Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2) (12 page)

“You mean you’ve turned away from Heaven?” Quinn’s voice cracked.

“No, from Michael’s command.” Gabriel managed a smile. “I removed my collar.”

It may have been his imagination, but he thought he saw a faint gleam of approval in Quinn’s stormy eyes.

“Now,” Gabriel said, taking a sip of water and wishing it was the sweet tea Jordan made, “why did you leave the farm? Has something else happened?”

Quinn’s story was short and to the point. “I don’t trust them,” he concluded, “and I don’t understand why Case agreed to let Lucas summon a demon into his home.”

Gabriel thought for a moment. “What Lucas Fane proposed isn’t a bad idea in itself. I planned to do something similar – interrogate demons on Jordan’s whereabouts.” Gabriel paused. “Of course, problems could arise if Nathan and Casen were not familiar with how demons work, but they are.”

“So, we just sit back and let them?”

Gabriel searched for words to allay Quinn’s fears but the bottom line was, even though Casen and Nathan were knowledgeable about demons, they couldn’t kill them. Only angels could end their existence. Slayers had the ability to send them back to Hell by performing an exorcism or piercing the possessed person’s heart with silver. Gabriel didn’t know Lucas well and had no idea how much experience the man had. If something went wrong, if the Devil’s Trap was weak or not constructed properly, the demon could escape.

“Tell me how you want to handle it and I’ll help any way I can,” he said. “Do you think talking to Casen might help?”

Quinn pulled his pizza crust apart with his fingers and sighed. “No, it won’t. When Case’s mind is made up about something, there’s no changing it. I told Nathan to call if they needed me and I’d come running.” He looked up, eyes tired but resolute. “I can’t sit by and do nothing. We have to find Jordan.”

“Yes, we do, and quickly. If Jordan is a
Paladin
, she could be in danger – and not just from angels.”

“
Paladin…
” Quinn appeared to roll the word around on his tongue, tasting it. “Warriors for the cause; hybrids of Light and Dark.”

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked.

“I read it in a book. Case and I found it in his study when we were researching Cambions.” He shrugged. “Is that what Jordan is – a
Paladin
? What are they?”

Gabriel told Quinn about his visit with Yasen. “If such a hybrid is possible, then her condition is rare, so rare that she may be the only one.” He drummed his fingers against the Formica table top. “Yasen will find more information soon.”

An idea came to him. It was a long shot but was better than sitting around twiddling their thumbs. “Do you have the book you spoke of? Perhaps I can make more sense of it.”

“Good thinking,” Quinn said. “I’m glad I packed it. Uncle Case will be madder than a one-legged waitress working at IHOP, but he’ll get over it. He told us to leave it in the safe.”

Quinn got up and took a few steps toward a small dresser in the corner; a duffle bag lay on top. A knock at the door stopped him in his tracks.

He turned to Gabriel, who whispered, “Are you expecting anyone?”

Quinn pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans. “Hell, Gabe, I wasn’t expecting
you
.” 

From outside, an authoritative male voice said, “Gabriel, we know you are in there. Michael has sent for you, brother. Please come peacefully.”

The heart that once belonged to his vessel pumped rapidly and Gabriel lost the ability to speak, to think. Quinn, his gun trained on the door, backtracked to where he sat and tapped his shoulder. “Who is that, Gabe?”

His hands shook as he stood. “Michael sent some members of his army to fetch me. He knows I disobeyed.”

Quinn regarded the gun with a pained expression and tucked it back into his jeans. “Just tell them to leave,” he said. “You’re an archangel. They have to listen to you, right?”

Gabriel wondered how long they had before the angels decided to enter the room. “No. They only answer to Michael. He’s their leader.”

“What happens if you go back?”

Gabriel knew exactly what would happen. His brother would find a way to keep him from returning to Earth. He would secretly lock him away somewhere and Yasen would be none the wiser. Michael had no right to keep him from his wards – and Quinn and his family were
still
his wards.

Squaring his shoulders, he replied, “
I’m not going back
.”

Quinn nodded. “Good, that’s good, Gabe. But we need a plan – now.”

