Chapter 10 Quinn #2
‘Please. No. Don’t hurt yourself. I’m not using my power. I’m not.’ Alex begged in my mind. ‘Please, I just wanted a friend. You’ll be my friend.’
I tore my gaze from the sharp edge, and Alex’s voice stopped.
His last words echoed—part plea, part threat. I forced myself to breathe and control my fear. I needed to talk to Xan. It didn’t matter if he liked me or not. I needed his help.
The water boiled, and soon enough, two steaming mugs of tea and a temperamental dragon sat on Cayden’s square kitchen table. Since Winston’s attention turned to the little creature, he barely spared me a glance, which put me at ease.
Winston picked up his tea and took a sip. After setting down his mug, he cupped the dragon a few inches from actually touching it on either of its sides, and his lemon-yellow Majekah spilled out of his fingers.
The dragon let out an annoyed snort, and a puff of flames engulfed Winston’s hands. The portly monster started to pull back before stopping his motion.
“It is scarcely warm.” Winston leaned forward, studying with quiet fascination. “The fire feels less like heat… and more like magic itself.”
I leaned forward, but before I could stick my hand in, the little dragon cut off his flames and adorably curled his tail around his body. My heart cracked a little, and I prayed this wasn’t Professor Holiday.
A few moments later, Winston lowered his hands and exhaled in relief. “Your dragon is not Professor Holiday. In truth, I doubt it is a creature of flesh at all.”
The dragon threw its head into the air and let out another delightful puppy howl before bunching its back legs like it was going to charge Winston.
I quickly grabbed its tail and pulled it toward me.
The little guy or girl—I didn’t actually know—immediately relaxed and attempted to snuggle into me. After a moment of hesitation, I let it.
“It’s not Professor Holiday,” I repeated. “It's just another byproduct of using my Majekah.”
“Another?” Winston raised an eyebrow.
I wrinkled my nose. “I’ve made a few dragons, though not quite with this much detail and only in the Alun.” I sighed. “I guess when my Majekah breaks down magic, it also has to dissolve into its fundamental elements… which my imagination shapes into a dragon.”
“Fascinating.” Winston stroked his chin in thought.
“Your body was never altered by the tremors. That is why you require a focus”—he gestured lightly toward the ring at my navel—“to bridge what was and what is. Tell me, was it the sheer volume of power? Or was it because Professor Holiday was not an object, but a man, that your dragon took on such remarkable detail?”
Holiday was a person. I killed him. I’d known it, but Winston’s words tolled like a bell in my skull.
Whatever flicker crossed my face, Winston caught it.
The portly not-friar lifted his hands in mild surrender and caught my gaze with his own understanding.
“Hardly a man. He never fused with anything natural, never adapted. For a century, he clung to life by preying on others. One of his own experiments would have ended him soon enough, had you not done so first.”
I focused on Winston's voice and took even breaths.
“By every account,” Winston went on, “your Majekah was unstoppable, and he made no effort to withdraw.”
The ringing eased, but my thoughts spun. I destroyed things. I’d killed people—Holiday, half of Cayden’s family, nameless faces, but still living beings.
I pressed my hand over my heart. “I destroy, that’s all I do.”
Winston frowned, then extended a finger toward the tiny dragon, which promptly nipped at him. “Tell me, does that resemble destruction to you?”
I pursed my lips. “I killed Professor Holiday.”
“You slew only a shell,” Winston said, withdrawing his hand before the dragon could strike again.
“The man Professor Holiday once was, perished with the tremors a century past. What you dismantled was but the remnant, and from it, you wrought something new. Destruction and creation are light and shadow, opposites, yet born of the same source. You, of all people, should know that.”
My heart thumped. I liked what Winston was saying, but...
Winston settled back, folding his hands over his belly. “You and the Architect are not so different, you know. Both of you speak of good and evil as shades of gray, yet when it comes to your own deeds, you rush to pass judgment on yourselves.”
I jerked back, suddenly very aware of how relaxed I’d gotten in Winston's presence. He was one of the Architect’s monsters. He wasn’t my friend. And here we were, back at the beginning, as he once again tried to tie Xan and me closer together.
My still-soundly sleeping friends—probably more than friends if I were being honest—snored at my back. If Xan wanted me, why wasn’t he here himself?
“Why did you come here?” I asked.
“To ensure your new pet is not Professor Holiday,” Winston said evenly.
