Jenna Black - Dark Descendant

I felt like I was grasping at straws. It seemed more likely that my newly enhanced aim was my only supernatural power. Then again, it had seemed more likely Steph’s wallet had been stolen, but I’d gone with my gut all those years ago and my gut had been right.

I can’t say I exactly got my hopes up. But I at least tried to keep something resembling a positive attitude as I gathered the paperwork for some of the most likely properties and mapped out a route I would travel tonight, after the moon had risen. A faint hope was better than no hope. Whether Anderson would kick me out if I failed or not, my position here would still be stronger if I somehow managed to find Emma. I would do anything in my power to strengthen my position and protect myself—and Steph—from the Olympians.

Sunset officially came aroundfive that night, but it took half an hour more before most of us were gathered in the kitchen, which was near the back door that would lead us to the clearing where Jamaal’s first execution would take place. Everyone was in a grim, nervous mood. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I felt like everyone except Maggie was giving me a mild version of the cold shoulder. They might not have been all one happy family before I came along, but they’d been a lot happier than they were now. I couldn’t blame them for holding me at least partially responsible.

Someone had left a bunch of lanterns on the kitchen table—actual oil-fueled lanterns, not the Coleman variety. I picked one up because everyone else did, lighting it with the long-barreled lighter that was being passed around.

We were milling about, no one talking, when Logan stepped into the room.

“Head on out to the clearing,” he told us. “We’ll meet you there.”

“We” apparently referred to Logan, Jamaal, and Anderson, because the rest of us were all present and accounted for. If anyone objected to being ordered around by Logan, they kept their mouths shut. Still tense and unnaturally quiet, we filed out the back door.

When I’d first arrived at the mansion, Maggie had given me a thorough tour of the house, but I’d never been out on the grounds. I had no idea where we were going. I glanced up at the sky as we walked, but though it was a clear night, the moon hadn’t yet risen.

We walked past the nicely manicured garden that dominated the view from the kitchen windows, plunging into the woods behind it. The woods were as meticulously pruned as those that surrounded the driveway. Although we weren’t following a path, it was a simple matter to slip between the trees without tripping on undergrowth.

It was an eerie sight, this silent procession of grim-faced Liberi . The lanterns barely penetrated the dark, and it was easy for the mind to imagine terrors that lay just beyond the reach of the lanterns’ glow. Or maybe that was just me and my nerves. Except for that terrible night when I’d killed Emmitt, I’d never seen anyone die before, and though I knew Jamaal would not stay dead, I desperately wanted to run back to the house and hide in my room. But Anderson had been very clear this morning, and I knew I had to bear witness, just as the rest of the Liberi did. I might not feel like I was truly one of them, but just as I’d had to in my many foster homes, I had to go through the motions and pretend I belonged.

We walked what I estimated was about one hundred yards before the trees gave way to a perfectly circular clearing. Someone—probably Logan—had already set the stage. A double row of torches flickered just far enough from the edge of the trees to avoid being a fire hazard.

My heart leapt into my throat when I saw what was in the center of the clearing: a low wooden block with a semicircular notch carved into the top. I might have been able to convince myself it was a stool or something else innocuous, if it weren’t for the huge sword, held upright in a black iron stand just to the left of it.

I swallowed hard and sweat trickled down my back despite the brisk temperature. Maggie had walked beside me the entire way, offering her silent moral support. I didn’t think she’d completely gotten over the suspicions that awakened when I’d found Emma’s ring, but she was still friendly, even if not as warm. I reached out to clutch her arm.

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” I hissed, too freaked out to speak above a whisper.

She spared me a sympathetic glance. “Sorry, no can do.”

“They’re going to cut his head off?” This time, my voice came out in something more like a squeal. Nausea roiled in my stomach at the thought of it.

Maggie patted my back in a gesture that might have been comforting if I’d been capable of being comforted. “It’s a mercy,” she said. “It’ll be over too quickly for Jamaal to suffer any pain.”

I swallowed again, hoping to keep my gorge down. Maybe it was a mercy for Jamaal, but it sure as hell wasn’t one for me. I looked around at the other Liberi . Although everyone still looked grim, I seemed to be the only one close to passing out or hurling. Even Leo, with his mild-mannered accountant look, didn’t seem particularly disturbed by what was about to happen.

“We are none of us young, nor have we led sheltered lives,” Maggie said, correctly reading the expression on my face as usual. “We’ve seen horrors you wouldn’t believe, especially those of us who were Olympians for a time.”

I took a deep breath, wishing it would settle my nerves. “How the hell can he survive being beheaded?”

“He can’t. That’s the point.”

“You know what I mean!” I snapped, nerves making my temper brittle.

Luckily, Maggie wasn’t put off by my snappishness. “It’s magic, Nikki. I don’t know exactly how he’ll come back. All I know is that he will.”

I was saved from further embarrassing myself when Anderson entered the clearing, closely followed by Blake and Jamaal. Jamaal held his head up proudly, no flicker of emotion on his face when he caught sight of the block and the sword. If he was afraid, he was hiding it well.

I expected speeches and ceremony, but Anderson merely joined our silent ranks while Logan gestured Jamaal to the block. Jamaal scanned the assembled Liberi and caught my eyes. I wanted to look away, too squeamish to deal with what I was about to witness—and too afraid of his continued anger. I managed to hold onto my courage and meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so softly that I only understood him by reading his lips. I suspected that apology was harder for him than his actual punishment.

I doubted I’d completely won him over, but I believed the apology was sincere, so I nodded at him in acceptance. He held my gaze a moment longer, then knelt before the block without having to be prompted. Holding on to the block with both hands, he laid his neck in the notch. Logan bent over and brushed Jamaal’s braids to the side, baring his neck. Then he grabbed the sword.

Maggie reached over and took my sweaty hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, for which I was absurdly grateful.

“When you’re ready,” Logan said to Jamaal, “let go of the block and put your hands to your sides.”

Logan held the sword in both hands, poised to strike, while Jamaal took a deep breath. The moment Jamaal’s hands moved, I shut my eyes tightly. Anderson had insisted I be present for this, but he couldn’t force me to actually watch .

I heard the whistle of the blade as it sliced through the air, then the wet thunk as it made contact, then the soft, sympathetic gasps of the onlookers. They might not be as squeamish as me about it, and they might have seen worse horrors during their long lives, but they weren’t completely hardened. That made me feel better even as the wind carried the scent of blood to my nose.