Sins of the Father (The Guardians Series 2 Book 4), page 4
Olivia rolled her eyes as she retrieved the jar and handed it to him.
“Thank you.” He buttered his half-chewed slice and opened the jar, slathering the crisp bread with the dark fruity preserve. He took a bite and sighed in happiness. “This alone is worth the trip to Mercy.”
“Thanks,” Olivia replied dryly, and Julien grinned again.
“Why all the grim faces?” Julien remarked. “I’ve seen more life in a cemetery.”
“You’re just used to the excitement of the French Quarter.” Olivia lifted her cup and sipped her tea. “We’re obviously too boring for you.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He shrugged. “There’s always something going on in Mercy.”
“Have you been back yet?” Olivia asked.
“To the Quarter?” Julien replied before shaking his head. “No, it’s still crawling with angels. Azariel has all his cretins out searching for Scarlett.” His gaze briefly flicked to the ceiling.
“You’d have thought by now they’d have realized she’s not there,” Olivia snorted.
“They’re nothing if not persistent, besides they’re not just searching New Orleans, they’re everywhere. Issac and I have been dodging them for weeks now.” Julien took the coffee Theo offered. “Did Olivia make this?” Julien asked suspiciously.
“No, I did,” Theo replied in amusement.
Julien smiled happily and took a deep gulp, ignoring Olivia’s glare.
“Still,” Julien continued, with a small frown marring his finely arched brow, “the morons are going to figure out sooner or later that there’s only one place left she can be that they haven’t looked. Which will lead them here.”
“We’ll be ready for them,” Theo replied seriously.
“Yes, we will.” Olivia smiled fiercely. “And then they’ll know what it means to cross a Guardian because the only way they’re getting to Scarlett is over my dead body.”
“As if Hades would let that happen,” Julien scoffed in amusement. “Plus, they’d have to get past your mythological petting zoo out there and that Hydra is no joke.”
“Leave Lulu alone,” Olivia muttered.
“You have a Hydra?” Sam asked in surprise. “Since when?”
“Right about the same time Hades dropped Hank on my doorstep,” she replied, as she turned down the heat under the bubbling pot. “Hades is affectionate like that. He’s like a cat bringing me a dead mouse as a gift, and by mouse, I mean a lethal, apex, predatory killing machine.”
“Hank?” Sam blinked.
“Chimera,” Theo supplied helpfully, lifting a plate. “Toast?”
Sam shook his head. “No thanks,” he sighed. “It seems I’ve missed quite a bit since I’ve been gone.”
“I wouldn’t worry.” Olivia shrugged. “As long as you’re not intent on running off again anytime soon, we’ll get you all caught up.” She fixed her hard stare on him. “You’re not planning on running off again, are you?”
Sam stared back at her, his mouth quirking slightly.
“Because if you do,” she warned him, waving the wooden spoon in his direction, “if you upset Scarlett again, I’m going to turn you into a toad.” She jabbed the spoon in the direction of the grimoire propped on the stand. “I’m sure Aunt Evie’s got a spell in there somewhere for that.”
Before he could respond, the back door behind Olivia rattled and opened.
“I swear there are days when it’s like Grand Central Station around here.” Olivia turned and watched as another familiar face appeared, this one with white-blonde hair scooped off his face and tied in a messy knot on top of his head, and eyes a pale shade of arctic blue.
“Davis.” She smiled in surprise.
He smiled warmly in greeting, but as his eyes slid past her to the assembled company at the table, his smile slowly faded. Olivia turned, curious to see what had caught his attention. For a brief second, Julien’s usually sardonic humor disappeared and a flash of pain with a hint of longing crossed his features, but it disappeared as quickly as it materialized, leaving Olivia to wonder if she’d really seen it. His humor didn’t return, and instead he sat stiffly, his expression casually guarded.
Davis frowned, turning his attention instead to the others. “Sam.” He nodded. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has,” Sam replied easily, although he’d not missed the look that had passed between Davis and his friend either. “How are you?”
