Chapter Fifteen
Byron
We sat there for a long time on the bathroom floor.
At least Wilder had stopped shaking violently.
Now he was just curled up in my lap, his head tucked under my chin and his eyes focussed on nothing.
His magic swirled behind my solar plexus, fluttering rapidly as if it were worried.
Was magic sentient? I’d have to ask Wilder when I gave it back.
But for now, I’d keep it safe for him. If that’s what he needed right now, then that’s what I would do.
I brushed my hand through his hair. He seemed to like that. I didn’t know what else to do other than hold him and let him find his way back to me.
He flinched and looked up at me, his swollen eyes blinking slowly as he came back to reality.
“Hi,” I said softly.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted.
I frowned. “What for?”
“For throwing up. For getting lost and making you sit on the floor in my bathroom.”
“You don’t have to apologise, Wilder.”
His eyes turned glassy again as he looked away. “It’s all I can see now. Everything he did. The pain. The laughter. The sea of nothingness.”
Wilder jumped from my lap and threw up again. When he was done, I grabbed a wipe and cleaned his face for him. In this state, he wasn’t capable of looking after himself, but I didn’t mind. I liked that he needed me.
Silent tears rolled down his face as he lost himself in his memories again. I wiped them away for him, not wanting the evidence of his pain to stain his skin.
“He sold me,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
My hands stilled. “What?”
Wilder looked deep into my eyes. “My father. He sold me to someone so they could siphon my power. He put me in a box, and he killed me, over and over again like I was some attraction in a fair. All for my power, Byron.”
His words turned to gut-wrenching sobs, and I pulled him tight to my chest. I didn’t want him to see the fury in my face.
I was going to kill Lawler Rowan. I was going to chop him up into little pieces while he watched and then I was going to find a way to curse his afterlife.
That man deserved to fucking suffer, and I was more than happy to be the hand that served it to him.
Eventually Wilder’s sobs subsided and his breathing deepened.
I lifted him from the floor and carried him to his bed.
He looked so fragile as I tucked him under his covers.
So fragile and small. I brushed his hair back from his eyes.
He’d worn it down today and I preferred it that way.
I liked the way it felt between my fingers.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. No doubt, Damyr demanding an update on the guy I was supposed to be torturing. It had been buzzing intermittently for the last hour, but I was too focused on Wilder to pay any attention to it.
I pulled it out of my pocket and saw that Damyr had texted several times. I ignored these. Reading them would only piss me off and that wouldn’t help Wilder.
Instead, I dialled my twin.
“Hi,” he said quietly. “I was about to call you.”
“I need your help.”
“Are you alright? What’s happened?” He sounded panicked and I could hear him scrambling around for something in the background.
“I’m fine, it’s Wilder. We called the Memory Wraith who gave Wilder back a load of his lost memories and now he’s having some sort of episode.”
There was a small pause before he finally said, “What do you need from me?”
I released the breath I didn’t even realise that I’d been holding. “Can you please come and sit with him? I need to do something for Damyr, and I don’t want to leave Wilder on his own.”
“Of course. Text me his address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“What do I do, Bishop? How do I help him?” I hated this. This uselessness that made my limbs feel like lead.
“Just be there for him. Hold him. Feed him and wipe his tears when he cries. If he asks for something, give it to him. He’s going to have to find a way to process and deal with whatever he remembers and it’s going to suck.”
I heard his keys jangle in the background, but the sound echoed like he was in a basement. He wasn’t at our apartment, that was for sure. “Where are you?”
He paused for a second. “The Morozov Mansion.”
“Doing what?”
“Just checking up on Vee,” he said before quickly moving on to say, “I won’t be long. I just need to shower and change.”
Then he hung up.
Odd. It wasn’t like Bishop to keep secrets from me.
It was obviously something he didn’t think I’d approve of. But what?
I’d think about it later. I texted Bishop the address and then texted Roxie.
ME
Find me everything you can on Lawler Rowan.
ROXIE
Merry Christmas to you, too, asshole.
ME
Please?
My phone rang immediately.
“Okay, who are you and what have you done with Byron?” Roxie said, her chipper voice grating on my eardrums like a knife.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The ever present clicking of a keyboard echoed in the background. “You never say please. Are you okay?”
“Actually, I’m not sure.”
The clicking keys stopped. “Do I need to activate the code black?”
I snorted. The code black was a failsafe for if I lost myself to the darkness and went on a bloody rampage. “No. I’m just hyper focussed on Wilder and it’s pushing everything else to the side.”
Bishop. My duty to Damyr. Christ, when was the last time I ate something?
“So that’s why Damyr’s been demanding to know where you are. He thinks you’ve gone awol and killed Wilder because he can’t get hold of him either.”
“No, he’s alive. He’s just in the middle of something.” I perched on the edge of the bed next to him and just stared at him. “I need to help him, and I don’t really know how to. I’m not usually one to offer help.”
“No,” she giggled. “Help isn’t your strongest virtue, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t any good at it, Byron. Just follow your instincts. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Roxie and Merry Christmas.”
“Fuck me, that’s weird. I’ll sort the file and email it to you. Bye.” The line went dead, and I looked back at Wilder. It was strange to think that this man had once annoyed the shit out of me to the point where I’d considered leaving pieces of him at the bottom of the ocean.
