Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2) (4 page)

“What the hell, Nathan?!”

His brother didn’t drink much but wasn’t a teetotaler, either.

How much of that whiskey did Uncle Case give him?

“Get off me, you oaf!”

Nathan patted Quinn’s cheek.

By the time they got him settled, Quinn felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a sumo wrestler. Uncle Case, on the other hand, still had some juice – either that or he was a good actor.

He sat on the edge of Nathan’s bed and spoke softly. “Don’t worry, son. Get some rest while Quinn and I do some research. In the morning, I’ll fix us a good breakfast and we’ll fill you in.”

His brother was snoring before they left the room.

Back in the kitchen, Quinn cleared off the table while Casen fixed a fresh pot of coffee. “I think you gave him too much whiskey.”

The coffee pot gurgled as if in agreement.

His uncle picked up a brown pill bottle off the counter and gave it a shake. “Nah, just slipped him a few of my Ambien. We won’t see Nathan again until after lunch tomorrow.”

Quinn frowned. “Are you supposed to take more than one?”

Casen shrugged and took his Stetson off. “He’s a big boy.”

<><><>

In the study, they pored over research books: some modern religious texts written by professors of theology, others tomes so ancient the paper nearly crumbled in their hands. They needed spells, information, protection wards – and a miracle.

Hours later, Quinn placed another book on the growing pile balanced precariously on the long refectory table. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and ease the headache he’d acquired sometime during the night.

“Anything?” Casen asked.

His uncle leaned back in his desk chair before another tall stack of books. Quinn heard his back pop.

With a sigh, he said, “I found plenty of information on
Cambions
and
Nephilim,
but nothing we don’t already know. I did run across another word associated with the two:
Paladin
.”

Casen tapped his pen on a notepad. “Hmm…that sounds Latin. Does it give a translation?”

Quinn’s eyes followed his finger across the yellowed page. He stopped at a phrase and snorted. “Yeah, if you can call it that.” He cleared his throat. ‘“
Paladins
are warriors for the cause.’”

“Cause? What cause?”

“It doesn’t say.” Quinn drained the rest of the coffee from his cup and slammed it on the table. “As a matter of fact, it doesn’t say anything else about
Paladins
other than the fact that they are rare, powerful, and ‘hybrids of Light and Dark.’”

Casen groaned and stood up. He walked to the refectory table and flipped to the cover of a book in front of his nephew. The tome was huge – the largest anthology in the study, the brown cover bare except for a gold-colored symbol in the lower right corner. Although old, it was obvious by the preserved condition of the soft leather and the crisp lines on the symbol that the book had been well-cared for. Hand-written pages were filled with religious references, maps, stories, definitions, and runes – none of which Quinn had ever seen. Research wasn’t his thing, though. He preferred hunting. 

“Where did you find this book?” Casen slowly turned the pages.

Quinn pointed to one of the numerous bookcases in the room. “There, next to the last shelf.”

His uncle turned another page and paused, hand hovering over the book. Quinn glanced down and his stomach rolled. A burning, sour taste climbed his esophagus and nested in the back of his throat.

“Case, what is this book?”

The language on the page had changed – the words as ambiguous as tea leaves in a swami’s cup.

Casen flipped the book closed. “I’ve no idea. I know this study like the scars on my body. Most of these books have been passed down through generations of family – the others I secured myself. I have never seen this book before.”

“Maybe Nathan bought it.”

“I don’t think so. Nathan would have said something if he purchased a book that constantly changes.” He pointed to the cover.

Quinn leaned closer, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. The symbol on the cover had been a golden bird in flight. Now, there was a pentacle with a cross in the middle, both in a majestic purple.

He looked at his uncle, who nodded. “The book’s grown at least two inches in thickness since I’ve been standing here.”

As members of the Circle, not much surprised them anymore. Quinn thought they’d seen everything but this book was altogether different.

“What do we do with it?”

Mesmerized, he watched as the symbol on the cover slowly faded and a new one – this time in black – emerged in degrees, growing darker and more defined – a pair of wings.

Casen picked the book up. “I’m gonna keep it in my safe when we’re not studying it.” He ran his hand lightly over the cover. “Something tells me it’s more powerful than anything we’ve ever seen. We don’t need it falling into the wrong hands.”

Quinn opened his mouth to agree and yawned instead. The hands on the grandfather clock inched toward 3 a.m. They had been at it for almost six hours.

