Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
ATLAS
I sleep on and off, dreaming of the feeling of Rune’s mouth on me when I manage to find a few minutes of peaceful unconsciousness and chasing a thousand racing thoughts every time I wake up again.
Was that vision Rune managed to conjure briefly enough to give them a lead?
Why did Rune seem so startled by the description of the house?
Does he know it? Am I doing enough to protect him?
Are we ever going to get out of here? And on and on…
At least Rune slumbering on top of me gives me something nice to look at while I brood.
I gently card my fingers through his tangled hair, doing my best to work out the knots without waking him.
As much as I want us to find a way out of here, part of me is dreading it.
Will I ever see him again after this? One thing I know about Rune: he’s nearly impossible to find if he doesn’t want to be found.
That Rune feeling in the center of my chest flutters and pulses like a heartbeat all its own, and I let his steady breathing pull me under for another brief nap.
The next time I wake up, it’s just in time for me to hide while Elvira drops off breakfast.
“Thanks, love, the room service here is impeccable,” he shouts after her sarcastically, sitting on the edge of the bed and running his fingers through his hair.
Rune frowns. “Maybe some of my magic is still lingering after last night if I somehow managed to smooth out this rats’ nest on my head while I slept,” he murmurs as I drop my camouflage.
I just grunt. I’m not about to admit that I was awake half the night running my fingers through his hair.
The cot protests noisily as he stands up. He shuffles over to pick up the plate Elvira left, and scoffs as he bends down.
“Fresh beignets,” he mutters. “We’re definitely in NOLA or somewhere nearby.
And whoever that robed asshole holding us hostage is, they’re taunting me again.
Beignets are another favorite of mine. How could they know that?
There are plenty of people with a grudge against me, but I’ve never sat down with any of them and told them all about my childhood. ”
“Is it possible that they’re guessing at some of it? It’s not exactly a secret that you grew up in New Orleans. We found that out easily when we were looking into you. And someone born and raised here liking gumbo and beignets isn’t much of a stretch.”
He waffles his head back and forth, considering what I’m saying as he carries the plate over to the bed.
“The t-shirt though,” he reminds me.
“Oh, right. That’s the big one.”
He holds one of the beignets out to me, but I shake my head.
He needs food more than I do. I have tons of time before it becomes an issue, even if my stomach is growling at the sugary smell of the food.
Rune rolls his eyes and stuffs the beignet into my mouth roughly.
I try not to moan at the taste or the delightful feeling of the fried dough melting on my tongue.
Bits of sugar rain into my beard, and he looks extremely satisfied with himself as he picks another one up off the plate and takes a bite of it himself.
“Has anyone ever told you how pushy you are?” I grumble once I swallow.
“Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?” He arches an eyebrow at me.
“I keep telling you, I don’t need to eat that often. I’ll be fine.”
“And I keep telling you that you’ll be useless to me if you’re weak with hunger or you turn to stone.”
I cock my head and study him for a second while he eats his food. “Is that all it is? You’re worried about my usefulness?”
I don’t know what I want him to say. Maybe that he’s feeling something a little bit like I am. I would settle for a feeling of appreciation or a simple, passing affection based solely on the fact that he doesn’t have to be trapped in here all alone.
“Life has taught me that it’s better to be practical than sentimental, gargoyle. If that’s not a lesson you’ve had to learn… well, I envy you.”
I grunt again, and I notice a little flutter in the center of my chest that feels a little bit like sorrow. Is it sorrow for Rune? Or am I somehow feeling what he is? Maybe it’s another effect of sharing his magic?
Silence falls for a few minutes while I let him finish his food.
When the beignets are gone, he gives me a wicked smile, like that conversation before never happened, and holds eye contact as he licks every last bit of the powdered sugar from his fingers.
My cock throbs and a rumble of want tightens my throat.
“Do you want to try to gain more access to your magic again today?” I ask gruffly.
“Want? Yes.” He lets out a small laugh. “I’m not sure if it’s smart though. They’re onto me. They could feel the magic I managed to harness yesterday. Unless I can figure out how to get a hell of a lot more, it might not be safe.”
I try not to let the disappointment show on my face as I nod. He’s probably right. Playing around with dribs and drabs of his powers is only going to make his captor more suspicious and on edge.
“So, we just wait and hope that the vision of the house was enough for my friends to go on?”
Rune’s expression turns sour. “I think that was a trick too. It had to be.”
“Why? How?”
“I don’t know how.” He shakes his head and stares off for a moment, lost in thought. “It can’t be the house he was describing though. That house is gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I burned it down years ago.”
RUNE
“What?” he chokes.
I sigh and stretch out on the cot, looking up at the drab gray ceiling. Atlas shifts around, making the unsteady bed jostle and groan until he wedges himself in between me and the wall, lying on his side to face me.
“Light blue with columns and a sign out front, that sounds like the house I grew up in.” I can picture it as clear as day still, on a little patch of land near the bayou, a mossy tree in the front yard and a gravel driveway leading up to the house.
“I’m sure there are other blue houses with columns though, right?”
“Yes, of course.” I almost feel silly assuming that it’s the same house, especially when it’s impossible. If any part of that house is still standing, it can’t be in great shape. “I guess my mind is just on my childhood given… everything else.”
