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

Chapter Three

Jordan

She pulled her fingers through the wolf’s thick fur in an attempt to calm down. If this tactic didn’t work, she would more than likely strangle Gina.

That bitch!

As if echoing her sentiments, Koda, the wolf who’d adopted her, chuffed and licked his chops.

Jordan laughed. “I tell ya what,” she said, scratching behind his ears. “If she pops off one more time, you can eat her.”

Pulling her coat tight, she snuggled next to the wolf. In the Huron Mountains, snow was falling, and Jordan was homesick.

She missed flat pastures and open spaces. The mountains, though not very tall, were beautiful with their multitudes of fauna and wildlife. But the closeness of the forest paired with the ever shortening days felt stifling. She needed more sunlight.

Jordan craved the feel of grass under her feet and the smell of hay. She missed her horse. She
ached
for her family. She’d give anything to look up some ancient lore, clean a gun, or cook dinner for Uncle Case and her brothers. Until they’d been taken away, Jordan had no idea how much the tasks she used to loathe meant to her –
defined
her.

She wanted to feel normal again.

The storm door leading to the enormous front porch, attached to an equally colossal cabin, slid open like a well-oiled machine. Jordan’s heart gave a little pang as she remembered the storm door of her humble home in Wyoming that always stuck.

God, if you’re up there, please, get me the hell home!

Ivy crossed the porch, zigzagging through rocking chairs and porch swings that swayed to and fro in the frigid breeze. When she reached Jordan, she handed her a mug of hot coffee, sank gracefully to the thick blanket Jordan and Koda shared, and took a sip from her own cup. Ivy had a thing for humorous coffee mugs. Hers had a picture of Darth Vader’s face with the words “Who’s Your Daddy?” The one she handed Jordan had a smiling stick figure stating, “I procrastinate and that’s okay because I am ten times less likely to become a serial killer.”

Jordan nodded her thanks as her half-sister leaned over to wipe a wayward tear from her cheek.

“Why do you let Gina get to you?” Ivy asked after a few minutes. “Rattling your cage is her favorite pastime – well, that, and spreading her legs for anyone who has more hair on their body than she does.”

Forgetting her sadness for the moment, Jordan spit her coffee out, choking as she laughed.

It was no secret that Gina was into extracurricular activities, and she had the hairiest arms Jordan had ever seen outside of a zoo. Considering how bad things could be, Jordan should thank her lucky silver knife that her biggest problem right now was a psychotic Heinz 57 with “Daddy issues.”

Looking at Ivy, Jordan found cool gray eyes staring back.

“Thanks,” she said.

Ivy shrugged. “It only takes a few minutes to make a cup of octane with that fancy brewer Dad’s got.”

Octane
was Ivy’s pet word for their favorite brand of brew.

“I wasn’t talking about the coffee.”

“I know.”

The two sipped in silence while Koda napped between them. Jordan couldn’t believe it was only three months ago that her world went to hell in a sidecar with no brakes, no handlebars, and no GPS. She had no control on this downhill run. She was barely hanging on.

Back in July when the sun shined brightly, the days were long, and children chased each other around an Arcadian lake, Jordan lost her family – lost herself. What should have been a routine snag and bag at a seedy campground in Tennessee had resulted in windswept revelations…and her death. Her demise had been temporary. Too bad she couldn’t say the same about the predicament she found herself in now.

Death had been better.

“Have you seen Aamon today?”

Ivy’s nostrils flared. Jordan knew she hated it when she referred to their parental figure by name. Ivy had no trouble calling him “Dad,” but then again, Aamon was the only father she’d ever known.

Technically, Aamon was Jordan’s father, too (just thinking about it left a nasty vomit taste in her mouth) – her
demon
father. His satanic duty was procreating with the common folk, also known as humans, to keep the demon population off the endangered species list. He’d possessed Richard Bailey, the man Jordan had grown up thinking was her real dad, the man Aamon had killed.

To be fair, Aamon hadn’t mistreated her. For a demon, he was oddly…
human
. A handful of his children lived here at the cabin they called home, and he acted no differently than any other parent as far as she knew. He scolded, enforced rules, bestowed hugs, praised, and even provided tutors for schooling. It confused Jordan. Demons weren’t supposed to act that way.

