Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2) (9 page)

His Father moved to a section of jars separate from the others. He gently picked one up and held it close to His face. The glass magnified His misty eyes. Gabriel saw the name
Lucifer
engraved on the brass plate.

“Depending on the infractions committed and how they live their lives as humans, there is a possibility of grace being restored. If they repent for their sins and live honorably on Earth, their souls return here when they die and their grace finds its way back to them.

“If their sins are too great or if they refuse to repent while on Earth, their souls go to Hell when they pass and their grace returns to the cosmos from which it was derived.” He placed the jar back on the shelf and turned to His son. “This is the vault that keeps their grace safe until your brothers’ and sisters’ lives are finished as mortals and judgment is made.”

Gabriel shivered, even though the air was not chilly. “And those?” he asked, nodding to the section of shelves where Lucifer’s grace lay shimmering in its jar.

“These are fallen angels Lucifer brought into his fold – Watchers. They, like your brother, are now immortal; kept alive by the Evil they embrace. Their grace cannot be released until their souls pass. For now, it sits…and waits.”

<><><>

“And that,” Yasen continued, bringing Gabriel back to the present, back to the problems at hand, “is where Lucifer’s plan fell apart. He, as an immortal filled with Evil, forgot that his fellow brethren were powerless. Instead of creating
Paladins
, he only succeeded in creating Cambions.”

Both were silent for a moment. Gabriel now had a name for Jordan’s supposed condition, but still didn’t know if a
Paladin
was possible. He asked Yasen for his opinion.

The elder nibbled on another scone, eyebrows furrowed. “Let’s consider what we know to be true. Richard Bailey was possessed by the demon, Aamon, who then impregnated his wife. That would make Jordan a Cambion.” He dusted his hands of crumbs and took a swallow from his cup. “Now, according to what you overheard between Michael and his Aeon, he believes Jordan may have absorbed the grace of the Bailey’s first Guardian, Sariel. The angel must have been in possession of Jana’s body at the time for that to be plausible.

“I do not know why Sariel would need to possess Jana or how an unborn child – even a Cambion – could take an angel’s grace. It has been noted that some humans can retake their bodies from demons, but the percentage is minute…” Yasen scratched his head, mussing his unkempt hair even more. “Perhaps that is how Jordan’s mother did it. Maybe, with assistance from her unborn Cambion, Jana was able to take control
back
from Sariel. If so, then just like with the demon cases we know of, the angel would have been trapped and momentarily powerless.”

“But is
that
even possible?” Gabriel could not fathom such an occurrence.

Yasen smiled. “My brother, if there is one thing I have learned in all my many years, it is that
anything
is possible.”

“What should I do?”

Gabriel could barely wrap his mind around the fact that his ward could be the most powerful being in existence second only to his Father; much less how to proceed.

“Isn’t that obvious, dear boy? You need to locate Jordan. She and her family must be protected at all costs while I search for more information on
Paladins
.”

Gabriel made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he ground the quill in his fist. “I can’t! Michael relieved me of my duties as Guardian and ordered that I serve the Hosts at the Focus.”

“So?”

Propelling himself off the stool with a huff, Gabriel faced his older brother. “Yasen, Michael is above me in the hierarchy. I must obey him. To refuse is a sin.”

“Goodness, boy! Who told you that?” Yasen pulled at his beard while a twinge of a smile played on his lips. “Michael is commander of God’s army and the Celadon Circle. Where those two factions are concerned, yes; you must obey your brother’s wishes.”

Gabriel raised his hands. “Exactly!”

“But Jordan is no longer a member of the Circle. Her Cambion status makes it so. I received word that Casen and his nephews have taken a sabbatical from their duties. They are no longer Michael’s concern.”

Yasen must have noticed Gabriel’s discomfort. Discussing the subject of disobedience made him feel like a sinner. The elder placed a hand on his shoulder. “You and Michael are part of the same Triad and the same Choir. He cannot give you commands unless you are directly involved with his posts in Heaven.”

Gabriel felt like an idiot. All this time he’d done Michael’s bidding without question. Why had his brother lied to him?

Never again
, Gabriel fumed inwardly.
Never again will I be Michael’s simpleton.

