Storm and Fury by Jennifer L. Armentrout

4

Ibehaved and stayed in my room like a good little Trinity even though Misha had gone out after escorting me to my bedroom, because I felt bad after last night. I had stayed up pretty late waiting for him to return, but he hadn’t, and I figured he’d run into Jada or her boyfriend, Ty.

So, I’d been left alone, which meant I spent a lot of time thinking, and I thought, well... I might owe Zayne an apology.

He hadn’t grabbed me last night, and maybe he had called out to me and I hadn’t heard him, aaand it was quite possible that my reaction had been a bit excessive and impulsive.

I probably should apologize when—if—I saw him again. Not that I was going to look for him. If Misha said he was bad news, he was bad news.

Then again, I was dying with curiosity to find out exactly why Zayne was such a big no-no.

Because I was that bored.

Rolling my eyes, I dropped my toothbrush into the holder, then glanced at my reflection. Fine wisps of damp hair clung to my cheeks as I picked up my glasses from the sink and placed them on.

I shuffled over to my bed and flopped onto my back. My glasses slipped up the bridge of my nose as I stared at the glow in the dark stars splattered across my ceiling. They were barely visibly now, as it was daytime.

At least Netflix had just dropped The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and there were, like, six seasons of Will Smith to enjoy.

As I rolled onto my side, my gaze fell to the framed photo on my nightstand and the old, tattered book that lay beside it. The photo was of my mom and me, taken two years ago. May 20. My sixteenth birthday. The photo was just a blob, but I knew what it looked like in my heart and in my mind.

The pic had been snapped by Thierry at the Pit, during the day. Mom and I were sitting on the stone bench, my cheek resting on her shoulder, and I was holding a pink Barbie car. I had jokingly asked for a car for my birthday. Jokingly for two reasons: no one had cars within the community. Everyone walked...or flew. And I would never drive. Didn’t have the eyeballs for that. So, Mom being Mom, she had given me the car as one of my gifts.

That was...so her.

The book was also Mom’s. Her favorite. An old paperback from the late ’80s, with a couple on the cover embracing while the woman looked at the man with longing. Johanna Lindsey’s Hearts Aflame. She’d been a huge historical romance fan, and she’d read that book a hundred times.

I’d read it at least a dozen times before the print became too small for me to read even with my glasses on.

God, I missed reading it, because it made me feel close to Mom in some way. I had downloaded the ebook on my iPad, but it wasn’t the same as holding the paper copy.

It was never the same.

Sitting up, I straightened my glasses. The images on the TV were mostly a blur even after Thierry had upgraded my television from a thirty inch to a fifty inch. I picked up the remote—

“Who are the stranger dangers in the Great Hall? One of them just moved into my bedroom, Trinity. Into my bedroom.”

I jumped at the question, dropping the remote on the bed as Peanut walked through my bedroom door—my closed bedroom door.

Peanut was a weird nickname, but he’d told me that was what his friends had called him, because he was barely taller than five feet. It was the name he preferred, and I had no idea what his real name was.

Peanut was... Well, he had passed away under bizarre circumstances—at a Whitesnake concert, of all things, sometime in the 1980s. He’d died after idiotically climbing one of the concert speaker towers during a storm, proving he hadn’t been the brightest lightbulb in the bunch. The story goes, lightning struck near the tower, startling him, and he subsequently fell to his death.

It had been his seventeenth birthday.

Tragic.

I’d seen him for first time about eight years ago, when my mother and Thierry had taken me to an eye specialist in Morgantown, which was only about two hours from here. By the time I was ten, I had already seen enough ghosts and spirits to know what he was when I saw him standing on the sidewalk, looking bored and a bit lost.

The concert venue he’d died at had been nearby, and he’d spent God knows how long roaming the streets of Morgantown. He’d formed an attachment to me the moment he realized I could see and talk to him, and he’d done what some ghosts will do.

Peanut had followed me home.

I’d tried to get him to cross over, but he’d refused to move on. Meaning he was stuck in his death state and looked the way he had when he died instead of, like spirits, healthy and whole. He wore a shirt that was obviously vintage—the band’s name written in white and the lead singer screened onto the shirt. His jeans were black and tight, and he wore a pair of red Chuck Taylors.

Ironically, what he wore was kind of in fashion now.

His hair was shaggy and black, which was a good thing, because it hid the slight indent on the back of his head that I’d had the misfortune of seeing once. Some massive head trauma had gone down.

