Silver (14 page)

I'm halfway down the corridor of the dark office building before I realize I don't have my car. Waiting for Sherri is not an option. I need to get as far away from her as I can. Unless I want to enlist in her blood war.

I keep walking, not stopping until I reach a gas station several blocks away. There's only one person who will understand any of this. I wait until I'm inside the mini-mart before I dial the number.

Blake answers on the first ring. “Are you okay?”

I wish people would stop asking that. I don't even know the answer anymore. “I need a ride.”

“I don't know if I can get away.”

“I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.”

“I'll try,” he hedges, but I know he means yes. I don't even stop to question how I know.

T
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I feel Blake before his SUV pulls into the parking lot. The anger that's simmered underneath the surface is gone, replaced by something stronger. Resignation?

He stares straight ahead as I climb into the car, but there's a wave of relief that mixes with my own. It matters to him that I'm safe. We don't say anything for the first few minutes of the drive. Somewhere along the I-15, the silence becomes unbearable.

I look at him. “Are we going to talk about this? 'Cause I'm a little freaked.”

Blake doesn't answer. He sets his hand on the top of mine and squeezes. I close my eyes and relax into the artificial warmth. It's weird how danger feels so much like safety. His thumb rubs my wrist, brushing the silver chain.

When we get to R.D., he doesn't drive toward my house. “Where are we going?” I ask. I finally feel the wariness I should have felt when I first got in the car.

“The Heights.”

“I think I just want to go home.”

“Not yet.” Blake finally turns toward me and I have to suck in a breath. I might never get used to the fact that Blake Williams is Looking. At. Me.

“The Sons don't ask questions, Brianna. If there's a threat, it'll be extinguished. End of story. The only thing that's kept them from hunting you down so far is fear of exposure. It won't last long. You need to be prepared.”

“Them? More than Jonah?”

“Jonah's a punk. He's the least of your worries at the moment. Most of us don't even care about the old wars, but Rush and his group are another story. Jonah's got them fired up. You need to be prepared to fight.”

“Fight?” I have a different plan in mind. It consists of going home and burying my head under my pillow until this all blows over. Not exactly proactive or realistic, but better.

“It's fight or die.” Blake pauses. “So what were you doing in Mira Mesa anyway?”

I search for an answer. “I left the party with a girl from school and she brought me there.” Not a lie. Not the truth either.

“To a gas station?” Blake isn't buying it. Of course he's not. He can feel my discomfort.

I can't tell him the truth. I may not want to be part of Sherri's blood war, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to throw her to the wolves, either. “We aren't exactly friends. But it's not like I could stay at Joe's.”

Blake pulls into the vacant lot where his house once stood, driving up the charred driveway to the concrete pad. He lets go of my hand but doesn't move to get out of the car. “Why didn't you leave with Christy?”

“She's kind of mad at the moment. She thinks Jonah and I … ” I let my voice trail off. I can't finish the sentence. I rub my neck where Jonah's hands squeezed it. I have to remind myself that I can still breathe.

“I shouldn't have left you there.” Blake's eyes are soft, and I'm struck by the difference in him. In the quiet moments when he's not smiling or flirting, he's almost another person. This is a boy that a girl could fall in love with, if he ever gave her half the chance.

“It's not your fault.”

“He could've killed you.”

“You stopped him.” I can't resist reaching across the car to let my fingers trail along his shoulder.

He shakes his head. “You don't understand. I almost didn't come.”

My hand slides down between his shoulder blades. “You did.”

The air is still, crackling. He leans toward me, his breath on my neck. “What is this, Brianna?”

I don't dare move, for fear he'll pull away.

“This wasn't supposed to happen this way.” He kisses me. Soft. Warm. Not nearly enough. He stops, leaning back against his seat. He runs his hand through his hair with such force that he ends up looking slightly crazed, his blond layers sticking up and out at odd angles.

Maybe Sherri was right. Maybe I'm a little slow on the uptake.
This wasn't supposed to happen this way
.
What does that mean?

“What wasn't supposed to happen?” I ask. He just sighs and looks out the window, ignoring my question.

What? Blake wasn't supposed to like me? Of course not—he was supposed to kill me. I grab his arm, forcing him to look at me again. “Should I be dead right now?”

His eyes are sad, resigned to the truth even if he won't come right out and say it. “It's complicated.”

“But I should be dead, right?”

He doesn't say a word, which is as much of an admission as a full confession. He's every bit as thick as Sherri and her little death squad.

