Chapter 10
TEN
EMMA
“You ready?” the Healer asked, looking at me expectantly.
I wasn’t. Not really. I wanted James with me, wanted him by my side while I did this. But I didn’t have any choice in the matter. We still hadn’t resolved our issues, and I was too stubborn to be the first one to reach out.
So now, I was getting my Skindo tattoo on my own.
“You sure you want it over the scars?” the Healer asked, eyeing my arm.
I nodded. Hell yeah. “Yes, please. Cover them up as much as you can.”
The Healer touched my arm, releasing a soft pulse of energy, and I could feel the magic beginning to work.
The familiar sensation of translation washed over me as the intricate tattoo started to wrap around my arm, its patterns delicate and beautiful.
I could hardly wait to see the finished drawing.
“How do you do that?” I whispered, curiosity getting the best of me. Maybe the Healer could give me some new insights into how this kind of magic worked.
He shrugged, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “We do the same thing you do. All translation comes from knowledge. We understand how the human body works, and we influence it.”
I nodded, mulling over his words. Knowledge. It always came down to knowledge. Precisely like Justine had said.
Except when it came to knowledge about myself, apparently. My anger toward James and his reluctance to help me flared again.
When the Healer finished, I admired my new tattoo with a mix of awe and gratitude. The intricate patterns wrapped around my arm, beautifully covering the scars. I’d have to train with the Skindo for sure, but for now, there was something else I needed to do.
Taking Justine’s advice, I decided to dive into the Collective’s library, looking for clues in as many books as I could get my hands on. James wasn’t going to help me but I didn’t need him.
Though I did need reinforcements. And there were two people who could use a little forced proximity.
Smiling to myself, I contacted Sean first. He eagerly agreed to help me with the research, and his enthusiasm was almost contagious. Next, I called Jackson, who I needed to get us clearance and who immediately launched into a tirade about how and why we couldn’t trust Sean to help out.
“Do you have any idea why he’s here? In Cyclos?” he asked, brows drawing together with suspicion.
I stilled. I didn’t, actually. “No, why? What’s the deal?”
“I don’t know! That’s the problem! Don’t you find it strange?”
“Jackson, he’s an Offensive from Crown,” I explained, and tried to stay patient. “A Collective that went through war. He brought Maurice’s body here with James, and even he trusts the guy. I think it’s safe to assume he’s okay.”
Jackson was quiet for a moment, evidently not convinced. “The United Chiefs officially tasked Crown with the search for the Amplifier. You don’t find it strange he’s over here instead of helping his own Collective?”
I shrugged, trying to push back the hurt that James hadn’t told me that yet. “Maybe he’s on another mission? Some diplomatic mission we don’t know the details of?”
Jackson shook his head. “I don’t trust him.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Then why don’t you join us and protect me from him, if you’re so worried?”
I knew I had him with that.
“Fine,” he snarled. “But if he so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’m killing him.”
I raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re going to kill him?”
“Well… I’ll call James, who will kill him,” Jackson muttered stubbornly.
That made me laugh. “Sure, tough guy. Now, get to the library.”
“No, that’s not the aisle for books on translation. That one is,” Jackson snapped, jabbing a finger in the exact opposite direction of where Sean had suggested. His patience had officially lasted two minutes since stepping into the library. A personal best.
Sean smirked, leaning lazily against the bookshelf like he had all the time in the world. “Oh, Jackson, where’ve ye been all my life? If only ye knew how many times I’ve wandered aimlessly through a library, prayin’ for a broody, bad-tempered guide to show me the way.”
Jackson didn’t even glance at him. “I wish you’d wander off right now.”
Sean blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Wow. Two minutes in, and yer already tellin’ me to piss off. A new record, even for ye.”
Jackson’s eye twitched. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked toward the aisle, irritation radiating off him like an overworked boiler. “Just grab the damn book and shut up.”
Instead of moving, Sean flopped into a chair with a dramatic sigh. “Y’know, ye could’ve asked nicely. But I guess hostility is yer love language.”
Jackson spun around, arms crossed, scowling like he was debating whether or not to launch the nearest book at Sean’s head. “You’re still talking?”
Sean propped his feet up on the table, completely unfazed. “Aye, well, someone’s gotta balance out all that sunshine and charm ye bring to the room.”