So, yeah, Peanut was a ghost—a ghost who was so stuck in the ’80s that half the time I didn’t even know what he was trying to communicate to me.

He was a rarity—one who knew he was dead and could interact with his surroundings, had died decades ago and hadn’t crossed over to the great beyond and still managed to be decent and kind.

Peanut was now kind of like a roommate, one that only I could see, who was supposed to knock before he floated through walls and doors.

Literally that was the only rule.

Well, that and not to mess with my stuff, especially since he’d learned how to access my iPad and my laptop and he also had this horrible habit of turning all my clothes inside out.

Which was notably weird.

“You’re supposed to knock,” I reminded him, heart slowing down. “Those are the rules.”

“Sorry, my little dudette.” Peanut raised transparent arms, flipping the peace signs for some reason. “Do you want me to go back out into the hall and knock? I’ll do it and I’ll be perfect at it. I’ll knock until the house—”

“No. I don’t need you to do that now.” I rolled my eyes. “Where have you been?”

“Chillin’...like a villain.” He glided to the window—glided, because his feet didn’t touch the floor. The upper half of his body disappeared through the curtain as he peered outside. “Who is the dude in my bedroom?”

I frowned at him. “What room do you think is your bedroom?”

“All the rooms in the Great Hall are my bedroom.”

“Those rooms are not your bedrooms.”

He pulled away from the window, his hands popping to his hips. “And why not?”

“You’re a ghost, Peanut. You don’t need a bedroom.”

“I need space to roam and live and breathe and be creative—”

“You’re not living or breathing, and there are extra, empty guest bedrooms here,” I pointed out. “So, you can be creative in them.”

“But I like that room in the Great Hall,” Peanut whined. “The one that overlooks the garden. And it has its own bathroom.”

I stared at him. “You’re dead. You don’t need a bathroom.”

Peanut met my stare. “You don’t know me. You don’t know my life, my wants or needs.”

“Oh my God, Peanut. Seriously.” I scooted to the edge of the bed, dropping my feet to the floor. “The other bedrooms are just fine.”

“I do not accept this.”

I shook my head. “Who is in your room that’s not really your room?”

“Some really big blond guy.”

My heart skipped a beat. Had to be indigestion...even though I didn’t have indigestion before. “Zayne?”

“Is that his name?” Peanut floated to me, his feet about six inches off the floor. “Is Thierry doing some kind of hot foreign Warden exchange student college edition thing now?”

I snorted. “Um, no. Those are the visiting Wardens from the capital.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s totes something different, isn’t it? Like he’s not accepting littlies into training right now.”

“No, it’s not time for new classes, and it is different that they’re here.” I paused. “I met one of them last night. The blond. Zayne.”

“Do tell?” He popped his chin on his fist. “I have all the time in the world, but it better involve what kind of workout that guy does to get those abs, because I just saw him in all his glory—”

“Wait. How did you see him in all his glory?” My face flushed at the thought of all Zayne’s glory. I might find him exceedingly annoying and judgmental, but that did not change the fact that the guy was flush-inducing. “Please tell me you were not peeping on him.”

“It was an accident!” He threw his hands up. “I was going into my room—”

“It’s not your room.”

“And he was coming out of the shower, in just a towel, and I was shocked. Shocked, I tell you.” Peanut sat down on my bed and sank several inches, causing half his torso and legs to disappear.

It looked like my bed ate half of him.

“So, he started getting dressed, and I was like hold me closer, tiny dancer, this is not the America I was promised, but it is the afterlife I’m here for.”

“I don’t even know where to start with that.”

“Start by giving me the 411 on this DC clan.”

The 411? I shook my head. “I don’t know much about them. They’re here for reinforcements.”

“That’s boring. Why did they come all the way from DC to ask?” Peanut rose so that it looked like he was actually sitting on my bed. “I mean, hello, McFly, you have FaceTime and Skype.”

I stared at him, and it took me a moment to refocus. “Yeah, it is weird that they came here—that they were even given permission.”

“Huh.” Peanut floated off the bed. “Maybe—”

A knock on the door interrupted us, and then I heard Misha call out, “Trin, you awake?”

“He knocked,” Peanut pointed out.

“I am.” I vaulted off the bed. “Come in!”

The door opened and Misha walked into my room, dressed in black nylon pants, tank top and sneakers. He looked like he’d just come back from a run.

