Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2) (48 page)

But I can’t celebrate our escape.

I stumble to the ground, feeling a sharp, searing pain in my side.

Blood is all over my hands, all over my stomach, soaking through my uniform. My stomach rolls. I immediately tug and pull at my clothing, searching for the wound, but come up short. My skin is covered in crimson, but it’s not mine. The pain is Jaxen’s, pushing through our affinity link from his weakened frame of mind.

My hand flies up to my mouth.
“Jaxen!”

“No!”
Jezi shouts through our mental link.

He’s hobbling down the walkway of the intricate garden toward the Manor, limping on his left side. A scream rips past my throat when he loses footing and falls onto the white, wooden steps, his hand curling around his stomach as he moans in pain.

“The gunshot,” I shout out as I make my way across the cobbled steps in a rush.

I don’t breathe. I’m too afraid my emotions will crash my ability to reason. My ability to help. Nothing matters but reaching him, healing him. I drop to my knees in front of Jaxen as the skies open up above us. He pulls his trembling hand away from the wound just enough for me to watch the blood gushing out. It careens a path to the bottom of the stairs that’s splattered away from the tears of heaven crying for him.

“Hang on!” I shout out as lightning strikes nearby, momentarily brightening the shadows all around us.

I focus all of my magic and intent on the wound, but nothing happens. Wind rips and beats away at my back. Cold, sharp rain slices against my exposed skin.

“The bullet. Cursed,” Jaxen forces through chattering teeth. “Remove it. Hurry.”

I want to throw up and cry. I want to go back and finish Clara off, but I can’t because I can feel the poison in him, spreading through his veins like scalding hot syrup. I harden myself, shutting everything off, and keep my eyes on his. I nod more times than I can count. More times than are necessary when he tells me to use whatever means necessary.

Footsteps rush up behind me. The others have caught on.

I rip the fabric away that covers his abdomen. The release of pressure causes his blood to pump harder with every beat of his heart.

I’m sure I’ve died inside. I know all of my blood has joined his, drained and gone with guilt.

He tries to reach up, but there isn’t enough strength left in his limbs. “Faye,” he breathes out, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I say as I plunge my fingers into Jaxen’s wound, searching for the bullet.

Gavin drops to his knees with Weldon on the other side. Together, they hold him down as he writhes against the pain. “Hang on, brother,” Gavin states, his words thick with shock.

I have to swallow back the acid that climbs up my esophagus. Pushing past skin, muscle, and blood, I feel something warm and slick. The bullet. I try to use my magic to pull it out, but the curse placed on the bullet is immune to magic.

I glance up at Jaxen, cursing myself for looking. Pale. Eyes sealed shut. Mouth twisted in agony.

“Either get it done, or get the hell out of my way,”
Jezi shouts through our connection.

I wrap my fingers around the bullet, tugging as hard and as fast as I can. Jezi moves in behind me, already working a healing spell to take care of the wound. Another strike of lightning cracks in the distance, and in its momentary illumination, I see the Coven’s symbol etched onto the side of the bullet.

I drop it as if it were coated in poison. Weldon picks it up. “Fitting, isn’t it? Shot by our own.” He hands it to me.

“I don’t want it,” I say, unable to even look at it. “It nearly took Jaxen’s life. It could have ruined everything.”

He turns my face to look at him. “Exactly. Keep this as a reminder that a single bullet can kill more than just a man. It can kill a whole society. It can pierce the whole foundation we built, splitting open the hidden secrets and destroying the innocent intent that started it all. And if you don’t want to keep it for that reason, then keep it to remind yourself exactly what you’re fighting for.”

He drops the bullet in the palm of my hand and heads up the stairs, walking toward the front door. I don’t have time to digest what he said—what this bullet really means—because Jaxen grabs me by the shoulder, spins me around, and crushes his lips against mine. There’s no heated passion in the kiss, just pure frenzy to know that I’m okay. To show me that he’s okay.

To tell me the three words he feels without having to say them.

And I feel them, all the way to my bones.

When he finally lets up, we help each other to our feet and turn to the Manor. It’s then that I can finally breathe again. That I can finally feel a small bit of relief for having escaped Clara and the Coven so easily.

“This is my home away from home,” Jaxen says through the side of his mouth. He hasn’t taken his eyes off it. “It’s been in our family for as long as anyone can remember.”

I stop when I see the old, white door… the same door in my premonition. I could have taken an out when General Sterling offered it to me, but I didn’t. I chose to break the Holy Seal, and by doing so, I’ve led us here.

I just hope it was the right choice.

The house has to be old. Aged brick hidden behind layers of moss reach up to the tiled roof. Steel work and arched windows give little glimpses into the house. Gavin finds a key under an old pot. He grins at Jaxen, and then unlocks the door. Muted light spills in like it’s been pushing and pushing against the doors, waiting for the chance to get inside.

Gavin flips the lights on, brightening the canary yellow entryway that’s eerily quiet and vastly tall. Dust and cobwebs line the tables decorated with frames and vases along the walls. A set of stairs sweep up the side of the room.

