The Fallen One (Sons of the Dark Mother, Book One) Page 13

  Dracon looked at them. Justice waved them away, and they left the room.

  Justice met his brother’s eyes, boldly. “The humans are not the only ones the darkness seeks to control, brother. Just who exactly do you think they’ll be coming for next?”

  Jes watched as Dracon slowly straightened. The truth of that remark had hit straight to home. “As you wish, brother.”

  Justice’s brows shot up. “We’re agreed?” Now that he had Dracon’s assent, he looked as if he didn’t quite trust it.

  “Do not try my patience, brother.”

  Justice nodded. “It’s just that—I didn’t think you’d give it so easily.”

  Dracon actually winced. “Let’s just say I have my own reasons for letting the prophecy unfold as it will. Now, are we going to get to work? Or stand around chatting like old women all night?”

  Justice actually grinned—and immediately sent several of the staff, and guards, to ready the common office. He turned to Jes. He took her hand and led her from the room.

  At the door, he turned to her. “I realize that this was much more truth than you had in mind….”

  She touched his cheek, looking into his violet eyes, which somehow still seemed all too familiar to her in spite of the change in color. It was as if she had known him—forever.

  Strange.

  “We often get…,” she said, “more than we bargained for—whenever we begin demanding to hear all of the truth.” She frowned. “And, unfortunately, we’re rarely prepared for it.”

  He nodded. “But many will deny the truths they’re not prepared to accept.”

  She laughed. “Well, I cannot exactly deny this truth, when it’s staring me in the face—from violet skin and violet eyes.”

  He shook his head, regretfully. “Do you hate my true form then?”

  “The humans would run scared,” she pointed out.

  “They don’t run from Lucius—though he does tone it down some with makeup and contact lenses.” He watched her through his magnificent, violet eyes.

  “Didn’t he used to be hunted for his true looks?”

  He actually winced. “Yes, but now people tend to think he is an albino.”

  She shook her head. “But I don’t understand. I’ve met him. And he calls himself Starborne—not Jaguar. And I didn’t believe the old Fae stories—so I never once questioned his heredity. How could I have not known? How did I not sense one of my own people? I can sense all of the others….” She looked away. “I thought the elite were just fairy tales, much like the human fairy tales they tell their children.”

  “That should have told you something.” He shook his head. “For you knew that the fairy tales were based on truth—not lies. And Lucius is very old—and very good at cloaking himself—even from his own kind—especially from his own kind.”

  She chose not to think about what that could have meant and answered, instead, his first statement. “Yes, I did see the comparison—between their folk tales and our own—but fear has tainted their truths. And much of that taint comes out as stink in the tales themselves.”

  He tilted his head. His long hair was bound up on the sides, giving him a regal look.

  “And the Starborne?” she re-stated.

  “The ancient ones are Starborne. But Lucius doesn’t reveal how he is tied to our elite, Jaguar blood.”

  She looked up into his eyes then. “Not even to his mate?”

  He looked at her with sorrow. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Jes.”

  “I didn’t exactly give you the opportunity—while I was calling you a murderer.” But then she gave him an accusing look. “But you might have mentioned it at any time while we were growing up.”

  He shrugged. “We were in training. We were not allowed to reveal such things—not even to our own people.”

  She smirked. “Most especially not to your own people,” she mimed. And then, “We?” She nodded then. “Ohhh, yes, your sisters and you. It would appear that I didn’t really know them either.

  He frowned at that.

  She frowned, then, too. “Speaking of which, how does a child of the prophecy get away with slaying humans?”

  He shook his head, kissed her softly—on the cheek of all places—and left her standing there—at the door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Second Chances

  Justice came to her room some time before midnight. He didn’t do anything but whisper to her that he had to go out soon—and then just proceeded to hold her.

  She half woke when he slid up next to her, but the moment he put his strong arms around her—she fell back to sleep—nestled within the safety of his arms.

  She couldn’t believe she’d behaved in that way when she woke to find him gone sometime after midnight. She’d never been so confused in her life.

  She had, after all, hunted this man for years. She had taken classes, and honed all of her abilities—just to bring him in—or at least before the council.

  Now—everything she’d thought about him—had changed. Or perhaps—nothing had changed at all—save the lies she had told herself to keep everything safely out of the reach of her mind.

  The same lies everyone told themselves—when they didn’t want to face the truth.

  Dracon and Justice went through the back way into Second Chances. As usual, Conrad didn’t even look up from what he was doing. He put down his towel and poured two beers—though he knew full well Dracon wouldn’t drink his.

  He seemed to get some amusement out of setting one in front him anyway; as if he thought that not being able to drink it would somehow taunt the old vampire.

  It didn’t. Conrad knew that only one thing would. But it still gave him some amusement.

  There were half a dozen men in the tavern. They eyed Justice and Dracon with what could only be some wariness.

  “You two are not good for business, you know,” Conrad pointed out. “Especially not together.”

  “And you are?” Dracon shot back at him. “I’m surprised anyone comes in here at all—with you serving them.”

