Vengeance Borne (16 page)

“I think it’s time you quit worrying about what I think or feel and do your job,
Bearer
. We’ve got Furies, and they’re controlling some dumb son-of-a-bitch who’s going to do a lot of damage before they’re done. Get your head together and get to work.” Jacquelyn sighed, instantly sorry she’d let her temper get the best of her. It made her no better than him. “Finn, I need a partner.
I need you
. Please, put
us
on the backburner for a while. Okay?”

“Everything on your terms, right, Jax?” He pulled away, crossing through the living room. He jerked open the front door and Jacquelyn followed after him across the porch and down the stairs as Finn stalked toward his truck. “This isn’t over.
We’re
not over. You’re falling for Micah, just like Trish, and I’m not going to let him get away with it. Tell your oh-so-powerful Bearer that. Tell him to watch his fucking back!”

Finn jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. The truck roared to life and gravel sprayed out from behind the tires as he sped off into the darkening night. Jacquelyn sucked in a deep breath and turned toward the house just as Micah stepped out on to the porch.

“You look like you could use a drink,” he said.

Jacquelyn made her way back to the porch and took the steps slowly, one at a time. “Come on, Micah. I know where Trish keeps the good stuff.”

Chapter 12

HE FELL BACK on the bed, his head clutched between his hands. There was no escape from the jealousy that ignited his blood until it burned in his veins. Life was supposed to be getting better, not worse. His heart’s desire was still just beyond his reach, and so far, all his efforts had reaped were mind-splitting headaches and one nasty old bastard, dead. The power he wielded was heady, yes, but he wanted so much more. What he’d once known as evil, unnatural, was something to be cherished. A gift, and yet they played with him. Taunted him. Dangling what he truly wanted like a treat he was forced to beg for. A below of sheer rage tore from his throat, scalding as it echoed in his own ears. He propelled himself from the bed, swiping his arm in an arc over the surface of his dresser, and the room went dark as a lamp crashed to the floor, the bulb popping like a firecracker as it burst.

“You promised!” he bellowed into the darkness, knowing they hovered somewhere near. “You told me if I unleashed you that I’d get revenge and my heart’s desire. I don’t have any of that yet.”

Their gentle caresses soothed him, stilled the rage that boiled inside of him. He couldn’t believe that at one time he’d found their now melodious voices harsh and ugly as they whispered promises near his ear. “You’ll have all you want and more. Name another, give us purpose and feel our strength course through your veins.”

He thought of the strength, the power just one life had given him. And a worthless life at that. Willie Carmichael had been a waste of skin, cruel and heartless. He deserved his punishment a thousand times over. A justifiable murder. What was one more? The world wouldn’t miss another ruthless soul. At least, he wouldn’t.

“Don’t play games with me. I’m not some toy to be maneuvered and posed for your benefit.”

“Of course not,” they purred. “How could we possibly manipulate you? You are the master and we are your humble servants. Command us as you will.”

Fingers stroked his cheek, down his arms, and up his spine. A low moan escaped his lips as they guided him through the darkness, back to the bed and the old mattress creaked under his weight. Warm mouths and soft lips met his flesh again and again and he sighed with contentment. “I know who’s next.”

“Good.” Their sweet voices joined as one. “We are hungry.”

Jacquelyn tipped the shot glass Micah poured for her back in one quick, fluid motion. The whiskey was good, and burned all the way down. She choked before chasing it with a swig of Corona. It was a good thing Trish had limes, because it tasted like shit without it. What did it say about her current state that she needed to get drunk to feel better about her life? And what did it say about Trish that she knew to keep the liquor cabinet stocked even though Jacquelyn had never seen her drink any of it. What she wouldn’t give for a good vodka and soda right about now. And Libby, and the No Business Tavern’s house band in the background. Not that Micah wasn’t good company, but sometimes best friends trump all. Tonight was one of those nights, and as much as she needed Libby’s shoulder to lean on, Jacquelyn knew better than to involve her purely human friend in the Sentry’s esoteric bullshit.