He grinned as he closed the door. “You seem awfully chipper this morning.”

“I’m just excited to see you,” I said, and then winced as Misha walked straight through Peanut. “Uh...”

Peanut dispersed like smoke caught in a strong breeze and Misha jerked to a stop, his bright blue eyes widening. “Did I just walk through that ghost?”

“Yeeaah...” I drew the word out.

Piecing back together behind Misha, Peanut crossed his arms. “How rude!”

Misha shuddered. “That is so freaky and makes me so uncomfortable.”

“How do you think I feel?” Peanut snapped back, even though Misha couldn’t hear him. “You were literally inside my body. Inside every part of me. Every. Part.”

I wrinkled my nose.

“What is he saying?” Misha demanded.

“You do not want to know,” I warned. “He’s here because he’s mad that our visitors are taking over ‘his’ bedrooms, and I tried to explain to him that since he’s dead he doesn’t need a bedroom, but he’s not getting it.”

“You dismiss my feelings.” Flinging out his arms, Peanut flounced toward the door. “I’m going to go see if Zayne is getting undressed again. Tootles!”

My mouth dropped open.

“Is he still in here?” Misha asked, looking around the room.

“No. He’s currently being a pervert.”

His nose wrinkled. “You’re right, I really don’t want to know. I’m actually surprised.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t expect you to be here.” He grinned when I rolled my eyes. “Are you actually laying low?”

“For now,” I muttered. “Did you have fun last night hanging out in the Great Hall with everyone?”

He smirked as he turned away. “You sound jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Really?” He walked to my desk chair and sat. When he faced me, he gave me a look that said he knew better.

“Whatever.” I folded my arms.

“I’m actually here to tell you that I finally got a chance to talk to Thierry last night about Clay.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s going to talk to him and his instructors.” Misha moved himself around in a slow circle. “And I think his Accolade will be delayed a year to ensure that he’s ‘mature’ and ‘respectful’ and can be trusted being assigned to one of the outposts.”

“Wow.” I’d known Thierry would do something, but I was surprised by how far he was going. There was a tiny part of me that worried I’d be in trouble somehow. That was dumb, but I couldn’t help it even though I knew I’d done nothing wrong. The problem was that, upon birth, male Wardens were put on a pedestal, and the whole social structure was a breeding ground for misogyny. Sort of the same out in the human world. “Way to go, Thierry.”

“Are you surprised?” The corners of his lips turned down.

“A little. I mean, you know how everything is.” I sat down on the edge of the bed. “I knew he’d do something and I’m happy he’s making sure Clay isn’t some—”

“Creep who pushed too far?” he supplied for me.

I nodded.

Misha made another slow circle in the chair. “Just be alert. Clay’s probably going to be pissed.”

“Probably,” I murmured.

“Not that you can’t hold your own, but...”

“I know.” I sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “Did you see our visitors?”

“Yeah, they were there, and they did not look happy about it.” Misha smirked, and I frowned. “Anyway, get your butt into your workout clothes so we can get our training done for the day.” Misha rose from the chair.

“I’ll be there in ten,” I told him.

He stopped at the door. “Oh, you won’t be ready in ten minutes, but I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Why?” I blinked.

“I told Thierry you were eavesdropping on his meeting last night,” he explained, and my mouth dropped open. Misha grinned. “I’m sure he’s going to want to talk to you first.”

“You jerk-face!” I shouted as Misha closed the door behind him. Falling back onto the bed, I groaned. I was going to be in so much trouble.

Somuch.

It was Jada who knocked on my door next, after I’d changed into a pair of black running tights and a loose white shirt that kept slipping off one shoulder and was surely going to annoy the crap out of me throughout the day.

I pulled my hair up into a ponytail as Jada waited for me on the corner of my bed. She was wearing a pretty, sky-blue, off-the-shoulder dress with a long, billowy skirt that looked amazing against her deep brown skin. Her black hair was buzzed close to the skull.

Sometimes I hated how effortlessly fabulous Jada was.

“I can’t believe Misha told him I was in the hall,” I muttered, tightening my ponytail.

“I guess he felt he needed to just in case someone else said something to Thierry,” Jada reasoned.

I also sometimes hated how logical she was.

I shuffled out of the bathroom, tugging on my shirt so that it was on both my shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jada laughed as she rose to her feet. “Sorry. You look like you’re about to walk the plank.”

