Everlost (The Night Watchmen Series Book 3) (18 page)

I’M NOT SURE AT WHAT point I stopped crying and finally fell asleep, but I did, and it’s then that I realize there’s no safe place for me to hide.

Not even my own mind.

Images flicker in and out. Horrors I never want to live again take over my non-present dreams. Clara’s cruel, crescent smile spreads like ink, staining the back of my eyelids indefinitely.

We’re in a field of her perfume; a field made up of lavender and honeysuckle, and some sickeningly sweet red flower, only we’re upside down. Her gun is against my head, and I look down. There’s so much blood between us, covering us both, that it’s hard to tell where I stop and she begins, and I almost want to beg her to do it. To end it all so I can finally find peace in nothing. She laughs and I’m so sure I’m about to die, so sure that she’s won, that I startle myself awake.

I feel like stones have settled into my chest, making it impossible to sit up. I’m coated in cold sweat, with my heart pounding inside my ears.

“Faye?”

My breath catches in my throat. My fears dissolve into ash.

I roll to face him, feeling like my heart has been inflated with helium, and press my lips against his. Warmth… that’s what his kiss feels like. Like sunshine touching your face on a cold winter’s day. Words hold no weight with him. Love is easily spelled with the way his lips move so desperately against mine. With how his heart beats just as hard against his chest as mine. Walls built from stolen kisses and heartfelt words reform around us, cocooning us in our safe, imaginary bubble no evil could ever penetrate.

I mutter his name against the softness of his lips, and his hand finds its way into my hair as he meets my kiss with just as much hunger. Just as much sweet longing. His other hand slides under my shirt, just against my waist, and pulls me closer against him, until I can feel the speed at which his heart is racing.

When the kiss finally subsides, he runs his thumb over my cheek, tracing the line of tears all the way down to my lips.

“Hey you,” he says, his voice cracking from sleep.

“You’re okay,” I say, choking on relieved laughter. “You’re really okay.”

His lips lift into a small grin as I trace his hairline, feeling like grenades of happiness have exploded inside my body. Knowing there’s no other way I could ever feel this good. This whole.

The sheets rustle as he props up on one elbow, looking down at me. “What happened?” he asks, moving hair from the side of my face.

Like a balloon deflating, the happiness slowly subsides. “You absorbed too much when you tried to bring an army of Elites down. Weldon found you and Sterling on the roof, and managed to get you here.” I pause, knowing this next bit of information will wipe the small grin from his face.

I know it’s selfish of me to take my time… to keep the information about his mom hostage for a second more, but I want to enjoy the relatively calm look on his face. The look of victory. Of pride and relief. The look of love.

“What is it?” he asks, the faint crinkles around his eyes deepening with curiosity.

I bite my bottom lip. Look off to the side. With a deep inhale, I expunge the remaining bit of information. “And when you returned, you were near death. If it wasn’t for Evangeline—”

“Evangeline?” he says, sitting straight up.

I sit up with him. “Yes. She gave you something that helped your body repair. She was here when everything went down and offered her help in return for her and her pack to stay here… with us.”

I feel each and every one of his muscles tightening past the point of comfort, almost as if they were my own.

“What do you mean
staying with us
?”

My face creases as I chew the inside of my cheek. “I mean, we made a deal with her. In return for their help and protection with the upcoming battle, we will protect them.”

“Protect them from what?”

“I don’t know,” I say, looking down at my hands. “We didn’t have a chance to get that far with the negotiation. It was blood and chaos. There were too many who needed tending to.”

He looks off to the side, shaking his head slightly. His emotions could be a full, living breathing person in the bed between us. They’re coming off that strong. That potent. I run my hand over his shoulder until he looks at me, and then settle into his lap, leaning my forehead against his.

“And Sterling?” he asks quietly, staring past me, out the window.

He doesn’t want to talk about her anymore. I can understand, because I don’t like bringing up my parents. The pain is too much. Like sandpaper dragged across your heart again and again and again, leaving it raw and exposed for all to see. But he doesn’t realize that he’s just opened another can of worms for himself. The kind that can’t be caught. The kind that forms into deadly butterflies the moment their released, spreading pain and hurt wherever they go.

