Finite: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 4) Page 9

  “It actually does, Black Eyes. When you have one species whose sole purpose is to guide or lead the world’s destruction, a target is exactly what it makes them.” He throws up his index finger. “Let me back up. It’s the world that’s at risk. It’s humanity, Nemanites, Sephlems, Mulens, creatures of all kinds. The living is in danger because of this one species—this single individual. We are here to make sure they don’t destroy all of us. Sephlems included. It is far better to take out a hundred than to allow one of those one hundred to ruin a million.”

  I raise my voice. “You’re taking out innocent people!” If what happened to that blind lady, Tara, actually occurred, she and her family were prime examples of the Nemanites using their “role” to their advantage. “That’s not fair.”

  Laine clears his throat. “Mistakes happen. But, they are warned. Don’t mate. If they don’t mate, they don’t come up on our radar. As long as they abide by that single rule, they can live their lives without our interference.”

  “Our?”

  He shrugs. “I am what I am, Black Eyes. Though I live among you and your family, that doesn’t change what I am, what I’m required to do.”

  “You changed for Lunis,” I fire back.

  “I didn’t change for him,” he corrects in a guttural tone. “I worked for him. I’m a Nemanite first, with an order to protect our world, I was an employee second.”

  “Then why didn’t you kill me? You had the perfect opportunity for months.”

  “Did I say Nemanites sought out the mate of a Burdened Sephlem or the Burdened?”

  From what I’ve been made to believe, they’d take out both. And they would take out both with or without proof. Nemanites are the Sephlems greatest enemy because the Nemanites have zero care or concern for them. So, the answer is that the Nemanite will seek out the Burdened and their mate, but maybe his answer is different because he thinks I’m referring to myself. “Okay,” I digress. “If you were to come across the two, together, and say you saw signs in the mate that, maybe, lead you to believe she’d aid her mate in this. . . um. . . overtaking. What would you do to her?”

  Laine studies me. Behind his lips, he glides his tongue over his teeth, then clicks his tongue. “Likely, the average Nemanite would gouge out her eyes after forcing her to watch the slaughter of her mate. If children are involved, depending on the Nemenite, they will allow them to live or feed off their energy before decapitating them and using their heads for trophies.”

  I swallow hard, recalling the visuals seen in Tara’s eyes. In a blink, Laine’s on his feet, shoving me to the ground, the fingers of his right hand charging for my eyes.

  I jump up and race for the bathroom. Hurl charges from my throat, and I can only make it to the sink.

  Laine leans against the door panel. He snatches a towel from the counter.

  I spit out the tap water I shove in my mouth. “That’s sick! What’s your proof, how do you know they are who you’re looking for.”

  Laine shrugs and there’s a twitch in his eye as he reveals, “There are certain things about the Burdened that reveal they’re a risk.”

  I lean my hip against the counter. It’s obvious, after speaking with Tara, what that thing is, but I don’t want to give off that I know too much. “I guess what I’m trying to figure out is if you are taking all this to heart.”

  “Are you asking me if I had anything to do with your mate’s death?” he asks, eyes wide with nearly transparent flickers of electricity flashing around his irises.

  I suck in a deep breath and hold it. I guess this is what I’m asking. Nathan and I may have been who he believes is this lead or guide to this destruction he’s talking about. Was I bait? Did Lunis’ capture aid in Laine getting to me, which resulted in him getting to Nathan, all to stage this whole diversion to take him out?

  “Did you?” I ask. “Am I next?”

  Slowly, Laine shakes his head. “Never. Not at all.” He throws up his shaking hands. His next words are slow and his voice quivers. “Please, don’t take this too far out of context. I care about you on a level I probably shouldn’t, Black Eyes. I may not have liked him, but because of you, I would have fought beside him to keep him alive for you.”

  I blink the film from my eyes and relax my shoulders. “That means a lot, Laine. Because I don’t know who I can trust anymore. There’s a lot of weird shit happening, and I don’t know what to do about any of it.” We go back to the bedroom and sit with our backs against the foot of the bed. I continue, adding, “I don’t want to hold them up,” I gesture toward the open bedroom door. “Because they need to have a life and not worry about my problems, or Nathan’s problems.”

