Chapter 7 #3
With Calix handled, Jacobs' whiny voice sounded in the back of my mind, and I turned toward his desk. The pile was worse up close.
Papers stacked unevenly, some slipping out of place, others half-covered by notes scribbled in the margins. I reached out, shifting a section just enough to start sorting.
He moved fast.
“Hey—hey!” His hands came up instantly, hovering over the desk as if he could physically block me from touching anything. “What are you doing?!”
He stepped closer, eyes darting over the papers I’d moved, clearly tracking what I’d disturbed.
“That’s organized,” he insisted, his voice tightening just slightly. “I swear.”
“I know,” I said, already flipping through a section without looking at him. His version of organized still followed a pattern.
Left side—lab work.
Right side—Syndicate.
Middle—everything that blurred the line.
And whatever was most recent was toward the top. He’d used the same “system” for the past ten years. Did he think I hadn't caught on over the years?
I shifted a stack just enough to expose what I needed.
Hovering beside me the whole time, hands still raised, he watched every movement like I might ruin something critical if I went too far.
“Relax,” I pulling the document free. “I’m not destroying your masterpiece.”
I cleared a small space on the desk, sliding a few papers aside until there was just enough room. Then I pulled out a pen from my jacket and held it up in front of him, giving it a small shake.
“But you’re signing this first,” I added.
He glanced down at the paper, then back at me, a smirk forming as recognition hit.
“Jacobs’ about to lose it, isn’t he?”
“Already there,” I said.
He took the pen from my hand without another word, his posture shifting again, more focused now, but not in the obsessive way from before.
This was familiar, controlled. He signed quickly, dragging the pen across the page with a practiced motion before tossing it back onto the desk, his hand clamping down on my shoulder.
“What would I do without you, bro?”
I folded the paper, slipping it neatly into my jacket before snatching my good pen off his desk of doom.
“You’d be fine,” I blew it off, knowing Ezra would’ve found someone else for the job if I never came along.
He let out a sharp scoff behind me. The silence stretched just long enough for the thought to creep in.
What would you do without him?
It slipped in quiet. Uninvited.
Your life’s nothing compared to his.
The words settled heavier than they should have, old and familiar in a way that made my jaw tighten.
Even your parents knew that.
My grip tightened slightly against the fabric of my jacket.
That’s why they—
An arm dropped around my shoulders before the thought could finish. Calix pulled me in, his grin wide, easy, his weight leaning just enough to make it impossible to ignore him.
“Are you kidding me?” he said, the words light but firm. “You’re the one who keeps me from screwing all this up.” He waved his hand around the room and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze.
“I wouldn’t be able to be me without you.”
The words hit harder than he meant them to. My doubts sunk back into the tar like darkness lurking deep within me. I was his best friend. His second. Approved and appointed by Ezra. I could trust her judgment. She understood.
With my thoughts collected, I stepped out from under his arm, moving toward the door before those unproductive thoughts came rushing in again.
“You were born for this, sir,” I said, keeping my tone even as I reached the door. “You’d manage.”
Behind me, I heard the shift.
“I mean…” His voice picked up again, lighter now, cocky and familiar. I glanced back just in time to see him spread his arms slightly, that smug grin creeping back in, fangs catching the light.
“I am basically perfection.”
I stopped, turning fully with one brow lifting as I looked him up and down in the state he was currently in. Really?
The look landed, and he faltered.
His arms dropped, and a faint flush crept into his cheeks as he glanced down at himself, suddenly more aware of the state he was in.
“I mean… not right now,” he added quickly, brushing at his shirt, then his hair. “But you get it.”
I didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. Not when he heavily exhaled and threw his hands out to the side, giving up, before turning toward the lab doors.
“I’ll go get ready,” he called over his shoulder. “Meet you at the car.”
The next second, he was gone, becoming a blur of movement as he hit the stairs.
It was that damn Desmond confidence they all had in spades. Strong, sharp, unshakable, with their mother’s stunning looks. It was almost infuriating how natural it all came to them.
And the worst part? They weren’t wrong. It made it almost unbearable at times.
I stood there for a moment as quiet settled across the lab. I glanced at the fae blade. Beautiful shades of iridescent colors rippled down the knife, calling to me, telling me to touch it. Take it.
If I’d been a werewolf or a vampire, I might’ve growled at it, but instead I shook my head and headed toward the elevator.
***
By the time I got to the car, Calix was right behind me. Freshly showered and wearing a black button down and some slacks. It was acceptable.
We cast facial distortion spells on the way out, a faint shimmer passing over our features until we blended into the night as just another pair of faces in the crowd. Only the two of us would know who the other truly was.
I took him to the track, hoping it would lift his mood to see engines roaring down the strip, their vibrations carrying through the ground and into the stands.
Supes crowded the barriers, their voices rising in bursts—cheers, taunts, bets thrown back and forth.
The air smelled of fuel and heat, and magic hummed faintly beneath it all.
We watched in silence in the nosebleed seats, away from the crowds.
When the race ended, the reaction around us told the story before anyone said a word. A few people cheered, but it came out uneven, scattered. Others clapped out of habit, glancing sideways as if checking whether this outcome made sense. Some didn’t react at all, arms crossed, unimpressed.