Now look at me. I was watching over him like Florence bloody Nightingale.
Maybe the push and pull between us had always been leading us here. I wasn’t one to believe in Fate, but when I took stock of my life in this moment, I was fortunate. I had my twin back in the same city, I had money and a job and now I had Wilder.
I couldn’t help thinking that I was waiting for the other shoe to drop…
“What’s all this?”
I looked up from my phone and saw Wilder wrapped in a blanket staring at the mountain of food and drink on the coffee table.
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I just ordered you a bit of everything.”
He gave a small laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Why?”
I wrapped my hands around Wilder’s waist and pulled him into my lap. “Believe it or not, I’m not very good at dealing with emotions.”
“Shocker,” he laughed.
“But I spoke to Bishop, and he said to be there for you and give you what you need and Roxie said to follow my instincts.”
Wilder pointed at the sweets and rum. “And this is what your instincts led to?”
“I wasn’t sure if you needed sugar or alcohol, but I wanted you to have options. If you don’t like any of this, tell me and I’ll order some other stuff. We can order actual food as well if your hungry for something other than empty calories.”
Wilder snagged the bottle of rum, opened it and took a long swig. “No, this is great. It’s perfect actually.” He took another swig and stared at me over the rim of the bottle. “Not going to tell me that getting drunk isn’t going to solve all my problems?”
“Nope. If that’s how you want to cope, I’ll be here for you.”
“Thanks,” he said, his voice trembling a little.
He curled his head under my chin and hugged the rum bottle to his chest.
“I lived on the streets when I was sixteen. My mother died a year before and my father wasn’t an easy man to be around. He used to keep threatening to separate Bishop and me, but we don’t do well apart.”
“So I’ve heard,” he mumbled sleepily. “How did you end up on the streets?”
I wasn’t going to tell him the whole story. Not yet anyway. “I attacked our father when he came between us. I beat him to a pulp after he hit Bishop and then Bishop called me a monster and told me to leave. I know I should have felt scared, or sad or regret, but all I felt was rage.”
“Did your father… did he…?”
“Die? No, not straight away. He fell into a coma and died a few months later.”
“Oh.”
“It all happened a long time ago and I should probably feel something over what I did, but the worst thing about it was leaving Bishop. Not that I ever really let him get very far. I always know where he is. What I’m trying to say, in a roundabout way, is that I don’t feel anything about what I did to my father.
I’m not built that way. But you are. I just want to be here for you in whatever way you need while you process whatever is going through your mind. ”
“I’m sorry about all this,” he whispered.
I curled my hand through his soft brown hair. “About what?”
“Bringing you all my problems.”
I shrugged. “I don’t mind problems, baby. I can solve problems. Usually by killing them, but problems I can handle.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” He laughed and then cried, seemingly unable to do one without the other. “Do you still have my magic?”
“Yes,” I replied, feeling it jump in my chest at his voice. I could feel Wilder’s mark heating my skin as well. “Would you like it back?”
He smiled up at me. “Please. It might help me to feel less… adrift.”
I pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “You don’t have to explain it to me. It’s your magic, Wilder. I will only ever hold it for safekeeping.”
Wilder closed the distance between us and pressed his lips to mine. He kissed me slow and deep and with each sweep of his tongue I felt his magic leave my body.
A contented little hum escaped his mouth when he pulled back.
“If they ever tell me there’s an easier way to return your magic to you, I don’t want to know.” I squeezed him tighter to me, not wanting to let him go.
Unfortunately, I was going to have to.
“Wilder, baby. I need to take care of something for Damyr.”
He looked up at me with wide eyes. “Right now?”
“Yes, but I’ve asked Bishop to come and sit with you, so you aren’t alone.”
“Oh.” He looked away, his gaze finding the floor.
“I promise I won’t be long and besides, think of all the things you could ask Bishop while I’m not around.”
He seemed to perk up at that thought and, whilst I might regret giving him the idea, I also wanted the two of them to get along. Bishop was half of me, if he didn’t like Wilder, or vice versa, then I was going to struggle to remain balanced and away from the brink.
There was a knock at the door and Wilder flinched.
“It’s okay. It’s just Bishop.” I picked Wilder up and placed him gently back onto the sofa so I could go and answer the door.
Bishop stood on the other side, looking freshly showered and perky.
Too perky.
What had he been up to?
“Hi,” he beamed as he stepped into the house. “Where is he?”
“On the sofa.” He made to walk around me, but I grabbed his arm.
“What?”
I looked deep into his eyes, trying to find a hint of whatever was going on in his mind, but he was guarding his emotions from me. “Just take care of him for me. I won’t be long.”
Bishop nodded and something like disappointment flashed in his eyes. Had he wanted me to ask?
“Of course. He’ll be fine. Pretty sure I’ve got some baby pictures on my phone somewhere.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“No promises,” he replied with a chuckle. “Go on. Go. We will be fine.”
Then he brushed past me and went to find Wilder. Once I could hear them chatting away, I felt comfortable enough to leave. I just hoped they didn’t get into too much trouble whilst I was gone.