Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles) (15 page)

He grins. “You can read me like an open book.”

“Get use to it,” I
say, admitting, “All part of my awesome
wonderful gift from the Silver Eagle.”

“Of course.” His grin fades as he stands to his feet and starts to pace. “Well, as you know, Saturday you didn't meet Ash because he's a little nervous to meet a Silver Mortal, but I've finally gotten him to agree on meeting you.”

“Oh-Kay,” I remark. “When are you wanting us to meet?”

He stops his pacing and glances at me sideways. “How about right now?”

“
Now
?” I stand to my feet, clutching the blanket to my chest. “You mean he's going to show up
here
?”

“No, not here,” he hurriedly clears up.

Confused I wonder, “Alright, then where?” He smiles and walks over, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“The place we call home.”

chapter 14

Phoenix waits for me in my room as I shower and dress. Wiping the steam off my fogged-up mirror, I gaze at my reflection a moment. Bets had been right. I definitely had some heavy eye baggage to deal with, and my skin was paler than usual. Taking her advice I decide to make myself up with foundation, eye make-up, and clear lip gloss. I towel dry my air, deciding to let its natural waves flow down my back.

Taking one more look at my reflection, I smile. “Much better.”

When I open the bathroom door Phoenix is busy gazing out my bedroom window.

“I'm ready,” I whisper, not wanting mom or Jude to find out that a boy is in my room, especially when that boy is Phoenix. Mom approved of us working together, but as for dating I wasn't so sure. I'd cross that bridge once we got there. Plus I didn't know if Phoenix and I could ever be together.

Though as he catches sight of my appearance, the tension leaves his body and his face softens. With just one look like that, I feel that the impossible could easily be switched to the possible.

“Wow, you clean up nice,” he praises, his eyes roaming the full length of my body, settling on my face. The sun shines its rays down on his dark hair, giving it an overall reddish tint.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I ask, pretending to take his compliment the wrong way.

Before I can blink an eye he crosses the room and stands in front of me, peering down at me with a gleam so intense I have to remind myself to breathe.

“What that means is I've always thought of you as beautiful.” His breath is hot against my cheek, his voice deep and husky.

“All I'm saying,” he continues, taking a lock of my hair and twirling it around his finger, “is that no matter how you look, no matter how you're feeling, I'll always see you as perfect.” He lets go of my hair, hitting me in the face with his handsome sideways grin.

Oh, that smile. Why does he have to be so gorgeous? Why does he always have to say the nicest things, and why do I always feel weak in the knees around him? Well, I could easily blame the weak part on the nasty virus I'd just gotten over.

Oh hell. Who am I kidding. I'm falling for this guy and falling fast.

“Hold on tight,” he murmurs softly, wrapping his arms around my waist. A ball of heat hits my belly, my whole body waiting in anticipation for what's coming next.

Locking my hands together behind his neck I wonder, “And why would I need to hold on tight?” Oh, come on
!  K
iss me, kiss me,
kiss me
!

He leans in and I close my eyes, thinking he's about to kiss me, when he answers, “Because I'm taking you across town.”

My eyes shoot open. “You're wh—”

Blackness envelops the both of us, our feet no longer touching the ground as we're swept up in a whirlwind. My stomach falls to my toes as we swirl round and round in a black misty tornado. I pinch my eyes closed and do as Phoenix says—I hold on tight. No. Scratch that. I hold on for dear life!

Two seconds later the black mist retreats from us, our feet back on solid ground. I peel my eyes open one at a time, preparing myself for what's next. I'm astonished at where he has taken us. We're standing in an old warehouse, only it's been transformed into a living space. There's two huge plate-glass windows that have a dusty film on their surfaces, making the light shining through not so abrasive. An open door is set off to the right of the room, revealing a rather large bathroom. Right next to the bathroom sits a small kitchen area, the appliances old and thrown together
but most likely
in
work
ing order
. There's a mixture of scents that I'm able to sniff out. Cleaning supplies, cigarette smoke, and a scented candle that's probably used to hide the cigarette smell.

I turn around, taking a step in the other direction. In one corner an old dirty couch occupies the space with an abused-looking dresser, its top holding a television with an antenna. In the other corner there's three cots close together, one of them holding a Tinker Bell comforter—that had to be Tink's cot. Next to the cots is a full size canopy bed with thick black sheets hanging over its top.

“Why is there a separate bed with curtains around it?” I ask Phoenix curiously.

“That's Reagan and Jack's bed.” My jaw drops as he adds, “They're a couple, so whenever they want alone time they
close the curtains and—
”

I clamp my hand over his mouth. “TMI, Phoenix. Don't want to hear it.” He gently pulls my hand from his mouth.

“Good, because I sure don't want to say it,” he admits, and we both chuckle.

Grinning, I take a few steps back, soaking in the
massive
warehouse.

“You guys actually live here.” I shake my head
from side to side
in amazement. “Wow.”

“Yep, this is it.” He walks over to one of the cots and lays down, entwining his hands behind his head. “And this is where I sleep.”

With tentative steps I walk over, sitting on the Tinker Bell cot.

“Not too bad,” I tell him. “Though it's a bit bouncy.”

“Mine's way softer,” he informs with a mischievous smile. “Come on over and check it out.” I reach over and smack his arm.

“You perv!” I tease.

“Hey,” he chuckles, sitting up and throwing his arms in the air. “Just having a little fun. Don't get your panties in a bunch.” This little comment causes me to raise an eyebrow.

“You better be joking, if you know what's best for you, and,” I pause, crossing my arms at my chest, “my panties
never
get in a bunch.”