There was nothing for it. Gabriel knew they had to run. If he faced down the Aeons, Quinn could get hurt in the fray.

“Let’s grab your stuff. We have to leave.”

“And go where?” Quinn hissed, stuffing what little he’d unpacked into one of his bags while Gabriel grabbed two more. “If they tracked you here, they can track you anywhere.”

“I think I can fix that, but not here, not now.”

Outside, several voices rose and fell in rapid conversation and then someone pounded on the motel door. “Gabriel,” one of the Aeons called. “This is your last chance. Open the door or
we
will!”

Horrified, he watched Quinn scuttle across the room to the last bag resting on the battered dresser. Time seemed to slow down, bring everything in sharp detail. Quinn snatched the bag by its nylon straps and had covered half the distance back when the door shattered. Chunks of wood rained down like confetti, floating slowly, as if the air around them had grown as dense as water. Splinters passed like tiny, misshapen angel wings. Gabriel saw every jagged edge, each deadly point. Something grazed his face. The fish-eye lens sailed by, burrowing itself in the refrigerator door.

And then Quinn was beside him. Gabriel grasped his shoulder just as blinding, blue light filled the room.

Chapter Fourteen

Jordan

A soft tap came at the door. Jordan groaned and rolled over to look at the clock. It was a little past ten. She’d gotten about four hours of sleep. Not enough, especially after her episode with Gina.

The knock came louder. Before Jordan could call out to whoever it was to find another hobby, the door opened and Ivy breezed into the room looking fresh and lethal in black leather.

“Did you join a motorcycle gang?” Jordan asked before throwing the comforter over her head, seeking sleep she knew she wouldn’t find again this day.

Ivy flipped the covers back and smiled. “I brought you coffee.” She offered a chipped mug sporting the words:

What do we want?

Coffee!

When do we want it?

I’ll F***ing cut you!

Jordan laughed. “Where do you find these things?” She took a sip of the delicious brew and perked up a bit.

“I have a gift,” Ivy answered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “And now you may tell me you love me.”

Sitting up, careful not to spill her coffee, Jordan said, “You only get an ‘I love you’ if you bring octane
and
a bagel. Coffee alone only rates a ‘You’re an okay sister.’”

Ivy stuck out her tongue.

“Why the hell did you wake me up so early? I’ve only been asleep a few hours.”

Her sister stretched out at the foot of the bed, ebony hair spilling around her like a fan. “Because you have that meeting in three hours and I knew you’d want time to wake up, eat, and grab a shower…and because I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Most people Jordan knew would have found a more diplomatic way to bring up what happened between her and Gina or avoided the topic altogether, but not Ivy. She was straightforward with her thoughts – blunt, but caring.

She motioned for Jordan’s cup of coffee and she handed it over. Ivy took a sip and waited.

“No, I’m not okay.”

Her sister nodded.

“I could have lost control and killed her if you hadn’t stopped me.”

Ivy handed her coffee back. “And you would’ve had every right to do so.”

Jordan snorted. “Are you telling me you would have killed her?”

“Damn straight.”

“Then why did you step in?”

“Because you’re not me.” Ivy sat up, pulling her fingers through her hair to straighten it. “If you’d killed Gina, it would have weighed on your conscious like a hippo. You aren’t built that way.”

Jordan slammed her cup down on the bedside table. “I’m not weak, Ivy. I’ve killed demons before and slept damned well afterward.”

“The situation was different and you know it. There were young kids watching.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “You pretend you don’t give a rat’s ass what people in this house think of you, but I know the truth. You wouldn’t have wanted them to see that.”

Jordan didn’t confirm nor deny Ivy’s suspicions. Instead, she got out of bed and did a few stretches. Touching her toes, she said, “And you would’ve had no problem killing her in front of the kids?”

“I would have fried her crispier than a bucket of KFC’s finest.”

“And what makes you so different from me?”

Ivy got up and began making Jordan’s bed. “Demons are like great white sharks. They’re all about self-preservation.”

“What in the hell do great whites have to do with anything?”

