Page 22 of Dance of the Phoenix
Aileen
Jada’s suite was similar to the one I’d shared with Zoey and Tansy when I was first given the Imprint. It had a circular living room with three doors leading to three different bedrooms.
“She’s in there,” Yelene, one of the Hecatomb Common participants and Jada’s suitemate, now told me, pointing at the door in the middle. She’d been surprised to see me when I’d first knocked on the door, and her bright eyes still had a bewildered look, as if she didn’t know why I was even there. “Don’t expect her to open the door, though.”
“Thanks,” I told her, attempting a friendly smile. She gave me a hesitant one back before leaving the suite.
I walked to the door and started with a polite knock. “Jada? It’s me, Aileen.”
No response.
All right, then.“Bowen is worried about you. So is CJ, and so am I,” I said, raising my voice just in case. “All I’m asking you is to open the door and tell me you’re okay.”
Still no response.
“Jada,” I tried again, “I understand you’re upset with CJ for participating in the Hecatomb. But it’s not his fault. None of it is.”I started becoming angry the more I thought about it. “You’re being selfish here, Jada.”
“Fuck you!”
The scream scared the bejesus out of me, since it was so close, as if Jada was pressed to the door on the other side. Evidently, she was listening, and something I’d said must’ve triggered her. Going out on a limb, I said, “Why? Because I called you selfish? Because I don’t pity you? Sorry, but I have no time for this bullshit.”
She became quiet again. With a sigh, I said, “What are you trying to achieve here, exactly? This protest of yours is pointless. It only hurts you and everyone around you—CJ in particular.” Scowling, I added, “He’s going to risk his life, and he might lose it if he’s too preoccupied with whether you’re okay or not. Do you really want that?”
Throwing the door open, a Jada I’d never seen before appeared, grabbing the front of my T-shirt. Her sunken gray eyes were glowing, and her muss of dark curls had a greasy sheen, telling me she hadn’t showered in days. She seemed exhausted and ill. “This is exactly the problem,” she snarled like a wild animal, glowering at me. “He’s going to get killed and take me along with him! Now who’s the selfish one?!”
I frowned. “Why willyoudie if he dies?”
She released me with a shove and went back into the room, grabbing the door as if to slam it in my face, but I caught hold of it just before she did. “No, Jada, you’re going to explain to me what’s going on with you two or I swear to God, I’ll physically drag you out of here and lock you and CJ in the same room until you make up.”
When she bared her teeth and unsheathed her fangs, her face, usually so light and open, took on a twisted expression, almost murderous. “I’d like to see you try,” she said, her voice deceptively soft.
I gave her a humorless grin. “In case you haven’t heard, I was chosen to participate in the Hecatomb,” I said and saw her eyes widen. It appeared she hadn’t heard. “I have a feeling I can take you.”
Our gazes locked in a battle of wills. But Jada didn’t know me well enough to realize it was futile. I was now far too invested in her issuesto back off. In fact, I was dying of curiosity. I understood being upset over the fact her loved one was going to put his life on the line, but this was different.
In the end, as expected, I won, and Jada released the door and stepped into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. She put her elbows on her knees and let her head fall, her curls gliding down her neck. “Close the door.”
Once I did, I took in her room. Dozens of blood bottles were scattered across the floor, along with clothes and papers, among other things. Her bed was unmade, and the smell in the room told me it was in dire need of a good, in-depth cleaning.
Clearing a spot on the floor, I sat down facing her and said, “Tell me.”
She looked at me, her eyes no longer glowing but rather tired and miserable. “What I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room,” she told me quietly. “Only Bowen and our Lord know about it.”
My spine stiffened at the mention of Ragnor. I thought this was a Jada–CJ issue, with Bowen involved since he was their close friend, but if Ragnor knew about whatever this was, then that meant it was more than a fighting couple’s matter.
She took a deep breath and let her head fall again. “CJ and I ... we met a few decades ago. Before the ... Imprint.”
Interesting.“So you met when you were human,” I murmured thoughtfully.
To my shock, she shook her head and raised her eyes to meet mine. There were thousands of things unsaid in the depths of her irises that caused me to freeze as a foreboding feeling spread through my insides. “Iwas human,” she said quietly, “but he wasn’t.”
The way she said it gave me this nagging feeling she wasn’t saying CJ had been a vampire back then. “What was he?”
She seemed slightly surprised that I caught on, but then she shook herself and whispered, “A being called Malachi.”
And she lost me. “What the hell’s a Malachi?” I already knew there were other supernatural races roaming among humans other than vampires—the Jinn, for instance. I never thought about what the others might be, because frankly, I was far too occupied with keeping myself alive.
But the way her mouth shaped the word Malachi, and both the reverence and fear on her face as she spoke that word, indicated that whatever this race was, it was very different from the Jinn. The Jinn incited horror without a shred of awe. Most of them were monsters, rising seven feet tall with horns.