  Conrad sneered. But he knew it was true. He’d been surprised when, after starting this tavern—a dream of his—he’d ended up with any customers at all.

  Conrad wasn’t just big—or muscular. He wasn’t human—and though the humans couldn’t possibly know that—some of them did sense something was up with him. Fortunately for him, they were more intrigued then scared off.

  He nodded at Dracon. “Thanks for your help with that girl, Shantya.”

  Dracon started to nod, but then his gaze narrowed on Conrad. He leaned over the barstool that was pushed up under the bar top. He hadn’t sat down like Justice had, obviously preferring to stand. “Are you—sweet on her?”

  Conrad didn’t even try to deny it. He knew the vamp would pick up on the slight increase in his heartbeat. “Yes. What of it?”

  Dracon only held up his hand. “Nothing. Don’t sweat it. We’ll keep an eye on her for you. Just make sure they don’t send any others. Between her…,” he nodded at Justice, “and his mate’s sister….”

  Justice frowned at this, not looking up from his drink. He still wasn’t sure that leaving Jes’s sister with Dracon and his vamps was a good idea.

  “Appreciate it,” Conrad said with a nod. He poured them both another drink, knowing full well Justice would have to drink both of these too.

  “So what have you got for us?” Dracon asked after a long moment.

  Conrad looked around at the people in his tavern. There were two men at the other end of the bar, and four more were playing pool. He leaned in over the bar top. “There is a group of vamps on the south side. One of the humans had heard that they could get help by way of the paper. He has been dodging this group for some time, but he seems to feel his time is running out.”

  Dracon’s steely gaze narrowed. “How did he manage to stay out this long? It sounds suspicious to me.”

  Conrad shrugged. “He says his father hunted vamps, taug
ht him and his brother how, but this group has been pressing into the city—and they’re not a group he’s familiar with.”

  Dracon grunted. Conrad knew he had an idea of who this group was, the same idea that he read in his old friend Justice’s eyes.

  “So you think it’s Constantine’s cult.” It wasn’t a question.

  Justice frowned at him. “I keep warning you not to say that out loud.”

  Conrad shrugged again.

  Dracon’s gaze narrowed. “He’s right, you know. Even the walls have ears with that vamp. He’s one of the oldest there is.”

  Conrad took his warning to heart and nodded. “What’s the plan?”

  Dracon put a foot on the barstool in front of him. He still hadn’t sat down—and Conrad knew he likely wouldn’t. “We are heading out for the first of the many talks we must have with all the outlying factions. You must keep your ears peeled.” He looked around with some disdain. “I didn’t agree with you when you wanted this place. But your choice here has proven wise. This place has become like a hub for those who know things—and those who need to find things out—and for them to go to those who can do something about it.”

  Conrad nodded. “Let’s just hope we can do something about this—particular group—before it is too late.”

  Dracon and Justice nodded. And for the next hour the three men went over the plans that Justice and Dracon had been drawing up.

  Conrad wasn’t happy to have to wait to become more involved. But he knew that Second Chances was pivotal to keeping the information line flowing. And that was just as important as the fighting itself.

  When they were wrapping up, he remembered the rumors he’d been hearing lately about some bat-like beings.

  The moment he said this out loud, he saw Dracon and Justice both go as still as death.

  “I take it this is not welcome news, not that anything I have heard about these beings sounds welcome.”

  Dracon gave a slight shake to his head, his dark hair falling forward from where it had been hanging down his back. His eyes were nearly black with his emotion. “Not good at all. I have not seen these beings in over three hundred years. Although Amar feels they are the same that killed the maid that night….”

  Justice had only heard of them. He wasn’t old, like Dracon. But Dracon had told him enough about these beings when he was a boy that he knew that any interactions with them, at all, would not go well.

  “Well now,” Dracon drawled out quietly, “it seems we now know why we need the power of three.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  War

  Jes was up exploring the manor late in the morning the next day—a manor she had just learned had been dubbed Second Wind. She wondered how on Earth it had received such a name. She guessed it had to have something to do with the retreat-like style of the building. Everything had a healing feel to it, from the fountains to the built-in pond on the main floor, which housed large goldfish.

  She sat on the edge of the pond now, looking down into the water. It was beautiful, with lily pads floating across the top. The goldfish were hiding from her beneath them. She smiled. This really was a place for getting your second wind.

  She was letting Justice sleep—he hadn’t dragged himself to bed until dawn had been threatening to break the sky with the soft fingers of the sun’s light—which light she knew Dracon would be eager to avoid.

  Something told her he wouldn’t want to spend the day here, resting. He might have decided on an uneasy truce, but that didn’t mean he would be eager to spend the day sleeping next to yesterday’s enemies.

  An old woman joined her near the pond’s edge. She sat down in one of the easy chairs nearby to watch the fish swim around beneath the lily pads. For a long moment, they both just sat there, staring into the water.

  “Child,” the old woman said, finally. “You must not assume he is a murderer.”