“Your uncle is scary when he’s mad.” I followed her from the room and closed the door behind me. I looked around as we went down the hall, not seeing Peanut.

“Yeah, he can be.” She reached the top of the stairs. “You know, I expected you to make it at least a day before being seen by one of them.”

“Well, you know me.” We headed down the stairs. “I like to exceed expectations.”

She snorted as we rounded the second-floor landing. “So, did you really swing at Zayne?”

“How did you know that? Did Misha tell you?”

“Yes.” She giggled as I groaned. “So, you did. Why?”

“Have you met him?”

“Last night.” She glanced over her shoulder at me, grinning. “He’s...cute.”

“I’m not sure cute is an effective adjective, and I wonder what Ty would think about you finding him cute.”

Jada laughed. “I may be mating to Ty eventually, but that doesn’t mean my eyes don’t work anymore.”

Mating was the archaic and supergross way the Wardens referred to what normal people called marriage. They had a very similar ceremony, except the mating ritual lasted three days, and mating was... Well, it was for forever with the Wardens. They didn’t recognize things such as divorce or separation, and I also found that archaic as all Hell gets out, because they still did the arranged mating thing quite a bit.

Ty and Jada were lucky, though. Honestly, truly in love. I didn’t know what that felt like. To be loved like that or to love like that, in a passionate way that made you want to do ridiculous things like pledge your life to another person.

I would never know what it felt like, either, if I stayed here.

“You should write a book on how to impress and endear yourself to new people you meet,” she said.

“Shut up.” I laughed, pushing her in the back.

She stumbled a step. “Why in the world did you take a swing at him, though?” she asked as she led me through a maze of corridors that were all brightly lit. Thierry left the lights on, no matter if it were day or night. “He seems like a really cool guy.”

“What?” My brows lifted. “He was kind of a jerk to me.”

“Was that after you swung on him?”

“Well, yeah, but...” I snapped my mouth shut, not wanting to think or talk about Zayne. “You know what, whatever. Did you hear what their clan leader thinks about what’s going on in the city?”

“The only thing they talked about while they had dinner was boring stuff, like the weather and which congresspersons they believed were being manipulated by demons,” she said, and I didn’t think the latter sounded boring at all. “But Misha mentioned something about it afterward. That they think something is killing Wardens and demons?”

“What do you think about that?” Surprise flickered through me as we walked past Thierry’s office. I must not be in too much trouble, because if he was really angry, he liked to sit behind his big desk and lecture me.

“I don’t know if there really is something else there, Trin. Seems crazy—watch out. Door.” She caught my arm and pulled me to her side. I’d been so focused on her, I hadn’t seen that it was open. “It has to be a demon, but displaying the bodies of the Wardens and the demons in such a public way? That sounds risky. If the general population finds out about the demons, all of them will be dead. The Alphas will wipe the demons out.”

They’d wipe out all the Wardens, too, and a lot of innocent humans would end up being taken out right along with them.

At least, that’s what we were told.

“Do you really think that would happen? I mean, I get that demons exist because of the whole need for balance between good and evil, but if the demons knew that the Alphas could wipe them out, why would they have had the uprising ten years ago?”

Jada’s glance was sharp, like she couldn’t believe I was questioning the fallacy of this long-held belief. “A lot of the demons involved in the uprising were lower level demons, ones too stupid to realize they were signing their own death warrants. They thought they could somehow take over the world and turn it into their own perfect Hellscape. You know that. We were taught that.”

“We were also taught that there’s always an Upper Level demon pulling the strings of a lower level one,” I reminded her.

She eyed me as she pushed open the kitchen door. I knew that what I was saying was weird, but I had weird thoughts when I was confined to the house.

Even if it had been only twelve hours.

“Hi, Thierry,” Jada called, and my gaze swiveled around the bright, airy kitchen until I saw him sitting at the island, coffee cup in front of him and his dark hands on the white marble countertop.

“Hey, girl.” He smiled at his niece as she bent down and kissed his cheek, then went to the fridge. “I didn’t know you were over here.”

“Just came by. Mom wanted me to grab some Mississippi pot roast recipe from Matthew,” she said. “Look who I found.”

I waved awkwardly from the doorway.

Thierry’s expression turned bland as he reached over and patted the bar stool. “Come sit with me.”

Feeling like I was six years old and just got caught eating the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms box, I dragged my feet over to him and sat down. “Hi,” I said lamely, peeking over at him.

The skin around his eyes crinkled. “Hi.”