“Did I get to him in time? Were you able to prevent him from turning?”

I take in a breath. Hold it for a few seconds, and then release it. “He’s okay, but no. He’s turned.”

My words slam like wrecking balls, one after the other, straight into his heart.

“Goddamn it!”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

He runs his hands angrily through his hair. “How the hell is he okay if he’s a freaking vampire, Faye? It goes against everything we know. He’s lost to us now.”

My heart is a vessel that’s sinking.

I open my eyes and stare into his, wishing I could erase the smudges of pain darkening the green of his eyes. “I don’t believe so. Your mother doesn’t seem to be. The rest of those in her pack don’t seem to be. Maybe there’s more to it than we know about. Maybe they might have information that the Priesthood withheld from us about what happens to Primevals who are turned.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “They become one of them, Faye. One of those we hunt. That’s what happens. End of story,” he says heatedly, waving his hands out like a referee giving a final call.

I give him a second to breathe through his words and anger. To really think about what he’s saying, and then say, “Maybe not. It’s not like they’ve ever been given the chance to defend themselves. The minute it happens, they’re abandoned,” I rally back. “Pessimism takes over, and we abandon them.” I make sure to meet his gaze. To make him really hear me. “Sterling’s wife… the one who was bitten and turned into a werewolf… she’s in your mother’s pack. And now she’s just found out that her husband is a freshly turned vamp. Maybe this is something we should explore. Something we can build on… for their sake, because I refuse to believe anything less.”

He looks at me, his glossy, green eyes churning with so much rage and confusion. I see so many words forming behind his lips, but their meanings don’t seem to connect with his gaze. Like he can’t agree with his own thoughts. Like war has waged within him, and it’s a battle he must fight on his own.

He huffs and looks away again. His shoulders slightly slouch. I wrap my arms around his waist, and settle against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart slowly dying off to a normal rate.

“Everything is changing so quickly,” he finally says, his deep voice cutting through the denseness of his bones. “I haven’t even had the chance to catch my breath yet, let alone make sense of all this.”

“You’re telling me.”

He leans back against the headboard and wraps his arms around me. Pulls me closer against him.

Silence makes her appearance as a million different thoughts tumble through my head. Too many to make any sense of. There’s nothing but the slow, steady sounds of his breath coming and going to fill the air around us.

When his body fully relaxes, he kisses the top of my head. Runs his fingers up and down my arm. His voice is so quiet when he finally speaks that I barely hear it. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

I blink. “Change does that to a person.”

He sighs. Leans his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes.

More quiet breathing.

“You know, a year ago, I never pictured myself here, in this bed with you, with my mom somewhere downstairs.” He laughs, the sound empty and dead of emotion. “I just… I don’t know how to wrap my mind around it.”

“You don’t have to,” I say, looking up at him. He looks down at me. “At least, not right away. Things like this, they take time to absorb. To understand.”

He lets out another nervous, shaky laugh that ends with a small frown. A frown that threatens to tear my heart right from my chest.

“All my life,” he says, “all my life, I’ve dreamed of seeing her again. I even looked for her… for a long time. I almost found her right before I met you.” His eyes swim in a pool of pain. “And now that’s she’s here, I don’t want her to be. I don’t want her to be because I hate her, Faye.” His eyes water as his lips thin and pale with repressed anger. “I hate her for what she did. For what we are and aren’t to her, and I don’t think I have it in me to ever truly forgive her.”

I hug him close to me as tears burn behind my eyes. Kiss his neck. Graze my nose along his cheek, wishing I could make this easier for him. Wishing I could ease his pain with simple words and soft kisses.

He inhales deeply, trying to tuck it all back into his safe box. Back behind the steel walls he keeps around his heart to protect himself from the rest of the world.

“Don’t,” I tell him, running my hand along his cheek. Down his neck. Stopping on the spot where his heart hides behind flesh and bone. “Don’t shut the pain out. You can’t ever get over it if you don’t try to accept it first. Losing someone impacts you whether you want it to or not, and the impact is like a drill opening you up, leaving you cold and exposed with this aching pain that won’t seem to go away. Believe me… I know.”

