Winx would have fought if they’d stuck around to hear her opinion. Genevieve flounced to her room, and Roy and London were nowhere to be found. That left Keaton and Winx together in the lobby as they got their room key from the desk clerk.

“Here you go,” he said warily, taking in Winx’s beaten visage with concerned looks. She glared, and he turned around quickly to go back to work as Winx carefully shouldered her bag, despite the fact that she was still injured.  Keaton navigated to their room, floorboards groaning with every step.

The digs weren’t so impressive to Winx. She’d seen many a luxury hotel in her time, but they were in a family-owned B&B. If Mother Goose opened a boarding house, this would be it.

Their room itself was a patchwork quilt of color. Signature teapots decorated shelves alongside porcelain figurines.  A large cloud of a bed took up most of the space, and a tasteful Rococo-style table with matching chairs stood by the window. A gilded console with two drawers sat beside the bed. There was no television to speak of, and the bathroom was minimal.

Winx and Keaton set their things alongside the bed without a word. The table held two Styrofoam boxes with bottled juice, and one inhale told her it was the breakfast that London had promised them.

Sitting across from each other to eat made avoiding eye contact difficult. It was funny seeing Keaton try to ignore her, but they couldn’t continue on like this forever.

Winx flipped the lid on her breakfast and took a bite of well-seasoned eggs. “Don’t you have something you want to tell me?” she asked after swallowing.

“Not precisely.” He buttered a piece of toast and put the entire piece into his mouth.

Oh, he was going to play that game, was he? Winx crossed her legs slowly and gave him an intent glare. “You knew who London Iragall was, didn’t you?”

He didn’t answer.  Instead, still chewing, he cut into a pancake with precise strikes of his knife.

“You knew who he was because you’ve met him at some point,” Winx continued. “Did you meet him before or after you barged into my nightclub?” She was trying to read him, but cryptids were hard. All she could get were impressions of his mood. He was overwhelmed with despair at the plight of his family, but that was no surprise. Where his guilt was coming from, on the other hand, Winx had no idea.

Keaton shook his head, refusing to speak. He took a swig of his orange juice. Winx watched his Adam’s apple bob as he chugged.

“I already know that a lixyn told Ottanu where to look for me. And that lixyn had connections to Chavez,” Winx said. “I knew I was being watched by someone, but I had no reason to think it was Iragall. I was never safe, was I? Iragall knew where I was, and he made sure that you did, too.”

Keaton finished his drink and started in on the pancake again. He stuffed his face full until his cheeks bulged out. It was getting to the point that he wasn’t able to chew.

Winx’s laughter bubbled in her chest, which was odd because she was still brimming with anger, too. “You can’t keep this up all day. Eventually, you’re going to run out of food to put into your mouth.”

He gave her a look and shook his head. He had a sausage link in his hand and looked like he was deciding where it would fit best.

She leaned toward him. “When did you see London? Was it when you came into LA? Or was it when we went to that restaurant, and you told me your sob story?”

Keaton’s eyes went wide. And then he started to choke. A hard cough rumbled through his chest, causing the partially-chewed flapjack to fly from his mouth and onto the table. Hacking overtook him, and his jerky motions bumped the table and spilled his orange juice onto his lap.

When Keaton stood, showing a thoroughly drenched crotch, it was too much.  Winx began to giggle. A second later, the giggles turned into hard chortles. And from there, a loud belly laugh had her throwing her head back, almost falling off the chair.  Keaton was trying to catch his breath, but he smiled a bit.

Winx wiped at her eyes with an unsteady hand and slumped against the table. When she saw the pancake pieces acting as a centerpiece, she laughed again. “That’s so disgusting.”

“I got it.” He unleashed one of his napkins and dragged the food to his side of the table.

They were silent after that, but it wasn’t nearly as tense.

Genevieve was very happy to be out of that car. Very happy indeed. All of the traveling had worn her down—she was not built for this kind of life.

With a dainty hop, she perched on the chair, facing her massive breakfast. She had quite an appetite even when not fighting off the scourge, but it was even bigger after her recent trials.

Taking up her knife and fork, she cut into a sausage patty and gifted herself with the pleasure of a hearty mouthful. “Mm hmm. Delicious.”

There was barely the space of a bite between her fork scrapping against the plates to transfer the perfectly prepared meal to voracious mouth. Who knew the next time she would be able to gorge? Real food would become scarce when she returned to the road.

