Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2) (6 page)

“You will not needlessly shed blood to satisfy your sick, twisted needs. I won’t allow it. I need the girl whole if I am to determine her true nature.” Michael’s tone changed. He tried to sound threatening but came across slightly off, like a piece of classical music played on an electric guitar. The chords were there, but the song was not as powerful and moving. “Everyone’s replaceable, Illyria.”

She laughed long and hard. “Oh, dear commander,
aren’t we all
? Remember, I know why Jordan’s situation is so important to you. Do you honestly believe it has never crossed my mind how easy it would be to dismiss me from your service? Do you think I have not taken steps to insure myself a permanent place in Heaven? If I go missing, your dirty little secret will spread faster than a California wildfire. When your Father finds out, how long do you think it will take Him to strip you of that Archangel title you’re so proud of or worse? I hear His wrath is the stuff legends are made of. After all, He sacrificed His own son for the sake of humanity. If He learned one of His most trusted children dressed up in His clothes and took it upon himself to play God with the very humans who were commended to his care…I can’t imagine He’d be too pleased. As a matter of fact, I think He would be downright furious.”

Gabriel was still. He pressed his fingers to his temples hard enough to leave marks and waited to hear what came next.

“Illyria,” Michael began in his Let’s-Be-Reasonable voice. “I need Jordan unscathed. I can’t ascertain the strength of her powers if she is not able to function normally.”

Illyria’s voice now dominated. Gabriel wondered about the secret she dangled over his brother like a swinging ax. It must be powerful. The Aeon switched roles with the archangel as easily as politicians changed the minds of millions of people with a single, well-delivered sentence. It was all about patience and timing.

“Very well, Michael. I will make sure she is delivered without a scratch. How should I proceed if there is interference from the demons?”

“Kill them all.”

“And if Jordan’s family does not cooperate?”

Michael sounded sad, defeated. “Use your best judgment, but please remember I made a promise to my brother. Don’t harm them unless you have no other choice. It would shatter Gabriel’s soul into pieces too small to reconstruct. I’ve made mistakes I can never atone for. I have a long list of people I have wronged and it grows every day, all because of a single act of egoism. I’d like to keep Gabriel’s name off of it as long as I can. He…” Michael’s voice shook. “He has a pure spirit. My Father chose wisely when He made Gabriel a messenger between worlds. He cares about everyone. I think I could bear any punishment except having to look into his eyes if he ever finds out what I did.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Michael. What you need to decide is how far you’ll go to keep your secret. How many rules are you willing to break?”

Gabriel had heard enough. He directed the butterfly to a bright yellow flower nodding in the sweet breezes, released the creature, and retrieved his grace.

It was time to pay a visit to the Virtues.

Chapter Eight

Quinn

The gray Chevy pulling the horse trailer left a cloud of dust in its wake. Quinn watched it depart with mixed feelings – watched until it rounded the bend in the dirt and gravel drive. Sunlight winked on chrome and then it was gone.

He had no idea when he called The Good Shepherd Riding Academy that morning they would want to pick Archer up the same day.

“We would love the opportunity to have him, even if it is only temporary. We have more children than we do horses right now. Could we pick him up today?”

So soon?

Quinn suddenly had a hard time swallowing. Was he doing the right thing? Jordan loved that horse more than white bread. She wouldn’t want him to be depressed. Archer was a sweet horse, a patient horse. He’d proven that these past few months when he fell into the care of two men who knew nothing about horses. The day they tried to saddle him with intent to ride was one he and Nathan both agreed to never breathe a word of. Through all their fumbling and half-assed attempts with buckles, bits, and bridles, Archer never moved, though Nathan swore he rolled his eyes several times.

“My sister is away…,” Quinn racked his brain for words. “…on business, for an undetermined length of time. My brother and I don’t ride and my uncle is busy with the cattle. We want to make sure Archer is taken care of until she gets back.” He bit his lip. They already agreed to take him but still, Quinn had to ask. “What if he doesn’t work well with the kids? I mean, I’m sure he will – Archer is a great horse. But, if by chance he doesn’t, will you still board him? Make sure he gets exercise and attention? We’d be willing to pay–”

The nice lady on the other end cut him off. “Don’t worry. If Archer is nervous around kids, we’ll work something out. You’re trying to do the right thing. Most wouldn’t give his well-being a second thought. As someone who loves horses, I can appreciate that.” Her voice, so soft and motherly, soothed and assured Quinn. “We’ll take care of Archer. He won’t go lacking for anything.”

Quinn was still staring at the empty drive when Casen slapped him on the back. “I think Archer’s gonna be just fine. Those people are real nice – Archer took right to ‘em – and just think of the kids he’ll help.”