Jackson barely spared him a glance before stalking off. Sean lingered, twirling a pencil between his fingers like he had all the time in the world.
“Do you really have to antagonize him like that?” I whispered, leaning in.
Sean grinned wider. “I can’t help it. The guy begs for it.”
I shook my head at him in disappointment, their banter a sharp reminder of the back and forth I’d seen between Jackson and Matthew.
Though, while Matthew and Jackson bickered like an old married couple, there was something different here—something charged.
Sean and Jackson didn’t just argue; they played off each other, their energy closer to chemistry than simple rivalry.
When Jackson returned, arms full of books, Sean was still lounging, feet up, looking far too pleased with himself. “Miss me?” he asked, grin broadening.
“Like a plague-infested STD.”
Sean laughed, loud and unapologetic. “Oddly specific. I’d ask if ye were speakin’ from experience, but nobody who's ever had sex stays that wound up.”
That hit a nerve.
“Not everyone is as eager as you to whore themselves out,” Jackson shot back, dumping the books on the table with a thud.
Sean jumped to his feet, the playful smirk wiped clean from his face. “Excuse me? Whore myself out?”
“Guys,” I interjected, trying to cut through their bullshit. “Let’s focus on the assignment?”
They were both glaring, their breathing a little too heavy, and something dark flickered in their eyes—something that looked disturbingly like hunger.
“Guys, seriously?” I pressed.
Jackson finally broke first, gave me a tight nod and sat his ass down. Sean followed, though the air between them still simmered with unresolved heat.
“Ye know,” Sean mumbled while opening a book, “ye should get to know me before ye judge.”
“Think I’ll survive just fine without all that Irish charm,” Jackson grumbled back.
I shook my head, suppressing a smile of my own. “You two are worse than children,” I said. “Let’s try to get along and get some work done.”
Sean shot me a wink, still smiling. “Yeah, boss. Whatever ye say.”
Jackson groaned, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get this over with.”
“So what is it we’re trying to find out?” Sean asked again, leaning back in his chair, his usual easygoing demeanor wavering slightly.
Jackson grunted, apparently already on edge. “I’m looking up anything about blocked translation. You’re on Amplifier duty, and Emma is looking into the Elder. Can you please try to retain it for longer than twenty seconds?”
Sean’s patience thinned, something I hadn’t seen from him yet. “I didn’t ask what our assignments were, mister Lau,” he shot back. “I asked what we’re trying to find out.”
I glanced between the two of them, before deciding to elaborate. “I want to know who I am,” I said softly, trying to ease the hostility. “I want to understand why I am the way I am. So anything on dulled translation that suddenly gets out of control or on how to survive an Amplifier…”
Sean’s frown deepened as he considered my words. “And the Elder? How does he fit into this?”
I shrugged, not ready to reveal the whole thing about the True Bond between us yet. “He was here when everything went down, then never showed when the Amplifier did. I only want to make sure he wasn’t involved in anything ‘Radical’.”
Sean’s gaze softened, his earlier frustration fading. “Of course,” he said gently. “Let’s see what we can find out.”
Which is precisely what we tried.
For three days straight.
We poured over every book we could find, combing through ancient texts and records.
I even learned a lot about healing in the process, spending hours reading about translation and anatomy.
But despite all the time and effort, we found no solid leads—nothing that resolved the barrage of questions still churning inside me.
On the last day, it was only Sean and me. Jackson had to leave early to get ready for a night out with James and Matthew, though I had a sneaking suspicion he was also still wrestling with whatever attraction was still pulling him toward Sean. Not that he’d ever admit it.
I didn’t bring it up to Sean either, figuring he’d talk to me about it when—and if—he was ready. But he didn’t.
“It’s insane how little we actually know about this stupid Elder,” I complained in frustration, more to myself than to Sean. I flipped through another worn, useless page, my patience thinning. “He fought in the only war between magi. How hard can it be to find out more about him?”
I slammed the book shut, then closed my lids to find some inner calm.
Sean leaned back in his chair, ran a hand through his hair, and stared at the dusty old book in front of him. “The Battle of ’59… Hard to believe that the Elder’s the only one left who was there. No one else alive knows what really happened.”
I frowned, confusion clouding my thoughts. “I thought Stephen Stone was a survivor?”
Sean nodded, looking somber. “Yeah, he is. But I’ve heard his memory was wiped clean after the war. He wouldn’t remember a thing.”