  “I’m here for you, Tracey. You can always rely on me for that.”

  I lean my head against his shoulder and wrap my arms around his. He suffices.

  Laine pulls his tablet from his back pocket. “Want to watch a movie?”

  “Sure.”

  We watch movies on Laine’s tablet for the rest of the night. He has always been a breath of fresh air when I was back in the tower of torture. And then, being back home with Nathan around, things got a little awkward. But, I can’t deny that I enjoy his company and having a friend I can trust who didn’t come attached to Nathan. I have to believe him when he says he wouldn’t hurt us. He had plenty of opportunities and never has.

  “What the hell!”

  Startled by someone’s holler, consciousness yanks me awake. I press my hand to the floor, but it lands on a chest. Jerking away, my eyes adjust to take in the body laid beneath me.

  Laine rises, blinking.

  Olar stand in the doorway of the bedroom, shouting, “What the hell is going on? Why are you sleeping with him? And what the hell is up with you pushing up on, Tracey, you slimy eel.”

  “Olar, I must’ve just fallen asleep. Shut up!”

  Laine looks himself over and notices the same. “Yes. Please shut up,” he blurts with his accent heavy on the please and up.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell Laine. “Olar, what is it?”

  “You’re running late for work! I’m supposed to be dropping you off this morning.”

  I find the nearest clock and to my derision, he’s right. Jumping to my feet, I race through a shower and getting dressed.

  On our drive to the coffee shop, Olar steals glance after glance until I snap, “What?”

  “We’ve all grown used to Laine being around. I’ll be the first to admit I didn’t expect to like him and would have preferred to have him rip his brains out, but he’s an okay guy. He puts in a lot of work for our family, he helps out around the house and has even contributed to helping with the family business. But—”

  I crank up the volume of the radio to the max, drowning Olar out. Whatever his ‘but’ will lead to would definitely be wrong, and it’s a short path I don’t want to walk down.

  He leaves it but doesn’t stop his glancing.

  Dungeons and Dragons

  I wave behind me to the afternoon girls, Pauline and Ann Marie, who I only work with when I cover Crissy’s late morning shift. They’re less likely to be at a party and more so in the library, which is where I’ve only ever seen Pauline outside our Gender and Society class.

  Olar’s parked out front, waiting for me with windows down and the music loud. “You want to grab a burger?” I ask, settling in the car.

  “Absolutely.” He shifts the car in drive and takes off.

  Gas and burned wood sting my nose. Soot and some kind of red oil stains Olar’s fingertips. I dare not ask where he’s been. Knowing Olar, the sky’s the limit.

  Down the street, we head into the restaurant, and we hang out and chat about Lana and Jason. We laugh over Cokes and joke about the old days when he, Glen, and I hung out while he was on ‘watch the girls’ duty.

  “I missed this,” Olar says, shoving the last of his burger in his mouth.

  Smiling, I add, “We did have a lot of fun. Glen’s crossed my mind more than once lately. I miss her.”<
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  Olar drags his napkin across his mouth before tossing it on his plate. “There’s something I want to show you. I think you might like it.” He downs the rest of his Coke and gobbles a few cubes of ice.

  Pushing the half-empty plate aside, I ask, “What?”

  “It’s a surprise. I’ll pay for the food, go start the car.”

  In a neighborhood on a far side of Bennington I’ve never traveled to, we cruise down a street named Deerfield Path RD in search of house number 30786. Based on the sizes of these neighboring homes, we’re looking for a mansion, not a house. The lots are acres long, with the homes taking up most of it, all having gated driveway entrances. Whatever the surprise is, the last thing we need is a bigger house.

  “There,” Olar says, pointing across me to an all-white home guarded by an iron gate with panthers at either side of the driveway entrance. From his pocket, Olar pulls a garage clicker and hits a button in the middle of three. Within seconds, the iron gates part, and I pull forward, right up the drive to the front door of the home.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask.