“Listen,” her sister continued, “great white sharks strike once – hard – and then sit back and wait for the animal to bleed out, until they’re too weak to struggle. Demons are kind of the same way. They rarely get their hands dirty if they don’t have to. Demons are known for thinking of themselves first. If Gina had threatened to kill me, it wouldn’t have mattered if the Pope was watching. I would have scorched that bitch.”

Jordan grabbed her coffee and headed for the bathroom she shared with Ivy and Mazie. “You’re not that cruel,” she called over her shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ivy said following her. “I’m pretty sure the potential to be a selfish hag is hidden somewhere inside this kick-ass outfit.” To prove her point, she snatched Jordan’s mug of coffee off the bathroom counter and disappeared, teleporting to a safe distance.

“You couldn’t hide a paperclip in those skin-tight ho-clothes!”

Somewhere deep in the house, Ivy laughed.

<><><>

Wrapped in a towel after her shower, Jordan returned to her room and found her own biker-chick outfit lying on the bed, including a pair of matching combat boots and leather bomber jacket.

“Oh hell no…” she breathed.

“Yep,” Ivy answered, stepping into the room once more.

“Ivy, this…” She waved her hand at the ensemble of leather, zippers, and buckles, “looks good on
you
. It isn’t me. I’m the jeans and sweatshirt type.”

She cringed when she pictured herself standing next to Ivy. Her sister was curvy in all the right places. She could wear a trash bag and rock it like a runway model. She, herself, was more muscular – all angles and hard planes. Ivy was Megan Fox and she was G.I. Jane. There was no comparison.

“This is the new you,” Ivy explained, holding up a black lycra shirt that would hug her body like saran wrap.

Sweet Jesus and Mary, there was no way she was wearing that.

“Look, where we’re going today requires a different attitude, a tougher look. You are a demon-killer, Jordan; you need to look the part. Besides, these clothes are much better for a Slayer. They offer more protection than a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a Daughtry sweatshirt.

“Don’t be knocking my band.” Jordan touched the supple leather of the pants, ran her hand over the high-laced boots. “Ivy, where exactly are we going?”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell you. It isn’t allowed.” Softly, she asked, “Do you remember what I said in your dream, after…?”

After she killed her Guardian
.

Jordan would never forget. It was a nightmare, not a dream. Gabe’s ashes had been carried away on the wind and Ivy had helped her up off the ground where she’d been lying, wanting to die, herself.

She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “You said to never let them see weakness.”

Ivy pulled her into a hug so hard she felt her bones would break. “Always remember that.”

<><><>

No matter how many times she did it, Jordan would never come to love teleporting. She had finally mastered the demons’ (and angels’) preferred way of transport, but she hated it with a passion. As soon as she could, she let go of Ivy’s hand and found the closest steady object to lean on until the dizzy feeling passed – in this case, a chair…in what looked like a large, blandly-decorated waiting room.

Wooden benches, shoved against bare walls, and rows of metal chairs provided seating. At one end of the room, a plain desk and a very colorful receptionist sat in front of a bank of elevators. Jordan, Ivy, and Aamon made their way over to her.

“Are we in some sort of jail?”

Jordan studied the people occupying the seats. They appeared to be in pairs. One person was dressed like a banker in either an off-the-rack suit or plain-Jane skirt and blouse. She also noticed accessories like glasses, pocket watches, and hair parted just so or in nice, tidy buns. Their partners were dressed in rags with their hands bound in cuffs…and chains. “What the hell?”

“Exactly,” Aamon said. “This is Tenura, the first level of Hell. This is where the souls of those who have sinned meet their respective demons and await judgment.”

She was in Hell.

Hell!

“Aamon, get me out of here, now.”

What was he thinking, bringing her here? She may be part demon but she definitely did not belong in Hotel Hades.

And why was there a waiting room in Hell? Where was the fire and brimstone?

On second thought, she didn’t want to know. Ever.

“Jordan, it’s fine. You’ll be okay.”

“What part of me being in Hell is okay, Aamon? What? Is it Bring Your Kids to Work day?”

