Chapter 16
CALIX
Cocking back the slide of my Glock with a sharp metallic snap, I leveled it at the blade propped against the target stand.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The recoil punched into my palm three times in rapid succession.
Two bullets ricocheted off the blade with shrill metallic screams as sparks burst through the air. The third clipped the edge before embedding itself deep into the wall behind it.
I stalked forward, crouching low to observe the blade beneath the bright lab lights. My eyes narrowed. Carefully feeling along the edges, I checked for dents, fractures, anything, but got nothing.
The perfect metal shimmered, untouched, its rainbow sheen almost taunting me, and my jaw flexed.
Dropping into the chair at the workbench, I scribbled notes onto the scattered papers in front of me, flipping pages too roughly, crumpling corners beneath my fingers while my mind pieced together all the possibilities.
A faint hint of rose brushed across my senses so suddenly my entire body reacted before my brain caught up. My head snapped up. The chair legs screeched violently against the concrete as I spun around.
Empty. No one was there. It was just a figment of my imagination.
My shoulders slowly sagged as I stared at the vacant doorway a second too long before dragging both hands over my face.
“You fucking idiot,” I muttered.
My elbows hit the table hard enough to rattle the tools beside me. I leaned forward, pressing my forehead into my palms while frustration rolled through me in slow waves.
Of course she wouldn't be here. She has Rack. She doesn't need you.
Closing my eyes, I reminded myself to breathe. I tried to get rid of these thoughts that plagued me, but all it took was one pulse of that ghostly heartbeat, the one that thumped at a different pace than mine, and I was consumed with thoughts of her all over again. I couldn't escape it.
I didn't know being a maker would be like this. I mean, I’d read about it in school and talked about it in theory, but it was so much more… vivid than I ever imagined.
My breath caught as something inside of me pinged. There she was.
I clenched my fists until my nails bit crescents into my palms, trying to ground myself, but it only made the connection sharper.
A flicker of shock hit me first. Then fear. Then confusion.
Jerking upright, my hand went to my chest as it tightened. Her emotions bled through the bond in uneven pulses, brushing against my mind like fingertips skimming skin.
Rack is there, I told myself, keeping my ass in my seat before I made a fool of myself. I was sure he was telling her everything she needed to know. Plus, I didn't want to appear before her right after the turn and see those eyes filled with fear, or worse, hate.
Over the years, I’d seen enough humans turn to know some of them never adjusted. Some mourned their humanity like a death. Some looked at their new reflection and only saw a monster trapped under their skin.
My mouth flattened into a bitter line as I stared blankly at the wall.
What if that’s what she sees when she looks at me now? The monster who stole her old life. The bastard who corrupted her. My fingers twitched against the table before curling tighter.
No.
Better to stay down here and learn how to live with this connection before I stood in front of her again. It might make things easier for Rack too. I was sure it was hard on him, me being her maker and having this bond that he wasn't a part of.
Lies.
It was also because every time that ghostly heartbeat brushed against my own, guilt followed right after.
When Rack first came to live with us, Aniyah was barely five. Ezra and I were just old enough to start terrorizing the school, old enough to notice when something in the house shifted.
I still remembered the day I walked through the front doors and stopped short.
All our parents sat in the living room with a boy perched stiffly on the couch across from them, his hands folded so tightly in his lap his knuckles looked nearly translucent against his skin.
Everything about him was dark. Dark brown hair falling into wary plum-colored eyes. Olive skin. Quiet posture. Even the way he looked at the room felt muted, and then there was me.
Pale skin. White hair. Rose-gold eyes. Hands in pockets, backpack on one shoulder, wild in a lazy type way.
It felt like staring at some twisted opposite version of myself, and something ugly immediately clawed up my throat.
My mom smirked the second she saw us.
“This is Rack,” she said warmly. “He’ll be living with us from now on.”
Ezra nodded without hesitation, assessing him, reserving her judgment until a later date. Aniyah waddled her way in, babbling her questions at him. Even Nova wandered over curiously. Only Riot stayed back and watched from afar, but she always did that.
Rack barely spoke through any of it. He just sat there rigid and alert, his shoulders tightening every time someone looked his way too suddenly.
Mom rested a hand on his shoulder.