  Unbuckling his seatbelt, Olar reveals, “This” —pointing at the house—“is Lunis’ home.”

  Excitement and a pinch of fear cause my flesh to scatter with goosebumps. I gasp, “Shut up.”

  “Promise. For the past two years, I’ve been scavenging Lana’s mind for information. She was. . . She is superb at backpedaling and hiding things, but sometimes, something small will slip. Like the area, numbers of the home, and what it looks like. And just to be sure I put it together correctly, I followed her here one day.”

  “You think he’s here?”

  Poking out his bottom lip, he shakes his head. “But. . .” Olar’s frown is darkly replaced by a facetious smile. “He lives in here. No one knows about this safe haven. So”—he shrugs a shoulder as he slips on a pair of leather gloves that have the fingertips cut out— “I say we torch the place. I’ve been torching all of his nearby residences and a couple of his business. But seeing this one is personal to him, I thought I’d ask you to join me.”

  A thrill sends excited shivers rushing from my toes to my scalp, causing all the hairs on my body to stand on end. “Oh,” I chuckle. “I’d love that.”

  After everything he’s done to us; murdering my parents, my best friends, stole the life of my mate, tortured me to near death, even made me wish I was dead. Everything, everything is his fault and if I could repay him the slightest favor, I would.

  A wave of vengeful anger replaces my excitement, and I hiss, “I wish he was in there.”

  “Me too.” Olar sucks in the corner of his lip that’s holding his lip ring, and he scratches the edge of his brow with his black-painted nail. “Would you like to see if he is?”

  The sun’s just about set, the sky is a beauty of oranges, pinks, and reds that makes me warm but stings with loathing memories. “Let’s let it get a bit darker, then we’ll go in.”

  “You got it.”

  We rest in the car, going unbothered and seemingly unnoticed. Evening lights around the house slowly cut on as dawn turns to night.

  Olar gets out of the car, asking, “You feeling better these days?”

  “Every day is different. Sometimes, he’s here, I even talk to him and he talks back. Other times, him being gone is just as apparent as the oxygen we breathe. But, every day it hurts, and it’s a sore reminder he’s never coming back.” At least, to my belief, despite the fairytales. “It’s definitely getting better though.”

  “I miss him too. I feel him missing.” Rolling his shoulder, Olar brings on his Burdened. “Nothing will ease it until I get my revenge,” he growls, voice now a husky rasp. Olar steps to the door and draws his leg back before thrashing it forward and kicking in the door. “Knock, knock,” he says, intruding.

  I’m hot on his heels, listening for rushing footsteps or a holler to ward off an intruder. The front door swings on its broken hinges, and it’s squeaking is the only sound I hear.

  The absence of another’s presence sulks me in disappointment. “Dammit,” I mutter.

  We enter the house from the wide foyer decorated in white walls and white paintings. Two tall white vases housing trees with white painted leaves sit on both sides of the hall at the end of the foyer. White furniture and white décor decorate a living room we enter from the foyer. “I bet when the sun hits inside here, it lights up like New York,” I say.

  Olar’s standing at the fireplace, a framed picture in hand. “This is new,” he states.

  I look past him to a photo of Lana and Lunis, shoulder to shoulder, smiling. The outfit she wears is one Carmen bought for her one day recently when the three of us went to the mall. “Hmm.” I leave him with his picture. Lunis is her brother, and while we may want her to despise that nugatory scum of the earth, we shouldn’t expect it.

  On a glass side table beside the white couch is a half-folded note and a pair of spectacles. The note reads:

  I couldn’t control who I mated with. I’m mated now, and that’s that. You can’t punish me for things out of my control. We’ve been cordial with the Newcombs until Nathan Sr. reneged on his sell despite what my mate did to mother and Mia. I’m doing my best to locate what you need. Cut me some slack. I love you and everything is fine. See you next week. Lana.

  “Hey,” I turn to find Olar looking over my shoulder. “Oh!” He startles me. “Um, here.”

  He snatches the letter, and I pick up the half-written note that was sitting next to it addressed to Lana. Lunis begins the letter saying Lana has had a lot of time to accomplish ‘this’ and there isn’t much more time he can spare. The next couple of sentences are illegible as it appears his pen ran out of ink, and the letter ends unfinished.

