The Night House Read online

  His family.

  “Thane.”

  He stilled.

  “Gale said something.”

  “I’m sure he did. Rats will do anything if they know they’re going to drown.”

  “He said he acted under your father’s order.”

  Thane straightened. His mouth twisted into a snarl. “You’re mistaken.”

  “He was very clear.”

  “He’s mistaken.” Thane took a step back.

  She pulled the blanket away and stood on shaky legs. “Was he though?”

  Thane stepped forward and steadied her with a hand under her arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your father’s an asshole.”

  He released her. “That doesn’t make him a leech.”

  “He beat your mom to death in front of you when you were a child.” Surely Thane saw how such an action meant his father had little sense when it came to discerning right from wrong, and good from evil.

  Thane balled his hands and rocked back onto his heels. “He’s my father.”

  She reached forward and smoothed her hand down his forearm. His muscles tensed underneath, but he didn’t pull away. “You’ve been too busy trying to earn their approval to see their animosity was aimed to hide their own weakness and keep you in line.”

  Thane opened his mouth and shut it again. The muscles along his jawline bulged as he clenched his teeth. His eyebrows dug in and gave him a murderous expression. He couldn’t scare her with his death stare. Taya stepped in and ran her hands up his arms to grip his broad shoulders.

  He pressed his lips tight and watched her.

  “You’re stronger than them,” she continued. “You’re better than them in every way and they know it. The men know it. I know it. The only one who doesn’t is you.”

  He stepped back and shook her hands off. “My brother and father are cruel, cold and calculating. They’re not good men, but they’ve never shown any signs of being leeches.”

  “Haven’t they though? Isn’t the act itself dark magic? Doesn’t the taint leave a mark on the soul? Doesn’t it twist the wielders power and mind? Your father married your mother with the hopes the power from her bloodline would provide an heir with stronger magic. When she birthed a powerful Tarka, he flipped because the child wasn’t the firstborn and accused her of infidelity. Does that sound like a sane conclusion to draw? For someone cold and calculating, that reeks of mental instability. Has he done anything else to defy logic? Dark magic has corrupted your family. I felt it the first time I met your father.”

  Thane shook so hard he vibrated. His wild gaze shifted back and forth as if flipping through a family album at super speed. His breathing hitched. His mouth turned down and his shoulders sagged. “Motherfucker.”

  She waited.

  He pulled Tarka power around him, into him and through their bond, so much power, the air pulsed around him. It dripped from him, radiated from his skin. “I’m going to kill them.”

  “Later.”

  He turned to her.

  “Right now, I need you to show me this is real. That I survived and you’re mine.”

  His gaze flashed. Without a word, he reached out, gripped the back of her head and pulled her in. His mouth pressed on hers. His power surrounded them, caressing her skin and flowing into her like an incoming tide crashing against rocks. The ebb and flow of his magic coupled with the intensity of his kiss ignited a fire in her core. She burned for him, her bones turned to molten lava. She melted in his arms. Again. His passion might consume them both, leaving nothing but burnt husks, but she didn’t care. She wanted to dance in the flames with him and revel in the pleasure.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Two Truths and a Lie

  Taya sat forward in the saddle when they crested the hill. The horses drew to a stop. The sight of the House of Jericho still awed her. They approached from the opposite direction the first time she’d arrive at Thane’s home, but the fortress was stunning from all angles. Despite all the grand fortresses she’d seen since arriving on this side of the gate, nothing surpassed the raw magnificence of the House of Jericho.

  The dark forest spanned the cleared field in front of the castle and a blue haze glowed in the distance, marking the location of the portal.

  She turned to Thane. “Gale said something else…”

  Thane’s brows rose. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “He said the portal belonged to your house. What did he mean by that?” Is that why three houses had formed a delegation to discuss access and trade routes with Jericho?

  Thane shifted in his saddle. “We own it.”

  “But it’s the only portal.” At least, it was the only portal she knew about. How could one family own the only portal without the other houses fighting for it?

  Thane nodded. “It is.”

  The only way the other houses would concede this imbalance of power was if Jericho… Tension knotted at the base of her skull. “Did your family open the portal?”

  Thane nodded again, expression grim.

  “Did your family send the death wave?” She held her breath.

  He gripped the reins hard. His mouth turned down. He obviously didn’t like where this line of questioning headed.

  “Yes.” He hissed the words as if it sent a knife straight into her chest. In a way, it did. Fear pulsed through the magical link between them.

  “Did you send the death wave?” Pain bloomed in her core. Please say no. Please say no.

  His shoulders stiffened. He hesitated.

  “I need you to say it,” she said, heart sinking. “I need to hear the words.”

  “I helped.” He bowed his head.

  Her vision wavered. No. Not her Thane. Not him. She sucked in a deep breath and forced the next question out. “What does that mean?”

  “It was a powerful spell that required all of us to work together. They needed me.” He met her gaze, his expression sorrowful and pleading.

  Her stomach twisted in a giant knot.

  He’d seen her memories.

  He’d seen through her eyes while she watched the blue death wave turn her friends into dust.

