Betrayed (26 page)

“Walk,” someone yel ed when I reached the HQ offices and almost bumped into Civilians. I continued until I entered the weapons room. Alone, I hugged the dagger, closed my eyes, and drew strength from its positive energy.

I’m a warrior. Warriors don’t cry or let fear
paralyze them…warriors face challenges with
courage…warriors let the light guide them….

Calmer, I returned the Kris Dagger to its resting place, teleported home and landed on my bed. Aunt Janel e’s husky voice and Grampa’s baritone filtered into my room. They probably sensed my teleporting energy. Not wanting them to see me yet, I closed the door, removed my hoodie and tee-shirt, and threw them both in the garbage. The cleaners would take care of them tomorrow, and the evidence of tonight’s accident would be gone.

Except for the wound on Haziel’s shoulder.

Then there was the person who fixed the glass.

Haziel was a psi and didn’t have the ability to manipulate solids. Maybe Nero did it. He was an Earth Guardian and now taught students with that ability. He worked with Remy.

I got in the shower and stood under the hot sprays, thinking and plotting, until the tips of my fingers looked like prunes. By the time I pul ed on a pair of jeans and a fresh T-shirt, I had reached a decision.

Haziel was right. No one needed to know what happened tonight…unless it happened again.

The problem was how to keep my guilt from Grampa. I sucked at lying, and he was a powerful empath. Maybe I should stay as close to the truth as possible.

Leaving my bedroom, laughter and the spicy aroma of rosemary and garlic roasted chicken pul ed me toward the kitchen. Aunt Janel e was busy pouring a thick orange-brown mixture into pie plates while Grampa removed a large tray with two golden chickens and baby vegetables. My mouth watered.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said without looking up. “How was training?”

“Tough. I think I hurt Haziel tonight.” Holding my breath, I watched his reaction from the corner of my eye.

Grampa laughed. “I’m sure the old timer wil bounce back. We did worse, didn’t we?” He exchanged an amused glance with Aunt Janel e.

Half-truths would do for now. Relieved, I walked to his side for a hug. He dropped a kiss on my forehead.

I leaned against the counter, swiped a finger on the inside of the bowl, and licked the orange mixture. “Yum, pumpkin pie.”

mixture. “Yum, pumpkin pie.”

Aunt Janel e pul ed the bowl away. “You don’t want to eat too much of that, sweetie.” I giggled. She used to tel me the exact same thing when I was younger. “How long do I have to wait before they’re ready?”

“Two hours or so. Why don’t you set the table?” Aunt Janel e added.

Childhood memories of the three of us in the kitchen returned. This was perfect. My gaze went to the fridge door, and I frowned. The note I left Grampa was stil there. I walked to the refrigerator and plucked it from under the magnet and waited for Grampa to finish transferring the chicken and the vegetables onto a serving plate. The baby potatoes, carrots, beets, and turnips looked yummy. My stomach growled.

“Grampa, did you see this?” I asked when he was done, waving the note.

“I certainly did, sweetheart. I could hardly miss the capitalized words or the Xs and Os.” He chuckled and looked at Aunt Janel e. They exchanged conspiratorial smiles. “Why do you want to throw a party?” he added as he carried the platter to the table.

“You didn’t read it?” My voice rose in disbelief. “We want to see which one of my friends is the medium.”

“Real y? Why don’t you just invite them over for tea and read them? A party is a daunting undertaking.”

My heart sank. He was going to say no. I just knew it. “The others wil help. You know, Remy, Sykes, and the girls. Kylie and the others too.” Yeah, right. “It’s my first party, Grampa. Maybe the only party I’l ever give. Please don’t say no,” I begged.

He walked to where I stood, ruffled my curls then opened the cupboards, and retrieved five plates. “When is the party supposed to start?”
Yes!
I hugged him. “Thank you…thank you…

thank you. You’re the best grandfather ever. I’l take those, please.” I relieved him of the plates and took them to the table.

“I didn’t say yes yet.” He looked over at Aunt Janel e, who was trying hard not to laugh. “Did you hear me say yes?” There was laughter in his voice.

“You implied, Grampa. It wil start at seven. I haven’t written the invitations yet, but I’l do it over the weekend.” I tried to take the knives and forks from his hands, but he held on to them.

