Chapter 21
CALIX
“Shit!”
The curse ripped out of me as heat slammed into my face, and I shot backward. Black smoke filled the space, swallowing the lab whole. Coughing, I sped to the wall. My hand slapped against the emergency hatch controls, hitting the exhaust button hard enough that the metal dented beneath my palm.
A deep mechanical groan rumbled overhead, and the vents kicked on.
Smoke spiraled upward in violent streams, dragged out through the ceiling little by little until the room slowly came back into focus.
I stood there, breathing hard, staring at the emptying haze like it was taking the last scraps of my patience with it.
Twenty-four straight hours. Twenty-four hours of testing, burning, breaking, adapting, and still nothing. The blade sat on the table untouched, provoking me.
I’d blasted it with enough force to level concrete walls, but the damn thing absorbed the impact and brightened like it enjoyed it. I submerged it in enchanted water, but a translucent barrier formed around the metal before the liquid could even touch it.
Every rune I knew had failed. Every rune I created on the spot had failed harder.
This magic didn’t behave. It evolved. Adjusted. Reacted like it was fucking alive.
My hands braced against the edge of the table while frustration crawled hot beneath my skin.
Rack and Olivia had both come down at different points during the night.
Rack had crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway with that calm, unreadable expression he used when he thought I was being an idiot. Olivia had hovered behind him holding blood bags in both hands, her brows pinched every time she looked at the state of me.
Neither of them liked that I wouldn’t leave. Neither of them understood why I couldn’t, but this wasn’t just about someone trying to assassinate me anymore. This wasn’t just about Manshu and his idiotic grudge with me.
If weapons like this spread, if this type of magic started getting integrated into modern weaponry, everything would change, and not in a way the world we knew would survive.
Dragging both hands through my hair, I dropped heavily into my chair, exhausted with everything I’d been doing, yet unwilling to give up.
This wasn't just about the threats of assassination or the war coming for my family. If these people were able to make more weapons like this, advanced weapons with this kind of magic, this was going to change everything… and not for the better.
There might be some supes that disagreed with the Syndicate, didn’t like the way we ran things or handled our business, but at the end of the day, there was order. Each incident, each rule breaker was dealt with, not the species as a whole like the humans would do.
As much as us supes wanted to say we were superior, we, in fact, needed humans.
Vampires for their blood, the fae for their life force, werewolves to bolster their ranks, and demons for their souls.
Mages were just humans with the ability to tap into earth's natural power, using the elements and runes to make their bodies stronger, making them contenders against the other supes.
We needed humans alive and thriving. Needed our cities functioning and successful. Our food sources plentiful. That was why the Syndicate was made in the first place.
Five of the strongest supes of each species, my grandfathers, had realized that wiping out humanity would only starve us eventually if we fought and won against the humans during the Awakening.
Now I was one of those responsible for keeping that balance intact. No pressure.
I slowly leaned back, eyes narrowing on the blade again.
Destroying it clearly wasn’t the answer, so maybe I was thinking about it all wrong. If the magic adapted to attacks, maybe it could be redirected instead. Maybe I could distract it. Manipulate it into thinking the opposite was happening.
Light taps from my fingers against the desk were the only sound as I kept thinking.
It fed off magic, right? What if I built something it wanted more than a living target? Something overloaded with magical output. A decoy. A magical magnet that would pull its attention.
My tablet snapped into my hand, and I started sketching out ideas and writing down formulas. Thoughts moved faster than my fingers as possibilities unfolded, one after another.
Amplification arrays options. Rune loop spells. Trying to figure out the best way to amplify a small amount of magic source into a large enough source that the fae magic would naturally gravitate toward it.
The lab door whooshed open behind me.
“We’re here!”
Every muscle in my body locked. That voice. Oh no. My eyes slid shut, my hand pausing over my table. Please let that not be who I think it is.
“Boy!” Tata Ternin barked. “Are you deaf? What's wrong with you? Think you're too big in your britches to turn around and hug your tata, huh?!”
“Tern,” Papu Syris whispered as if he were on stage, letting the audience in on a secret, “kids don’t say britches anymore.”