According to Ivy, Aamon’s children stayed with him until they were old enough to be on their own. Some went out into the world to live normal lives with jobs and families. Others were given assignments within the demonic regime. Many were placed in government positions. Some were even sent to different countries.

The kids at the cabin ranged in age from twelve to nineteen. When she first saw the gigantic home, Jordan expected to find an orphanage full of Aamon’s offspring. She’d been shocked to learn that only ten resided here, including herself. When she asked Ivy about the numbers, she’d only told her Aamon didn’t like to talk about it.

Most of Jordan’s half-siblings were nice. A few of the younger ones irritated her at times but that was to be expected. Only Gina gave her grief. From day one, the platinum Barbie-lookalike treated Jordan like a nuisance – a pimple on her otherwise unblemished face that she just couldn’t get rid of. When Aamon was around, sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth but the moment his back was turned, she transformed into the hateful, sneaky cur she really was.

Cambions had latent supernatural powers that were not awakened until Aamon touched his children. Gina was a Dream Walker. Her gift (or curse, depending on how you looked at it) was the ability to enter and manipulate people’s dreams. She could make sleepers see anything she conjured. She could also kill them.

Jordan hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since she arrived. Gina entered her dreams every night and turned them into nightmares. Jordan had seen her brothers and uncle die countless times. She’d been attacked by Koda and endured the pain of having him eat her alive. The latest one found her strapped to some sort of sacrificial stone table while hideous creatures carved symbols into her flesh with wicked, curved knives. As soon as one symbol was carved, another would heal and disappear and the process started all over again. The first cut was always the deepest. Jordan screamed each time, and hated herself for it. In the background, Gina’s laughter bounced off the cave walls.

Her hands shook. Jordan balled them into fists and took a deep breath. Ivy touched her knee.

Besides being able to harness enough electricity to stop a mortal’s heart with a touch of her finger or fry them from the inside out, Ivy was also an empath. She could sense the feelings of others.

“Dad will be home later. Will you tell him about Gina? She’s not supposed to use her power on anyone in the house.”

“No.”

Ivy pursed her lips. “Jordan, you’re not sleeping! She has you wound tight 24/7. Why won’t you say something?”

Necessity.

She refused to ask for help. It wasn’t so much that she was the new kid here at Camp Demon. Jordan could handle that. She could handle Gina, too, and would – soon. The problem was that she couldn’t risk depending on anyone. Things happened. People or circumstances changed. The ones you count on today may not be there tomorrow.

No. It was better that she take care of Gina herself. Her true family was miles away. Her Guardian chose obedience over loyalty. If she wanted to get back to the ones she loved, she would have to do it alone.

Gabe’s golden eyes and familiar smile flashed in her mind. Jordan bit her lip and shoved his face out of her thoughts. Above everything else, the fact that the one being she could always depend on had lost faith in her – walked away and left her to this fate – hurt the most. Had he known she was a Cambion? If so, why hadn’t he told her? Why hadn’t he helped instead of abandoning her when she needed him the most?

“You need to tell Dad.”

Ivy continued to flog the dead horse. Jordan appreciated her concern, but still couldn’t be sure of her half-sister’s true feelings toward her. Did she really care or was she bluffing to keep the situation under control – to keep Jordan from leaving. She wouldn’t be surprised if Aamon had ordered Ivy to keep tabs on her.

“Tell Dad what?”

Speak of the demon…

Jordan hadn’t heard the storm door open so Aamon probably transported to the porch from wherever he’d been. He looked handsome in a cranberry-red sweater, khaki pants, and Timberland boots. Not a strand of his salt and pepper hair (mostly pepper) was out of place. His blue eyes looked kind, but Jordan reminded herself that this stylish, middle-aged man was not Aamon.
This
was a puppet – some poor soul he possessed. The real Aamon probably looked like something born of nightmares.