Casen guided him to the door. “Let’s get some sleep and take another look in the morning.”

Quinn nodded and moved to the stairs.

“Quinn.”

He turned back around.

“I just want you to know that the changes you’ve made haven’t gone unnoticed. I’m proud of you. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

Overwhelmed, Quinn’s eyes dropped to the floor. Casen was right, it hadn’t been easy. He was a damned good Slayer but a piss-poor brother and nephew.

In Tennessee, Quinn had realized he put the best of himself into the hunts. The scraps left for the ones who mattered most were no more than dregs – cold and unappealing. He’d always given more to the Circle than his family because it was
safe
. There were no attachments, no anxiety if he failed. The people whose lives depended on him were strangers. Quinn did his best, but never lost sleep if a mark managed to slip the noose. The fact that everyone couldn’t be saved was a truth every Slayer accepted. If they didn’t, the job would drive them mad.

After losing his parents, Quinn couldn’t bear to suffer that deep, piercing ache again. If that made him a selfish bastard, so be it. He’d rather live with the stigma than stand at another grave and wonder why it hadn’t been him instead.

Circumstances were different now. Quinn understood that hiding behind the Circle wouldn’t change a future he couldn’t control. His family needed him. Maybe they’d have a better chance of surviving the storms to come if they did it together. 

He wasn’t quite there yet. Sometimes the urge to rebuild the thick walls he’d surrounded himself with for so long was overwhelming. Quinn had no idea the most difficult battle he’d ever endure would be with himself.

Halfway up the stairs, he paused and whispered g’night to his uncle who watched from below.

Chapter Six

Jordan

Jordan tossed and turned in bed, worried about the meeting to come. Aamon assured her it was routine – that all of his children eventually met with his boss. Ivy agreed, but was uncharacteristically quiet the remainder of the evening.

After counting sheep, meditation, and a Daughtry CD failed to lull her to sleep, Jordan sat up and patted the space beside her. Koda sprang onto the bed, turned three times, and then curled up with a contented sigh. Jordan normally didn’t allow him to sleep with her. The wolf was a bed-hog and he snored, but she needed his comfort tonight.

She lay down and ran her fingers through his sable-colored fur. If someone told her a few months before that she’d end up living in a house full of Cambions with a pet wolf, she would have reached for a weapon. It was amazing how contrary her life had become.

“Koda, what am I gonna do?” she whispered.

The wolf snored in reply and she smiled.

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He was a strange one, that’s for sure. Not that she had much experience with wolves. They sometimes roamed the pastures back home looking for an easy meal. The donkeys did a good job of keeping them at bay. When they didn’t, a blast in the air from a shotgun did the trick.

The day she came across Koda, Jordan was walking a deer trail in the woods that surrounded the cabin. While animal tracks were everywhere: rabbit, deer, raccoon, wolf…the trail itself was clear of pine straw and obviously well-used.

She rounded a corner where the brush grew thick on both sides of the path, and a growl interrupted her woolgathering. Jordan’s head snapped up and a headache bloomed. The unknown threat woke the demon inside. She knew her eyes were glowing. Power erupted from her core and flowed to her extremities like water, making her hands tingle. She had no idea what she could do with that power but wasn’t above finding out if it meant saving her life.

The wolf lay a few feet in front of her; its dark-brown coat meshed perfectly with the trees and brush. If not for its eyes, which were two different colors – one blue and the other yellowish-green – she would have stumbled right into it.

Jordan slowly retreated, backing away with tiny steps, when something rattled and the wolf cried out. It was then that she noticed the mangled, bloody leg and the trap that held it fast in razor-sharp, spring-loaded jaws.

Fucking hunters
. 

Due to the false complaints of a disgruntled farmer and a lying politician, Michigan’s Department of Natural Resources legalized the first wolf hunt in fifty years, set to begin in a month. Some drunken hunter with an I.Q of two must’ve jumped the gun.

The wolf looked pitiful. She couldn’t leave it. The ass who’d set the trap could return any time. Jordan fumed at the placement of the steel
death-device. Any animal running around this densely-packed curve in the trail would never see it until it was
too late. Even if they did, they wouldn’t have room to veer off the path to avoid it.

Hunting for food when one couldn’t afford another option to feed their family was one thing, but killing because you got your rocks off on it was sick and cruel.