He would go to Casen and the boys, explain why he deserted them in Tennessee, beg for forgiveness, and help them find Jordan. It sounded like a good plan, but if anyone could throw a monkey-wrench in the works and blow it up, it was Michael.

“What if he pulls me back by claiming my presence interferes with his army? He
is
sending them to Earth to look for Jordan and he put Illyria in charge of the mission.”

At this, Yasen seemed to grow taller (if that was possible). His eyes sparked like flint on stone. “As a member of the highest Choir of the Second Triad
and
the senior Virtue, my position is much higher on Michael’s beloved celestial ladder. It is
my
wish that you assist Casen and his nephews in locating Jordan. When you find her, please make sure she is put somewhere safe and then contact me –
only me
.”

Gabriel frowned at Yasen’s choice of words. Before he could ask, the elder added, “Something is wrong here, Gabriel. There is more to this than we know.” He closed his eyes tight. “I remember the day our Father spoke of
Paladins
, but not everything that was said.” 

“Is there any way to find out?” Gabriel prayed there was.

Yasen opened his eyes and winked. “Of course!” He pointed to the walls where an endless number of scrolls rested in cylinders. “It will just take more tea, scones, and time.”

Chapter Eleven

Quinn

They had just cleared away the remains of a thrown-together supper when a rattletrap Suburban pulled up the drive. Nathan and Casen went to the front porch to meet Lucas and his sons. Quinn stayed in the kitchen. He wanted to retreat to his room or maybe move to a bar (preferably one with strippers) until they left. He’d managed to keep his snide remarks and doubts about Lucas’ incentive to jump head-first into their hallucinogenic horror story to a minimum. Nathan and Casen were optimistic now that there were more hands on deck to search for Jordan, and Quinn just didn’t have the heart to keep stomping on their hope. 

He’d put the last plate in the dish drainer when a pair of roach stompers the size of small boats appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. The boots were attached to skinny legs dressed in threadbare Wranglers. Quinn’s eyes drifted up to a faded Molly Hatchet T-shirt, big grin, and a strawberry birthmark that covered half of a young man’s face.

Lucas’ son, Brody, had changed in the two years since Quinn seen him last. The 18-year-old he’d gone swamp-slogging with dressed in camo, wore a boonie hat over his buzz cut, and had Skoal-stained teeth. The 20-year-old who stood before him now looked a lot like…him. The boots, jeans, and T-shirt were similar to what Quinn wore. Brody’s hair was also longer, and sported a style that mirrored his own. Jesus, the kid even had a bomber jacket, though Brody’s was clean and in better shape than Quinn’s.

Creepy much?

“Quinn! It’s good to see you, man.” Brody crossed the kitchen and pulled him into a one-armed bro hug.

Quinn hesitated. He wasn’t the hugging type. When he saw Brody wasn’t going to let go until he reciprocated, he gave him a few pats on the back.

“When Dad said we were gonna help you guys out, I was so relieved. If Nathan hadn’t called, Dad had us set up to clean out a vamp nest in New York.” He rolled his eyes. “I hate that city.”

“So, who’s working the vamp job?”

The question seemed to throw Brody. He broke eye contact with Quinn and looked over his shoulder instead. “Um, well, I think…that is, I’m pretty sure Dad uh…yeah, he passed it to another Slayer.”

Quinn stepped into Brody’s range of sight, forcing the man to look at him instead of the cabinets behind him. “You know,” he drawled, taking his time, gauging the guy’s reaction, “I’ve never knew Slayers were allowed to make calls like that. Lucas must be pretty tight with the angels to shed a job and fork it over to someone else.”

“Nah,” a gravelly voice replied from behind, “I just don’t give a frog’s ass what they think.”

Quinn waited a beat before turning around to meet Lucas. His son’s strawberry birthmark had gone darker – so dark it had a purplish hue. Everyone has certain tells that manifest when they’re nervous…
or lying
. Quinn had found Brody’s.

“Can I bother you for a cup of coffee?”

Quinn composed himself and faced Lucas. Uncle Case, standing behind their guest, wore a mind-your-manners frown. 

“Sure thing, Lucas,” Quinn poured it on thick. “Can I fix you a sandwich, too?”

Uncle Case cleared his throat – a warning. He ignored it.

“I mean, I can’t be sure, seeing as how I’ve never done it, but I imagine that shucking a vamp job in New York and pawning it off on someone else just so you could drive a day and a half to help us locate our half-demon sister really works up an appetite.”