“I am not Danu,” I state. “I don't care if she burned down a farm or caused a drought or stole someone's husband. She's been dead for a thousand years or more. And I have no intention of dying over something my great-grandmother to the hundredth power did or did not do.”

“I know you're not her.” Blake's eyes are a swirling mix of emotions that barely hint at the spin cycle of anger and grief that rises inside me. “You've done what she could never do, haven't you? You've bound me to you in a way I can't escape. Made me feel things that go against everything my family stands for.”

“Your family? Is that what this is about? What about
you
? What does Blake Williams stand for?”

He stares outside of the car. The charred trees outside look almost alive as the shadows of their bare branches weave and twist around each other. “Can this wait? I'm trying to help you here.”

“I'm still getting over the fact that you regret saving my life.”

He spins to face me. “Let's get one thing straight. I've let my family down in every possible way. I've attacked one of our own
,
and now I'm about to deceive the entire Circle.” Blake's lips curve up gently in a smile that's at once sad and imperfect. “But I don't regret saving you. That's the problem.”

My mouth is dry. “Oh.”

He flashes a grin, armor securely back in place. He even manages to quell the spinning in my stomach. “Besides, letting you die would be a bit like losing a piece of myself, wouldn't it? No way in hell I'd let that happen.”

I want to grab him and wipe that stupid smile off his face. “Can you be real for more than thirty seconds at a time?”

He laughs. “Trust me, you don't want real. Real is a pretty twisted place. You've seen the blackness that fills my soul, remember?”

I turn away. It should be obvious that the black soul was mine. Blake practically glows with silver light even when we're not in the midst of some bizarre soul bond. And I didn't need to see my soul to know the darkness inside. I've kept it at bay for the last three years. Sasha may think that Danu just wanted to live in peace, but from what I've seen, Blake is right. Having power is dangerous when your heart wants vengeance.

“Hey,” Blake says, his hand rubbing my shoulder. “I didn't mean to upset you. Was it that bad?”

I shake my head. “What if it's not you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The black soul. What if it's me? What if I'm some kind of evil, vindictive, psychotic killer?” There. I've said it out loud. What I've feared since I was thirteen. Since I almost killed two kids in a fire. For what—disappointing me?

Blake laughs. Not the reaction I expected. “I hate to break it to you. You're all of those things.”

“This is where you're supposed to tell me I'm imagining things. That it's all going to be okay.” That I can choose who I want to be. That I can change my nature.

“There's a reason my kind has hunted your kind for a thousand years.”

It's my turn to look away. “It all seems so pointless.”

He takes my hand in his, letting his fingers weave in between my own. “It's just the way it is. Kill or be killed. For all I know, at some point you'll come after me, and one of us will have to kill the other.”

“I won't kill you,” I say, too quickly and too loud. It doesn't sound like the truth even to me.

“You don't know that. For now, you need to understand what you're up against. It'll make it easier to keep you—and that little piece of me inside you—alive. There are seven of us who are Seventh Sons. Jonah you know, and you've met Rush. Micah and Jeremy are my cousins. They're good guys.”

I raise my brow, not masking my skepticism.

“It's the old guard you have to watch for,” Blake continues. “Rush, Levi, and Dr. McKay.”

“The geneticist?”

Blake nods. “He's actually not as rabid as the other two. They're kind of extreme in their beliefs. I always thought they were a little nuts, believing in the myth of the
bandia
. But now … ” He lets his voice trail off.

“Now what?”

Blake grins. “Now I know better.”

I want to bottle that smile and keep it with me.

“Anyway, Micah and Jeremy are nothing to worry about. They've been hoping to meet someone like you for a long time, but they won't hurt you. You'll understand when you meet them. It's the others who are dangerous. The breeders, too. They're human, but in some ways they're the most bloodthirsty of the lot.”

“Breeders?” If I wasn't creeped out before, I am now.

“Humans who have been recruited into the Circle because of their genetic ties to Killian. First through sixth generation carriers.”

Whoa. It seems Sasha has some good intel. “Do the breeders know what they are?”

Blake nods. “Too much knowledge has been lost because the demigod power only manifests every seventh generation. The Sons didn't know the secrets of the Seventh Sons that came before them. The
giollas
helped, but even they had their limits.”

The familiar word sends a new wave of fear through me. What had Jonah said? “
Giolla
?
”

“Servants to our kind, like Joe.”

“What does he do?”