The wolf whimpered and her heart broke. Looking around, Jordan searched for a way to free the animal or a flaw in the trap’s design. There was neither. The chain attached to an O-ring on the trap was wrapped around a thick tree and padlocked.

Oh, God, what can I do? 

She’d gotten fairly good at suppressing the demonic power when it flared unexpectedly. She’d watched, repulsed yet undeniably interested, when other kids at the house practiced their abilities without a second thought as to what the consequences might be. Aamon had offered to help her explore her own skills but Jordan had refused.

“I don’t want to.”

The evil passed to her from Aamon was not her choice. What she did with it was. She would never willingly call on that power, much less use it. Tapping into energy derived from demons had to leave a stain on your soul. She might be a Cambion but she was going to try like hell to keep her soul untarnished.

“Jordan, those powers could save your life. You need to know how to use them.”

She shook her head.

Aamon threw his hands up. “Why can’t you trust me? The demon is all you see, isn’t it? If you could look past that, you’d see there’s a father inside,” he pointed to his chest, “one who wants to help you. But dammit, Jordan, you’ve got to give a little.”

His words sounded sincere. Part of her – the exhausted, heartbroken part – wanted to believe him. She was tired of fighting a battle she didn’t even understand. It would be easier to accept the situation and make the best of it. The problem was she didn’t know how. She had not been raised to give up or take the easy path. She wouldn’t even know how to look for it.

But, God, she was tired.

“I don’t
want
to be evil.”

Aamon stared, lips parted slightly. Jordan could almost pinpoint the moment when comprehension knocked him over the head.

“Oh, hon…” He swallowed hard and Jordan watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall. “Is that what you think – that you’re evil?”

She shrugged, not wanting to admit it out loud. Giving it a voice might make it true.

“Listen to me. Being a Cambion does not make you a bad person. Being a Nephilim does not make you a
better
person. You are still you, Jordan, just…more. The powers you inherited from me and the grace you took from Sariel can both be strengths or handicaps. It depends on how you use them.”

The wolf whined again and Jordan thought about what Aamon said. The capacity for evil was there and always would be. She could feel it inside – sometimes alert and pacing the length of its cell, other times resting in the corner. But the girl who risked her life to save others was there, too – and she was stronger.

The realization caused her eyes to glow but the pain that usually accompanied the manifestation did not come. It gave her hope. With caution, she approached the wolf.

“Look here, boy, I only want to help,” she said softly, inching closer.

She wished she could make her eyes go back to normal but anxiety kept them brightly lit. The wolf watched every step she took. Sweet Jesus and Mary, what was she doing?

Jordan was so intent on gauging the wolf’s reaction, she forgot to watch where she placed her feet. An exposed root was her undoing. She waved her arms wildly trying to regain her balance but momentum carried her forward. She stumbled, rolled, and the wolf was there to meet her.

The first thing to register when she lifted her head was a pair of beautiful eyes and how the two different colors, though odd, looked right on the wolf. The second was a pair of ridiculously long canines that dripped warm saliva on her arm, and just how close she lay to those teeth.

She waited for her pulse to race and adrenalin to flood her body in preparation for the slaughter. Neither happened. Jordan realized she wasn’t afraid. She should have bowed her head, avoided eye contact, and shown submission. Instead, she stared at the wolf in awe. He cocked his head to the side as if listening to secrets.

It was unreal, but Jordan didn’t question the wolf’s trust, which she wasn’t sure she’d earned. There wasn’t time. She crawled over to the tree the trap was anchored to and grasped the lock.

Damn
.

If she had her pick set, she could pop this baby in a minute flat. Unfortunately, it was at home, her
real
home, where she should be instead of tramping about in the woods rescuing a wild wolf which would probably eat her as soon as she set it free.

“Stupid, stupid girl,” she mumbled.

She could go back to the cabin for help. Jordan imagined the look Gina would sport when she begged Aamon for help. Ugh. She’d rather be eaten by the wolf. No matter what happened, she would never ask him for help. Ever.

So, she did the only thing she could. Her soul would be damned or it wouldn’t. She couldn’t leave the wolf to die.

Concentrating on what she needed to do, Jordan tried to harness the power that swirled inside like smoke. She focused on the chain and imagined it thin and brittle, easy to break. Jordan pulled power into her hands. They vibrated with energy. She sent up a silent prayer.