“Make sure everyone is gone by midnight,” he said firmly, his gaze unwavering. “And no alcohol.” Yeah, right. Like I was old enough to drink, let alone buy.

“I mean it, Lil,” he warned in a hard voice.

“Of course, Grampa. I’m only sixteen.”

“I’l hold you to that, young lady.” He dropped a kiss on my temple. “Now run along next door and get Bran. He’s going hunting with us tonight.”

“How come you won’t let us visit Old Jethro?” I asked before teleporting.

“Because your safety, al of you, is more important than finding Damien,” he said then glanced at Aunt Janel e. “How long have we been searching for him now?”

“Over a hundred years,” she answered. “I don’t think he exists.”

My jaw dropped. “Then why don’t you guys tel Bran? He’s determined to find him and that stupid List.”

They scowled at me.

I stared back defiantly. “You shouldn’t have asked him to look for it. He’s obsessed with finding it and proving himself to you guys. It’s unfair.”

“Who told you about the List?” Grampa asked.

I rol ed my eyes. “Everyone…Bran, a demon I met in Seattle, Valafar. Remember? I mentioned it after Seattle. Does the List have anything to do with me personal y? Is that why everyone expects me to b e angry about it or why Bran’s obsessed with finding it?”

“Or course not, sweetie,” Aunt Janel e said, laughing. “What a thought.”

Something about her laughter didn’t ring true.

Plus, she traded a worried look with Grampa. They’d better not be keeping secrets from me again.

Grampa kept me in the dark about who we were until I turned sixteen and my powers started to show. I hated secrets.

***

For the next three days, I asked around as discreetly as possible. The List was exactly what Bran told me, names of humans who sold their soul to Coronis’ Hermonites. No big deal, everyone said.

to Coronis’ Hermonites. No big deal, everyone said.

Bran’s obsession with finding it didn’t lessen. I even explained to him Grampa and Aunt Janel e’s attitude toward Damien, but he just shrugged.

Bran and I stil hung out in the evenings. I looked forward to our time together, though he’d become withdrawn. He worried about Gavyn, who wasn’t getting better. Often I wished I could sneak behind his back and accept Valafar’s offer to heal Gavyn. But I couldn’t do that to Bran. He didn’t trust Valafar, and neither did I. Besides, Valafar didn’t cal , and I stil had no means of contacting him.

On Friday night, Bran was in his bedroom when I teleported to their place. He came and went into my bedroom al the time, but I never visited his, not even when he lived in Park City. Heart hammering hard in my chest, I knocked and peeked inside when he mumbled something. He was in bed, arms behind his head.

“Dinner is ready,” I told him. We’d been eating at our house most evenings.

“I’m not hungry,” he said in a flat voice.

“Can I come in then?” I gave him a toothy grin.

He didn’t return it. Instead, he studied me with an unreadable expression. “You already are.” Not exactly the invitation I was hoping for. I glanced around with interest. The once plain white room now had fern-colored carpet, lime-green wal s and a giant bed in the middle with a yel ow and green striped duvet. Despite Bran’s clothes visible through the open closet door, three trench coats on racks and shoes and boots on the floor, the room felt like a hotel suite. There were no personal pictures on the wal or side table, books or hand-held games like in Sykes and Remy’s rooms. No computer or Mp3

player on the desk to his right. Bran’s essence was missing. On the other hand, they just moved in, so maybe he hadn’t finished unpacking.

“I’m over here,” he griped, drawing my attention back to him.

Hesitating by the door, I studied him. Was he worrying about his brother again?

Bran sighed and beckoned me with a finger.

When I reached him and bent over, he leaned up on one elbow, gripped the back of my head, and nudged me closer enough for our lips to touch.

Something primal flashed in his eyes, exciting yet worrisome at the same time. Just as suddenly, he let go of me, flopped back on the bed and flung an arm across his face.

“Are you okay?” I asked, concern coiling through me. Something wasn’t right. He looked like he’d hit rock-bottom.

“I’m done unpacking, and no, I don’t need pictures of those I love. They are in my head,” he mumbled as though talking to himself. “Games are a diversion I don’t need, so are music and computers.

There. I hope that satisfies your curiosity.” Heat crawled up my face. Crossing my arms, I rocked on my heels and wished I hadn’t come downstairs. I’d hoped to talk to him about everything that happened with Haziel the last four days, but that wasn’t going to happen in his present, crappy mood.