“Quinn!”

Casen’s shout brought Nathan and Lucas’ other son, Caleb, running to the room. “Did we miss something?” Nathan asked.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Casen growled as he pinned Quinn with an icy glare. “Now listen here, boy; if you can’t act civilly to the only ones willing to stick their necks out and help us, then keep your yap shut and stay out of the way.”

Quinn nodded and pushed past Lucas to the door. Nathan and Caleb parted as if he was Moses.

“We only came to help,” Lucas called to his back.

Quinn paused in the doorway and spun on his heel. “Help who, Lucas? Help us? Help my sister? Or help yourself?” His heavy tread on the faded linoleum rattled glasses in the cupboard. “Why are you really here? I’m sure you understand my concern. You barely know us, yet you dropped everything – including a job – to come here.” Quinn was close enough now to smell the funk wafting off the man’s body, three days past its last shower. When Lucas sucked his teeth, it took every ounce of Quinn’s willpower to keep his tongue in check. “I’ve lost too many people I love already. I’ll be damned if another member of my family gets so much as a
scratch
because of someone’s ulterior motives.”

The wheezing of the ancient refrigerator was the only sound as Quinn left the room.

“We need to talk.”

Nathan barged into Quinn’s room about an hour after his tirade in the kitchen.

Quinn glanced up from his position on the bed, The Book in his hands. “How about running to the kitchen and getting me a cup of that coffee I know Case brewed special for his
guests
.”

“Quinn, I’m serious.”

“I am, too. I need to research but damn, I’m so friggin’ tired.”

Nathan crossed his arms, his tone firm, yet quiet. “You’re tired because you aren’t getting enough sleep. Didn’t you and Case perform an intervention on me a few days ago for the exact same thing?”

Quinn closed The Book and leaned back against the pillows, drained. It was half past eight and he felt like an old man who’d forgotten to take his Metamucil. He could get by on 2-3 hours of sleep a night, but the added stress of worrying about his family and the mountains of research were getting to him. Quinn longed to get outside and work on his car. He needed to go to a bar, get a buzz on, and pick up a woman (who was looking for a good time and nothing else) for some extracurricular activities. He needed a break. 

Nathan pulled up a chair from the corner and sat down. “Do you think your overreaction to Lucas’ offer of help may stem from the fact that you’re burnt out?”

Quinn’s yawn was so wide his jaws cracked. “I didn’t overreact.”

Nathan smirked. “
Really?
Do you have any idea how much damage control Uncle Case and I had to do after your performance?”

“Did you make sure to tell him how exhausted and
burnt out
I am?”

“Something like that.”

“Good.” Quinn smiled and closed his eyes, “then Lucas and his children of the corn won’t suspect a thing while I’m checking out their good intentions.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Why are you so sure they aren’t legit? I mean, damn, Brody idolizes you. Do you really think they’re under false pretenses?”

“Yeah, ‘cause a guy showing up at my house dressed exactly like me with the same hair style –
the same jacket
– after only seeing me once for a few weeks two years ago isn’t strange at all. If you came in here to tell me he has a ’66 black Charger outside, I’m moving out.”

Quinn sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, suddenly serious.

“Nathan, why…” He stopped. Trying to pick thoughts from the sludge that was his worn-out brain was like picking pieces of sand out of taffy. His brother leaned back in the chair.

“Why would Lucas risk putting a target on his back – on his
sons’
backs – for us? Who are we to him? We’re no one. He barely knows us.”

Nathan nodded. “I know what you’re saying but since his wife died, Lucas pretty much does as he pleases. He doesn’t care if the angels get their robes in a bunch.”

“So he says. We have no idea if he’s telling the truth. We don’t know him, and you can’t tell me that spending a few weeks on a hunt where we were separated and scattered over three counties counts as quality time.”

“Quinn–”

“I’m not just talking about the angels, either.”

“Quinn, I think–” Nathan shook his head. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Quinn ran a hand through his hair and tried to sound like someone who wasn’t deranged from exhaustion. Not an easy task.

“What I mean is that it isn’t just the angels we have to worry about. Jordan isn’t sipping Mai Tais in the Bahamas right now. She’s with demons. I can’t imagine they’ll keep us on their Christmas card list after we get her back. If it was that easy, Aamon would have brought her to us himself, or at least let us see her.