  He’d heard her promise to avenge her friends and family and kill the man or woman responsible.

  And here he sat.

  And he knew he was her target all along, and said nothing.

  Nothing.

  The nausea dissipated, her vision crystallized and molten hot anger spread through her core.

  “I didn’t want to do it,” he said.

  “You could’ve refused.” She gripped the saddle horn. How could he keep this from her? He’d let her love him. He’d bonded to her. Yet this whole time, he held this devastating secret to himself. What the hell would she do now? Where would she go? What would she do?

  “I tried.”

  “Not hard enough.” Her pledge to her friends replayed in her mind. Would she attack Thane? Could she? The idea of harming him sent a sharp stabbing pain through her chest. Yet she’d promised her friends. Michelle’s final sad smile flashed through Taya’s memory.

  Thane shook his head. “They had my uncle.”

  “The much-loved brother of your mom?” she whispered, mind still reeling.

  He nodded. “He’s still alive. He’s Adrianna’s father, and they threatened his life. He’s one of the only people in this dysfunctional family who’s ever shown me kindness.”

  His words made sense and quelled the anger a little, but nothing stemmed the sinking of her stomach. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Thane defying his father, face inches away, snarling, only to have Lane smirk and calmly inform him of the consequences of his refusal.

  Her heart tore, ripping painfully in multiple pieces. Her friends’ faces streaked across her mind. Thane’s wild and intense gaze when he drove into her. Her family. Her home.

  Her lips quivered. Invisible weights pulled down her limbs. She loved Thane, and loved how he loved her, but… “I can’t do this.”


  “Taya.” He reached out.

  She yanked the reins and Sugar danced sideways out of reach.

  Thane dropped his hand. His lips turned down.

  The wind wrapped around them, whipping her platinum hair into her face. The trees swayed and clouds gathered.

  “I’m not letting you go,” he said. His magic encircled her.

  “You have no choice.” Her chest tightened. Taya closed her eyes, savoured the warmth of the caress, and shrugged his power away. She was free. She didn’t have to take orders from him anymore.

  His mouth turned down.

  “Would you force me to stay?” He wouldn’t. It went against everything that made him…him.

  “You know I won’t. Where will you go?”

  “Home,” she said. Earth had limited time left before Arkavia drained it to a barren husk. She needed to find out if any loved ones remained to save.

  “I will find you,” he said.

  “Don’t.” She blinked back tears. The words slipped past her lips, but he’d ignore them. She wanted him to ignore them. But she also needed time to sort through the whirlwind of emotions boiling within her.

  She dug her heels into Sugar. The horse surged forward, barrelling into the forest. Cold air sliced past Taya’s cheeks. Tears streaked down her face. The bond pulled her back toward Thane, but she pressed on, urging Sugar to run faster before she changed her mind. She couldn’t look back. She couldn’t see his face, his pain, hurt, and loss. She’d never leave if she did and she’d hate herself and him more if that happened.

  She had to decide whether to fulfill her promise to her dead friends and kill the man she loved, or go back on her word and die from self-loathing and guilt.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  To a Place I Belong

  Taya stepped onto the sandstone rocks and pulled the kayak out of the water. The salt air brushed her face and the familiar smell of the winter forest greeted her. Although she grew up on a small island, she’d never manned a sailboat on her own and certainly not one without a motor. Instead of risking the wrath of the ocean and getting swept away to sea, she opted for a kayak instead. She had plenty of practice with kayaks, but it still took all morning to make the trip across the water that normally required a half hour ferry crossing. Her arm muscles screamed and her back complained.

  She hauled the kayak to the entrance of the beach access path. Decayed leaves and needles mixed with packed dirt marked the area her family often walked to take a dip in the ocean. Most people dreamed of tropical white sand beaches. Not Taya. Nothing beat sprawling out on smooth sandstone while the waves lapped nearby, the sun beat down, and the sweet smell of an arbutus summer forest washed over her.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The familiar scents calmed her nerves. In five minutes, she’d complete the short trek through the woods and arrive at her parents’ place. She opened her eyes, turned to the path and braced herself for what she might find. Or not find. She pulled the swords from the kayak and strapped them on her back.

  Taya forced one foot in front of the other. Her feet pressed into the soil. No matter what she found, she needed to return to the main island tonight. She’d left Sugar tied up in a shed. Though the structure and the anti-predator charm would protect the horse from wolves and mountain lions, neither warded off thieves.

  Taya knelt and placed her hand against the short cement block with crusted yellow paint marking the roadside entrance of the path.

  Be strong, her dad said.

  She gulped and turned down the main road toward her childhood home. The wind barrelled down the open road, brushed past her leather pants and pushed her hood back.

  Smoke.

  Taya froze.

  Chimney smoke. Could it be them?

  She jogged.

  Metal clashing broke the silence up ahead. Sword-fighting.

  Taya ran.

  She pumped her arms and pressed forward, muscles screaming. She turned the corner and the front yard came into view. Two men practiced sword maneuvers in an overgrown lawn.

  Taya cried out and sank to her knees. Plush grass surrounded her.