“He’s family,” she told us firmly, leaving no room for disagreement. “Treat him like your brother.”
Brother. The word curdled in my stomach.
I didn’t want a brother. I liked being the only boy. The only male heir. While my sisters stormed around like tornados of manipulation and chaos, I got to slip beneath expectations. I got to play the lazy prince while everyone else fought for attention.
Then Rack showed up. Quiet. Disciplined. Smart. He was someone people could compare me to, and I hated him for it.
So I made his life miserable.
I’d hide his things, leave him out, or tell him the wrong information whenever we went anywhere.
Set him up for pranks and laugh when he fell for them.
Sometimes I’d catch him standing awkwardly in doorways while the rest of us argued or joked around like normal siblings, but instead of feeling bad, I’d double down harder.
Leave. That’s what I wanted to say to him. Leave and give me my family back. He never fought back against me once. Never complained to my parents. Rack just picked up whatever mess I’d caused and kept going like he expected it.
That was how life was until the day someone tried to kidnap me.
I was too arrogant, thinking I was untouchable, so I didn't see it coming when a dart flew at me. Stuck me right in the neck, and I fell to the ground. My whole body instantly began to convulse.
I remembered choking on my own breath, my fingers clawing uselessly at my throat while black spots swarmed my vision.
Then Rack appeared.
A gust of air magic blasted past my body, and the attackers were blown backward hard enough to send them skidding across the street. Rack dropped beside me so fast his knees slammed into the pavement.
It was the first time I’d seen him look scared.
His face was pinched tight with panic as his hands hovered over me, trembling, while he forced air magic through my bloodstream. Blood started dripping from his nose almost immediately, but he didn’t stop.
“Stay awake,” he kept saying over and over, his voice shaking harder every time my eyes rolled back. “Calix. Stay awake.”
The poison made every muscle in my body seize. I could barely hear him over the ringing in my ears, but I remembered his expression clearly.
Terrified. Determined.
By the time he got most of the poison out, he looked worse than I did. His breath came in sharp, ragged pulls, and blood streaked down over his mouth and chin. Despite all that, he hooked my arm over his shoulders, hoisted me up, and ran.
I still didn’t know how he carried me that far while half-dead himself. I only remembered Mom yelling for my dads when he burst through the front doors and finally collapsed.
Later, they told me Rack had pushed his magic to the edge extracting the poison from my blood. He’d gotten me far enough that the antidote could finish the job and save my life.
After that, I couldn’t look at him the same way anymore.
He wasn't the outsider, the kid that was trying to steal my place, but someone who would do anything to protect this family.
From that day forward, every mission, every fight, every problem the family faced, Rack always stepped in first. Again and again, I watched him push himself past reason, burning through his magic until blood ran from his nose or his hands shook from exhaustion.
He pushed himself to his limit over and over so he could keep up with us.
It got to the point where just seeing him walk into a room bruised and exhausted would make irritation crawl under my skin.
One night, I finally snapped.
I still remembered slamming my hands against the table while he stood there, bleeding through a torn shirt like it was nothing.
“What’s wrong with you?” I’d shouted. “Do you have some kind of death wish?”
Rack barely reacted. He just leaned back against the counter, breathing hard while he pressed a towel beneath his nose. Even then, exhausted and half-dead on his feet, he gave me that same impassive look that always made it impossible to stay fully angry at him.
“My parents only wanted two things for me,” he’d said quietly, his eyes dropping to the blood staining his fingers before lifting back to mine.
“For me to stay loyal to the Desmonds.” A faint shrug followed. “And to find my Flame someday.”
A small smile tugged at the sides of his mouth.
“That’s enough for me.”
The memory hit me so hard my chest tightened all over again.
And that was why I couldn’t do it. Why I couldn’t take Olivia for myself no matter how badly every part of me wanted to.
Just saying her name caused my mind to flash through images of last night. Of how it felt to have her feed from me. To have those soft, plush lips suckling at my skin, licking up every drop like it was a drug and she never wanted to be sober.
I shook the thoughts away violently. Blood. Yes. I just needed blood. Then I’d have the strength to keep these thoughts at bay.
In a blur, I shot up the stairs toward the kitchen and stopped dead in the hallway.