Quinn smiled, feeling torn. He was glad Archer would get the love and care he needed but wondered if his place at the riding academy would become permanent. Maybe the decision to let him go stemmed from some hidden suspicion that his sister was never coming back.

He turned on his heel and headed for the house. No, he wouldn’t think like that. He might be a screw-up, he might be a smart ass, but he was
not
a quitter.

Uncle Case kept up with his fast pace. “I sent word to The Powers That Be – told ‘em to pawn their Circle assignments on someone else for a while. Told ‘em we’re gonna figure out this mess with Jordan, seeing as how they were too busy polishing halos and blowing trumpets to give a damn.”

Quinn paused on the top porch step and looked up at the cloudless sky. There wouldn’t be any snow today, but soon. “Think we’ll have any trouble?”

Casen shrugged. “Who knows? We could worry about it, if you like. We could worry about swarms of locusts and wine turning to blood, too. If it happens, we can’t do anything about it.” He jerked open the storm door before it could stick and motioned for Quinn to go inside. “Let’s focus on what we
can
do something about.”

<><><>

Nathan shuffled into the kitchen long after lunch. His hair stuck up on one side of his head like a rooster’s tail. His usually clean-shaven face was a day past a five o’ clock shadow and he needed a shower. But his eyes were clear.

Quinn watched his brother dump that morning’s coffee grounds into the trash and rinse the pot. Once Nathan had a fresh pot brewing he turned to Casen, who flipped through the mystery book Quinn found the night before.

“What did you give me?”

At least he didn’t sound upset, which proved his brother was thinking clearly. Nathan could usually see the reasoning (if there was any) behind decisions made by the family. Quinn generally ranted first and reviewed later.

Uncle Case turned another page and squinted at the print. “Ambien,” he answered without looking up.

Nathan plucked a pair of reading glasses from the counter and passed them to Quinn, who slid them across the table to Casen.

“One Ambien knocked me out for…how long was I asleep?”

“About seventeen hours,” Case said, staring at the book. “And I never said how many I slipped you.”

Nathan rolled his eyes and lifted the lid of a cast iron pot on the stove. The entire kitchen filled with the heavenly aroma of their uncle’s famous chili.

“I could eat the ass end of a rhino,” he said.

“Well, before you go on safari, how about a dip in the watering hole?” Quinn waved his hand in front of his face. “You smell worse than a Skunk Ape and you’re starting to attract flies.”

Nathan flipped him off and headed for the stairs, coffee in hand.

Quinn smiled. It felt good to have Nathan back on even ground. He remembered the weeks leading up to the night before. His brother had good days and bad days, but the bad ones kept multiplying. He and Uncle Case should have done something before but Nathan rarely needed help – or so it seemed.

Maybe there were times he needed me and I was too busy being a selfish prick to notice. Too busy running away from my own fears and pretending I didn’t care. 

Quinn brought a hand down over his face. He was trying, he really was. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to allow anyone all the way into his heart. He was too good at barring the way once they got a foot in the door.

After Nathan showered and wolfed down two bowls of chili (Quinn didn’t think he chewed at all, just swallowed it by heaping spoonfuls), Casen showed him The Book, as they had taken to calling the strange tome of anthologies, definitions, spells, and instructions.

“This is incredible.”

Nathan slowly turned pages. Some were written in English, some in Latin, some in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek. Several chapters contained nothing but symbols that wavered on the yellowed pages before being replaced by others.

“What do you make of it, son?”

Case’s eyes twinkled in the dim light of the old fixture hanging precariously from the kitchen ceiling. Ancient lore of any kind always excited him.

Nathan chewed on a hangnail and frowned. “As far as I can tell, the references are biblical – even the spells and symbols.”

Quinn sputtered, nearly choking on his beer. “Excuse me?
Biblical spells?
Isn’t that taboo or something? If those religious coots started chanting and throwing chicken blood, I’d think their robes would burst into flames.”

“There are different kinds of spells, Quinn.”

Nathan pointed to some lines on the page he studied. The words looked like a bunch of slanted T’s and dots to Quinn.

“This one here uses stones, dirt from the Holy Land, and the feather of a dove.” His finger trailed down the paper as he read to himself. “Every spell has ingredients based in nature, the elements, or animals, but only bits of their fur, feathers, or bones. The animals must have perished from natural causes and the bones exposed by decomposition.”

“In other words, you can’t take a rifle and blow Bambi away for the use of a rib.”

“Not hardly.”

Case got up and paced. “Nathan, you ever heard of a book like this?”

He shook his head. “No, but I’ve never researched anything like it, either.”

“You might want to give it some thought. In the meantime, when we aren’t studying The Book, it stays locked in the safe in my room.” He grabbed a bowl and filled it with chili. “Something tells me it’s mighty important.”

