Evernight (The Night Watchmen Series Book 2) Page 2

Because of them, I know now that my DNA is unlike anything this world has seen. Similar to the Hunter’s volation—the ability to absorb and harness electrical energy around them to use against paranormal beings, my cells engorge to fatal levels on that same energy, but instead of killing me, my entire body fills with impenetrable strength. Stronger than most metals.

  One of the scientists explained that because my cells are this durable, equally mixed with the Hunter’s volation and the Witch’s ability to naturally connect with living beings, I should be able to pull from any source of energy around me.

  Including living, breathing beings.

  This, of course, brought on a whole new set of questions and experiments. How far does my magic reach? How much energy can I absorb without collapsing? How do I tap into a living being that has a natural defense mechanism to ward off my intrusion?

  But most importantly, can I kill with this ability?

  These are questions I don’t want answered. This is a side of myself I don’t want to know, but the scientists insist that in order for me to protect myself, and those around me, that we need to better understand my capabilities. And I don’t know how long that will take. How long I will be left in this room and carted to the labs until the Priesthood has had their fill on information.

  So here I stand, emotionless, barren, and broken. Waiting for nothing. Waiting for anything. Waiting for something to happen that’ll wake me up. Take me back to my friends… back to Jaxen… back to the real reason I came to this city.

  To break the Holy Seal.

  The door to my room slides open and in walks the last person on earth I thought I’d see. Clara Ravensmoore—Mack’s Witch. The one who openly despises me. The one who thought I should be turned over to the Priesthood.

  The one with an agenda.

  “Ah, good, I see you’re all right,” she says, her voice just as cold as I remember it. She’s wearing a white pencil skirt and white blazer with a black lace shirt peeking out the top of the jacket. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, so tight that I think it’s meant to keep her face smooth. Ageless. Firm, just like her presence.

  Surprise punches me in the spine, flickering my emotions back on. My words fumble over one another as they rush up to my mouth, each wanting to be the first out. “Wh-why are you here?” I look past her, searching for the same face I’ve looked for since I left the underground safe house. “Where’s Mack? Why isn’t he here?”

  She runs a palm against the side of her sleek, raven-colored hair, smoothing it back, and then assumes her assertive image. “Good day to you too, Faye Middleton,” she corrects sternly, her lips pinched together. She’s never been one to shy from pointing out another’s mistake. I would know.

  Dropping my gaze, I twist my feet in. “Sorry.”

  I count the seconds that prance between us, waiting for her to say something, anything. Hoping that she accepts my apology and offers me news toward my release because my curiosity has its own needs to be met, its own fears to be quenched, and it’s perched on my tongue, begging for the chance to be released.

  But she’s enjoying every second of my squirming anticipation. She drags it out, savoring the awkward air as if it’s the only thing she feeds on. And this pisses me off.

  I open my mouth, ready to unleash the verbal army that’s marching up my throat, but the words are replaced by her own.

  “No matter,” she says quickly, cutting me off and maintaining control over the direction of the conversation. “I came here with news. As the newest member of the High Priesthood, and as your acting Elder in Mack’s stead, I pulled a few strings and have requested you and your… team,” she says with slight disgust, “to be placed under my division.”

  I blink once, twice, trying to make sense of what she just said. “I-I don’t understand.”

  She straightens her shoulders. Clicks her heels together. Huffs as if she’s dealing with a small child who still can’t understand how two and two together could possibly equal four. “It’s really rather simple, Faye Middleton,” she says dismissively. “My campaign secured the open spot on the Priesthood. Therefore, I am now High Priestess Clara Ravensmoore.” Her chin is high, and her smile is gloating in victory.

  I’m not sure if I should take this as a godsend, or a nightmare. “Con-congratulations,” I mutter out. She smiles appreciatively. “When can I see—?”

