Chapter 17
It was Saturday morning before Jackson realized it.
He had drifted off fast last night, exhausted from scouring an entire city with his shadows.
When was the last time he ever used so much mana with such purpose?
He checks his phone to find a message from Wendy, the Solomon City Police Department had indeed reached out for a statement about the cultist’s capture.
Jackson sighs. He’s determined not to go anywhere today.
He won’t leave Hakeem even if Eddie is home.
Texting back, he tells Wendy that the SCPD is free to send officers to the apartment if they have questions.
He would answer all questions in full while keeping his friend safe.
Before Jackson can’t even put the phone down and roll over for more sleep when a reply comes through.
Wendy: Who do you think I am? I’ve set up a time for someone to stop by the apartment, around eleven with a healer in tow to check on Hakeem. I knew
you wouldn’t want to go far after yesterday.
Jackson: You truly are amazing, have I mentioned that?
W: You could mention it more often ;p
J: Fine, you are amazing. Happy?
W: Overjoyed. Let me know if you need anything else, I’m here for you.
J: Thank you, Wendy, really. I’m sorry if I scared you yesterday, I don’t know what came over me.
W: Yes you do. The sooner you let yourself believe that the better.
Wendy really does know Jackson too well, he can’t hide anything from the woman. He knows what she means, the reason he went on a rampage yesterday. She’s one of very few people outside of direct family who knew. He didn’t want to lose anyone, not again, not like…
That night in New York, 1969.
There was that cruel voice, always in his head, always out of sight.
He swears he could feel a sickly cool breath on the nape of his neck when it spoke, but there was never anyone there.
Shaking his head, he gets up from the bed and wanders into the ensuite, needing to splash some water on his face and wake up.
The police would be here soon to get his statement and check on Hakeem.
He wants to get an update on the bastard he caught, and make sure no trace of him lingered to threaten the people he cares about.
The smell of hot butter draws Jackson from his thoughts, it seems breakfast was being made downstairs.
He peeks out of his room the same time Eddie was coming out of his; sleep shirt tight across his chest and black sweats clinging to every curve of his legs and thighs.
They both look at each other for a moment of confusion, then turn to see who is working steadily in the kitchen.
“Hakeem,” Eddie’s tone is calm but laced with admonishment, “You can skip one weekend of making breakfast. You should be resting.”
“Eddie is right, bud. Let us take care of food, please.” Both men head down the stairs and make their way to the kitchen.
Hakeem has bowls of eggs, beaten and seasoned ready to be fried.
Hash browns line a baking sheet waiting for the oven to preheat.
Coffee is brewing, cucumber and tomatoes sliced along with a soft white cheese, a bowl of Hakeem’s favorite labneh and pita bread all lined up on the island.
He even has the rice cooker going—likely for Gyeran Bap, one of Eddie’s favorites he had mentioned. How long had Hakeem been up?
“It’s almost done, didn’t mean to wake either of you.
I’m fine now, just need to keep busy.” Hakeem doesn’t even look from his pan, not turning around as he places the tray of hashbrowns in the oven.
Jackson and Eddie watch as Hakeem is in control of the kitchen, control that was taken from him yesterday.
“Hakeem, please stop for a second and talk to us.” Eddie moves in closer, slowly, with pleading in his voice.
When Hakeem turns around the boys’ hearts drop at the sight.
Dark circles under his eyes, flushed cheeks and a reddened nose, a crooked smile that wavered at the corner of his lips.
“There is nothing to talk about, the guy was caught and it’s time for breakfast. You guys handled the grocery bill and I cook, that was the deal. Just doing my job.”
Jackson clenches his fists at his side, frustrated at the sight of that broken smile, that facade that Hakeem is putting up.
He shouldn’t have to hide behind a mask with them, not after being so vulnerable and open with each other.
He takes in a deep breath, holds it for a count of three, then slowly exhales.
“Eddie,” Eddie turns to face Jackson, their eyes meeting, forming an immediate understanding, “You finish up here. Hakeem, come with me please.”
Before he can argue, shadows pluck the spatula from his hand and pass it off to Eddie.
Hakeem is gently urged forward by shadows at his back, gently nudged to the couch where Jackson sits waiting for him.
“Wha-Hey! Jackson!” The argument that stirred at the tip of his tongue immediately fades when he sees the look in Jackson’s eyes.