That thought had her reaching for the silver knife in its sheath on her side, but she caught herself and faked scratching her leg instead. Ivy gave her a dirty look, probably sensing Jordan’s disgust of the man who had impregnated her mother.

“It’s nothing,” Jordan mumbled.

Aamon sighed, a very human reaction. He was a good actor. Most demons were, though.

“Jordan, if you’re having a problem you know you can tell me–”

“
I’m not
.”

Beside her, Koda growled, baring long, sharp canines. For the most part, the wolf got along with everyone in the house but had bonded with her, sort of like a familiar. If Jordan was unhappy, Koda sensed it.

The demon looked at Ivy, who shook her head as if telling him to let it go.

He shrugged. “Very well.”

Jordan hoped he would go inside and leave them alone. Instead, he pulled one of the rocking chairs closer and perched on the edge. Fingers steepled, he cleared his throat.

“I’ve just come from a meeting. Tomorrow, we have an appointment.”

This was new. The entire time she’d been here, Aamon had not gone a day without reminding Jordan that she was on the celestials’ most wanted list. The cabin and surrounding forest were protected against angels. To leave the area would mean certain capture. 

Now, Aamon planned to take her from the safety of the wards.

“Where?” she demanded. “With who?”

Aamon looked away, not meeting her eyes.

“My boss.”

His boss
? Who the hell was Aamon’s boss?

Ivy cursed under her breath.

Aw, crap
.

Chapter Four

Gabriel

Michael’s office was ornate in the extreme. Marble columns, gold frames on the walls, statues, silk draperies, and the calming trickle of a stone water wall played on Gabriel’s senses when he walked in.

The most remarkable adornment was the archangel himself.

In their true form, angels were pure energy derived from the planets, moons, stars, and all they encompassed. In Heaven, that energy had no boundaries, so angels took any form they wished. The only constant was their wings. In Heaven, those were always present.

Michael stood in the middle of the room. The sun shining through the large windows behind him provided a spotlight which illuminated his blond hair and licked at the edges of his deep-red wings like flame. A crisp white T-shirt stretched against his sculpted form. Khakis and boots completed the look. Gabriel had never seen his brother in such casual attire – a middle-aged Ralph Lauren model going through an identity crisis standing in Donald Trump’s office. He looked ridiculous.  

“Michael,” Gabriel acknowledged his brother with a nod. “You called for me?”

For a moment, Michael only stared. His eyes, sparkling with power, never blinked and seemed to pierce his very soul. Nervous, Gabriel spread his own impressive wings. The
whoosh
of displaced air as they unfurled was comforting – a familiar sound in the oppressive silence.

Finally, Michael returned his nod and spoke.

“Gabriel, I appreciate your response to my message, but do wish you had been more observant of the time.”

Comprehension settled like a favorite blanket, and Gabriel relaxed by a degree. Michael was only upset because he was five minutes late.

As if my tardiness is significant in the grand scheme of things.  

Evil multiplied on Earth at a rate they never anticipated. Demons collected human souls like old ladies collected cats. Jordan, a member of the Celadon Circle, was half demon, and they were no closer to solving her problem than three months ago.

And Michael is obsessing over five minutes.

Gabriel wished he could make him
see,
make Michael behave like the brother he had looked up to for so long.

Instead, he bowed his head. “Forgive me. I’ve been…distracted. I promise to do better.”

The words coated his tongue like saccharin. They started out sweet but left a bitter aftertaste. Gabriel hated his weakness but couldn’t help himself. Loyalty was wired into his very being.

As he waited for reprieve, Gabriel’s emotions churned and thrashed like a monstrous squall. He questioned whether his subservience to Michael was design or self-inflicted. He hoped the former. Humiliation was easier to swallow if he could believe he had no choice.

“Very well, Gabriel.”

The archangel turned away. Gabriel felt his strength return with every step his brother put between them. Before he could fully appreciate the passing of the storm, Michael stopped and looked back.

“Never forget, Gabriel; obedience must begin at home. We cannot request it from our Father’s children if we refuse to embrace and exemplify it ourselves.”

Was this why Michael paged him? Did he plan to scold him about rules he already knew?