“In other words,” Quinn stood up and stretched, “not only is Lucas risking the angels’ wrath, he and his boys may soon find themselves wishing for the days of messy
Rougarou
hunts and air conditioning.”

He started to walk out of the room but Nathan jumped up and stood in his way.

“Just tell me one thing,” he demanded.

Quinn gave a half-hearted shrug.

“Are you really having doubts about Lucas’ motives or is this an excuse to push people away again?”

Nathan’s words were like a shot of adrenalin. The desire to punch his brother in the mouth was hard to resist but Quinn remembered that, up until a few days ago, Nathan hadn’t been running on full cylinders. It was more than possible that he hadn’t noticed the changes in Quinn, subtle though they might be. So, he kept a check on his temper (he was too pooped anyway) and swallowed down the insult before it sprang off his tongue like an Olympic diver looking for no backsplash and a perfect ten – always easy for him.

The words he did manage to squeeze past his numb lips were much more difficult. “No, I don’t…I don’t do that anymore. I know I’m good at accusing people of things they aren’t guilty of and I’m a pro at behaving like a douche if it keeps people out. I hurt Jordan for so long and where did it get me? In the end, I still got hurt and she’s gone.” He looked Nathan in the eye. “I know I’m not there yet – hell, I may never be like you. Even after losing Mom and Dad, you didn’t let it harden you, but I did. I can’t lie and say I don’t sometimes feel the urge to slam the door, get in my car, and bolt. It’s my security blanket. But I’m not pushing people away.”

Nathan stared…and stared. It made Quinn uncomfortable.

“Damn; take a picture or something!”

Nathan shook his head. “Sorry. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting that.”

“What? You heard me confess to Jordan that night at the cabin before everything went to hell. I’m all about feelings now.”

“Yeah, I knew you had broken fences. I never expected you to mend them.” He rolled his eyes. “And the day you’re all about feelings is the day I pay for sex.”

“You’ve never paid for sex?” Quinn held up a hand. “Never mind, not important.” He started for the door.

“Where are you going?” Nathan asked.

“To get some coffee.”

“Grab some mattress. I’ll get it for you.”

Unexpectedly, Nathan pulled him into a hug. Quinn knew it was his way of saying he understood why he’d spilled his guts like some melodramatic teen-vamp pansy on T.V. and that he appreciated the confession.

The whole bonding moment lasted about four seconds. When Nathan moved away, Quinn said, “Promise you’ll keep an eye on our ‘saving graces.’ I have a bad feeling, Nate.”

Nathan nodded and left to get the coffee. When he returned, Quinn was asleep. He picked up The Book, which was splayed open across his brother’s chest, and turned off the light. He closed the door softly when he left the room.

The farm was peaceful. An owl hooted from its perch in a nearby pine. Farther away, cows settled into barns for the evening while donkeys stood guard against predators. The moon stood out in the indigo sky – a vintage pearl in a field of diamonds. Her pure, vanilla light penetrated Quinn’s windows and fell upon a photograph on his dresser. Casen, Jordan, and Nathan stood in front of a classic red Camaro, arms thrown around each other. The trio wore big smiles.

His entire world summed up on a single piece of printing paper. These people were Quinn’s life and he would do anything –
anything
– to keep them safe. He would have to be watched carefully. The last thing they needed was a wild card to bring the entire house down.

The figure hovering outside the window landed silently on the ground. The resident owl watched as the strange being looked around, surveying different vantage points. With a flash of gleaming eyes, the shape smiled and disappeared.

<><><>

The next morning, the sky was swollen and bruised. Thick clouds promised rain soon. Quinn mentally kicked himself all the way to the kitchen for falling asleep the night before and cursed Nathan under his breath for not waking him. At least he managed to see the sunrise.

Brody shambled into the room, rubbing sleep-crusted eyes, just as the coffee maker sputtered the last few drops into the carafe. Quinn grabbed a thermos, poured out the hot water he used to heat it with, and filled it with the rousing brew.

“That smells good.” Brody fell into a kitchen chair. “Any left?”

Quinn purposely poured every drop into the thermos, giving it a shake for good measure, while Brody looked on.