“Great,” Davis answered a little sourly before nodding a greeting to Theo.
“Davis, where have you been?” Olivia frowned as she took in his appearance. He was dressed in light-colored combat pants, and sturdy walking boots. He also wore a beige t-shirt under a lightweight jacket with a pale-colored scarf around his neck. The Massachusetts weather was already edging into colder temperatures and rainy days, but his dusty travel worn clothes and the fact that his usually pale skin was a deep sun kissed brown made her wonder just what he’d been up to since she last saw him.
“Syria.” He shrugged.
“Syria?” Her eyes widened. “What the hell were you doing in Syria? Are you mad?”
“No.” He smiled down at her sudden and obvious concern. “I was doing something for Elias.”
“Doing what?” Julien’s voice carried across the kitchen, the tone a curious mixture of anger and concern.
Davis slowly lifted his gaze to Julien, his expression as cool as his voice. “That’s none of your business.”
“Well, you’re my family,” Olivia cut in sensing the atmosphere between the two men. “Which makes it my business, especially when you go traipsing off into the middle of a war zone. You could’ve been shot or blown up, or… or…”
“But I wasn’t,” Davis replied calmly, as he leaned forward and dropped a surprisingly affectionate kiss on her head. “It’s nice that you care though.”
“Don’t give me that.” She frowned. “Why on earth was Elias sending you to Syria?”
“You’ll have to ask him that,” Davis replied easily.
“I would if I had any idea where he was,” she answered in exasperation. “I haven’t seen or spoken to him since the night we got back from London, and he found out Eve is still alive.”
“Eve is alive?” Sam snapped sharply from across the room.
“Yes,” Olivia replied as she studied him carefully. “Did you know her?”
“I did,” Sam answered softly, a faint tinge of guilt and grief in his voice, making her wonder. “Are you sure she’s still alive?”
“Yes,” Theo told him quietly. “I saw her. She and I were held captive together in Rome by the Veritas. They called her Six, but it was definitely her.”
“God.” Sam scrubbed his hand over his face. “Elias must be going out of his mind trying to find her.”
“You’ve no idea,” Davis mumbled under his breath. “Anyway, he’s why I’m here. He asked me to give you a message.”
“A message?” Olivia blinked, her tone dry. “What? He couldn’t pick up the phone?”
“Olivia,” Davis snorted. “He’s nearly three hundred and sixty-three years old. I’m surprised he didn’t send a telegraph.”
“He’s not that bad.” She rolled her eyes. “Where is he?”
“Where do you think?” Davis replied.
“Saint Germain?” Olivia sighed.
“Saint Germain.” Davis nodded. “He’s practically taken France apart brick by brick, but there’s no sign of her. I’m not sure whether they ever intended to take her there, or if what Theo overheard was just a false lead to throw us off their tracks, but you know what the fucking Veritas is like once they go to ground.”
“Who’s gone to ground?” Scarlett suddenly appeared in the doorway.
Sam lifted from his chair as he turned to look at her, offering her his seat. Freshly washed and dressed, and with a little more color in her cheeks, she looked a lot better than when he’d reluctantly left her room. He watched her carefully, hovering over her gently as she lowered herself in the chair.
“The Veritas,” Olivia told her, as she crossed the room and set a deep cup of the herbal tea in front of her.
“Still no sign of Eve?” Scarlett frowned in concern.
Davis shook his head. “You’re looking well, Scarlett.”
“Liar.” She smiled over the rim of her cup as she took a sip and grimaced. “God, Olivia, couldn’t you do something about the flavor?”
“Blame Aunt Evie.” Olivia shrugged. “She didn’t like to mess with tradition as it was one of Bridget’s originals. I think she was a bit of a stickler when it came to family remedies. Anyway, drink it up and I’ll make you some porridge.”
“With cinnamon?” Scarlett asked hopefully.
“Of course.” Olivia smiled.
“Where are Logan and Theia?” Scarlett asked looking around, noticing Olivia and Theo’s gorgeous twins were nowhere to be seen.
