Chapter 17 #3
He grips the edge of the counter, staring off into blank space, while Hunter’s gaze trails past me to Callan. Devon is trying to see if he can kill me with a withering glare, and Easton hasn’t moved a muscle—not even to blink.
“Prove it,” Nix speaks up, leaning forward as if this is a conversation that intrigues him.
My breathing hitches, my fingers tightening around Callan’s knuckles. “No, I—”
“I agree with Nix,” Hunter chimes in, and my heart starts beating faster. “Not that we don’t believe you, it’s just…unprecedented. No one has ever had…that before.”
Both, he means. Rogue and Sol.
“To my knowledge at least.” Hunter looks to Easton for confirmation, and he manages a shallow nod, still unblinking.
I can hardly get a solid breath down.
“Lucina.”
I wish he would call me Chaos. Just once. Just for some sense of familiarity in this room, where I feel like a stranger to him. To all of them.
Braving a look in his direction, I instantly regret it. Callan’s gaze is pleading, grey eyes soft and somber. “Please,” is all he says.
I’m already riddled with the fear that he’ll never look at me the same, but after I show him? After he sees it? How are we supposed to repair that kind of rift? How is he ever supposed to see me as the same girl he fell in love with when I’m…not her anymore?
I certainly won’t be after this.
Calloused fingers squeeze mine, pulling me from the hole I so desperately want to be buried in. “It’s okay,” he says.
You know that it isn’t; I want to reply, but I’d only be delaying the inevitable. Pushing my problems down the road has never done me any favors, so ignore the burn starting up behind my eyes and take my hand out of his grip.
My magic is still cowering at the base of my spine, just as terrified as I am. It’s buried so deep within me that it takes a few seconds to coax it out of its shell. My exhaled breath quivers as I sift through my mother’s power and reach for the vast expanse of my father’s beneath it.
His magic isn’t afraid. Not in the slightest.
It doesn’t take long before that fearless beast rears its ugly head and slithers up my limbs, sliding down to my heavy hands. At the rush of icy power, I scrunch my eyes shut, refusing to look at anyone as I release it into the room.
The air gets cold instantly, and there’s a ripple of sharp intakes of breath. More cursing.
I can feel the shadows on my skin—dancing around my bare legs and crawling up my arms. It skates over my neck, whispering words I don’t know in my ear as it moves through my hair like a ghost.
A tear slides down my cheek, and I flinch, the sensation jarring. It’s the only warm thing about me right now. Everything else is ice cold.
When a stronger rush of Rogue power threatens to break free, I begin to panic, frantically dragging it backwards. I’ve not yet tamed it all. I’ve been working with it in fractions I can handle.
I tug with all my might, teeth gritted so hard that my jaw pops, and by some miracle I manage to wrangle it back inside me. I waste no time locking it away, slamming closed the heavy door I keep it behind.
Exhaling, I release the tension gathered in my spine, and that’s when I notice how quiet it is around me. The silence in the room is tangible. Breathing feels like screaming.
I crack open my eyes.
Pax is as white as a ghost. Hunter is pressed against the counter behind him, white-knuckling the edge.
Easton’s hand is covering his mouth, the look on his face a mix of astonishment and grave concern.
Phoenix appears to be fighting a smile. Though I’m sure what he finds amusing is imagining how it might end for me. Tortured, exiled, killed…
Then I look to my left.
Devon has thrown himself in front of Callan. It’s exactly where the third in command is supposed to be–between the Captain and a threat.
There’s hardly any feeling in the tears that slip down my cheeks.
After a few agonizing seconds of Devon towering over me, Callan pushes him aside, and for a long moment, he just stares back at me. His chest rises and falls with breaths that seem difficult to pull in. He doesn’t reach for my hand.
“Lucina.” Callan swallows, taking a hesitant step towards me. “Who is your father?”
My feet sink into the ground. It’s as if someone’s just poured concrete over them.
It doesn’t take long for my hesitation to become obvious, and when it does, Pax pushes off the counter as if he’s frustrated by my reaction.
“Cin, we took on every skeleton in your closet when you got initiated into this coven. You are one of us now, and we protect each other. Always.” He glances around the room.
“We’re all trying to process this, and that’s going to take some time, but nothing you say will change the fact that we’re bound to you forever. ”
There is love on his face, in his eyes, and it’s a relief I didn’t know I needed. At least Pax can still look at me the same way.
“You swear it?” I ask him, and Pax nods. I glance at Callan, and he nods too. Everyone does.
Fisting my hands at my sides, I lift my chin and pray to every damn god that they actually mean it.
“Kage Tenebrus,” I force out. “My father took Streatham.”