  She’d hoped. Then she’d chastised herself for daring to hope. She’d prepared herself for the pain and hurt. For more loss.

  She hadn’t prepared herself for this.

  Her dad and brother called out.

  Tears streamed down her face. Strong arms wrapped around her and hauled her to her feet. Dad and Tommy held her as she sobbed.

  Forget feeling later. A year and a half of grief welled up and spilled over the walls she’d built around it.

  She cried.

  Her brother cried.

  Her dad cried.

  “We’re a mess,” she said when the grief ebbed enough for her to speak.

  Her dad pulled back and held her face, wiping her tears away with his thumbs and squishing her cheeks a little. His platinum-blond hair was more white than blond and had grown out to brush his shoulders. More lines crinkled his face. Sad lines that marred his forehead.

  “We thought we lost you,” he said.

  Her brother still hugged her, holding her as tightly as he had when he was younger and scared of the dark. He used to clutch her like this when he believed a monster hid under his bed. Tears threatened to fall again. She blinked them back. Her baby brother, now in his twenties, who towered over her at six foot two, clung to her.

  “I thought I lost you, too,” she whispered. “Mom?”

  Dad shook his head.

  The grief welled again. She blinked rapidly, but now released, they refused to stop.

  Tommy’s arms tightened, almost suffocating her.

  Dad gathered them both in his arms again.

  “We were swimming and she went back to the house to get lunch started,” Dad said. He man-swiped the tears off his face.

  “I offered to help,” Tommy said. “But she told me to stay. I was visiting and she wanted me to relax.”

  Oh, Tommy.

  Dad pulled back and studied her leather fighting gear still caked with blood. “Let’s go inside. I think we have a lot to discuss.”

  Tommy and Dad blinked at her once she finished her story. Silence settled over the room. Normally, a clock her brother won at an amusement park filled the silence with its incessant tick-tocking, but now the crackle and snapping of a low burning fire took the role.

  “So you’re in love with an Arkavian?” Tommy said.

  She turned to her brother. “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t need to,” Dad said.

  “Seriously. Out of everything I told you, that’s what you’re commenting on?”

  They shrugged in unison, carbon copies of one another.

  “The Arkavians never came to the island. Without technology or any word from anyone, we didn’t know what was going on until we went to Nanaimo.”

  Her dad named the closest town on the larger island, the one where she’d found a shed to stash Sugar.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Survivors attacked us,” Tommy said.

  “We’ve all done things since that blue crap came out of nowhere,” Dad said. “We got answers from the attackers, but they refused to go away or leave us alone.”

  So her dad and brother killed them. She didn’t need him to explain. She’d done worse.

  “Thane believes I’m a descendent of an Arkavian Tarka from a Ghost House who ventured to Earth a few generations ago.”

  Dad nodded, reached behind him and pulled an old leather-bound book from the nearby bookcase. He placed it on the dinner table in front of her.

  “What’s this?” She’d never seen it before and she’d scoured her parent’s bookcase through the years. Her mom had an unhealthy obsession with romantic suspense, which Taya shared, and her dad relished historical fiction.

  “The journal of Izar from the House of Ilta, son of Aello from the House of Ilta, and Corentine from the House of Raiden.”

  “Why didn’t
you tell us?” she asked. The House of Ilta. That was the name Gale had spoken with his dying breath after she used the family move.

  “Ilta…” Gale whispered, blood seeping from his wounds. “Night…”

  Ilta. Ilta. Ilta.

  Why did that sound familiar?

  Lazy afternoons drinking wine with Adrianna stumbled through her memories. Adrianna gossiping. Adrianna laughing and sharing stories. Adrianna’s lessons on Old Arkavian.

  Like a giant elastic band snapping her brain, realization hit her.

  Ilta meant night.

  The Night House.

  This whole time, she’d assumed the House of Jericho was the Night House. Every time she heard whisperings or mentions, she attributed the wary comments and trepidation to Thane’s house.

  Thane’s theory from a lifetime ago flared up in a vivid memory, so real, she swore his voice rumbled against her skin.

  “Everyone figured the scout was lost. He was the last son of his house and it died with his disappearance. They call it the Ghost House, now,” Thane continued. “But what if he didn’t disappear altogether? What if he found a lovely woman and made a family and life in your world? What if his house lives on?”

  The House of Ilta was the Ghost House. And the Night House. They were all one and the same.

  Her thoughts crystallized and her mind cleared.

  Her family was the Night House.

  Dad shrugged. “I never put much weight into my ancestry. It’s not something I cared about. I believed this old book was a useless journal from a European ancestor and kept it locked in the safe. I didn’t read it until after the survivors attacked us and called us monsters. They thought we were Arkavian, too.” He lifted his hand and rotated his wrist so the back of his hand faced her. The afternoon sun streaked through the windows and danced on the surface of a large black gemstone. “This ring used to be his, too.”

  “The house ring,” she breathed. The black gemstone must be the house colour. Ilta meant “night” in ancient Arkavian.

  “Apparently.” He pulled it off and turned to Tommy. “It gets passed down to the firstborn son. This is yours, Tom.”