Page 57 of Born Chaos

His gaze drops into his lap, his head sagging. “I think I always knew Archer must have gotten to her. She wouldn’t have run forever. She would have found a way to beat him. So, I think I knew for a long time. It’s just impossible to accept.”

I reach a hand out and lay it on his forearm. My heart is breaking for him. “I’m sorry, Jon.”

He lays his hand over mine, those blue eyes rising back up to my own. “You said you left Kansas when you turned eighteen. Where did you go from there?”

“To New York City,” I say, trying to smile a little bit to make the mood lighter. “It was rough. It’s damn expensive there. And I didn’t have any real-life experience. But I made it. Got myself into college. And then into medical school. I was just a few months away from getting my certification when I got stabbed by a mugger.”

“Shit,” Jon says, raising his eyebrows.

I actually smile. “Yeah. I was out with my best friend, and he was trying to take her money. I thought I was being noble or something, defending her. Turns out he couldn’t have touched her if he tried. She was already a vampire. I just didn’t know it yet.”

“Damn,” he breathes, and something in me thinks we’ll get along just fine. And suddenly, I smirk at that saying “swearing like a sailor”. It’s one of the only facts that I know about him: He was a pirate. “How long ago did you leave New York?”

“Eight months ago,” I say, thinking back on it. That feels like a lifetime ago.

“I was in New York City for about two months three years ago,” he says, his tone annoyed. “I thought I’d combed through that place up and down.”

“It’s almost like eight million people is a lot to look through,” I say sarcastically.

Jon chuckles, scrubbing his hands over his face. “We could have been one block apart and never known it.”

“We’re here now,” I say, laying my hand on his shoulder.

He looks at me, blinking slowly, a smile pulling on his face. “And how did you end up in Chicago?”

I sigh. “I got stabbed in New York, but my best friend, Elena, brought me here to Chicago because she thought I’d be safe here. It’s where she lives. So, to Chicago I came. It’s been… eventful.”

Jon raises an eyebrow in question.

I sigh, hating to relive the past. “Um, a man hunted me for a few months. I accidentally killed his daughter when I first Resurrected. She was a Born though, so I was kind of pissed her dad was so vindictive. He caught up to me, staked me, and that’s when I first figured out I’m cursed.”

“You were staked, but you’re still here?” he questions. According to the reaction of every other vampire I’ve met, this should be… shocking. And Jon seems surprised, but not near to the extent as the others. Guess when you’re married to a curse weaver, anything is possible.

I nod. “I got involved with my best friend’s twin brother for a while, but it was doomed from the start. He’s still human for now, and he’s not ready to Resurrect. That ended. And then a necromancer showed up in town.”

“A necromancer?” he asks, finally showing that shock I was expecting. “They’re real?”

“Apparently,” I say with a smirk. But instantly, it falls away. “He was here in Chicago looking for Archer King.”

“No,” Jon says with a pained tone.

“Yeah, and he found him too,” I continue, my stomach knotting. “Brought him back from the dead, and then he proceeded to steal the gifts of a dozen people around here.”

“Holy shit,” Jon says as he gets to his feet. “Where was he last seen?”

“When I was dumping his ashes into Lake Michigan,” I say, holding a hand up to calm him down. “Don’t worry. Roman and I set a trap, and we killed him. This time we cremated him so he can’t pull a stunt like that again.”

Jon lets out a hard breath, and I can hear the way his heart is pounding. His hands are curled into fists, his knees slightly bent. At a word he’d snap, go raging after the man.

“But before he died, we were able to retrieve the gifts he’d stolen.” I reach for my neckline and hook my thumb around the silver chain hanging there. I pull, and from my shirt slides the red, glowing crystal. I hold it up, and Jon’s eyes go wide.

“That’s…” he struggles to form coherent words. “That’s Ingrid’s gift?”

I nod. And now my heart starts beating harder. I need to be careful with what I say right now. It’s obvious how much he loved… loves my mother. Giving someone false hope can destroy them.

“I didn’t want him going to the grave with it,” I say, deciding to hold back the information about Markus the necromancer being alive, for now. We’ve only known each other for less than an hour. No need to overwhelm him with too much. “He told me he’d never been able to wield it in the twenty-eight years he’d possessed it. Which made me feel better. I don’t know… It’s kind of comforting, knowing I have this tiny part of her.”

Jon’s expression sobers again, that pain returning. “She would have been the best mom.”

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