“He's kind of a historian. He passes down information from the Sons that came before. There's less use for the
giolla
now, since we're able to isolate the Killian gene and test humans who might be carriers. Now that we can pinpoint the carriers to a specific generation, we can use selective breeding to create Seventh Sons in almost every generation.”

“How? If the power only manifests every seventh?”

“By combining carriers of the Killian gene from different generations. My dad's a fifth generation carrier and my mom's a sixth generation carrier, so I'm both a sixth generation carrier and a seventh generation Son. Since I have the sixth generation gene, my own sons will be sevens and manifest the demigod power too. They'll be both Seventh Sons and first generation carriers.”

“Okay, that's not confusing.”

Blake grins. “It gets more complicated. If I breed with a fifth generation breeder, my children will also carry the sixth generation gene, which means that my
grandsons
will manifest the seventh generation power. Dr. McKay wants us to breed with the more remote generations, so that eventually we can breed all seven generations of the Killian gene into one person, ensuring a line of Seventh Sons in every generation.”

“It's not that different from how thoroughbreds were created from a mixture of other breeds,” I say.

“Kind of sick, right? But it works. We can pass down information directly to the next generation of Sons, so Joe mostly babysits the younger Sons. He makes sure we don't do something stupid that will get us discovered before we learn how to control our powers.”

“You said that someone like me hasn't been seen for generations.” I let the unspoken question hang in the air. Why are they breeding for more Sons if they think the main threat is gone?

“I always assumed the
bandia
legend was a common enemy to bring us together, or a folk story made up by generations past to explain our kind.”

“Where exactly are we supposed to have gone?”

“We thought we'd broken the curse.”

“How?” The big SUV feels altogether too small. I lean against the passenger door.

“By ripping out the heart of every last
bandia
.” Blake smiles then, teeth gleaming in the dark. “I guess we missed one.”

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We stand on the concrete foundation of what had once been his house. “You want to see my bedroom?” Blake asks, eyebrow cocked. How can he even look at me when he still thinks I did this? He doesn't wait for an answer. “My parents can't agree on what to rebuild. Dad wants the same floor plan. Mom wants a completely new design.”

“What about you?”

He shrugs. “Nothing will bring back the old house.”

I wait for him to accuse me of destroying his home again, his life, but he doesn't. “I didn't do this,” I say.

He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “You don't have to deny what you are. Not to me. I'm going to show you how to defend yourself. But you're going to have to trust me.” He gives my hand a little squeeze. “Are you ready?” he whispers. Before I can answer, he disappears.

And then I know I'm not ready. I'm not ready for any of this.

The flash of silver is blinding. I want to turn away, but I can't. A dark circle grows in the center of the light, larger and larger until it takes the shape of a man. Not a man. Something far more potent. Holy crap. Blake is there. Not Blake,
Blake.
Bathed in starlight, his eyes shining silver. His lean legs are visible beneath the cloth that ties just below his waist. His chest is bare. And when he smiles, my stomach does enough double back-handsprings to make the varsity cheer squad.

“Wow.” Not exactly articulate, but it pretty much sums it up. I move forward, aching to touch him. When I see the jeweled sword in his hand, I back up. It all comes back to me at once: Jonah's knife at Austin's neck; the cuts on Austin's arm and shoulder; the blood.

Blake doesn't advance. “You're right to be afraid.” His voice is warm honey. I want to melt into it in spite of my fear. “We're warriors first, Brianna. Don't forget it. In this form, we're lethal, and you'll have to catch us off guard to have a chance.”

He slashes the sword in the air. Then there's a burst of light and he's gone. The world is darker without his light, and I struggle to see. Then the flash is behind me. I spin to meet it, but it's already too late. Blake pulls me against his chest, his sword raised to my heart.

“Checkmate.”

I'm too terrified to move. I can feel the sharp edge of the blade through my shirt.

He laughs and then vanishes again.

When he appears again, there's no light. He's just Blake, relaxed in a pair of black pants and a striped shirt. “If we disappear, you can't attack us,” he says. “And we can appear again anywhere within our line of sight. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead before you even realized I was there.”

I don't answer right away. I'm trying to remember to breathe.

“You need to know what you're up against.” He rubs his hands from my elbows to my shoulders and back again. The gesture is meant to calm me, but my pulse is picking up pace with every touch. One hand slides down to my wrist. “Now take it off.”

My heart pounds in my ears. I blink up at him.

“The bracelet.”

I knew that. “Are you sure that's a good idea?”

“The bracelet hides you, and it hides your magic. Taking if off will help you access your powers. You could have done more to hurt Jonah. You could have killed him. You need to learn how.”