“He still understands what I mean, doesn’t he?” Ternin shot back immediately.
“That’s not the point, Ternin,” a cold, calculating voice called out, and I knew it was Easton. His tone spoke volumes of his exhaustion, like a man who’d spent centuries dealing with idiots. “You’re dating yourself and making the rest of us look bad by association.”
“We’re old! Who cares?” Pop-pop Manic boomed with a laugh. “Embrace it!”
My shoulders sagged so hard I nearly slid out of my chair, but I knew I had to face the music or else they would just get… worse.
Slowly turning around, I came face to face with all four of my grandfathers standing in my lab like some ancient council of chaos.
Ternin already had his hands on his hips, eyeing me up and down.
Manic looked one sentence away from starting a bar fight for fun.
Easton appeared elegantly unimpressed by existence itself, rolling his eyes at the rest of them.
Syris gasped dramatically the second our eyes met, running up to me like a long-lost member of the family even though I saw him a month ago.
“Calix!”
He barreled toward me with open arms before I could dodge, crushing me into a hug that smelled like expensive cologne and the airy scent most fairies had.
“There’s my boy!”
He squeezed me once more before shoving me backward to arm’s length, both hands gripping my shoulders while he inspected me like I was livestock at auction.
Then his eyes narrowed dangerously before a wide grin spread. That was never a good sign.
“Now tell me,” he said, his voice dripping with delight, “who is that gorgeous little red rose upstairs?” Before the answer even formed in my brain, he followed with, “And when exactly are you getting her pregnant?”
I closed my eyes immediately. One long inhale. One slow exhale. I loved this man. All four of them practically raised me while my parents were doing their boss duties.
While everyone in the family would understand why I murdered him, it would be frowned upon. Probably upset my mom more than anything. Her and Syris always liked to rag on anyone that was around.
Not a second later, Ternin shoved Syris sideways with enough force to make him trip over his feet. Luckily, he used his wings to keep from falling on the ground.
“Move,” he barked before hooking an arm around my shoulders and hauling me out of the chair like I weighed nothing.
Giving Syris the stink eye, he loudly grumbled, “You don’t have to tell that old fool anything,” then he steered me a few steps away from the others.
He leaned in close. “But…” His voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. “If you gave your tata just a little tiny hint about when the wedding is going to happen, I could start planning the gift now and make it spectacular.”
His chin went up proudly. “You know I’m the best gift giver. Ask your sisters.”
I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to stop the eye roll threatening to escape.
Nova kept the horrifying ten-foot granite statue he gifted her buried somewhere deep in the woods behind her estate. The thing depicted him dramatically slitting the throat of an enemy who suspiciously resembled Syris.
Before I could answer, Manic appeared beside us like a wrecking ball. His massive hand slammed against my back hard enough to knock the air straight from my lungs.
“Don’t let these idiots pressure you,” he boomed while I wheezed through the impact. “A little mystery never hurt anybody.” He wiggled his brows, trying to put me at ease, I think, but it had the opposite effect. My grandfathers were a bunch of psychos.
“Leave him alone,” Grandfather Easton said smoothly from across the room.
All three of them turned to look at him. He stood near one of my worktables, and in his hand, he was thoughtfully turning a small silver cube between his fingers. My stomach dropped as soon as I realized what he was holding.
Oh no. That was a protection prototype. It shot out a forcefield in an instant, insulating the holder against any living being, pushing them away at least a hundred feet. Looking around, I knew we didn't have a hundred feet worth of room.
“Don’t press the button on the side,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
Syris drew in a sharp breath, Ternin shook his head, and Manic’s gaze bounced between me and my grandfather.
Easton’s eyes slid toward me slowly, the silence stretching as he dropped the cube back onto the table with a thud.
“Boy,” he said calmly, “I was inventing weapons before you were a thought in your father’s balls.” All three of them chuckled as Easton took a step closer, the glint in his eye telling me I’d made a mistake.
I should’ve let him activate it. At worst, we all would’ve ended up crushed against opposite walls for an hour.
Instead, I had offended him, which was significantly more dangerous. Everything Easton did was calculated and so well-thought-out that all he needed was one punch to take you down.