His gaze is firm but filled with earnest kindness.
Hakeem is disarmed by the mere sight of the man before him, so he sits silently next to Jackson.
“The SCPD will be sending officers and a healer to check you out and get my statement about the capture. Will you let them check on you or do you want to stay in your room till they leave? The choice is yours but the offer stands.”
Hakeem wants to say he’s fine, but there’s a pleading in the way Jackson is looking at him.
He can feel Eddie’s eyes on his without turning back.
All he can do is nod and sigh in defeat, “A check up sounds good. Do we have time to eat first?” Eddie and Jackson sigh in relief and chuckle.
If Hakeem has an appetite it’s a sign he would be ok.
The men look at the feast spread on the kitchen island, hardly any space for cutlery or plates.
They would need a proper dining table soon, for all the meals they would share together in the future.
All the meals they desperately wanted to have together, in this apartment.
Meals they wanted to cook and enjoy, together.
Breakfast is delicious, warm and filling. Eddie takes charge of cleaning up much to Hakeem’s discontent, as Jackson answers the buzz of the intercom.
“Good morning, Steven. What is it?”
“Mr. Nocturne, I have Sergeant Soleil and Sister Estrea here from SCPD. Were you expecting them?”
“Yes, Steven, I am. Please send them up. Thank you as always.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Nocturne.”
Jackson turns to Hakeem who’s pacing in the living room after being kicked out of the kitchen, forbidden to clean up. “Ready?”
Hakeem looks up for a moment, that fake smile plastered on his face, arms wrapped around himself. “Yeah, yeah I am.”
* * *
Sergeant Soleil is a tall woman in a standard navy-blue uniform, with broad shoulders and dark skin adorned by lava-like scars, cracks along the sharp lines of her face seeping with a fiery glow.
A salamander, an elemental creature born from the god of fire, Phoenix.
Her hair is bright red, like a roaring flame, braided tight across her scalp.
The woman beside her is significantly shorter, just over five feet tall in white and gold holy robes.
She has a smooth heart shaped face and olive skin, her eyes gentle, shining like polished amber in the light.
Sister Estrea, according to Jackson’s intel, a dog shifter—specifically, a golden retriever, a fact echoed by the golden hairs she keeps in a neat bun at the back of her head.
“Sergeant, I’m surprised you came personally. Thank you for bringing the Sister with you, truly appreciated. Please come in.” Jackson opens the doors to the apartment wide and makes way for both women to enter.
Sergeant Soleil and Sister Estrea both give a small bow of their heads and enter. “Mr. Nocturne, thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”
The Sergeant extends a hand. Jackson promptly accepts and shakes her hand with a firm grip, one she returns. “Anything to help, Sergeant. But please, it’s just Jackson here.”
Sister Estrea pokes her head from behind the sergeant, who is inches taller than Jackson. “And where is the patient?”
Jackson gestures to Hakeem, who is still making treads on the floor. “That would be the gentleman pacing. Hakeem!” Jackson calls out and waves to grab his attention.
Hakeem shakes himself out of his pacing and walks over to where the group stood. “Yes—hi, hello. Can I offer anyone coffee, tea, or water?” He falls into host mode easily, even when stressed.
Sister Estrea walks past the Sergeant and Jackson, coming toe to toe with Hakeem.
Her amber eyes ensnare his panic in an instant, the tension melting from his shoulders.
Her smile is wide and kind, he relaxes from merely her gaze.
“No, thank you, Mr. Al-Najim. Please follow me to the couch and I can give you a quick check up.” Hakeem can only nod as he follows the small cleric.
Jackson raises an eyebrow and he watches them, a quiet whistle escaping him, “Wow, she’s good.”
Sergeant Soleil can’t hide her prideful smirk, “Yes, she is. Now about the capture, I have some questions I hoped you would answer, Jackson.”
Jackson let his eyes peel away from Hakeem and Sister Estrea on the couch, certain he would be fine with her. “Yes, of course Sergeant. Right this way, please.”
He leads them to the island where Eddie had finished cleaning up. “Good morning Sergeant, I’m Eddie.” Shaking her hand, Eddie moves out of the way to give the two space to talk.
“You can stay if you’d like, Eddie. And please for today, just call me Helena.”