Blake isn't thinking clearly. It can't be a good idea to teach someone with a dark soul how to kill.

Blake's hand moves from my wrist along the underside of my arm. “You need to practice.” He grins as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking. “You're not going to make this easy, are you?”

I step back from him, away from his distracting touch. I unclasp the bracelet and hand it to him.

The way he looks at me is a miracle. I've seen Blake Williams look at a hundred girls, but never like this. His eyes shine, not with starlight, but with fire. And then he is here, standing in front of me, his chest nearly touching mine. So close. His finger lightly traces the bruises on my neck; his lips brush my ear.

“I'll kill him if I have to. I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he whispers.

I want to believe him. I think I even do. But something in the back of my brain won't let me relax, a niggling feeling that his protection doesn't matter at all. That the threat isn't something we can fight together.

Behind Blake, someone clears their throat. Blake spins around, forming a human wall between me and the shapes in the distance.

“Is that her?”

“Jesus, it's true.”

Joe walks toward us, between two very tall guys who are identical except for their hair. “Settle, boys. Blake, you might want to—”

“Got it.” Blake pushes the bracelet into my hand.

“No way.” The guy on Joe's right steps closer. His long hair brushes his shoulders in thick dark waves that Christy would kill for.

“What the hell?” The other twin's hair is much shorter, closely cropped in a buzz. Funny—now that I know about the Sons, it's almost impossible not to see that they're something more than human. They move with an almost impossible grace that doesn't fit their large, muscular frames. Their eyes sparkle, even in the dark. Their very maleness is on display in perfectly fitted clothes that accentuate slim waists and broad shoulders. They puff out their chests like peacocks unfurling their plumage. I would laugh if I weren't so intimidated.

“Glad to see you're okay,” Joe says to me.

“Thanks.” I manage a smile. “How's Austin?”

If Joe notices that I don't ask about Jonah, he doesn't show it. I feel Blake's blood rise at my mention of Austin.

Joe nods in my direction. “Already released from the hospital. He's just fine.”

I'm grateful for the update. I don't know if I could forgive myself if anything else happened to Austin because of me. It doesn't seem fair to drag him into the middle of this disaster.

Blake steps to the side, reaching for my hand. “Micah, Jeremy, meet Brianna Paxton.”

The one with long hair smiles in the darkness. “Seriously? Where did the other one go?”

Blake laughs. “It's still her. She's protected by magic at the moment. So you can't see what she is.”

Buzz Cut sniffs the air. “Total fail.”

Blake lets go of my hand. “Show them again.”

Is he serious? He wants me to reveal myself to more of them?

Blake feels my uncertainty. He floods me with a sense of confidence that is definitely not my own. “Micah and Jeremy are against the war. And against Jonah even more. They won't hurt you.”

Easy for him to say. He watches me expectantly.

Long Hair, who I think is Jeremy, grins. “We don't believe in destroying magic.”

Micah nods. “We should be hooking up, not killing each other.”

Blake laughs.

Joe takes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and taps it lightly against his wrist. “Let's just say that none of us would be too upset if you knocked Jonah down a peg or two. We're here to show you how.”

“All of you?”

Joe nearly smiles. “We aren't all bad.”

I unclasp the bracelet, setting it in Blake's palm and stepping away.

“No way!” Jeremy steps back. “No effing way!”

Micah laughs. “Jesus, no wonder Jonah went all psycho-
spaz.”

“Dude, Jonah is always going psycho-spaz. It's a permanent condition.”

“Check her out. He must've freaked.”

“He's still a douche.”

So apparently Harold and Kumar go to the spirit realm.

Blake grins at them. “You guys want to help her learn to kick Jonah's ass?”

“Does a baboon's ass need Rogaine?” Jeremy high-fives Micah. And then they're gone in a flash of light.

I take the opportunity created by their disappearance to confront Blake again. “Are you sure about them?”

Blake laughs. “I trust them. Not as much as Joe. But more than you.”

Micah and Jeremy reappear to my right. Still identical in every respect except their hairstyles, right down to the red and green plaid that drapes their bodies. And they're huge. Built like linebackers, with wide chests, arms, legs.

Joe walks beside us. “Sparring rules: Light contact, no cuts.” He looks at me. “No fire. And if you kill someone, all bets are off. Break the rules, pay me later.”

Jeremy twirls a huge broadsword in his hand like it's made of plastic. It's not. I probably couldn't pick that thing up with both hands.

