Grim Judgment Page 6

  Though a thick shade had been brought down over the room’s single window, slips of quickly fading light still filtered inside, illuminating the floor. Jaxon let out a sigh and pulled his phone off the nightstand. After a short hesitation, he powered it on, the nagging buzz tickling his palm as it turned on.

  Five voicemails awaited, along with sixteen texts from his father. Tapping the screen, he lifted the cell to his ear to listen to the first message.

  “Jaxon, this is Rhonda. Cassie’s mother.” Jaxon’s heart skipped. The woman’s voice was tight and full of emotion. “Cassie was...Cassie was murdered...”

  A lightness blossomed inside him, as if someone had suddenly scooped out his internal organs. His fingers went cold, his face slack and numb.

  Alex wasn’t lying...Oh, God...

  The door opened and Sarah stepped inside. She opened her mouth to speak, but froze when she saw his face.

  “Her wake is tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, it’s been...it’s been hell. Please let Shawn know. I just can’t bring myself to call everyone.”

  “Jax?” Sarah took a step toward him.

  “There’s an investigation starting. They found fingerprints and DNA...”

  The next thing he knew, he had dropped his cell phone and was outside of Shawn’s room, screaming.

  “Jax! Jaxon, please!” Sarah tried to calm him, her hands light on his arm, but nothing stopped the agony that burned inside his chest and flowed out of his throat. Chairs nearby began to tremble and rattle as their armrests clacked together, and a familiar power began to build up at his core. I have to get out, I have to get out. I’m going to hurt someone. He took off running and didn’t stop until he was outside.

  Dusk was approaching fast, dragging long shadows from the surrounding trees. Jaxon tore through bushes, let sharp branches scrape along his arms, legs and face, eyes wide but unseeing. Eventually, his breath became so ragged that he had to stop. He stood, surrounded by the woods pressed close around him, chest heaving, teeth and fists clenched.

  “Cassie was murdered...”

  The rage boiled hotter, and Jaxon let out a loud, torn scream. He fell to his hands and knees. The skin on his palms tore from the fragmented ground beneath him. A thin line of spittle fell from his lips. His mind was elsewhere, and his jaw hung slack.

  He thought of the times he’d spent with Cassie. He thought of how she had rejected him more than once. How it seemed she looked at Shawn too much, talked about him too often. He thought about how a rare snow had fallen one night they had been out for dinner, and how the flakes softly landed in her hair. He thought of the night before Thanksgiving, when they had been out, and how she had been so close to Shawn when Jaxon had come back from the bar. How she always laughed louder at his brother’s jokes. How he had taken her to a movie she’d been wanting to see that had been so awful, he’d considered taking an extended bathroom break just to get away from it for a few moments.

  How she was dead.

  How he’d never see her again, even if she liked Shawn more.

  How he’d never see her again.

  He’d never see her again.

  Never again.

  Jaxon pushed himself up on his knees, toppled forward, and retched onto the ground beneath him. The vomit was hot and vile as it passed from his mouth. Tears he hadn’t known he’d shed streaked his face. He rose to his knees once again, slower.

  First my Julie, now Cassie...everyone I love dies. Even Shawn might not wake up. This is all Vance’s fault. His people did this to me, to my life.

  Another surge of rage flew out of him, and his back arched, arms flung outward. Blast after blast burst from somewhere below his chest. All he could hear were his own yells. He must have called for his wraiths without realizing it, for they appeared, slicing through the night. They swarmed him, contracting and expanding until eventually, Jaxon fell backward in a wave of exhaustion.

  He lay on his back for a long time, gasping air through a throat screamed raw. The wraiths disappeared. His face dried as he stared up at white stars in a deep purple sky. Where are the trees? Jaxon sat up and looked around him in wonder at the pile of debris surrounding him. Shredded trees and leaves, bushes, and weeds were mounded along the edge of the new clearing.

  Jaxon started to shiver.