“Want something to drink?” Jada asked as she poured herself a glass of apple juice.

I shook my head and decided to get this over with. “How much trouble am I in?”

Thierry cocked his head. “How much do you think you’re in?”

Lifting my hands, I spaced them about a foot apart. “That much?”

“Not quite sure what that represents, but last night I briefly considered locking your doors and windows.” Thierry picked up his mug. “You were in the Great Hall when you knew you shouldn’t have been there. If the rest of the clan had seen you, what do you think they would’ve thought?”

I clasped my hands in my lap. “That I’m...nosy?”

“Yes, but more important, they would question why I did not know that a girl was eavesdropping on a very important conversation. Do you understand what that says about my control here, my authority? Our visitors could’ve been offended, knowing that I didn’t have our meeting secured.”

Glancing at Jada, I saw that she was studiously staring at her vibrant pink nails.

“I am the Duke, and there should never be a situation where I have someone eavesdropping on my meetings,” he continued, and I felt about as tall as a banana, and I hated bananas. “You’re lucky that it was Zayne who saw you and that he appears to be more amused than anything else.”

Amused? He was amused by me? That—

“You know that my authority can be challenged at any time.”

I gasped, looking at him sharply. I did know that, but would any Warden really see me eavesdropping as a massive failure on Thierry’s part? One that was so bad that he should be removed as the Duke?

That seemed like an excessive response.

His bright blue eyes met and held mine. “Right now, there are too many things going on for any mistakes or mishaps.”

Nibbling on my thumbnail, something I did whenever I was nervous, I shifted my gaze to the island.

“You know how important it is, for your own safety, to be smarter than you were last night.” He touched my arm lightly, drawing my attention back to him. “Your father would not be thrilled to know about this. That you can count on.”

Normally I would’ve laughed off the comment about my safety, but when Thierry referenced my father? Totally different story. Ice drenched my skin. I didn’t need to look at Jada to know she felt the same chill. I couldn’t help but ask. “You... Are you going to tell him?”

Thierry eyed me over the rim of his mug. It was then that I saw it read I Can’t Adult Today. Matthew. That was such a Matthew saying. Thierry lowered the mug. “No.”

Relief swept through the room like a summer’s breeze.

“Only because I really don’t want to talk to that sanctimonious son of a bitch today.”

I blinked.

Thierry’s lips twitched. “I’d rather have had our visitors come and leave never having seen you, but that’s no longer in the cards. They know you’re living here, or at least Zayne does, and if you were to suddenly never be seen again, they might think we’re hiding something. That doesn’t mean I want you seeking them out. I know how curious you get, often too curious for your own good. Nip that in the bud.”

I figured this wasn’t a good time to point out that we were hiding something. Me. But this was one of those rare moments that I knew not to say the first thing that came to my mind.

I said the second thing. “Should I not seek them out because Zayne is a bad dude?”

Thierry’s dark brows rose. “What? Why would you think that?”

I glanced at Jada. “I...don’t know?”

The corners of his lips turned down. “Zayne is...very honorable for such a young male. He is the opposite of a...bad dude.”

Okay. Well, that was totally the opposite of what Misha had said, which was weird. How would Misha know something about Zayne that Thierry didn’t?

I pushed the anomaly aside for the time being. “I won’t seek them out or anything like that, but...” I took a deep breath. “If any of them ask questions about me and what I’m doing here, what do I tell them?”

“Tell them the truth.”

Jada choked on her juice.

“Come again?” I squeaked.

“They’ll sense the human part of you and nothing else.”

“And if they ask how she ended up here?” Jada asked. “Do we tell them a pack of wolves dropped her off?”

I looked at her blandly.

“If they ask how you ended up here, you tell them the truth that the rest of those who live here know,” he explained, resting his arms on the island. “Your mother and I met while I was in New York, when you were a young child. She was exposed to demons, wounded in a way that would have aroused human suspicion, so we brought her here. She stayed with us. Understand?”

That was...kind of the truth but not really. I nodded nonetheless.

Thierry’s gaze met mine once more. “We do not know what they’re capable of, Trinity. We already learned the hard way with people we thought we knew. Greed for power knows no discrimination, no boundaries.”

The ice returned, seeping through my skin to my very marrow, and I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I did know that. God, did I ever.

One of the prices paid for us to learn that...was my mom. “I know,” I whispered.

“Good,” Thierry replied. “Because they must never know what you are.”