He looks down at me. Squints as my words register, and his heart slams once, and then twice against his chest.

“Okay.” That’s all he says. It’s all he needs to say.

For a moment, I think he might break into a million pieces as he allows the pain to rush in, overflow, and I’m afraid he’ll disappear behind the shadows he’s kept within his soul. Burn within the flames of hatred for his mother that he’s held onto for far too long.

But he doesn’t.

He just looks at me, wearing his pain more clearly than I have ever seen in his eyes before. Really letting himself feel what he feels.

“She smelled like malt liquor.”

My eyebrows pull together.

“The night she left. I remember that she smelled like malt liquor.”

My heart is in jagged pieces, scraping down my throat. I want to ask him more, but I don’t know how. I don’t want to push him when he’s so close to finally dealing with it.

He takes in a ragged breath. “I want to show you.”

“Show me?”

“I want to let go, Faye. I can’t if I keep this memory to myself. Maybe if I show you… if I share it… then maybe I can let go of it, once and for all, so I can finally move forward.”

My heart thunders against my chest. This is more than just a memory to him, and I almost don’t feel right about peeking in on his childhood pain. He’s offering me the darkest, deepest parts of him… asking me to help him with them, and I think I might melt into a puddle of tears right here on this bed.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

He nods, staring so surely into my eyes.

“Okay,” I say with a deep inhale.

I feel his mind open up to me, and I go willingly, letting him push his thoughts into my own.

EVERYTHING DISSOLVES AROUND US AS Jaxen’s memory takes the forefront of my mind.

I blink, and I know I’m looking through his eyes. Through the eyes of a young boy.

“We might be gone longer than normal tonight, so I don’t want you to worry,” a man who looks a lot like Gavin says from the doorway of the bathroom. I somehow know that it’s their father, feeling the way Jaxen radiates toward him.

“Why?” Jaxen asks through the bristles of his toothbrush.

He clears his throat. “Well, your mother and I picked up a solid lead on the demon we’ve been tracking. We’ll be scoping out the warehouse we suspect he’s working out of with the Middletons, so I suspect it’ll be a big mission.”

Jaxen spits, gargles a cup of water, and then cleans his toothbrush and puts it away. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turns back to face him, raising his brows. “Is it Bael?”

“Shhh!” He grabs Jaxen’s shoulder, forcing him to look at him. “What have I told you about saying their names out loud?”

Jaxen shrinks back a little. “That a name has the power to summon them should they be listening,” he recites with eyes on his feet.

My heart cries for the sudden fear and embarrassment that plagues Jaxen’s mind.

His father lets go of him and ruffles his hair, wearing a small smirk. “Exactly. You can never be too careful, son. Especially not with this one.” He stands straight again, pulling in a deep breath. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know what was going on. Don’t be alarmed if we aren’t back by the time you’re up for school.”

“Am I ever?” Jaxen asks, trying not to sound disappointed.

He stares at Jaxen for a moment, and I can tell he sees past Jaxen’s forced bravery. Leaning onto the frame with one arm high above his head, his dark brown hair is neatly combed back and squared glasses rest on the bridge of his narrow nose. He’s dressed in his uniform with daggers running down the length of his pants. I can’t help but see Gavin in his eyes—bluer than the ocean, sloped, and always lifted with a smile. Always offering a feeling of safety and peace.

“Jaxen,” he says, shifting his stance. He’s about to say something more when Gavin steps into the bathroom, loud as ever.

“Are you ever what? Hogging the bathroom?” Gavin asks with a smirk, his presence taking over the entire room. I feel Jaxen’s immediate annoyance as thoughts brush through his mind. How Gavin has always been this way… the stronger one, the faster one, the cooler one. And how he wishes for once that Gavin would take him seriously.

Gavin bumps Jaxen to the side and reaches for his toothbrush with a wide grin. “You’re always hogging something, little bro.”

Jaxen rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He brushes past his dad, not wanting to be another butt of a joke for Gavin.

“Gavin, I want you to make sure he…” Jaxen’s father’s words trail off as he makes his way down the hall and turns into a room. Judging by the scattered toys and comics, I assume it’s his room.