“Sure, that makes sense.” Atlas nods, and I can hear something in his voice, like he’s holding something back, or maybe working up the courage to say something he thinks I won’t like.
“Spit it out,” I say.
He huffs a laugh. “I was just wondering what exactly happened with your family.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors already.
” He mentioned that it wasn’t hard to learn that I was born in New Orleans, well, it’s even easier to learn that I slaughtered my family.
The supernatural community loves gossip, and that’s a bit I happily spread myself, so everyone would know that I wasn’t to be fucked with.
“I have,” he says. “But I want to hear from you. Maybe it will help us figure out who could be doing this. A family friend, a distant relative, someone who wants revenge for what you did to them?”
“Maybe.” The thought definitely occurred to me, the problem is, I can’t think of anyone powerful enough who fits the bill.
“They weren’t good people,” I confide. “I do have vague memories from when I was very young of my mother singing to me and my father taking me out to catch crawfish to boil.” I can hear my long buried drawl creeping subtly into my voice as I reminisce.
Atlas gently brushes a strand of hair off of my face and nods, encouraging me to go on.
“When I was five, my powers started to manifest.”
“That’s young,” he says.
“It’s very young. Most mages don’t show signs of magic until they hit puberty, and then it takes years of practice and study to fully harness them.
I was special. At first, all I cared about was how proud and pleased my parents seemed to be.
They encouraged me to work on strengthening my powers, and I did it happily.
I didn’t have to do any chores around the house or even go to school, and I loved it.
I bragged to my siblings and anyone else who would listen that I was too special and powerful for such mundane activities. ”
Atlas chuckles. “The origin story of your arrogance.”
I playfully slap his chest. “Watch it. I fired two therapists and cursed a third.”
He mimes zipping his lips, and I go on.
“Before long, they were bringing friends to the house to have me perform spells for them. Protection spells, luck spells, healing spells, you name it. I thought they were friends, anyway. That’s what my parents told me.
It turns out they were customers, and they were paying my parents well for my services.
When they realized people were willing to pay even more for dark magic, that’s when things got bad.
” A shiver runs through me as memories swim in my mind of years spent doing horrible things for even worse people, at first to make my parents happy, and then to avoid punishment when I tried to refuse.
“In my early teens I started to realize just how bad the things they were making me do were, and I refused to do them anymore. First, they offered me a portion of the profits. When that didn’t work, they beat and tortured me. ”
Atlas growls. The sound is protective and menacing at the same time, vibrating in his throat and pulsing between us. He wraps an arm around me like he’s going to be able to somehow shield me from the past. I pat his arm and barrel on towards the end of the story.
“Arrogant shit that I am, even that wasn’t an incentive for long.
I didn’t want to be made to do anything I didn’t want to do.
I was too powerful to put up with it. I was fucking resentful that they thought they had any right to force me.
That’s when they brought in my grandmother, who, before me, had long been the most powerful in the Delaport bloodline.
She tried to siphon my power from me. She told me magic was a privilege that disobedient children didn’t deserve.
” My jaw ticks and my body tenses as that night floods back to me—the physical pain that lanced through my body when she tried to take my magic away, the rage that flowed through me until I felt like my insides were made of fire and fury.
“I killed her,” I say coldly. “My magic exploded out of me and hit her like a bolt of lightning. I knew they weren’t going to stop using me and hurting me.
I also knew that if I kept letting them, others would see my weakness too.
I would always be a weapon wielded by dark people with evil intentions if I didn’t show them all what would happen if they fucked with me. ”
“So, you killed the rest of them too?” Atlas guesses. I nod. “Your parents? Your siblings? What about extended family?”
“All of them. Except my sister. She was small and weak and young. She was thirteen and hadn’t shown any signs of magic yet. My parents thought it was because she was born premature and had always been sickly. I pulled her out of the burning house and left without so much as a backward glance.”
“You don’t know what happened to her?”
I shake my head. “I heard she was adopted by a nice family. I’ve never heard so much as a whisper about her in any magical community, so as far as I know, my parents were right. She might have never even had any powers. She’s lucky, if you ask me.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he murmurs.
“I don’t need pity.” I bristle. “I hope you see what I mean now about practicality. No one looks out for me except for me.”
He gives a harsh laugh. “I got myself trapped here trying to save you.”
I frown and turn my head to look at him. “You did, didn’t you? I still don’t understand why.”
He twists his lips into a half smile. “I don’t think I understand why either. But I’m here anyway.”
I reach up and thread my fingers through his beard. “You are. And between the two of us, we must be able to figure a way out of this mess.”
“It sounds like there were plenty of loose ends in your story. It could be a client of your parents who didn’t get what they wanted before you went rogue.”
“Maybe. Without more clues, I’m not sure we’ll figure it out though.
I think…” There’s an idea that’s been on my mind since last night, but I’m hesitant to mention it.
It feels like we’re running out of options though, and it might be the only way.
“I think I might have an idea of how to access more of my power. All of it, maybe.”
“Really? What?”
“I’ll tell you, but first I need to know how gargoyles mate.”