Quinn had no doubt the book was important. What bothered him was the way it magically appeared on their bookcase. An intruder could never have breached their security – unless it was an angel.

“I think we need to research wards to keep angels out of the house.”

Nathan and Casen looked at him like he’d just announced his plan to become a monk.

“It makes sense,” Quinn continues. “That book didn’t grow legs and walk into our study, someone put it there. A human would never make it through the front door and a demon would have been stuck in a Devil’s trap until we dealt with it. That only leaves one suspect.”

Quinn could almost see the gears turning in Nathan’s head. His brother knew he was right. When they’d returned from Tennessee, they had completely demon-proofed the house. Aamon’s visit to Jordan revealed how lax their security was. Before, their work never followed them home. Before, demons rarely gave them a second thought.

But that was before…

Nathan nodded. “I think you’re right. It sure as hell can’t hurt. If we can’t work something out with the angels once Jordan returns, we’ll have to secure the house against them anyway.”

Casen chewed slowly, a faraway look in his eyes. A moment later, he shook his head as if to clear the thoughts that had collected there and dropped his spoon. The sound of metal clanging against the empty ceramic bowl made Quinn wince.

“There’s so much to do,” he said, pushing his chair back from the table.

Quinn looked on while his uncle appeared to struggle with the decision to get up or stay seated. For once, his customary Stetson was nowhere to be seen. Case looked vulnerable without it. The wrinkles around his eyes stood out against his tan skin. There was more gray in his hair than brown. Every one of his fifty-two years was on parade.

Nathan headed toward the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Quinn asked.

“Uncle Case is right; there’s a lot to do.” He kept walking, calling over his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner. “We can sit and mope about it or we can get started!”

“I ain’t moping, boy!” Casen barked. He dropped his bowl and spoon in the sink and followed his nephew through the door, all the while mumbling about disrespectful children.

Quinn laughed aloud and then clamped his lips shut, looking around to make sure no one heard. It felt wrong to laugh in the middle of the shitstorm that was their lives right now. It felt wrong to feel
good
, even for a second, while his sister was trapped with Hades’ finest.

Jordan wouldn’t want you to feel that way.

The thought brought him up short and he squeezed too much dishwashing liquid into the running water from the tap, causing a mountain of suds to spill over onto the counter and the front of his shirt.

It was true. For years, the only sounds to fill the rooms of this broken-down farmhouse were raised voices, whispered secrets, and muffled tears. If nothing else positive came from all the pain they inflicted on themselves and each other, Jordan would be happy to know that healing was possible – that her home was capable of hearing and feeling more from its occupants than anger and discontent.

A familiar sight greeted him when Quinn entered the study with a full thermos of coffee, mugs, and a box of glazed donuts on a tray. Nathan and Case sat at the refectory table with The Book between them. The glare from his laptop screen illuminated Nathan’s face and his fingers flew across the keyboard. A pile of books, notepad, and pen were Case’s research materials of choice. His bespectacled eyes traversed from The Book to his notepad, where he occasionally scribbled a word or passage, and then to a different book opened on his other side. Every so often, information was passed between them in soft, conspiratorial murmurs…They were in their element.

Quinn set the tray down at the other end of the table. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what he needed to start on when his phone rang. Muffled strains of BOC’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper” sounded from his back pocket. 

“Needs more cowbell!” Nathan shouted.

Casen rolled his eyes and Quinn grinned. “Always.”

He didn’t recognize the number that flashed on the screen but answered it anyway.

“Hello?”

Quinn pressed the button to activate the speaker and lay the phone on the table.

“Yeah,” a rough voice answered.

Both Uncle Case and Nathan paused in their reading and stared at the tiny black device. The man on the other end sounded familiar.

“Is this Quinn Bailey?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Lucas Fane from Mississippi. Not sure if you remember but you and your brother worked with me and my boys on a hunt in Louisiana.”

Quinn thought for a moment. Two years ago, wasn’t it? A memory of slogging through a swamp with a scrawny teen – one with a buzz cut and a birthmark that surrounded his left eye drifted by.

“A
Rougarou
, right?”    

Nathan nodded.

It had been a particularly difficult hunt.
Rougarous
were one of the worst types of demons. They could posses both humans and animals. Any person attacked by the demon, regardless of form, took on violent tendencies, ensuring their soul went to Hell when they died. Not only did they have to hunt down the
Rougarou
, which swapped bodies at will and attacked with swift ferocity, they also had to perform a ritual on each victim (the ones who lived) before they could scar their soul by shedding the blood of others. It was one of the most complicated cases they’d ever worked and it had lasted for over a month.