Read Online Icarus; The Kindred (A Paranormal Romance) by J. S. Chancellor - Free Book Online
Authors: J. S. Chancellor
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sarcasm, I feel the truth of it now. Why did it take Trinity revealing the truth about Icarus for me to open my eyes? Why couldn't I have just listened to my heart?
So, I suppose this is where I re-evaluate my life. I think of my mom and dad, my friends from high school and college. Did I even go to college? A terse thought crosses my mind that if they were leaving false memories, they could have at least made me an honor student. I failed out of the history department and had to change majors. What was the point in that? Believability?
Who cares, no one I know from before ten years ago exists.
They do exist,
Trinity says.
But they belong in someone else's life, someone else's memories.
What will happen if I leave?
Oh, angel,
he laughs darkly,
you can try, but I wouldn't count on getting far. You know what being Tithed to me means, don't you?
Yes, I know damn well what it means. No wonder your blood felt like it was corrupting me in Florida. I'd just fed from Jacelynd. Explains why I was freezing—it was distance from him and the need for his blood.
I'm a prisoner—body and soul. I haven't the faintest idea how I am going to get out of this and I start imagining my life as the path is currently marked. My
eternal
life. Though I don't truly remember Jace or anything about my past, I don't hate Trinity—not utterly. In a way, he's all I know. Trinity does have compassion. His powers are not always used to the detriment of others. I've witnessed it. In fact, it's what got my ass out of a sling on that first assignment. We were in the subway, mingling with the crowd. Trinity was supposed to follow us from a distance. The target fouled up a handful of perfectly good chances for us to do what was necessary before I finally got impatient and initiated the take-down. Needless to say, things got complicated at that point. I don't think any of us, Trinity included, expected our target to be so skilled in doling out death blows. It's incredibly hard to kill a vampire—sunlight has manifestly been taken off that list—starvation being the worst way to go, but not the longest. Tearing out a major organ will do it too—not that Kindred can bleed to death, but really awful things start to happen to the body when it doesn't have all of its indispensable parts. There are a good many Death Dealers who are trained in this art. It may have a name, but I don't care to know it. I've seen it in practice, and let me just tell you that it surpasses a mere word. This is what Trinity was talking about when he said grown men were losing it. He wasn't exaggerating. Three seasoned assassins were felled and left bathing in their own blood before my brain could register what was going on and react. In retrospect, I suppose I should be a little prouder of myself. I managed to get at least one good hit in before I was cornered.
Had Trinity actually been a mentor and not the infamous Seer Cleric, I wonder if he would have stepped in or if he would have allowed the target to weed out a liability—meaning me. There is a small part of me that thinks he wouldn't have done things any differently, and yet something else thinks the opposite. I am going to pretend that I don't care either way.
For all its practical uselessness, all this reminiscing does, however, accomplish one very crucial thing: It reminds me of who I am. Beyond the lies, beyond the layers of some other life that's been woven into mine and the shards of a past I can only see in dreams, beyond all of that is the strength that Jacelynd didn't expect, that Trinity has underestimated and that I have so recently misplaced. Ironically enough, Damian is the only one who seemed to anticipate it.
I have two options. I can wallow in pity and remain Trinity's pawn, or I can dig a little deeper and draw on the fortitude that I know is there and do what my heart is telling me is right. Several things vie for attention on my list of shit to do, but finding Blake, assuming he's still alive and not
So, I suppose this is where I re-evaluate my life. I think of my mom and dad, my friends from high school and college. Did I even go to college? A terse thought crosses my mind that if they were leaving false memories, they could have at least made me an honor student. I failed out of the history department and had to change majors. What was the point in that? Believability?
Who cares, no one I know from before ten years ago exists.
They do exist,
Trinity says.
But they belong in someone else's life, someone else's memories.
What will happen if I leave?
Oh, angel,
he laughs darkly,
you can try, but I wouldn't count on getting far. You know what being Tithed to me means, don't you?
Yes, I know damn well what it means. No wonder your blood felt like it was corrupting me in Florida. I'd just fed from Jacelynd. Explains why I was freezing—it was distance from him and the need for his blood.
I'm a prisoner—body and soul. I haven't the faintest idea how I am going to get out of this and I start imagining my life as the path is currently marked. My
eternal
life. Though I don't truly remember Jace or anything about my past, I don't hate Trinity—not utterly. In a way, he's all I know. Trinity does have compassion. His powers are not always used to the detriment of others. I've witnessed it. In fact, it's what got my ass out of a sling on that first assignment. We were in the subway, mingling with the crowd. Trinity was supposed to follow us from a distance. The target fouled up a handful of perfectly good chances for us to do what was necessary before I finally got impatient and initiated the take-down. Needless to say, things got complicated at that point. I don't think any of us, Trinity included, expected our target to be so skilled in doling out death blows. It's incredibly hard to kill a vampire—sunlight has manifestly been taken off that list—starvation being the worst way to go, but not the longest. Tearing out a major organ will do it too—not that Kindred can bleed to death, but really awful things start to happen to the body when it doesn't have all of its indispensable parts. There are a good many Death Dealers who are trained in this art. It may have a name, but I don't care to know it. I've seen it in practice, and let me just tell you that it surpasses a mere word. This is what Trinity was talking about when he said grown men were losing it. He wasn't exaggerating. Three seasoned assassins were felled and left bathing in their own blood before my brain could register what was going on and react. In retrospect, I suppose I should be a little prouder of myself. I managed to get at least one good hit in before I was cornered.
Had Trinity actually been a mentor and not the infamous Seer Cleric, I wonder if he would have stepped in or if he would have allowed the target to weed out a liability—meaning me. There is a small part of me that thinks he wouldn't have done things any differently, and yet something else thinks the opposite. I am going to pretend that I don't care either way.
For all its practical uselessness, all this reminiscing does, however, accomplish one very crucial thing: It reminds me of who I am. Beyond the lies, beyond the layers of some other life that's been woven into mine and the shards of a past I can only see in dreams, beyond all of that is the strength that Jacelynd didn't expect, that Trinity has underestimated and that I have so recently misplaced. Ironically enough, Damian is the only one who seemed to anticipate it.
I have two options. I can wallow in pity and remain Trinity's pawn, or I can dig a little deeper and draw on the fortitude that I know is there and do what my heart is telling me is right. Several things vie for attention on my list of shit to do, but finding Blake, assuming he's still alive and not
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