“They always rely on Gavin to take care of me, like he’s the boss of me or something,” Jaxen mutters to himself. “He’s only two years older. That hardly counts for anything.” He kicks at the soccer ball on the floor, and then takes off his T-shirt and tosses it in the hamper near the closet. A small column of light reaches across the carpet and stretches up to his bed.

Turning around, I half expect to see Gavin, but instead find his mom. “Hey, honey,” she says, wearing a secret smile that says he’s youngest and most tender to her heart.

“Dad already told me,” Jaxen says as he sits on his bed. He stares at the floor, chewing the inside of his cheek. He thinks about how he wishes they’d stop coddling him. Or that he had the guts to say it out loud. But mostly, he wishes they’d stop looking at him like a child—like a second to his big brother.

She crosses her arms, drumming her fingers against them, and I think she might smooth his hair back, but she doesn’t. “I packed lunches for you both, and I put money in them in case you decide to eat hot lunch instead,” she says, her words weighted with guilt.

Jaxen sighs. “It’s fine, Mom. I’ll be fine. It’s just one night.” He runs his hand through his hair.

Her light green eyes are creased at the sides and her hand is by her mouth, chewing away at her nails. She closes the distance and sits next to him. “I know, honey,” she rushes out unevenly. “You’re thirteen and capable. I get it.” She leans in and kisses the top of his head a little too briskly. “But it’s my job to worry,” she whispers to him. The malty scent of liquor rushes past his nose, and I want to gag for him. “And I worry because I love you. So much. I hate leaving you both at night. And I hate… missions such as this one.”

He lets her hug his head to her chest, knowing she needs the comfort more than he does, and thinks to himself that she always gets like this when she has one too many.

“We aren’t alone, Mom. Mrs. Francesca checks on us too many times to count.”

She lets his head go, still holding his face, and smiles knowingly.

“Yes, well, I just thought you should know,” his mother says distantly, quietly.

Her hands drop back down to her sides and Jaxen leans back, tucking his arms behind his head. She waves her hand and his sheet magically lifts and covers him.

He shoots her a scowling look.

“What?” She shrugs innocently. “You may be thirteen, but I can still tuck you in. I’m your mother. That never stops.”

My heart crumples for him as he thinks that despite knowing she’s partly drunk and how much it bothers him, the way she smiles is contagious to him.

Jaxen’s lips twitch and then lift. “One of these days, Mom. What are you going to do when I move to the Academy and meet my Witch?”

Her brows dip a little and a frown pulls at the corners of her mouth. Jaxen fiddles with the lever on his blinds, waiting for her response, but the silence is too thick not to notice. He drops the lever and looks back over at her.

“What is it?” he asks, sitting up.

Her eyes roam around his room, everywhere but at him. A funny feeling somersaults inside Jaxen’s stomach. She still hasn’t responded.

“Did I say something wrong? I was only kidding, Mom. You don’t—”

She places a light, shaking hand against his shoulder. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” Her gaze shifts over to the door, and then back on Jaxen. “Something I want to keep between us. Something I wanted to wait to tell you until you were much older, but after tonight, I fear there might not be any time left.”

He shifts uncomfortably, not liking the way his heart has matched the pace of his scattered, shifting thoughts. “Okay…” he eases out, filtering through all the things she could possibly say.

Her eyes drop to his, and turmoil swims within the depth of them. Indecision lingers within the silent tremor of her lips. “You’ve always been the sensitive one, Jaxen. You’ve always had this extraordinary way of reading people and understanding things.” Her hand brushes his cheek as her eyes take him in with so much love. “Like me, you have such a giving, loyal nature, which is why I know I can tell you this.” She pauses and takes a breath. “I want you to promise me you won’t fall in love with your affinity partner. Never. If you do, she will pay the consequences.”

She’s staring at him, searching his eyes for a response. Seconds tick by, carrying every question rapidly firing within his mind.

“Do you understand, Jaxen?”

He somehow nods, despite not understanding, and thinks to himself that she’s had too much to drink. That has to be it.