  Standing, scratched arms wrapped around himself, he started back toward the safe house. Entering through the front door, dirty beyond belief, he heard Sarah.

  “Duncan, I’m terrified. I don’t know what happened, but he’s out there, destroying—” Her words halted as she spotted him.

  Jaxon stepped toward her and held his hand out. She hesitated for a moment, then rested the phone in his palm.

  “Duncan?” Jaxon said in a voice scratched and harsh.

  “Jax. Jax, what’s wrong?”

  “No. Yes. I’m fine. I just got some awful news.” He coughed. “My friend died.”

  “Jesus, Jax, I’m so sorry.” Duncan’s voice was thin in his ear, but he could hear the worry and concern nonetheless, which, for some reason, made Jaxon angry all over again.

  “I’ll be fine. I just needed to blow off steam.”

  “I get it. But you need to realize that when you blow off steam, people could die.”

  “That’s why I left. But I’m all right now. I promise.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “One hundred percent. And if I feel that upset again, I’ll get outside. Don’t worry.”

  “Jaxon. What can I do for you?”

  “Absolutely nothing. You’re miles away by now.”

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t help if you need it.”

  “I don’t need anything. Just leave me alone to grieve. I won’t hurt anyone.”

  “I trust you, Jax. But please, again. If you need anything—”

  Jaxon handed the phone to Sarah before Duncan could finish his thought. Without a glance at her, he turned and trudged back to Shawn’s room. There weren’t tears left in him to cry, wasn’t anger left in him to burn. He stood in a hot shower for a long time, staring at the small squares on the wall in front of him, until the water had turned ice cold on his skin.

  It can’t be true. I refuse to believe Cassie’s dead.

  He grimaced in the shower and lowered his head.

  Of course it’s true.

  Once he had dressed again, he gingerly lowered himself in the chair by Shawn’s side and picked up his cell phone.

  “Jaxon.” He hadn’t heard Sarah enter the room.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “I just need you to know something first.” She moved into his view, the pity in her eyes enough to make him want to throw a fist at her jaw.

  “Know what?” he asked through teeth that ground in place.

  “This is a safe house for a reason. If you leave, if you tell anyone where you are, you risk letting the people who were after you find us. Us, and you, and Shawn, who still isn’t awake. I’m sorry, but I can’t risk that. If you leave the area to go anywhere, we’ll have no choice but to vacate the premises. No one would be here once you came back.”

  “So what, I can’t go to my friend’s wake?” Jaxon turned and looked at her, hate in his heart.

  “You can, but we - and Shawn - can’t stay here if you do.”

  “Fuck you. Seriously. Just leave.”

  Sarah took a breath to say more, but only turned and departed in silence.

  Jaxon didn’t go to Cassie’s wake. He didn’t call her family back. Instead he stayed by Shawn’s side, leaving only to use the bathroom. He barely ate what Sarah brought.

  More than once his gaze flickered over to his cell phone, which was off again. Jaxon had gone back and forth with himself over the days, telling himself that he should let his father know he and Shawn were all right. Every time he picked up his phone, however, he remembered what Aaron had told him; how his dad had known about his power and about their past, yet never told them anything.

  Fuck him, too. He lied t
o me. To us. He’s just as bad as the rest of them. Even if I did ask him about our past, I bet he’d just—

  Shawn groaned.

  —-

  “Where’s Emma?” Isaac demanded weakly.

  “You aren’t healed.” The man who had saved his life, the man who had drugged him, stood over the bed.

  Anger woke Isaac further. “Get me out of here. Now.” He resisted the hands that attempted to push him back down on the bed.

  “Lie back down.”

  Isaac ignored him, pushed himself forward again. “Now.”

  “Listen to me, dammit—”

  “Now!” He ignored the dull pain in his abdomen. The man stopped pushing him and backed away in the dimly lit room.

  “Isaac, please. Listen to him. You must be still.” A Russian accent drifted through the room. “I’m afraid the horrors from the roof are far from over.”