  But she doesn’t care about my question. Her mouth flies open, and out comes more words that have nothing to do with my freedom. “I oversee the War Division in Ethryeal City, and I have high hopes for the future of our Coven and all the implementations I have set in place. We’re strengthening from the inside, tightening up the ranks. War is on the horizon, which is why I need you on my team. We must…”

  She continues speaking, reveling in her glory, moving further and further away from the subject that matters. The issues I want to talk about. The matter that concerns my freedom and reunion with my friends. My fingers twitch by my side. I see her lips moving, pushing more words out, but I can’t make sense of a single one of them. Or maybe it’s that I don’t care to make sense of them since none of them pertains to me.

  “Are you listening, Faye Middleton?” she snaps.

  I stare at her. Blink again.

  She doesn’t wait for a response. Her mouth opens again, and more words rush out in a tangle that I don’t care to unravel. “My division specializes in tactical and strategic solutions. It’s my objective to take our Elite forces and prepare them for the upcoming battle that you will be the center of. When we leave here, you will begin the latest, cutting-edge training provided by my team. We will get to the root of your power, so when the time comes to execute the Holy Seal mission, you will be at your best. I personally—”

  I can’t take another minute… another second of her rambling. Of these four walls closing in on me. Of my future being taken from my grasp and placed in the hands of a city that takes me in and locks me away, only to experiment, question, and pulverize what little hope we were given.

  I won’t be treated like a puppet waiting for my master to pull my strings.

  “No.”

  Her gaze cuts over to mine, demanding that I offer a good enough reason for interrupting her.

  I know I should shut my emotions back off. That I should pretend like everything is okay, apologize even, since she’s offering her version of freedom, but as the days pass by and my emotions develop arms and feet, it’s getting harder to keep them contained. Tougher to keep them suppressed. Near impossible to follow the rules this Coven has so unfairly broken themselves, many times over.

  I take a tight breath, begging the storm inside me to quiet so I can ask the many questions I need answered. She quirks her brow up, waiting on me, and I open my mouth. “I want to know why I’ve been kept separate from my friends. Why I’ve been stuck in this room for the past four days. The reasons I’ve been poked, prodded, and tested to my limits. Why they’ve asked me the same questions over and over until I think that maybe the truth I thought I knew isn’t the truth at all. Like maybe everything inside my brain is one big bubble of lies waiting for the right person to come along and poke a needle through it.”

  I don’t know if it’s that I’ve kept these words hostage for far too long, or if maybe it’s because she’s the closest thing I’ve seen to home since the day I arrived in this city, but I feel like my emotions have tipped me upside down and shaken the truth from my pockets. Spilled them onto the floor in front of Clara’s feet, just waiting for her to poke through and examine.

  And it makes me feel so unbelievably exposed.

  She lets out a breath and tilts her head to the side. “Debriefing, of course,” she says with a sidelong smile.

  “I’m not taking another test until I get the treatment I deserve. Until I see my friends again and know that they’re being treated right.” A wave of heat rushes over my body. Irritation has painted itself onto my skin. It’s moistened my eyes and clenched my fists, gearing me u
p for a fight.

  I think she senses this.

  She looks down at the screen on the nightstand as if it were a living, breathing person judging her, watching her every move, and then changes tactics. “Listen to me,” she says, “here I am going on and on about myself when all you want is an explanation. How very selfish of me. Do accept my apology.” She clears her throat, purses her mouth, and then, like a chameleon, her entire demeanor shifts, changes, adapts to the situation presented in front of her. “Of course you’re upset,” she says in a concerned tone that doesn’t quite fit her, “and you must be so scared. So worried and confused. You’ve been treated awfully, and by our own nonetheless. I swear I’ll make it up to you. You’ve already done wonders for this Coven, and though we still have a ways to go, the least I can do is provide you with some comfort.” She adds a small frown to her lips, enhancing her show of empathy.

  “I’m not scared,” I say pointedly, shaking my head, trying not to get caught in her web. “I just want to know when—”

  Without warning, or permission, she pulls me into a hug, and I think I’ve finally lost my mind. Reality has finally taken its exit. “Hush, now,” she coos, rubbing the back of my hair and pressing me tight against her tall, thin frame. “It’s all been arranged. You, and all who came with you, will be registered as members of the city and placed in my division, where you’ll begin training for your next assignment. And it will all be on your terms. Sound good?”