Her head tilts a little, and her features soften. “I know this is sudden, and maybe a little confusing. I just… I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. This is a big hunt, and there are so many things your father and I haven’t told you… so many things you and your brother need to know. It’s our sworn duty to prepare you for everything, should something happen to one of us.”

He doesn’t like how she said those last words. He doesn’t like the way they slipped past her lips with the stealthy ease of a predator. She’s a Witch, one who has the ability to tap into the future should she look. At that thought, he feels his dinner rising back up. He stares at her as her words continue in a sprinted ramble he can’t keep up with. They don’t line up with what he’s been taught.

She grabs his arm, and he nearly jumps. “Say something.”

His thoughts come to a halt, and two solid questions form. “Wha-what consequences? What are you talking about?”

“Death, Jaxen. You’re cursed. Every Hunter in your bloodline is cursed. If you fall in love with your Witch, she will die. But if you don’t… then you will spare your Witch from a horror she never asked for.” She pauses, closing her eyes tight, and then adds, “Not loving your partner will mean your death, Jaxen, but I promise you I won’t let that happen. I will find a cure. I will undo this curse if it’s the last thing I do. Just… just keep your heart protected. Promise me.”

“Evangeline, what are you filling this boy’s head with?” his dad says as he walks into his room behind Gavin. Jaxen looks past her. The moment his eyes connect with Jaxen’s, his face pales to shades Jaxen never knew he was capable of. Fear is never a thing he had seen in his father’s eyes before. “Jaxen?”

She turns away from Jaxen and looks up at his father, her last words sealed with a forced smile. “Nothing you haven’t already told him, Charles.” She stands up and makes her way over to Gavin.

But his eyes never find hers. They remain on Jaxen, rooted in fear. “Jaxen—”

“It’s fine,” Evangeline says, placing her hand on Gavin’s chest. “He’s fine. We were just talking. Right, Jaxen?”

Jaxen feels the heat of an invisible spotlight shining down on him.

Her brows lift, waiting for him to agree.

“Right,” he forces out.

She smiles and turns to Gavin with open arms. “Come here. Hug me goodnight.” He hugs her and gets in his bed.

“I’ll see you boys in the morning,” his dad says with a cold look in Evangeline’s direction.

“We love you,” Evangeline adds. “Good night.”

When the door click shuts behind them, Jaxen rolls toward the window. People are walking the streets of New York, despite the hour of the night. Cabs roll by in streaks that remind him of lightning, the power he hopes to attain on the day of his Culling. To walk in his father’s footsteps has been his dream for as long as he can remember.

He closes his eyes, trying to avoid the sinking feeling in his stomach. Trying to avoid the conversation with his mother. Thinking he should have said something to his dad.

“What did Mom say?” Gavin asks through the silence.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“You are and you know it. Tell me.”

Jaxen sighs and rolls to face him. He’s staring up at the ceiling with his arms tucked behind his head. Jaxen tosses around the thought of telling him for a moment, unsure if he should know. What if it’s true? What if Mom finds out?

“Jaxen, stop worrying and spit it out already.”

“Mom says we’re cursed,” he blurts out. He feels better the moment he does.

“What?” Jaxen can tell he has Gavin’s attention.

“She says that every Hunter in our bloodline is cursed. She said we can’t fall in love with our partner or they’ll die.”

Gavin laughs, and the sound surprises Jaxen. “Bull. She’d be dead then. Even though they’re having problems right now, there’s no way he doesn’t love her. She’s... mom.”

Something in his words strikes a chord within Jaxen. The fear in her eyes… the reason behind telling him… “Maybe that’s what she means. Maybe she thinks she’s going to die.”

Gavin sits up on his forearm. “No, Jaxen. Didn’t you see how much wine she drank? A whole bottle. She was rambling again. No one is dying.”

“But she was scared, Gav. For real.”

“Yeah, but Dad wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He’s a badass. Even if it were true, he’d keep it from happening.”

“Yeah,” Jaxen says, falling into what he’s saying. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I am right. Now, go to sleep.” He lies back down and pulls the covers to his chin. Jaxen follows suit. There are only a few hours left before he has to get up for school. He has to sleep. If he doesn’t, he fears he won’t pass his test tomorrow, and then his dad will have his head.