  “Vance?” Isaac stopped his struggle and watched as the kingpin came out of the shadows and approached the bed.

  “We almost lost you,” Vance said quietly. “You need to listen to Wallace, need to rest, and heal. It has been less than a week.”

  “He tore his damn stitches,” Wallace grumbled.

  Isaac glanced down and noticed a slight wetness that seeped against the hospital gown he wore. Two small spots of red dotted the blue fabric to the right of his belly button. In a flash, his mind dredged up the pain of Alex’s blade as it slid inside of his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

  “Wallace,” Vance snapped.

  “I’m fine.” Isaac held up a hand and looked around. “What hospital is this?”

  “Not a hospital. We are in one of my bunkers in Northern California, safe. I took some employees into hiding. I based my decision on what Grant had told me, that our lives were in danger, but Isaac, you...” He stepped closer. “You have much more information than he does. Tell me what happened on the roof.”

  “First tell me where Emma is.”

  Vance frowned. “I do not know.”

  Isaac flung the soft white blanket off of his legs and swung them over the side of the bed. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “Your stitches,” Wallace complained. “It’s only been three days.” He turned to look at Vance, who ignored him, gaze trained on Isaac.

  “That night, she left.” The Russian clasped his hands behind his back. “The officers that I assigned to find her report she went home, no doubt for cash and personal effects, then drove out of Oregon, where she ditched her car and rented a new one.”

  Isaac’s heart jumped. “So track the plate number. Have him put out a—”

  “We did. She left that car the morning after. It was found, empty, in a parking lot of a shopping center in Twin Falls, Idaho. She must have stolen another.”

  “You contacted the dealerships in the city? The surrounding areas?”

  “Isaac.” Vance glared at him. “What is going on here? If Emma wanted to leave, she had her reasons. I, too, must find her. She is a loose end, has information I need, but you are acting...strange.”

  “Jaxon...he said he was going to hunt her down.” Isaac’s stomach knotted, and a heavy weight settled in his chest as he spoke. “We have to find her first, have to protect her.”

  “What exactly happened on the roof?”

  Isaac slumped forward on the side of the bed, his bare feet cold from the floor underneath them. He stared at the mindless pattern of green and white swirls of the vinyl. “She’s gone.” His voice was so soft, he barely heard himself speak.

  —-

  Shawn drifted in a warm, peaceful bliss. He saw nothing but colors, mostly oranges and reds. His body felt weightless. It was such a perfect feeling that he wanted nothing more than to stay in the muted void for eternity. Something, however, was tugging at him. A hot sensation in his torso. He tried to ignore it, but it increased with rapid ease until it was at the forefront of his mind, and he woke up.

  He breathed in through teeth ground shut. Upon opening his eyes, the pain flared from a heat to a roar, and he gasped. His vision was, as always, dark and blurred. He writhed, fists clenching a soft, thin fabric, and attempted to push himself into a sitting position until he felt the same agony in his left leg. Body stiff, mind ridden with anxiety, he opened his mouth and a coarse, dry grunt emitted from his parched throat.

  “Shawn. Shawn, dude, don’t move.” Jaxon’s voice flowed over him, bringing a sense of calm, and he relaxed.

  “What...?” His throat was too sore to continue. He swallowed once, then twice.

  “Here. It’s water.”

  Jaxon’s hand slipped between Shawn’s neck and the pillow behind him. A piece of plastic bumped against his lips. He reached up and gripped it with stiff fingers, then tilted his head back. The flush of lukewarm liquid was euphoric, and he took a large swallow. He tried another until his stomach threatened to heave, and he gasped and shook his head. He felt his brother remove the cup from his hold and let his head rest back once more.

  “What happened?” he croaked.

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I...Emma.” Shawn tried to sit up again with a flash of sharp pain. “She...where is she? Is she hurt?” No response. “Jaxon? Where’s Emma?”

  “Dude.” Jaxon scoffed. “Don’t bother. She’s gone, along with that curly-haired asshole.”