Manshu climbed out of his car, waving, with a huge smile on his face, not noticing the lukewarm reception to his win for the night.
Beside me, Calix didn’t move. His shoulders went still, his jaw tightening as his gaze stayed locked on the track. His fingers curled once against his arm, then stilled again.
“I don’t know what the hell that was,” he muttered as we turned away.
Inside the car, the door shut harder than necessary. He leaned back, then forward again, dragging a hand through his hair.
“That’s who wins tonight?” I pulled out of the parking space and made it to the street. His hand cut through the air as he spoke. “Out of everyone? Fucking really?”
Streetlights passed over his face in quick intervals, catching the frustration building there.
“He’s not even that good,” he went on, sharper now. “He doesn’t even know what he’s fucking doing half the time.”
He leaned toward me, pointing ahead as if the track were still in front of him.
“He doesn’t even understand basic aerodynamics, Rack!”
I just kept driving while he got it all out, but I had to admit, he wasn’t wrong.
Manshu had strength, presence, and just enough backing to stay relevant, but skill or brains weren’t part of it. Not the kind Calix respected.
Calix shifted again, leaning back as the frustration settled into something quieter, more controlled. He always needed a rival, someone to play the push and pull game with, but not one like that.
My thoughts drifted back to the track, catching on something I hadn’t meant to hold onto.
Her.
Dark hair tipped in red. Tattooed roses trailing down one arm. Manshu barked orders behind her as she made quick changes and adjustments to make the car run smoother, faster. The hat she wore didn't hide herself like she had probably intended.
The human girl from that night. I could still remember the way she had felt in my arms, and that… confused me.
I hadn’t meant to notice, but I did, and now a pit was forming in my stomach. I didn't like it.
“Did you see her?” I asked before thinking.
Calix stilled just enough for me to notice.
“His pit. The human girl.”
There was a brief pause before he answered.
“I saw.”
His voice came out flat, colder than before. His gaze shifted to the window, but his hand clenched once in his lap before he forced it still.
That was enough. Neither of us bring it up again.
The club came into view a few minutes later, lights pulsing through the walls, music spilling out into the street. The line of supes wrapped around the building, bodies pressed together as they waited to get in.
Parking the car, we got in the back of the line, and I kept my sigh to myself. If we were going as ourselves, we’d already be in the club and comfortable in a booth.
Not standing in line, sandwiched between a few fairies in front of us, flapping their wings in our faces, or the troll behind us, breathing down our necks like he was going through an asthma attack.
Calix leaned out the side, something having caught his attention, and the next thing I knew, he was gone. Only disturbed air was left in his wake. Damn vampire speed.
Closing my eyes in frustration, I exhaled and tapped my watch. The tracker blinked to life, his signal already moving. I stepped out of line and followed.
The noise faded as I turned the corner. The crowd thinned, then disappeared entirely, replaced by something quieter.
A half hazard wooden sign hung overhead, Rokwood Bar. A few bodies scurried down the sidewalk and ducked inside. A human bar.
I knew a few of these still existed in our territory, and it made sense with the supe club just around the corner.
It was a place where humans who were too nervous around supes yet still curious hung out.
Later in the night, if any supes were looking for human companionship, I bet this was the first stop on their list.
Taking in the worn-out exterior, I approved. Of course this was where he went. It was the kind of place people passed without noticing unless they were looking for it.
I pushed the door open, and the smell hit first. Roses and motor oil. The kind I’d smelt before.
As my eyes swept the room, I caught sight of her immediately. The human girl who wore red like she owned it.
Her and her blonde friend from the Track were standing next to the bar.
She had her arm out, blocking her friend from going forward.
My eyes traveled to the ground where her friend was pointing, her voice sharp, to a human man rolling on the floor, clutching himself with both hands. What the hell happened there?
No one stepped in. The people around them had shifted just enough to give her room, watching without interfering.
A couple people down the bar from her, Calix sat, watching with a smile.
He waited until the altercation had subsided, until she was alone, then he pounced. Weaving between bodies as naturally as the wind, he made his way to her side. Leaning in, he whispered something low in her ear.
She turned and snapped back immediately, her eyes filled with fire.
He laughed. A few heads turned at the sound and I recognized the look in his eyes. Interest. Fascination.
I stepped back like someone had pushed me, but I quickly recovered, telling myself this was good. If he found something, someone, to pull him out of his own head, then that was exactly what he needed. What I had taken him out of the house for.
My hand tightened in my pocket, but I ignored it because it didn't make sense.
My eyes drifted back to them anyway.
She was still talking, her movements sharp but no longer confrontational. Calix leaned closer, his smile widening as he engaged with her. A hesitant smile rose across her face before she hid it with a thin-lipped scowl. The space between them shifted, subtle but clear.
Something in my chest tightened.
I didn’t know how much time passed, but I didn’t step forward to join in. Just watched until he reached for her hand and she let him pull her toward the dance floor.
The mainly human crowd swallowed them quickly, lights flashing across moving bodies as they disappeared into it.
I stayed where I was, half-shadowed near the wall, watching the place where they’d vanished.
The feeling didn’t fade.
It settled in, unfamiliar and unwelcome, and no matter how much I ignored it, it didn’t go away… and I didn't like that. I didn't like it one bit.