Chapter 21 #2
He folded his arms neatly behind his back before looking toward the others with the patience of a disappointed king.
“What none of you seem to understand,” he drawled, “is that stunning woman upstairs and our idiot of a grandson are not together. So don’t sow your hopes on a lost cause.”
Fuck. That hurt.
Silence followed as every grandfather turned toward me at the exact same time. Four pairs of eyes widened, then narrowed, before all hell broke loose.
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Syris shrieked, his wings exploding outward so violently papers flew off my desk.
“What do you think you're doing? Do you think you have the time to be acting so irresponsibly? You’re like… a hundred years old!” he shouted, throwing his hands toward the ceiling.
“I’m thirty-one,” I muttered, but it didn't matter.
“Thirty-one!?” Ternin lunged into my space so fast I was forced to lean backward.
Face laced with outrage, he pointed directly in my face like I’d just shattered one of his favorite whiskey decanters.
“You think that’s young? Your mother was married by twenty-seven, and I gave her shit for that too!” he demanded. “What’s wrong with you? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one!”
Swiveling my head to the last one who could help me, my eyes desperately imploring Manic to support me. His bark was always worse than his bite.
That was apparently the wrong move because he was already staring at me, shaking his head and pursing his lips like I’d personally offended him.
“She’s a nice girl,” he rumbled. “You don’t let those get away. They are rare these days.”
Before I could even form a defense, Syris swooped in again, dramatically grabbed my shoulders, and spun me around.
He looked me dead in the eyes with the most sincere expression I had ever seen on his face.
“Son,” he whispered carefully, “is it your balls?”
I blinked.
“What?”
His hand flew over his mouth. Pure devastation filled his features.
“Oh gods,” he breathed, facing away from me as he squeezed my shoulders tighter.
“Are your swimmers not swimming?” he asked gently, eyes wide and pleading. “Did the soldier refuse to salute? Did the drawbridge stay down? Is the banana still in the peel? Are the fangs in sleep mode?”
My eye twitched.
Ternin stepped beside him, both of them staring at me with identical pity that I hated it more than anything.
“We’ll find the best medicine,” Syris vowed passionately, nodding in a panicked state.
“The best treatment!” Ternin shouted, pointing up at the ceiling like he was making a declaration. “Don’t you worry, Cal! We’ll get your dick working again!”
“It works!” I barked.
Neither of them listened. “It’s not the end of the world.” He tried to play off like it wasn't a big deal, but I knew it was. He and Ternin exchanged a glance before turning back to me with renewed determination.
“Sure,” Syris continued sympathetically, “your lady might be disappointed in the bedroom, but they have toys now!”
He waved dismissively like erectile dysfunction was just another seasonal allergy. Then suddenly, his eyes widened. “Oh!”
“My stomach dropped.
“Maybe Aniyah can help!”
Absolutely fucking not.
“She’s an expert with these things!” Syris insisted proudly. “She’d love to help, I’m sure.” He pulled out his phone, and words got stuck in my throat. “She might have something like, like…” He couldn’t think of what he was trying to say, thank god, but then fucking Ternin just had to top him.
Ternin loudly snapped his fingers and pointed at me triumphantly. “A dick surrogate!”
My soul literally tried to leave my body. I did not want to have any sort of conversation like that with Aniyah. Hell no! Never!
Syris gasped like Ternin had solved world hunger. “Yes! Brilliant!” Both of them turned toward me with terrifying enthusiasm. “We’ll get you the best surrogate money can buy!”
“We just need to ask your girl what size she likes,” Ternin added helpfully, already pulling out his phone.
“I think Aniyah sent me some examples yesterday.” My entire body locked up in horror. “There was this fascinating one with scales on it—”
That was it. Absolutely fucking not. Respect your elders be damned.
I tore out of Syris’s grip so fast his fingers slipped off my arm. Fury bloomed dark and hot beneath my skin until I exploded.
“She’s Rack’s Flame!” I roared, shaking the tools hanging on the walls. My breath shook as every single one of them froze, and the second the words left my mouth, everything I’d been choking down for days ripped free with it.
“It doesn’t matter how beautiful she is!” I shouted, pacing away from them before turning right back around again. “It doesn’t matter that I saw her first. That I was the one who turned her. That I’m her maker!”
My chest heaved violently. The words kept coming anyway.
“It doesn’t matter that she might have feelings for me!” My hand slammed against my own chest hard enough to hurt. “She’s his Flame. His.”