“Louisa came by and picked them up a half hour ago,” Olivia replied. “They’re having a playdate with her son Jace. When we realized Sam was here, we figured it was going to get busy, so she’s having them for the day,” she explained before turning back to Davis. “What was the message from Elias?”
“He’s on his way back,” Davis answered, picking up the conversation where they’d left off. “He’s got a couple of things to take care of first, but he wants everyone to meet in two days’ time at the Boatman.”
“Do you want a coffee?” Olivia asked absently. “And who’s everyone?”
“Did you make it?” Davis asked suspiciously.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Olivia demanded in exasperation. “I can make coffee.”
“So, you did make it?” Davis asked carefully.
“No,” she snapped. “Theo made it, but if you think you’re safe from being poisoned, think again. I might poison you just for the insult.”
He chuckled lightly as he poured himself a cup. “Elias said he wants you and Theo obviously, and we’ll also need Roni and Jake. Scarlett and now Sam’s here, he can come too.”
“Do you know what it’s about?” Olivia asked curiously.
“I do.” Davis nodded. “But I’ll let him explain.”
Olivia looked up. “Where’s Issac?”
“He’s outside,” Scarlett replied quietly as she sipped the tea, shuddering and grimacing again. “He said he needed some air.”
“Sam.” Olivia glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. “Why don’t you go and see if he wants something to eat.”
Davis watched as Sam left the room while draining his coffee, then he placed the cup down on the counter and turned his attention to Olivia.
“Can I use your bathroom?” he asked. “I’ve only just got back, and I need to freshen up.”
“Sure.” She glanced up at him as she stirred the porridge, shrugging casually. “You can take a shower and a nap if you want to use one of the spare rooms.”
Davis smiled at her affectionately. “Thanks, but there’s no need. I still have things to do, but I could use washing off a layer of travel dust.”
“Help yourself,” she replied nonchalantly. “You know where everything is.”
Davis headed past the table deliberately not even glancing in that direction and stepped into the hallway, climbing the stairs slowly. He was exhausted, right down to his bones. Although he hid it well, there wasn’t an inch of his body that didn’t ache.
He chose the small half bath in the guest room where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed. Flipping the light on, he placed his hands on the sink and dropped his head, breathing deeply as he rolled his aching shoulders. Syria had been a shitstorm just as he’d expected, and it wasn’t as if he’d gone into it with rose tinted expectations. It had been a gamble, a dangerous one, especially on his own, but there hadn’t been any other choice. Unfortunately, there was no one else with his particular skill set.
Pushing himself upright, he unwound the dusty scarf from his neck and gingerly slid his jacket down his arms. He winced painfully as he lifted his arms and pulled his t-shirt up and over his head, leaving his torso bare and his cargo pants sitting low on his sharp hipbones. Mottled and bruised skin rippled across the hard ridges of his abdomen in varying shades of yellow. Darker and far larger bruises of purple and black bloomed up his ribcage, spreading across part of his back. Nasty looking scratches danced up his arm accompanied by a deeper wound concealed beneath a bandage and a large patch of stinging scrapes and burns like road rash covered the back of his shoulder.
He unwound the slightly bloodstained bandage carefully, dropping it in the trash can and studied the freshly stitched wound. The stitches were uneven and not very neat, but he wasn’t particularly bothered. He knew from experience that no matter the wound, he never scarred. It was a peculiarity he’d had since childhood and something his twin sister, Danae, had always felt was extremely unfair, especially considering the scar she’d ended up with at the age of ten when he’d dared her to jump from their bedroom window to the huge oak tree adjacent.
He glanced back at the deep cut along his arm, which had stopped bleeding at least, and there didn’t seem to be any sign of infection. Satisfied, he reached out and turned the faucet on, watching as the mirror in front of him clouded from the steam.
He washed quickly, stripping off what felt like layers of concrete dust, sand, smoke, and gunpowder. He still felt grimy and would have loved nothing more than to have taken Olivia up on her offer of a hot shower and a solid few hours sleep in a bed rather than on a hard dusty ground with the air around him punctuated with the sounds of explosions and gunfire.