“No one’s been here for ages,” Gavin says, finding another light switch and flicking it up. A giant votive chandelier hanging from the middle of the room switches on. Rainbows of light dance along the marbled black-and-white checkered floor. “It was a safe house built by our eldest grandfather and passed down through the generations of Gramms. All of our history is kept here.”

“Let’s pray it stays that way,” Jaxen says. He brushes past me and heads up the stairs, flicking on more lights along the way. Jezi follows behind him.

“Where are we?” I ask Gavin. He’s standing in front of one of the tables, gazing at the pictures that are beside closed doors. Cassie moves past him and into one of the many rooms.

“In Salem, Oregon,” he says, lost in thought. “Every lineage in our Coven has a supposed safe house that only they know the location of. A self-preservation thing. This place is warded to keep
everything
known to the Night Watchmen away. Even demons,” he adds, looking past me at Weldon, whose skin is smoking. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.” Guilt’s in his voice as he watches Jaxen disappear down the hall of the balcony.

“It’s just a hunch, but I think bullets and Clara screaming out orders of murder might have something to do with it,” I point out, stifling a yawn.

Gavin chuckles. “That’s an understatement,” he says. He runs a hand through his hair and his mouth opens wide, yawning. When he shakes it off, he turns to me and says, “Look, I’m beat. I’ll take you to a room where you can relax, and then we can figure the rest later. Sound good?”

“Sure,” I reply, reaching out to Jaxen through our connection.

“Come here,”
he replies. I feel him pulling me in his direction, guiding me up the steps.

“Got any blood?” Weldon calls from swinging door of the kitchen. “The wards on this place are stinging my demon side.”

I internally shudder.

“One sec,” Gavin shouts over the banister. He looks down at me. “Just keep heading up and go right. I’m sure you’ll find Jaxen up there.” After he moves past me and down the stairs, I continue forward, my eyes skimming over the family tree of portrait paintings that line the stairway. Each has a plaque with names and dates underneath, with their ability next to it.

Jaxen’s lineage.

His parents are just above his and Gavin’s name. I know them as soon as my eyes fall on their portraits. Jaxen has his mother’s piercing, round eyes and his father’s swoon-worthy smile. Gavin looks mostly like his father, with his mother’s full mouth. I keep moving, feeling Jaxen reaching out to me.

Before William and Shirley, there are four square spaces where the yellow paint’s lighter than the rest. Pictures were obviously hung there at one point, so why have they been removed?

Turning away, I make my way up the rest of the stairs. The eyes of the Gramm lineage seem to follow me, leaving a chilled feeling in my bones.

I turn right and reach the end of the hall, knowing Jaxen’s behind the tall, wooden door. As soon as I open it, I smell the musky scent of soap and steam billowing out of the open door across the room. I strip down to nothing as I make my way toward him. He slides the shower door open when I cross the threshold, water dripping off every part of him.

He nods his head, motioning for me to come closer.

So I do.

MORNING SLIDES HER WAY THROUGH the sides of the golden, velvet curtains. Her long, finger-like rays reach out, stretching and stretching until they’re touching my face, warming my skin, luring me awake.

I stir out of the edges of a dream, cracking one eye half open. It takes a second for me to finally see. Jaxen’s facing the other wall, with one arm reaching back toward me. After exploring each other in the shower, we fell asleep in the king-sized bed, swearing that we’d find a way to make it out of this mess alive.

I just hope I can live up to my end of the deal.

Jaxen stirs, and I’m about to curl up against his back when I hear something odd. A crashing sound, like broken china or glass.

I roll out of bed, tuning into the muffled sounds downstairs. There’s another crash, so I reach for the robe I manifested last night and slip my arms through it. Creeping toward the door, I pull it open. It starts to creak, so I say a quick spell, then sneak past the doorway and stop at the banister, leaning over a little so I can hear better.

Gavin’s up. I hear him moving about, whistling a song of breakfast. But there’s another voice, a woman’s voice that I don’t recognize. Her voice is elegant, but firm. I try to make out what they’re saying, but she’s talking on a heightened whisper. I catch words like don’t, please, and love, but nothing that makes any sense. I quickly manifest a pair of gray sweatpants and a large, baggy T-shirt, and then jog down the stairs two at a time.

The voices grow louder as I make my way down the hallway toward the kitchen. I pass a library crammed full, and take two steps back just to make sure I saw what I think I did. Books have overtaken the floor in piles that can’t possibly fit on the surrounding shelves. There has to be every book imaginable in here. Two high-backed chairs and a chaise provide a lounge area in the middle of the room, which seems recently used from the throw blanket and pillow scattered aimlessly across it.

A door shuts from the kitchen and I turn back to it, but I don’t take another step.

“Good morning,” Jaxen says right behind me.

I jump at the sound of his voice, spinning to face him.

The side of his mouth quirks up in its cute way as he reaches out to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind my ears. My heart does a back flip, sending heat to my cheeks as I lose myself in his vibrant green eyes.