Moonlight streamed through the trees, casting round and angular shadows on Trish’s porch, the shapes conflicted like a Picasso creation. “Told you Trish had some top shelf stuff. Takes the edge off, right?” She gave a little toast with the beer bottle.

“Can I ask you a question?” Micah sat on the top step, to the left of the swing, staring out toward the driveway and examining the foaming amber brew as he sloshed it around his bottle.

“Sure.” Jacquelyn stretched her legs out in front of her.

“Earlier, you said I was the lucky one. Why? I mean, how exactly did you get drawn into all of this crazy shit?”

She stood from the swing, the chain links that suspended it snapping against one another. Taking up a spot next to him on the stair, she drained the beer in a couple of swallows. She looked up at the sky, bright with stars and moonlight. “Bearers are lucky, you know. You have free will. If you don’t want the job, you don’t have to take it. Besides power, Bearers have purpose. Not just a mission, but an actual reason to the rhyme. I guess that doesn’t make any sense.” She reached across him for the bottle of whiskey at his side and took a quick pull from the bottle, reveling the way it scorched a path down her throat.

“Don’t you have purpose?” Micah asked.

“If you can call being someone’s property purpose. Free will means nothing to a Waerd. We just serve our time and try not to bitch about it.”

Micah’s eyes locked with hers, almost as dark as the night sky. As a rush of energy dove into her chest and crawled along her skin, she knew he was thinking about her. Or at the very least contemplating what she’d said. She never sensed that Finn was thinking about her. At least, she’d never recognized the physical proof of it. “So, here I am, right where the Sentry wants me, living how they tell me to live, killing what no one else can kill, protecting people from things that they’d never believe in unless they’d seen it with their own eyes. No paycheck, no thanks, and no glory. I’m a hunter because that’s what the Sentry told me I was born to do. It’s what they trained me for. And they made sure it’s the only thing I know how to do. Whaddya think, Micah?” She tipped the bottle to her lips. “Do I live a glamorous life or what?”

Micah’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head to the side as if studying her. “What do you mean they own you? And who are the Sentry? Free will isn’t something that can be taken away from you, Jacquelyn. It’s something you’re born with.”

“That’s quite the idealistic outlook you’re sporting, Micah.” And boy, didn’t it look good on him? God, she was a downer tonight. The whiskey wasn’t doing anything for her cheery disposition, either. Note to self: vodka sodas and margaritas equal a happy hunter. Whiskey and beer, not so much. “The Sentry is the all-seeing eye,” Jacquelyn said in an ominous voice. “They have more power than the government, more influence than any religion. And yeah, they’re like, the strictest parents
ever
.”

Micah laughed at the childish tone she adopted, but his smile slowly faded. “No one is born for a specific purpose. That’s just propaganda.”

Jacquelyn snorted. “Yeah, well, you’re a newb, so I’ll cut you a little slack.” The whiskey had finally kicked in, a warm glow settling in the pit of her stomach. The porch rails danced a little in her vision, as if floating. Up, down, up down. “Hunters aren’t civil servants, Micah. It’s not like I chose the course out of a college catalog or something. Can you imagine? Demon Hunting 101. We don’t answer to any sort of divine calling, true. But fate and destiny are big with the Sentry. I guess you could call it their faith. And power? Trish—and Finn—seem to think that I’m some sort of destined soul just chocked full of power. The Sentry call hunters like me Waerds.”

“W-air-d?” Micah asked, carefully drawing out the word to enunciate each sound. “Sounds mysterious.”

Jacquelyn shrugged. “It’s an ancient word that means destroyer of evil. The Sentry sort of took it upon themselves to adopt me when I was an infant. I mean, it’s not like I remember it specifically or anything, but that’s what I was told. We learn our roles in the world at a very young age. As soon as we take our first steps and say our first words the training begins. I could shoot with ninety-five percent accuracy by the time I was ten. When normal kids were in elementary school reading Super Fudge, I was learning ancient Sumerian and Aramaic. Classifying demons and learning which myths were fiction and which were real. Memorizing words of power and magical intonations to use in the field.”