Gabriel fumed. He wasn’t a
malakhim
– a common angel. He didn’t have time for a power trip.

Hoping to expedite Michael’s time upon his soapbox, Gabriel didn’t argue.

“Yes, brother, I will remember.”

After another long look at Gabriel, Michael stretched his wings, giving them a little shake before folding them against his broad back.

“Sit down.” He gestured to one of two leather-padded chairs across from the handsome cherry wood desk. “We need to talk.”

Finally.

Gabriel lowered himself onto the seat, folding his large wings across the back.

Michael settled behind the desk. His gaze took in the entire room. Gabriel wondered if he was stalling and if so, why? By the time those silver-blue eyes met his, he felt as if he would explode – from nerves or impatience he wasn’t sure. Michael’s expression was unreadable.

“I’ve made a decision,” he began.

Gabriel almost cheered. At last, his brother had come to his senses.

After discovering Jordan’s Cambion status, Michael had suspended Gabriel’s duties to her family, refusing to let him search for her or contact Casen and the boys. The archangel was convinced that she presented a threat, though he never disclosed his reasons.

Gabriel had spent the entire month after the fiasco in Tennessee pleading with Michael to see the situation as it really was. Jordan, like her brothers and uncle, remained a loyal member of the Celadon Circle. God had given her the rare gift of Seeking. Surely their Father would not bestow such a crucial and strenuous ability to someone unworthy – someone evil. There must be a way to help her.

Michael disagreed.

“Gabriel,” he’d snapped. “You know as well as I that there is no way to cure a Cambion! She isn’t possessed – it’s in her blood, part of her DNA.” The archangel had clenched his fists, eyes glowing. “There. Is. No. Help.”

Undeterred, Gabriel argued that perhaps God had a greater purpose for Jordan’s condition, one their Father had yet to explain. He begged for permission to speak with the Virtues – angels whose responsibilities were to ensure God’s intentions were executed. At this request, energy had flown from Michael’s palms, blasting Gabriel halfway across the lobby of The Focus. Other angels gathered at the central meeting place had looked on, alarmed, but quickly turned away. Gabriel had lain on the cloud-covered floor, seized by spasms of incredible pain, and watched through tendrils of mist as his brother took to the air and disappeared. That had been his last encounter with Michael…until today. Gabriel secretly rejoiced over the archangel’s amended decision.

But his euphoria proved short-lived. Anticipation often builds us up before words tear us down.

“I have decided to terminate Guardianship for the Bailey family. You may be assigned to another family if the need arises. For now, I would like you to assist the Hosts with their duties at The Focus.”

Michael’s words scattered about in Gabriel’s mind like fallen leaves caught in the wind. He couldn’t put them in an order that made sense. Why take away Guardianship for Casen and the boys? With Jordan in the hands of demons, now was when they needed a Guardian most! If Jordan refused to adhere to Aamon’s rules or rocked the boat in any way, the demons would threaten the lives of those closest to her. They would crush her resolve and make her submit to their demands.

Unconsciously, Gabriel shook his head. Jordan had a problem with powerhouse-types who made demands instead of requests.

Knowing her like I do, she won’t just rock the boat – she’ll capsize the darn thing.

He could only imagine the torture Casen and the twins would be subjected to…the look on Jordan’s face as she begged for their lives. It was too much.

Gabriel stood up. Panic pulled at his wings and flooded him with power, the force of which sent his chair flying into the stone water wall.

“No.”

Michael’s eyebrows inched toward his hairline. “No?”

Ignoring the warning tone in his brother’s voice, Gabriel pressed on. “Michael, this is insane. Why would you take away their Guardianship
now
? Casen and the boys are members of the Circle. Their sister is being held by demons. Who do you think they’ll go after when Jordan tells them to take a flying leap?”

Gabriel’s golden eyes flinted blue as Michael lounged behind his desk, seemingly untouched by his outburst.

“Save your words, Gabriel. My decision is made.”

With the snap of his fingers, Michael repaired the broken chair. It slid across the plush carpet and came to rest behind Gabriel’s legs.