The chain didn’t break. Instead, several of the links closest to her fingers grew hot and then turned soft, gooey. Jordan pulled them apart like taffy.

Okay. Not exactly what I had planned but it works.

Later, she would reflect on the fact that she melted a steel chain with her bare hands and freak out about it. Right now, the wolf still had the worst part of the trap wrapped around its leg. How in the happy crap was she going to get it off?

Kneeling beside the butchered limb, Jordan’s mouth flooded with saliva and she fought the urge to hurl. The leg was broken, the bone exposed.

Her breath came in shallow gasps and she broke out in a sweat. Panic bubbled like noxious fluid in a test tube. “How do I fix this, huh? I’m not a friggin’ vet!”

The surrounding wood was silent in reply.

The forest slipped into an opaque evening gown. Sharp lines grew softer as shadows prepared for bed. The sun fought hard to hang onto its position in the sky but could not compete with the high mountains. Fall and winter would always belong to darkness in the Hurons.

The wolf nudged her hand. She felt sure it was his way of asking for help, to finish what she’d started. A tear rolled down Jordan’s cheek. She couldn’t do this. Her body might contain all the power of a nuclear reactor but a fat lot of good it would do her if she had no idea how to use it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, gently rubbing the wolf’s head, letting the tears she hid from everyone else fall freely. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’d save you if I could. I wouldn’t care if my soul turned as black as smut. Your life is worth more than mine.” Helpless, she waved her hands above the trap. “Get off, dammit! Release!”

And to her surprise, it did. The trap sprang apart with such force, it startled them both. Jordan fell back on her ass and the wolf jumped, snapping his jaws.

Without hesitation, Jordan waved her hand again, this time over the busted leg.
Heal
, she pleaded, drawing more energy from her core and mentally pushing it down her arm.
Heal!

Pulsing blue light emanated from her chest. It traveled down to her hand, flashing in time with her heartbeat. In radiant waves, it flowed from her fingertips and surrounded the injury. Jordan held on, even though her body shook from the strain and she felt faint. When she finally let the power go, the backwash of energy hit her like a tidal wave. She collapsed, but managed to flip to her back. A shooting star was the last thing to cross her field of vision before her eyes rolled back into her skull.

She came to with the wolf lying beside her and Aamon calling her name. She opened her eyes to find him kneeling on her other side, a flashlight in his hand. Immediately, her teeth began to chatter. The moon had just broken the tops of the trees. She’d been lying on the frigid ground for…how long?

“Let me help you sit up,” he said.

The forest swam in her vision and Jordan closed her eyes again until the dizziness passed. Aamon threw a coat around her, helping to get her arms through the holes and zipped up, then gave her a bottle of water. Jordan swallowed it eagerly, not realizing how dehydrated she was.

“How long have I been out here? What time is it?” Her voice was raspy.

“It’s close to 8:00,” he answered, looking on as she poured some water in her cupped hand for the wolf. His gaze traveled to the busted trap. “You did a good job on his leg. How did you heal him?”

Jordan shrugged. “I just did. I…I don’t know how.”

“You could have come for me,” he said. “I would have helped.”

She didn’t reply. The truth was, she didn’t want his help.

Aamon shook his head. “So, did the pulsing white light scare you? If you could spare five minutes out of your busy schedule, I could explain–”

“The lights didn’t scare me, and they weren’t white – they were blue.”

In the glare of the flashlight’s strong beam, she saw him frown. “Blue?” he asked.

“Yes. Why? Is that wrong?”

As if anything about her plane-crash of a life was
right
. She pressed her lips together to keep from screaming.

“I wish I knew the answer, Jordan, but the truth is, I don’t…not for certain.” Aamon shrugged and looked up at the sky, as if searching for guidance in stars or somewhere beyond.

Jordan rolled her eyes. He was looking in the wrong direction.

“This is uncharted territory for me,” he continued.  “I’ve never had a child who was part demon, human, and angel. I am fairly sure the blue color that surfaced is an inheritance from Sariel. Angels’ eyes glow blue with power and so do those of their offspring – Nephilim.”

“But you don’t know.” It wasn’t a question.

He shook his head.

Jordan’s heart pounded in her ears. Her father, the one who
made
her, the one she was supposed to rely on and trust, had no clue what she was. If he didn’t know what powers she might possess or how she was supposed to adjust to this life, then who the hell did?