Page 54 of Dark Angel

Guardian Angels

Jordan stands in the entrance of the Carter manor, shrugging off his coat. His mind is still reeling from witnessing Kora’s secret. How does nobody else know of her special blood and abilities? Would she have told him eventually, or ever, if he hadn’t of struck her?

He trusts her. It’s not like the trust he shares with his sister, but more like an unspoken bond that’s between them. He can’t even explain it to himself, but there’s a string linking them together. Jordan has never enjoyed anyone touching him, yet holding Kora in his arms feels like the missing piece he’s been searching for his whole life. A puzzle being fit together properly after years of searching.

“Jordan!” His father’s voice brings him back to the present. Placing his coat on the rack, he turns to see Tobias thundering down the staircase like a madman. “We need to talk.”

Before Jordan can even say anything, Tobias has a hold of his arm and pulls him towards the drawing room. It’s quiet in here, with the fireplace lifeless. Cold air seeps through his clothes, creating gooseflesh on his skin.

“What is it?” he looks to his father, who is shutting the door behind him.

Tobias’ jaw clenches as he scratches his light hair, as if thinking of where to begin.

Jordan flops down in an armchair, waiting for his father to explain. “I overheard something in Robert’s office. It was between himand Charles. I don’t even know what to make of it yet, but I don’t think I anyone was meant to overhear them.”

Jordan frowns up at Tobias. “What exactly did you hear?”

“I think they’re planning something that is illegal.”

Jordan’s face stills, “Like what?”

Tobias sighs again, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he clamps his pale eyes shut. “Something about a shipment. A shipment of pints.”

“As in, pints of beer? I hardly think that is concerning father. It’s not illegal to trade alcohol if you have a licence.”

Tobias shakes his head hurriedly at his son. “No, not beer. I think they were meaning pints of blood.”

“Blood.”Jordan repeats in a louder voice, standing from the armchair with a shocked expression.

His father’s blue eyes grow in worry. “Yes, blood. They mentioned something about an Emmett. I am guessing he’s the one who is buying pints of blood from them.”

Jordan shakes his head, trying to focus solely on his father to make sense of what he’s saying. “Wait, who is Emmett?”

“How should I know? I have been in London as long as you have. I’ve never heard of an Emmett before!” Tobias yells in a hushed tone to avoid being overheard.

“All right, all right,” Jordan mutters, thinking to himself. “Pints of blood. Someone named Emmett is potentially buying them. Do you think they are selling Seraphim blood?” he suggests.

Tobias shrugs. “If they are, then that’s certainly illegal.” He stops to think as well. “Robert said it will help Charles in becoming the next leader of the Ascendancy.”

“How would selling blood help him become the leader?” Jordan questions Tobias. “There has to be more to it than that. Are you sure you heard them correctly?”

Tobias buries his head in the heels of his hands. “Yes,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “they were speaking low and, granted, the doorwas only open ajar, but I heard them clearly. They’re planning something in secret.”

Jordan nods at him. “We will figure it out,ifit’s anything to figure out. I’ll ask Matthew about who Emmett is. He might know, and that might give us a lead.”

“Do you think we should bring him into this?”

“I trust Matthew. And he has a lot of connections to people that we don’t. If I tell him to keep it between us, then he will.”

Tobias lets out a slow breath. “All right. Speak with Matthew, and I will try to find out some more information from either Robert or Charles.”

*?*?*

Matthew’s boots squelch in the muddy soil as he strolls through the market set up by the docks. The Marked Market is a place he visits more times a week than he’s proud of.

He purses his mouth shut as he passes the usual merchants peddling in the canvas stalls. Keeping his head down, he makes a beeline for Tarin-the liquor vendor.

It’s a typical market, but the enchantments placed at the entrance only allow Marked ones to pass through. River water blows through the crammed wooden and canvas stands. Unlit strings of lights hang between the walkways. The scents of herbs, dirt, salt and drinks all swirl together in the air. There’s lively chatter, sounds of coins mingling, and vegetables being chopped on thick boards.

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