Michael’s steely gaze bore into him, demanding obedience. Waves of pain, like fire and ice, washed over Gabriel’s soul. The intense heat seared to the point of permanent damage and was then assuaged by a frigid blast, only to be replaced by flames again.

The message was clear. Gabriel could sit down and accept Michael’s authority or, well…he didn’t want to think about the alternative. This torture was enough.

His legs trembled, but Gabriel managed to keep his expression blank as he lowered himself onto the chair with dignity.

A muscle twitched in Michael’s face, his thin, bloodless lips the only physical manifestation of the archangel’s annoyance, and maybe surprise, at his younger brother’s resiliency.

Slowly (too slowly for Gabriel’s liking) the pain diminished. He returned Michael’s harsh stare, never flinching. Part of him wanted to lash out, to inflict a little pain of his own, but there was no point. It wouldn’t improve the status quo. No, he would have to appeal to the elder’s compassionate side – if he still had one. Gabriel was beginning to wonder.

“I’m s-sorry.”

He had trouble pushing the words past the fury he felt, but the stutter worked to his advantage. Michael’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

“I’ve been their Guardian for a long time. I can’t help but care for their well-being.”

Something – a tenderness of sorts – flashed in Michael’s eyes like a shooting star and died just as quickly. For a moment, Gabriel saw the angel he used to be.

“I know you do, Gabriel, and that’s the problem,” Michael stared down at his hands. “You care too much.”

Gabriel shifted in his chair.

Michael looked up and smiled, but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes.

“Did you think I hadn’t noticed? I see how attached you’ve become to them.” The archangel’s voice was discordant, like a piano slightly off key. “Of all the angels I know, you are the one who loves the strongest.”

Gabriel said nothing. Was Michael upset or envious?

“Perhaps that is the way our Father made you, but it can’t be allowed to continue.”

“Why?” Gabriel dared to whisper. “Aren’t we supposed to love them?”

Michael sighed. “Yes, of course, but we are also supposed to keep Evil at bay. When you become too enamored with certain humans, it clouds your judgment, prevents you from doing what is right instead of what is
easy
.”

“I don’t understand.”

Michael was quiet. Gabriel waited.

“Sometimes, the responsibilities of one duty take precedence over another. Our primary task is to keep Evil in check. If we grow lax in that responsibility, there will be no human race to care for. On occasion, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

“
Sacrifices
? That’s what Casen, Nathan, and Quinn are to you now?!” Gabriel slammed his fist on his brother’s elegant desk, cracking the surface. “A few months ago you called them the best Slayers in the Circle. How did they go from receiving your praise to lambs tied to the stake waiting for slaughter?”

Gabriel stood, too furious to sit still. His hands shook, eager to wrap themselves around Michael’s neck and squeeze until his head popped off.

“They are people, Michael,
our people
! They’ve given everything to the Circle. You want to talk about sacrifice? They go days without sleep. They risk their lives to help us keep humanity safe. They obey without question and never ask for anything in return.” Gabriel leaned down into his brother’s face, daring him to move – to challenge him now. “They have done nothing wrong. For you to abandon them goes against everything we are.”

Michael gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white. His dilated, manic eyes darted around the room as if looking for an escape.

“How can I make you understand?” Michael huffed and crossed his arms. “The Baileys are in a delicate situation. One of their own has been revealed as half-demon. Will they continue to abide by the rules of the Circle or stand with Jordan? I need to know where their loyalties lie.”

He stood and came around the desk. “I’m not abandoning them, brother, and I am hurt that you jumped to that conclusion. You are too close to this situation. I need someone objective – someone who cannot be manipulated to act in a way that could endanger lives.” 

“Who?”

As if on cue, a door, partially hidden by a hanging plant with trailing vines, opened across the room. Gabriel and Michael turned at the same time to see a beautiful angel enter the office.

The innocent white dress she wore did not weaken her strong, purposeful strides. The lush, sweeping hair could not soften the stern expression. She came to a clipped halt beside Michael, carriage straight, arms held stiffly at her sides. She wore her vessel like the soldier she was. Gabriel’s spirit fell like an axe, cleaving a huge split somewhere deep inside.

Illyria
.