Speaking of water, she searched the table for something to drink. The food was making her thirsty. With a sigh of delight, she reached her hand out for a carafe decorated with designs imitating air, the icon of her flying lands. Inside, she knew there would be fruity wine like she had back home.

As she poured the wine, the lovely blushing liquid brought instant memories of her missed palace life. Genevieve raised the glass to her lips and took a long sip.

Perfect. Simply perfect.

They would most likely be at the B&B for at least another day, so Genevieve felt no remorse in finishing her glass and pouring a new one. The wine was usually watered down back home, probably so everyone attending the royal dinners would keep their wits about them. But this sample was quite potent—in fact, she could already feel it pooling in her belly.

A lethargic smile spread over her cheeks. What was the harm? Maybe this was just what she needed after all of the death she had witnessed.

Genevieve went back to her food, but everything began to grow fuzzier; the platters of eggs, bread, and meats were a blur before her. Blinking rapidly helped nothing straighten. Her fingertips were going numb, and she dropped the carafe into her lap. She giggled a bit at her clumsiness and lifted it only to find that she had emptied the bottle. Silly her.

Standing with a yawn, she started to walk toward her bed, but she barely took a step before she lost her footing and landed on her knees. Genevieve laughed again.
Wow
. She had really overdone it. Perhaps she should have asked for a pitcher of water in order to temper the wine.

Her eyes slid in the direction of the bathroom. Maybe she should make use of the sink in there. A good gulp of water might brace her enough to at least get a grip.

The problem was, she couldn’t walk. Every time she tried to draw herself up from the floor, she would merely slump back down. When it became apparent that her muscles weren’t going to get her anywhere, she was already sliding her eyes shut. A nap on the floor would not be proper, not where there was a perfectly sound bed…

She passed out.

Less than five minutes later, the door to Genevieve’s room evenly slid open. Roy Ardess stood there, his eyes quickly taking in the scene.  “It worked, sir. The princess sleeps.”

“Good.” London Iragall walked up alongside his companion with a hand to his shoulder. “Let’s get her back where she belongs before the others notice.”

CHAPTER 2

Keaton couldn’t rest, so he spent the morning staring at the grounds from the balcony of their room. How could he trust the eradication forces? If the only reason they hadn’t helped his pack for all of this time was because they hadn’t been ordered, what kind of heroes could they be?

He covered his eyes with shaking palms. How he had let them down: his mother, his father, Ottanu, even Stori, though she had left with him willingly. The opportunity to make amends could not be out of his reach. Somehow, he had to show them his devotion. And if that meant turning his back on Winx, then so be it.

Keaton’s gaze slid over to where Winx slept, shrouded in bedding. Her feet poked over the edge of the mattress, and it was the only part of her that didn’t seem bruised. Underneath an arm draped over her eyes, he could make out the curve of her thick bottom lip and the dainty point of her chin.

He’d wanted her ever he’d seen her dancing as one of the premiere showgirls at Skinned. She spilled sexuality with every breath. Keaton’s eyes languidly slid shut, and he remembered her glossy black skin gleaming as she swayed in the strobe-lit playroom.

It was in her nature, he reminded himself. Those with the dark touch were commonly known for being able to hypnotize humans and cryptids alike. Winx was no different.

In the end, it would never work. Winx had said so herself when they’d been searching the woods for his pack.

You’ll never stop thinking about her,
a betraying voice sang in his head.
Nobody has ever been like Winx, and you know it.

Pacing was getting him nowhere. Perhaps they needed to sleep, but Keaton was in need of some action.

The courtyard was barely more than six feet below. Once he was sure the grounds were deserted, Keaton hopped over the balcony railing and landed with a soft thud on all fours. His long braid slapped his back when he began to sprint, and he sniffed the air in search of his quarry. There had to be savages around somewhere.

The morning streets of Gunnison were bustling with people. Each one of them had the potential to become a savage. All it took was a car accident, or a brutal rape, or a homicide, and they would roam the earth as brainless killing machines. The same killing machines that had destroyed Keaton’s way of life.

Before long, he had to slow down to a stroll. He wasn’t finding any evidence of savage activity, and searching had drained his anger and energy. He stopped at a light post and leaned heavily against it.

“Mommy, Mommy,” a little girl screeched as she passed by. “Look at his teeth! Are they real?”

“No, Mallory. People don’t have fangs.”

“But Mommy! His eyes!”

“Mallory, it’s impolite to stare. Come on!”