I’d put off bringing up my energy ability, not wanting to burden him with my problems when he had so much to deal with.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” I griped.

“Do what? Get inside your head?” He removed his arm and cocked an eyebrow. “You do it to me al the time.”

“I stopped months ago, and I apologized whenever I did it,” I added softly.

“Yes, you did, didn’t you? But you and I are different, Sunshine. I do things my way, and you do yours your way. I’m damaged while you,” he swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up, a derisive smile on his lips, “you’re
perfect.”
Not when he said it like that. “What’s that supposed to mean? Why are you being such a jerk?” I asked sharply.

“Perhaps that’s who I am.” He stood.

I took a step back and bit my lower lip, trying not to let his attitude get to me. “What’s wrong, Bran?”

“Nothing. How about this?” he continued, his narrowed gaze locked on me. “I promise not to get inside your head if you promise not to get inside mine. In fact, let’s not link for a while, okay?” He gripped the back of his tee shirt as though to yank it off and paused to add, “Now I’m sorry for being rude, but you need to get out of here. I need to change.” He pul ed his shirt off.

My breath caught. I stared. Swal owed. The scar of the Cardinal Guardian amulet didn’t mar the perfection of his masculine chest. Instead it drew attention to it and to his taut stomach muscles. He attention to it and to his taut stomach muscles. He was real y a beautiful guy. My face burned when our gazes met. Something feral flashed in his eyes, setting my blood on fire. I fidgeted, feeling hot and cold at the same time.

I fidgeted, not wanting to leave like this. “If this is about the List—”

“Leave, Lil. Right now.”

My first reaction was to do as he ordered, teleport, put as much distance between us.

Something dark and out of control brewed inside him, but for some reason, I didn’t want to leave.

Maybe it was because I hated double standards.

Maybe it was something else.

“You come to my room al the time,” I said, my voice uneven.

He took a step toward me, then another. I took two back.

“That’s different.” He continued to stalk me, and I kept retreating.

“How?” I asked, my voice sounding strange to my ears. I took one more step. My heel touched the wal .

Bran raised his arms, braced himself against wal , and boxed me in. The same wildness I saw earlier entered his eyes. “I’m in a very strange mood, Sunshine, and you do not want to be in here pushing my buttons.” He enunciated his words.

I searched his eyes. “What happened? Is it Gavyn? Is he getting worse?”

Bran closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulders dropping, wariness drifting from him. “Why can’t you ever act like other girls?” he griped. “Why do you always ask questions and push for answers?”

“I’m inherently curious.” Before I could stop myself, I reached up and touched the scar on his chest. He jumped back as though scalded and marched to his walk-in closet. I dropped my hand, my heart squeezing. “When Valafar cal ed me, you said we don’t keep secrets from each other. What aren’t you tel ing me?” There was no response from him. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

“I’m done talking,” his voice whipped out rudely. “Leave.”

Ignoring the pain his words caused, I retorted,

“Fine. But just so you know, you’re not the only one dealing with problems and
not
sharing, Bran Llyr.” He peeked out of the closet, his expression curious. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m done talking too,” I repeated the rude words he spoke earlier then teleported home, landing on my bed.

Appearing in the middle of my bedroom, his eyes flashing, he bumped against the recliner and almost tripped over his untied boot lace. Bran Llyr clumsy, ha! If I wasn’t so angry, I would have laughed.

“Go away, Bran. Just like you ordered me out of your room, I’m ordering you out of mine. Leave.” I jumped off my bed, faced him, and tried to keep my voice low so as not to alert Grampa and Aunt Janel e.

He swept a hand through his hair and glowered. “Listen, I’m sorry for the way I act—”

“Too little, too late,” I said. Tired of fighting, I wanted him gone. Forever. “Get…out.”

In the next second, my door swung open, and Grampa stormed into my bedroom, Aunt Janel e beside him. “What in Tartarus is going on here?” Bran didn’t respond. A muscle ticking on his clenched jaw indicated his anger. I looked at Grampa. His eyes were narrowed, but at least he didn’t look ready to send Bran to Tartarus.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “It’s okay, Grampa. Bran and I were having, uh…,” my breath hitched, “an argument, but we’re done. He was just leaving.”