Blake puts my bracelet in his pocket. “Remember. Keep moving. Catch them off guard or you'll be firing at air.” He disappears at the same time that Jeremy and Micah do. I spin around in the dark, not sure which way to go, or what weapon I'm supposed to be firing.

Joe nods at me. “Anywhere but right where you are would be good.”

I run a few steps forward just as Micah and Jeremy both appear in the exact spot I was standing. They bump into each other, jostling for position on the same small patch of concrete.

Blake appears to my left, nodding toward the twins. “You're missing your chance. It might be your only one.”

“What exactly am I supposed to do?” I concentrate on the air around me but nothing happens. I start to panic, but then water is there, flowing through my blood. Not my first choice when the twins are grinning at me with swords drawn. I send a geyser of water at Micah, but he disappears before it can make contact. Jeremy shakes his head as some spray lands in his direction.

“Dude! Watch the hair!”

I laugh. Too late, I see the flash of light out of the corner of my eye and Micah is next to me, his sword poised at my neck. “Point.”

Joe nods and Micah drops his sword.

Blake walks up behind me. “The count's 0 and 2. You better start swinging.”

All three disappear at once. I don't hesitate. I run toward Joe as fast as I can.

Blake appears ten feet in the other direction. Micah appears right where I was standing, like I would be stupid enough to stay in the exact spot this time. Jeremy guesses better. He's only a few feet in front of me. I have to move to the left to avoid contact with his sword.

I don't wait for him to come at me. A deluge of water rains down on his head as soon as he appears. He drops his sword and runs his hands through his hair. “Dude! This is not a water balloon fight!”

“Point,” I say to Joe.

Micah disappears and I start to run again. He appears on my right. I send a wave over his head, but it doesn't faze him. He still runs next to me, wiping water from his face. “Water? Really?” Then he grabs my arm and throws me down on the ground with such force that the breath is knocked out of me. He falls on top of me, pinning me to the ground with his body.

Panic. Every nerve in my body is screaming. I'm screaming, kicking, and punching at Micah's solid form as hard as I can. My fists bounce off his chest as he raises the sword above me.

Blake comes behind Micah, grabbing his wrist and pulling him off me. “Not cool.”

With Micah's weight gone, my panic recedes. I pull myself to my feet. The fire that fills me is a welcome relief. I am not weak. I am not powerless. My fingers tingle with white heat.

Micah spins to face off with Blake. “Jesus. Chill. She's not even hurt.”

Blake's intervention is exactly what he told me to look for. A distraction.

The fire inside me grows, begging to be unleashed. When I look at them this time I see only monsters, men with swords drawn to kill. I won't be their victim. Not now. Not ever. Not again. A ball of fire ignites in my hand, blue flames licking at the air, searching for fuel. I can end this now. I
want
to.

A hand brushes my shoulder, startling me. “Point,” Joe says, raising his eyebrows at the dancing fireball in my hand. He turns his chin toward the crumbling remains of a chimney.

My eyes dart back to Micah and Blake, still arguing. Jeremy walks up to my right, his sword poised to strike. I've missed my chance. It's still an effort to beat down the desire to light them up, and for a second I'm not sure I can. Only Joe's hand on my shoulder keeps me grounded.

I turn and throw. The fireball explodes with a shower of color as it hits the blackened bricks of the chimney. Blake and Micah turn to stare at once.

Micah looks lost. “I thought he said no fire.”

“Game's over.” Joe pulls a cigarette from the red pack and places it between his lips. “Time to go.”

Blake hands me back my bracelet without saying a word. His eyes tell me everything. He knows how close I just came to ending this, to ending him.

Of course this isn't a threat we can fight together. The threat is me.

Blake waits until the others have gone before he walks me back to his car. “Better. You'll be ready for Jonah if he tries anything else.”

My eyes go to the blackened pile of bricks. “I'm not sure that's a good thing.”

“We'll find a way to get the Sons off your trail. For now, it'll have to be enough for you to know you can beat them if you have to.”

Them. He's shown me how to kill them—not just Jonah, all of them. Even himself. “Why are you doing this?” I ask.

“To keep you alive.” He smiles. “Can we drop it for now? For the moment, I want to pretend you're just this really cool girl I met.”

“Pretend?”

“You know what I mean.”

I try to imagine Blake as just an ordinary boy. Me as a regular girl. It's a fantasy I've never believed in. “Fine. I'm going to pretend that you called me after the night on the beach.”

“I wanted to.” His buries his hands in my hair and pulls me closer. “You have no idea how much.”