  I nod hesitantly, just waiting for the moment truth decides to intervene.

  She pauses. Takes a breath. “You can trust me, Faye Middleton. I have your best interest at heart.” She levels her lavender eyes on me, and in them, I think I see sincerity. Enough to take my nerves by the hand and offer just enough solace to soothe them. “Come,” she says with a soft smile. “I’m sure you’re ready to be rid of this confinement.”

  She turns on her heel, and the door slides open. For a moment, I stand there, watching her, waiting for when I finally realize this is another lie. A daydream I’ve concocted. But when I look at my cot, and turn back to find Clara standing in the doorway, staring at me with the kind of genuineness I haven’t seen in days, I know that I’m not sleeping.

  Not at all. Because, finally, I’m free.

  “WHERE AM I?” I ASK as I follow Clara’s strident steps down the cold, barren hallway. I keep my eyes trained on her feet and not the many glass display windows that show into the labs I’ve visited.

  “The Disciplinary Ward in the Correctional Facility,” she says over her shoulder. “This is where every novice and Night Watchmen is placed when they think they can outsmart the proclamation and reject their affinity bond.”

  The memory of my best friend Katie and her affinity partner Chett spears through my mind and stabs through my heart. Although it feels like a lifetime since I’ve seen or spoken to her, I can still see Chett’s hands bruising her as if it were yesterday. I can still hear his words wounding her because of the hate for Witches his mother instilled in him. But in the end, I intercepted his cruelty. By doing so, Chett was sent here, to this very facility, and I almost lost my best friend in the process.

  “Why here?” I ask, the pain and confusion transparent in my voice. I swallow hard. “We haven’t rejected anything. We all came here willingly, at the Priesthood’s request.”

  She grabs the lanyard around her neck that has a badge fastened onto it and holds it out, hovering it in front of a small scanner. Before she scans it, she turns to me and says, “Because it was anticipated that some of your other team members wouldn’t be as cooperative and pliant as you have been. Here, our Coven has the tools and the means to restrain those who do not bend willingly.” She swipes the badge, and the door slides open.

  The candor in her words has me by the throat, squeezing off my response. Rage blooms in my cheeks and across my skin. “So you-you locked them up like rabid animals too?” Jaxen’s face is forefront in my mind. The thought of him being locked in a room—like he can’t be trusted—and stuck within four walls that press in on the soul until you can’t form an easy breath, makes my entire being ache with an appetite for demolishing all who were involved.

  My gaze sets on her. Volation crackles down my arms in angry, electric streaks. My temperature rises along with the cadence of my wildly beating heart.

  It takes her a second to notice, but when she does, her eyes widen. “Faye,” she says calmly, kindly. Her head shakes, telling me not to do what she thinks I’m about to do. “It was only precautionary, and had I been in my position sooner, I would have had you all out. I was only given my seat on the High Priesthood yesterday.”

  I breathe in her words. Let them calm me enough to put my volation away. The streaks absorb back into my skin. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, ashamed of how quickly I reacted.

  My behavior alone is the very thing they anticipated.

  When she’s sure I have myself back under control, we continue down another long hallway, turn right, and then pass through another set of sliding doors. On the other side, my eyes immediately come to rest on a hunched form settled in a black chair across the room. Dark golden hair stands on end, as if his hands have plunged and pulled through every strand. Strong, thick muscles bulge beneath the same white jumpsuit marked with a series of letters and numbers like mine.

  He must sense me because honey-golden eyes find mine and, all at once, Weldon sits straighter. The lines around his eyes shift from sorrow to hope. The frown on his lips slowly lifts, disappearing as if it were never there.

  Standing up, he veers his gaze from me to Clara. He swallows so thickly that I see his throat bob, like he’s chewing on his own response, debating whether he should speak or not.