  “But...Alex. He was there, he was hurting...” Shawn kept trying to connect the loose ends that flickered through his mind, but the memories of the night on the roof were hard to pin down. After Alex had shot him and torn off his mask, the only thing he remembered was a lot of screaming, gunshots, and pain.

  “Yeah, he was. But it was someone who deserved it.”

  “What?” Shawn coughed. His voice was hoarse, and it hurt to talk, but he needed answers. He thought some more. “Wait, Alex was the ex Emma...?” Confusion muddled his mind.

  He heard Jaxon release a deep breath. “She was a plant. A spy. Sent from Vance.”

  Another memory of Alex’s accusations slammed across his mind. Shawn’s breath and heart stilled. “No.” He shook his head in the slightest of movements.

  “That's why she was with that piece of shit, that Alex.”

  “He was lying.”

  “Apparently not.” Jaxon’s voice broke, then he was silent.

  “Jax? What happened?”

  “Cas....Cassie’s dead. One of them murdered her to get to us.”

  Words no longer formed in Shawn’s brain. He lay on the bed in an unfamiliar location and listened as Jaxon began to pace, making angry, wordless sounds. Not possible. I just saw her. At the diner. We were all there, together. He squeezed his eyes shut. He thought about the time he’d spent with Emma, the dates they’d gone on. The passionate night they’d shared before the world had gone to hell. She’d been so perfect.

  Too perfect.

  Shawn realized he was gripping the sheet draped over him so tightly, his fingers ached.

  “They found Cassie's body in some building.” Shawn could hear unreleased mourning in Jaxon’s voice as he struggled to continue. “They...they tortured her. She was stabbed. Shot. Shawn, I...her wake was two days ago. They won't release her body yet, not until the investigation is done.” He fell silent.

  Shawn sensed his brother’s presence close to his side and reached out. His fingers brushed Jaxon’s wrist, but before he could say anything, his hand was slapped away.

  “This can’t be true,” he said, as if pleading for a different explanation, one which didn’t involve so much pain and misery.

  “Look, Emma was sent by Vance,” Jaxon snarled. “She was working with Alex and that fake bartender from the club the night we met her. Hell, maybe everyone in that club was a plant. They knew we had helped poison Vance.”

  Shawn felt light-headed. “But I...but she...”

  “She was fake, Shawn. She used you, used all of us, just to—”

  “No. That can’t be true.”

  “I was there
when she admitted it. When Alex accused her of killing Cassie.”

  “No. Not possible. Emma didn’t hurt Cassie. Couldn’t have.”

  “Enough with your denial, dude. I was there.”

  “Why? Why were you even there? I told you to stay back!” Grief and hurt now finally began to flood through Shawn. Hot, angry tears pricked his eyes, and he pressed the palms of his hands into them as if it would stop the flow.

  “I thought I could help. I did help. I killed Alex, for good.”

  “How?” The barest memory of a flickering fog teased his mind, but he could not bring forth anything clearer.

  “Shawn, he shot you. Twice.” Jaxon paused. “I told you to make the suit—”

  “Don’t even.” Shawn held up a hand to stop the remark he knew was coming.

  Jaxon pressed on. “You were hurt. That prick had a gun on you and no one could do anything. Emma pretended to care.” His voice sneered at the word. “I wasn’t going to let him kill you.”

  A silence filled the space between them, but Shawn didn’t press his brother. He kept trying to tease more information from his memory, kept failing.

  Jaxon spoke again. “Look, you’re not the only one with powers. It’s...kind of a long story. I was able to use them to take Alex out, but then you passed out, and the cops showed up. I thought you were dead.”

  Shawn cleared his sore throat. “Wait. Cops? My suit. You have powers? What—”

  “Then everything kind of...gets weird.”

  —-

  “Isaac,” Vance said, softer this time. “With Emma gone, I do not have anyone else to explain what happened. Grant was there, yes, but only at the end, and briefly. I need you to man the fuck up and tell me the events of the night on the roof.”