He stared down at his backpack, knowing what was hidden in there underneath his spare clothes and felt the weight pressing down on him. He’d found it. It had been exactly where Elias had suspected it was. It was a miracle it hadn’t been destroyed, by accident or design. Not that the insurgents would have known what it was, nor its importance.
He’d almost been caught trying to smuggle it out of the country. Not that a Syrian jail would have inconvenienced him much given his ability to walk through solid walls, and it was exactly that ability that had meant he was the only one who could have retrieved it. He glanced back at the bag and swallowed. The others would find out soon enough and he was sorry for that. He wished they could all go back to a simpler time, but knowing what he did now, he was afraid things would never be simple again.
He once again leaned against the sink, a wave of fatigue washing over him. He would have to get some sleep and soon, but not yet, not until he’d finished what he’d started. He needed to leave again as there was one more thing Elias had asked him to retrieve, and they would need it before they all met in two days’ time at The Boatman, Elias’s grand old art deco hotel across the lake.
Shaking off the exhaustion, he leaned forward and splashed his face with cold water. He turned off the faucet and felt the tiny hairs on his arms rise as an awareness swept over him followed by a painfully familiar scent. He didn’t need to look to know who was standing behind him.
“What do you want, Jules?” he asked tiredly, as he grabbed a towel and dried his face.
When there was no response, Davis tossed the towel down on the sink carelessly and turned around. Julien’s furious gaze tracked slowly down the length of Davis’s body, taking note of the injures.
“What the hell happened?” Julien asked between clenched teeth, his eyes flashing angrily.
“A building fell on me.” Davis shrugged. “Among other things,” he muttered quietly under his breath.
He could tell the comment had not been lost on Julien when his eyes darkened. “What the hell were you doing in Syria in the middle of a war zone?”
“Like I said,” Davis replied coolly, “it’s none of your business.”
“The hell it is,” Julien snapped. “You getting hurt makes it my business.”
“No,” Davis snapped angrily. “You don’t get to do that. I’m not your responsibility. You chose not to be a part of my life. That means you get no say in how I live it.”
Davis grabbed his T-shirt too incensed to realize it was inside out as he roughly yanked it over his head, sucking in a sharp breath when his ribs protested at the sudden jerky movement.
“Davis.” Julien’s voice softened with worry.
“Don’t, Jules.” He shook his head. “I’m too tired to argue with you right now.”
“I never wanted it to be this way between us.” Julien stepped closer, until there was barely an inch between them.
Davis swallowed, feeling the heat of his body, the scent of him wrapping around him, but instead of the warm comfort and peace it used to bring him, he felt only pain. Stepping back, needing the distance, he shook his head.
“What did you expect?” He looked up, eyes filled with frustration. “You can’t just make up arbitrary rules that I don’t agree with and then expect me to follow along obediently with a smile on my face.”
“I don’t…” Julien began but Davis turned away sharply, his heart aching at the note of longing in Julien’s voice.
Davis snatched up his jacket and scarf, along with his backpack and reached for the door. “I have to go.”
“I miss you.” The words were spoken so softly Davis almost missed them.
He froze with his hand on the door handle and let out a slow breath, his shoulders bowed in defeat as he turned back to Julien, too exhausted to hide the hurt in his eyes. “I’m not the one who walked away,” he whispered.
Julien flinched at the pain in Davis’s low murmur and could find no words to defend himself. Davis was right, he’d done this. He’d caused him such deep pain that he hated himself. He’d have done anything to take that hurt from his eyes, but he couldn’t because nothing had changed. Davis was still a mortal, with a mortal lifespan, whereas he was heaven born. One day he would have to bury Davis, and the thought of it almost drove him to his knees. It was almost cruel that they couldn’t be together, yet fate kept throwing them in each other’s paths. Taunting them with the one thing they could never have.
Julien watched as Davis turned and walked out of the door, letting it swing closed behind him, leaving Julien standing motionless surrounded by the faint crisp scent of his soap and heavy silence.