He makes a goofy face. “Wow. That's good to know.”

Wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible, I stand to my feet and ask, “Where's Ash? I'm supposed to be meeting him, right?”

Rising to his feet as well he responds, “Any minute now, but before he gets here I need to prepare you for what you're about to face.”

My nerves begin to rattle. “Oh-Kay.”

“Here,” he grabs my hand and pulls me to the couch. “Lets have a seat.” We sit down and I notice his hand is shaky when he places a piece of hair behind his ear. Soaking in his emotions I sense he's feeling nervous, anxious, and dread.

“Why are you afraid right now?” I ask. His eyes dart up at me in a panic.

“Me? Afraid? Why would you think that?”

I give him my best
duh
face. “I'm a Silver Mortal, Phoenix. I can read a person's emotions like an open book, and right now you reek of fear. So tell me why.”

“Yeah, forgot about that.” He gives me another one of his sigh-worthy sideways grin, but still refrains from talking.

Trying to move him along I push, “He'll be here any minute, so...”

“Yeah, alright,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “First off, I'll tell you this—don't be alarmed if he stares at you for long periods of time. He's been through hell and back, even worse than the rest of us. Also, he's kind of twitchy, and the only thing I've found that calms his jerks down is cigarettes.”

“So what you're telling me,” I marvel, “is Ash is addicted to nicotine and needs a prescription for
Xanax
.” I giggle, thinking I'm being hilarious, but I stop as soon as I catch on to Phoenix's unsmiling face.

“He's a little messed up in here,” he tells me, tapping the side of his head. “He's the son of the most notorious Night Viper of them all. The one who is a personal assistant to Botis himself.”

“Whoa, that's heavy,” I express, knowing my eyes must be the size of softballs. Botis is the Night Viper's overall leader and the one who, eons ago, gifted the people with the darkest of hearts supernatural powers to use against the innocents.

“Yes, and that's not all,” he continues, his gaze drifting to his hands. “Since Ash's father is the most sinister of all Vipers he will stop at nothing to bring his son home. He'll also punish the ones who helped him escaped.”

“You,” I whisper.

He nods. “Jack and Reagan, too. Tink got involved when her sister asked me to get her out of there, but Alexander Edwards won't care about that. He'll punish and kill Tink, too.”

“Alexander?”

Suddenly I get a whiff of cigarette smoke just as a voice says, “My father.”

Phoenix and I both shift our eyes in the direction of the voice. There he is, the blonde Viper I'd seen that night across the street from Applebee's. The one that had spoken to me inside my head. Leaning against the refrigerator, holding a lit cigarette in a rickety hand, he stares at us with blue eyes that appear to glow. He stares at us—no, he's staring at
me
as he exhales a massive cloud of smoke. He's as pale as me, though way taller, maybe six feet. His cheekbones are high on his skinny face, his lips thin and drawn into a straight line. He's dressed in blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, his feet wearing combat boots. Trepidation is his primary feeling, and it's rolling off of him in heavy portions.

“Ash, come sit down,” Phoenix waves him over. “Bring a chair and have a seat.”

Ash hesitates, his guard completely up. He picks up a green plastic chair and strolls over to us. Setting the chair in front of the television, situating himself across from us, he plops down. He glares at me with unblinking eyes, taking another puff of his almost gone cigarette. I shift
uneasily
on the couch, not knowing what would happen next.

Phoenix had been right—this dude has some major issues.

“Ash, say hello to Gracen,” Phoenix urges softly, almost carefully.

Exhaling another stinky cloud of smoke my direction, he mumbles, “Hello Gracen.”

“Hello Ash. It's nice to meet you.” I don't recognize my voice as I speak. It sounds cowardly and I hate it, though I can't help it. A flood of unease crashes into my system, the sound of his voice troubling me. Somehow he reminds me of someone, but I'm unable to place a finger on it. A strong sense of déjà vu smacks me in the face. I blink my eyes, trying to get rid of the strangeness that wafts off this guy.

Lifting his chin he responds, “Likewise.” He drops the cigarette butt to the ground, stomping it out with his boot. Pulling another one out of his pack, he puts it between his lips and lights it up.

With silence taking up the empty air we aren't filling, I notice that with each puff he takes the more his body relaxes. The shakiness seems to recede and his emotions begin to chill out. The fear is almost gone, but another feeling is closing in.

Wariness.

“Ash,” Phoenix begins, “Gracen and her mother have decided to help us out.
Also t
hey've agreed to let us work together. What do you think of that?”

With an emotionless face and his eyes glued to me he replies, “Cool.”

Another awkward moment passes by before I ask, “So Ash, when do you think you'll join us?”

“Doing what?” he quickly shoots out, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Uh, you know, fighting the creatures that hide in the shadows?” I try not to sound sarcastic, but his chilly demeanor is beginning to chafe my hide.

“She's talking about demon slaying, sending demons back to Hell,” Phoenix attempts to clarify. “Protecting the innocents from demons and—”

“Our kind,” Ash interjects harshly, a sneer tugging at his lips. Leaning forward with his elbows balanced on top of his thighs, he looks at me and inquires, “Tell me, Gracen. Do you really think a tiger can change its stripes?”

The intense look in his blue eyes is unwavering, and a chill creeps up and down my spine. It's like he's trying
hard
to challenge me, trying to knock me down a peg or two. Boy, is he about to learn who not to mess with.

“Ash, your question can't really relate to what you're trying to prove.”

His eyebrows lift. “Oh yeah? Please, oh
please
explain, Mortal.”