I sat up straight. “If that’s true, now you know, and you’ll leave.”
Winston held up his hands. “Peace. I’m here to help, nothing more.”
“Like you ‘helped’ keep Cayden away from me?”
Winston grimaced. “Like the rest of us, I sought only to guide you toward a safer path. And now, you know the truth of his family.”
I bit my lips together. If I had been in Winston’s shoes and a new girl had shown up, I honestly would have done the same. It wasn’t right, but I shouldn’t keep holding it against people.
I shouldn’t do a lot of things.
Winston rose to his feet. “Professor Holiday, Chancellor Morgen, and I…” He lowered his hands, though he kept them visible.
“We have endured long years. I watched as magic shattered the world and rebuilt it anew.” He stepped back, voice heavy.
“I devoured my own kin, Quinn. I know too well how swiftly necessity remakes what we call morality. I once roamed the countryside in my dog’s skin, harming no one, yet still, I am hunted and branded a monster.
The Architect has granted me some measure of freedom, but the name clings.
” He pressed a hand to his chest. “You bend the very laws of magic, whether you wish it or not. And every soul still breathing, myself among them, will try to guide whatever you touch.”
My stomach knotted.
“I intend you no harm.” Winston stepped back until his heel touched the door. “I will take my leave. But should you require aid in anything, know this: I am, and shall always remain, at your service.”
Without another word, he turned and let himself out. The little dragon jumped off the table and raced toward the door, taking up a guard position. I looked at it without really seeing.
I didn’t know what the right thing to do was.Memories of my old life floated to the surface.
My fucking phone, technology. I could Google anything.
Christ, I could ask AI if Xan loved me or not.
Even if the answer had been a machine's hallucination, at least I would have gotten something to help me make a decision… but, did I need that anymore?
I hadn’t worried about the ‘right thing’ since this bat-shit delusion began, because I thought none of it was real. A tear gathered at the corner of my eye, and I pressed my palms into my cheeks to keep from crying.
It was real—all of it.
Rowan snored so loud he almost woke himself up, and I pulled my palms away from my eyes to look at his sleeping lump on the floor. My old life sank, replaced by my new one.
Friends. Acceptance. Understanding.
I wasn’t alone. I didn’t exist to make others comfortable. There was no perfect decision. Even my ‘bad’ choices brought me here, between two of the best men I’d ever met, with friends and magic of my own.
People would try to steer me, but I didn’t have to follow.
After taking a minute to wash my face and change into a set of clean pajamas, I softly padded back to Rowan and Cayden, snuggling back into my spot. My affirmations repeated, feeling right. My castle full of hot mages filled my imagination until sleep called me once more.
If Alex pulled me back into that fake hospital… the thought alone shot adrenaline through me, burning away any grogginess from sleep. I bolted upright; my hand pressed against my collar. It turned cold, as if Alex wanted me to know I’d been alone in my mind until I thought of him first.
My heart thundered.
Even unable to see his face, I knew he smiled and waved before vanishing once more.
Strong arms dragged me back down. “It’s okay, Q-tip.”
Another pair tugged me from Rowan. My face pressed into Cayden’s bare chest. Thank God it wasn’t his blood-spattered shirt.
“It’s OK,” he murmured, stroking my hair. “We’re not there.”
The dragon purred a half-growl, rolled over, and fell back asleep in Cayden’s chair.
Memories ricocheted through my skull. Cayden didn’t know about Alex. I hadn’t told anyone about him. He was talking about his family and his Prophet/grandfather/dad, who tried to brainwash me.
Cayden. That was his family. His voice had been one of the many breaking me down. It wasn’t just a few days for him. He’d been born under his family's control; he’d lived and breathed everything the Prophet preached. While I’d struggled with Alex, Cayden’s world had been crumbling around him.
Alex vanished as my heart cracked open and bled for my best friend. I wrapped my arms around him as best I could, with us still lying on the shoved-together mattresses, and squeezed.
“We’re not.” I kissed his chest and ran my palm down his smooth waist to rest on his hip.
Cayden sucked in a breath and shoved me back, as if my touch burned. The sting of rejection cut deeper than his shove… but I understood.
I’d been half gone on that altar, but Cayden hadn’t. He’d freed my bindings with one pull, like he’d tied them himself. He knew the ropes, literally and figuratively. The weight of his actions, now that he understood the world, must be smothering him.