“This is simply a means to an end. Those elevators are the only transportation to get us to our destination. We aren’t staying.”

“Where are we going?” When he didn’t answer, Jordan grabbed him by the lapel of his expensive jacket. “You know, I’ve had enough of this cloak-and-dagger shit. You tell me what’s up or I’m teleporting home –
my home
. Have fun explaining
that
to your boss.”

She wheeled around and almost ran into a demon with a bald head and earring. He grabbed her arm to steady her.

“Better watch where you’re going, Cambion.”

“Piss off, Mr. Clean.”

Jordan stomped away and Aamon followed, leaving Ivy behind to chat with the receptionist behind the desk.

“Wait,” he called.

She walked faster, weaving in and out of chairs.

“Jordan, will you wait?”

She finally stopped and sat down on an empty bench. Aamon joined her and clasped his hands together.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “I should have told you more about this jaunt but I didn’t want to scare you.”

Jordan bit her lip to keep from screaming. “And you thought bringing me to Hell without telling me beforehand was the best way to handle the situation?” She pounded her fists on her legs. “You are such an idiot! How is it that any of your children are still alive?”

“I didn’t think–”

“No, you didn’t,” she cut in. “You don’t think, Aamon!”

He looked at his shoes while she struggled to breathe.

“I want you to listen to me, Aamon, because I won’t say this again. It doesn’t matter whose genes I have floating around inside. I was groomed my entire life to hunt Evil. You might want to remember that the next time you drag me into a room full of demons.”

Aamon stood up and nodded. “I understand. This is uncomfortable for you.”

“You have no idea.” Before he could walk away, she added, “No more games,
Father
. From now on, you’d better be straight with me or I
will
leave, angels hunting me or not. I would rather risk my life against an entire army of Halos. At least they’re up front with their intentions.”

She followed him to the front of the room where Ivy and the receptionist were deep in conversation. As they approached, Ivy gave her a sheepish smile, probably feeling guilty for not telling her they’d be making a pit stop in the trenches. She gestured to her friend behind the desk.

“Jordan, this is Sage.” 

Jordan nodded to the Goth secretary with dyed black hair, pierced lip, rice powder makeup, and deep, chocolate brown eyes. She had a dazzling smile and was beautiful in her own unique way.

“Nice to meet ya, J.” She popped a piece of gum in her mouth. “Don’t be too angry at Ivy-Girl. She really couldn’t say anything.”

Jordan replied to Sage but her eyes settled on Aamon. “No worries. It wasn’t
Ivy’s
responsibility to tell me.” 

He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sage, is the portal ready?”

“Shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll let you know as soon as I get the call.”

He thanked her and turned to converse with another demon.

“Portal?” Jordan asked.

Before Ivy or Sage could answer, a ruckus a few feet away caught the girls’ attention. Two demons were arguing over which one was responsible for a new “lifer” who’d been dropped off. When the argument turned physical, Sage got up from behind the desk.

“Excuse me for a sec.” She casually made for the two males throwing punches.

“What the hell is she doing?” Jordan watched Sage push between the two demons who were three or four times her size.

“You’ll see,” Ivy said.

Placing her hands on their chests, Sage yelled, “Molloch! Krampus! Take it outside!”

“Move it, bitch!” One of the demons tried to swing around her. A bolt of lightning shot from her hand, cleaving his breastbone and pitching him halfway across the room.

The other demon grabbed her by the throat. Jordan moved to intervene but there was no need. One thrust with the heel of her hand underneath his chin caused the demon to lose his grip. When his head snapped back and he let go, Sage made good use of her own pair of impressive combat boots by pulverizing his privates, giving him an instant sex change.

She cracked her knuckles and walked back to her desk. “Those two,” she gestured to the demons slowly getting to their feet, “never learn.”

The one she blasted with a lightning bolt ripped his singed jacket, tie, and shirt off, displaying a split chest cavity. He looked like a walking autopsy. “You better pray to Luci I can heal this, Sage! The last thing you want is for me to have to rearrange my schedule to look for a new mark.”

She smiled sweetly. “Happy hunting, Molloch.”