“Wait a sec.” Micah held up his hand. “Either I’m a hell of a lot drunker than I thought, or this is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard. Are you telling me you have no family at all? And what, this secret organization just took you and threw you in some kind of demon hunting boot camp?”

“I never really thought about it that way, but, yeah,” Jacquelyn laughed. “Waerds are born, Micah. The Sentry believes we’re fated to hunt evil and destroy it. I don’t how they find us, but they do. The Sentry becomes everything to us and once they find you, you’re sworn to serve them. For the rest of your life.

“Trish and Finn buy into the propaganda. They believe I was born to do what I do, killing creatures that lurk in the shadows. They’re wrong. I’m not special. I wasn’t born with any special gifts. I’m no different than anyone else. The power at my disposal is given to me through charms and Bearer tricks. I might heal fast, run fast, and yeah, I might be stronger than your average girl, which by the way, comes in
super
handy when you can’t get the pickle jar open. But, really, Bearers are the truly special ones. Why do you think Waerds and Bearers work together? I couldn’t do what I do on my own. Without Finn, without the magic that’s inherently a part of him, I would have died a long time ago. I think my true purpose isn’t to eradicate evil, that’s just a job perk. My true mission is to protect my Bearer. I failed in that, and that’s why the Sentry sent me here.”

Micah’s brow furrowed, a deep crease just above the bridge of his nose. The memory of Ryan’s death took hold of her thoughts and Jacquelyn brought the bottle to her lips, liquid regret eraser. Micah seized it before she could drink, though, and set it behind him. “What happened?”

The words stalled in her throat. Five years later and the pain of her actions were still as jagged and raw as they’d been on the night of the accident. “I killed someone. Does that surprise you?”

Micah scooted closer, so close that Jacquelyn could feel the heat from his body. They sat shoulder to shoulder and he laid a hand on her knee. “How?”

She closed her eyes, absorbed the comforting weight of Micah’s hand. She didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want his opinion of her to change. Her secrets were hers and she’d bore the weight of them for so long. The only other people who knew besides the Sentry were Trish, of course, and Finn. But Micah looked so concerned. Not morbidly curious, but interested in offering comfort.
Why not tell him?
Might as well drop the axe now so he knows just what—and who—he’s getting mixed up with.

Jacquelyn reached again for the bottle behind Micah’s back, needing to be a hell of a lot drunker than she was. He stopped her, both hands resting squarely on her shoulders, and he lowered himself until he stared straight into her eyes. “I think you’ve had enough of that, don’t you? Just talk to me, Jacquelyn. What happened?”

Her name rolled off his tongue, smooth and sweet like buttercream frosting. It sounded nice. Natural. Just the tone of his voice and the warm concern in his eyes made her want to open up to him. “I lived in Portland before the Sentry exiled me here five years ago. I was cocky and negligent and I charged into a dangerous situation unprepared. It was my job to have Ryan’s back and he died because I couldn’t hack it. Bearers are a precious commodity to the Sentry. Waerds are a dime a dozen but you’re a rare breed, Micah. Needless to say they weren’t too happy with me. There was an inquiry, I was put on probation and sent here so Trish could keep an eye on me.”

Micah’s hands fell away from her and Jacquelyn suddenly felt cold. She turned away, swallowed down the guilt rising like bile in her throat, and rested her spinning head on her knees. “I can’t really blame the Sentry for sending me here. They figured I’d be less of a risk in a small town. And Trish is sort of a legend with them, they knew she’d put me in line. It’s been good for me, really. I like it here. Trish is great and Finn…” She took a steadying breath. “Well, up until a month or so ago, things were great. For the first time in my life I felt like I belonged. Like I’d found a family.”