The humor drained from their faces so fast it was almost painful to watch. Gone were the teasing smiles. Gone were the ridiculous jokes. Now they just looked at me, and somehow that was worse.
Pity, I could fight. Disappointment, I could ignore. But the sadness in their eyes? That nearly gutted me. They were looking at me like a dog who had been abandoned in the freezing rain.
“Fuck,” I muttered, aggressively scrubbing both hands down my face.
I turned away from them, inhaled once through my nose, then forced my shoulders to loosen.
“It’s fine,” I said roughly. “Everything’s fine.”
The lie tasted awful, but I swallowed it down like it was candy before pointing vaguely toward the ceiling.
“Olivia’s with Rack.”
Saying it out loud twisted something sharp beneath my ribs.
“But I saved her,” I added quickly, forcing the words forward like they meant something. “She’s alive. That’s what matters.”
Right? That was a good thing. Focus on that.
I straightened abruptly and pointed toward the blade on the table.
“But what I actually need help with is—”
I stopped and really looked at the blade. It was moving, not a lot, but just a faint vibration.
It was faint, but definitely moving.
Narrowing my eyes on the table, I stepped toward it, trying to make a statement, when Easton said some shit then went into the backyard.
Behind me, chairs scraped sharply against the floor as my grandfathers crowded closer.
The second they did, the blade vibrated harder. A low hum started filling the room.
I looked between the weapon and the four ancient monsters standing around me.
Their magic, their bloodlines. Of course!
Being the descendants of the originals, their magic was older, stronger, tapped into the original source. Even if most days they used that power for pranks and emotional terrorism.
“Maybe it’s reacting to your magic,” I muttered, leaning closer. “Something purer, maybe. Closer to the original source.”
Nobody answered, and that made me look up. All four of them had gone still, and they were staring at Syris, real fear etched onto their faces.
Syris stared at the blade with disgust, his lips twisting up like this was a personal insult to his existence.
“Where did you get this vile thing, Calix?”
The words came out measured and low, carrying a strange heaviness. I blinked, trying to make sure this was in fact my grandfather Syris, the over-the-top one who never took anything seriously.
This wasn’t his usual easy going attitude. This was hatred. Strong and immediate.
“Calix.” My head snapped toward him again. His hands hung rigidly at his sides, fingers trembling hard enough that I immediately noticed it. “I asked you a question, young man.”
My spine straightened automatically as I reminded myself that I was a fucking Syndicate boss. I didn’t need to take shit from my grandfather. Crossing my arms, I met his stare head-on.
“We’ve been trying to contact you for days,” I shot back. “Avery told us you’d know what this was, but you disappeared.”
Syris slowly stepped up to me. Despite being shorter, the sheer force behind his stare nearly made me take a step back anyway. He was serious.
“I’m not asking again, boy.”
My fangs snapped down before I could stop them. Who the fuck was he calling boy?
“Hey—hey.” Ternin slid directly between us, palms raised.
The fact that he turned his back to me told me exactly who he thought was more dangerous right now. Easton and Manic moved toward Syris too, subtly boxing him in.
“Let’s lower the temperature,” Ternin muttered carefully, then he glanced over his shoulder at me, eyes practically begging. “I don’t think he made the thing, right, Cal?!”
The anger burned hot in my chest another second longer before finally cooling enough for me to think.
This was family. These were the people I was trying to protect. My shoulders sagged.
“No,” I admitted quietly, gesturing toward the blade. “Someone used it against Nova a month ago.”
That changed everything.
Syris blinked once. The fury drained from his face so abruptly it almost looked painful. “What?”
“They tried to kill her with it,” I rushed out. “She sent it to me after her jaguar mate realized the magic came from Faerie. He told us it was some kind of ancient magic the royals destroyed.”
The room fell silent again, but this time it was heavy instead of explosive.
“There’s a group after us,” I continued. “Excitatio. They’ve been experimenting on supes. Creating hybrids. Building weapons with this ancient magic.”
Syris’s jaw clenched tighter with every word.
“That,” he snarled, stabbing a finger toward the blade, “is not fae magic.”
The disgust in his voice curled through the room like smoke.“That’s a perversion. A distortion. It’s sacrilegious and goes against everything the land of Faerie is!”
I stared at him, completely thrown by the sheer venom pouring out of him.
Ternin rubbed a hand down his face. “Sy,” he said gently, “I think you need to tell him.”
That alone nearly made me pass out. Ternin being the voice of reason? The apocalypse truly was coming.