  Shuffling footsteps thump on the floor above us. It’s followed by a snarl of angry whispers. Olar and I lock eyes. I drop the notepad on the couch and think to Olar, Someone’s been here this entire time and has said nothing? He shrugs and heads for the stairs. I hurry to follow behind him. Who is it? Doesn’t sound like Lunis. Olar continues up the stairs, and I grab his arm. Wait! Do you not hear how mad this guy sounds?

  Yes, he says simply, shaking his arm from my grasp. What are you, afraid? We need to get the jump on him before he can come down here on us.

  The person quiets as their shadow nears the door on the right side of the hall, closest to the stairs. The shadow extends across the floor, then up the wall as though its body leans forward. It doesn’t peek out of the door.

  We stop. Waiting.

  You think it can hear us? I ask.

  It’s likely.

  There’s more being said, but I can’t make out the language they’re speaking.

  Whatever he’s saying, Olar starts, he’s mad as hell. He may be on the phone or talking to himself.

  I’m shooting for talking to himself, I don’t hear any of that cell phone static or other voices from a phone.

  “You, out there! I’m coming for you!” a man says in English.

  Umm, what the hell does that mean? I ask.

  Olar shrugs. You got me. Ready to fight?

  Sure. I guard myself and will my hand black.

  Olar blasts forward, clearing the remaining of the stairs. In front of the doorway, the shadow of the person inside jumps back further into the room. I’m right behind Olar, following him in.

  “What is it?” the man asks, cowering against the wall behind him. “What do you want?” The man’s eyes churn a gray and blue as he stares at us, arms raised in guard of his head. He may be Sephlem. Full-blooded Sephlem. Any Burdened would’ve morphed red, no way his beast would sit at bay if a threat was afoot. And Hybrid Sephlem’s eyes don’t churn.

  “We’re looking for Lunis. You seen him around?” Olar asks.

  “Oh.” Fidgeting his hands in front of his face, he rambles a bit, gabbing, “Oh Lunis. My brother, Lunis.” He glares at his fidgeting hands until they grasp each other, and then he gives them a single nod of satisfaction. “H
e has got me into something again.” His accent is thick and unrecognizable, making him a little hard to understand. Thankfully, he speaks slowly, as he makes sure his lips properly form the words.

  “Do you know where he is?” I ask.

  “He ain’t here.”

  There’s a pinch in my neck that reins in my suspicions. Maybe it’s the unnatural way he moves his body, the unnerving twitch, or the way it seems he’s unsure which hand or leg will move so he looks for it to do so as though he weren’t in control of the movement.

  I will the additional film over my eyes and blink to adjust my sight. Within the body is a Qualm. One that is like the Qualms. Instead of it being cloaked, his body—half-body—is present with the skeletal half surrounded in the dark mist floating in and out of its crevasses. “How’d you come across this body? You steal it?”

  Insulted, the man jumps to his feet. “I was given this body by my brother!” he retorts, raking his hands over his chest, then legs. He’s strapped in a tailor-made suit and a fresh haircut. “I’m getting used to it.” Fidgeting with his hands again, he adds, “I just can’t get it to do little things yet.”

  “How’d Lunis give you this body,” Olar asks gesturing toward the man. “How’s he getting these bodies?”

  The man points past us. “There be bodies walking around all out there. They’re everywhere. Not like I remember. But now, they’re here.”

  “What?” I mutter. “Humans, Sephlems? What bodies are here more than before?”

  The man laughs and dances in circles. Olar calls for his attention but goes ignored.

  “I think we lost him,” I say.

  “I’ve got an idea. Your fireworm. Bring it out here. Let’s get a diversion and you see if there’s anything we’re not seeing.”

  Nodding, I turn my hand palm down, and my fire snake slithers onto the floor. It circles around me before rising to my height, facing the man. The man turns to us, attention drawn to the blazing serpent. He attempts to cross the floor but doubles back, realizing something I can’t place.