  Jes glanced at her in surprise.

  The old woman never took her eyes off the goldfish.

  Jes watched her for a long moment, but the old woman didn’t look inclined to speak further. She noticed that she had the usual look of the older generation of the Jaguar People. Her dark hair, shot through with silver, fell down her back. She had black fur braided into her hair. Her dress was dark, and the material was also shot through with silver.

  Jes could swear that she had met her somewhere before.

  The old woman did look at her then. “They call me Amar.”

  Shock shot down Jes’s spine then. “Of course; you are a legend.”

  The cackle Amar gave at that reminded Jes of the old human stories about witches.

  “But you’re also my—true grandmother.”

  “Hmmm,” Amar hissed. “I see that Mira has let the… cat out of the bag.”

  She seemed to enjoy the pun—but Jes winced, wondering how much trouble she’d just gotten Mira into. This woman appeared—formidable. She wouldn’t want her upset with her. Her nanna was—tame in comparison.

  Amar laughed and Jes realized she, too, had the ability to read minds.

  Amar sobered then. “Really, Jes. Hear him out before you judge him.”

  “What could there possibly be to what I saw that would explain why he did it? I’ve let it go. I know that I felt abandoned, and I know he was defending himself. I know he defended his sisters—and that should be enough—shouldn’t it? It would be enough for anyone else. It’s just that—those boys—gangbangers or not—didn’t stand a chance against him—in that form.”

  Amar held her gaze steadily. “Child, every time we think we know a thing—we get a good, swift kick to remind us to not be too full of ourselves.” She stood then. “There is always more to know.”

  Jes licked her lips—and then plunged forward with the one question that had been bothering her. “How are we your grandchildren…”

  “When I am so old?” Amar’s eyes were lit in amusement. “The Jaguar People live to be very old,” she replied. “We do not age. We do not have a limit on when we can have children—like the humans do. Well at least—not until we are very old.” She smiled kindly at Jes and started out of the great room.

  Jes flushed. “I’m sorry. I’ve always been around the people—but not many have children…and I guess I’ve been too long around the humans.”

  Amar laughed and turned at the door. “Perhaps Mira has done us a favor. You will begin your lessons. I will be in touch.” And with that—she was gone.

  Jes sat a long time thinking about this—thinking about what she’d seen that day in the alley. Was there more to what she saw then met the eye?

  She thought about her father.

  She hadn’t spent too much time thinking on the things that had been revealed to her of late—caught up as she had been in her training—and all her spare time centering on Justice.

  But she didn’t believe in coincidences.

  And it was a mighty big coincidence that Justice had been attacked by that gang—right around the time that both sets of their parents had disappeared. It was also a mighty big coincidence that her father had killed her mother that day—and her mother had been defending Justice.

  She knew that now—now that she knew he was not just working for the one of the prophecy—but was in fact—one of the sons of the prophecy.

  Her mother had been defending the sons of the prophecy—so it had been Justice whom she had sought to protect from Jes’s father. A man, as it had turned out, who was not her father at all.

  He also had very light skin—and light eyes, though not as light as Lucius or Justice—and not as painted white as Dracon…. Jes didn’t like the ideas that teased the corners of her mind on that one….

  Her father had been working against them—so had her father done more than just send the gang after him—to force him to change? Had he intended to destroy him? Had he actually sent that gang to kill him? Jes stood up, horrified by what she had just figured out. She went straight to their room and retrieved the journal. She hadn�
�t wanted to read any more—and Justice had waited, patiently, so it would seem, for her to come around to hearing the rest of the truth.

  She went out and found a comfortable chair by a window to allow her to spend some time reading. She opened the large, leather-bound journal, and began to read.

  Justice, your father and I disappeared that day because Jes’s father had sent the rogue vamps to kill us. He had managed to get Jes’s mother out of his way—and that only left us. She had been coming to us, telling us that she knew he was up to something—and she feared what it was he was doing. Over time, she had slowly revealed what it was that she thought he was doing.

  She knew her husband too well—as we all do—when we’re with a mate for so long. He had to have known that he couldn’t keep a secret from her for long. But he was too caught up in his hate—to let her sway him off his path.

  What we didn’t know—was why? Why had he so completely changed? How does someone come to have such hate in their heart? And how do they hide such hate from everyone they love?

  Jes looked up from the journal. Her head was hurting again. Justice had said that his parents had disappeared long before they had actually disappeared—in that they had stopped being his parents.

  But why?

  It would have made sense if her father had only just figured out who Justice was—and sought to put pressure on his friendship with Justice’s father.

  But why had they changed so many years before? And—had he sought to kill Justice when he did learn who he was?

  Jes got up from her chair. She went to find her former partner—Jared.

  A half hour later, Jared left the compound—Jes was hidden on the floor of the backseat. When they were out of sight of the guards, she climbed up to the front seat.

  “Okay, Jes, out with it. Where are we going? And why?”

  She put on her seatbelt and smiled. “We are going to see a certain gang member.”