  “Go, sit.” Clara dismisses me with a small smile when she pulls her eyes off Weldon. “I still have the rest of your team to release.”

  I don’t hesitate. Rushing over to Weldon, I fall into his open arms. Although he’s not the exact person I’m looking for, I can’t help but let relief embrace us both as we hug. He squeezes me just as tight, and then, all at once, he lets go. Taking an awkward step back, he ruffles a hand through the back of his hair.

  “I-uh-I told you that you’d regret coming here,” he says with an unsettling amount of certainty. His round, golden eyes dip into a pool of mischief, warming the grin on his face. A grin I’ve come to look for in our newfound partnership, appointed by Mack before the mission to retrieve the Dagger.

  “That’s what you keep saying.” Forcing out on an exhale, I blow my pale blonde hair out of my face as we both take a seat next to each other. I can’t stop the smirk that’s plastered itself on my lips. He could tell me to eat crow right now and I’d still be smiling, still be content and overjoyed to have him back by my side again.

  “Yeah, well, I’ll continue to say it. We never should have come here. We’re wasting time. Losing daylight… or whatever the hell the proper expression is.” He huffs loudly and leans forward, running his hands down the legs of his jumpsuit as if he’s pushing away demons that he can’t shake. “I hate being confined. It… it drives me insane.”

  His entire body shivers, and I think my heart falls to my feet. I was so caught up in myself and in my own pain that I didn’t stop to think how this would affect him. How being locked away in a cage with no idea when or how he would get out would eat away at the shell he’s built around himself. I’ve seen his pain, as well as what he went through when he was trapped in the Underground.

  Physical and mental torture, experimentation, being shoved into the Exanimator and electrocuted until he passed out. It’s a wonder he survived, and it’s unsurprising he came out as a twisted version of himself. As someone with more demon than Primeval.

  I grab his hand and squeeze, taking no offense when he jumps from the action. He looks over at me and, in his eyes, I see a level of gratitude that clenches my lungs. “Being treated like a criminal isn’t exactly my idea of a warm welcome, but I can’t say I’m shocked,” he says
bitterly.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Weldon. You, of all people, didn’t deserve it.”

  He snorts a laugh. “None of us did, Faye. Lab rat was never in the agreement we metaphorically signed with Mack. The shithead knew this was coming. Hell, I knew this was coming, and yet, we still came here. If anyone’s to blame, it’s our own selves.”

  Dropping my gaze to the floor, I say, “For a minute there, I thought I might not ever be released.”

  I feel him looking at me, taking in the force in the truth of my words. “Yeah, well, we traded one dilemma for another. Who knows what lies up her sleeves,” he says, looking in Clara’s direction. He exhales loudly, exasperated. “Matter of fact, is this going to take all day?” he asks, pushing his question toward Clara. She barely turns her head in his direction. “Because, really, I have quite a lot of things I need to do. You know, demons to assassinate and seals to break, or crush, or however it is we’re supposed to dispose of them.”

  She turns all the way around now, her hand on her hip and her glare as sharp as ever.

  He assumes the air of innocence. “What?” he asks mockingly. “You think I’m joking?”

  All I can think about is how if she could get us out so easily, then she could put us right back in. And that can’t happen. “Weldon,” I say under my breath, trying to coax him to back off, but he doesn’t listen.

  His body grows rigid. His tone more hostile, like he has a debt to settle. “Geez, Clara, you make it seem like I take little to nothing seriously.”

  “Do you?” she retorts.

  His smile disappears, and his golden eyes begin to churn. “I do, Clara Stella Ravensmoore. Sister to Claire Luna Ravensmoore… my affinity partner who was stolen away from me and taken to the very place where I was made into what I am. Tell me, how did she get down there?”

  Clara’s face drains of color, and then her gaze grows dark. “You know as much as I do, Weldon James Jacobsen. My guess is that she went after you. Probably traded herself in just like I told her not to time and time again.”