Chapter 24
Throwback [ Thrō-bak ] noun
A Talent capable of pulling a significantly greater amount of power than the norm, harkening back to the original seven Talents of antiquity.
– Excerpt from Glynfyls: A History
“A Breaker’s propensity for violence and strict adherence to the hierarchy makes them the ideal soldier. This immutable chain of command is detected viscerally through their use of a pheromone called bloodlust and allows for a great deal of flexibility in combat situations. I see no downside to breeding and marketing them for this purpose.”
– L. Merkel, Head Geneticist,
The Source
Kara awoke to Flynn’s dread oozing through their link. She rubbed at her eyes, stretching out the length of him as he held her, his hand splayed over her belly.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She gave a little laugh, wise to his game. “I was talking about last night.”
“Then no.” He kissed behind her ear.
“Want to tell me why?”
Sighing, he dragged his hand through his hair. “Because we’re about to walk into a shit show, Kara. There’s no fucking way for me to candy coat it. Christ, everything up there…” He chewed his lip. “You’re gonna hate it. I hate it. That guy? Lord Laughlin Scot? He’s a dick.”
“Then be someone else. Weren’t you the one that told me I could be whoever I want?” Kara laughed at his expression. Was he pouting?
“That’s because you’re an unknown. Everybody up there, they expect, I have to—Look, it doesn’t matter. We just have to make it to Meddleton. The station’s going to suck, and there’s gonna be a lot of press?—”
“Press?” She’d forgotten about that with everything else. Pushing up on her elbow, he fell back against the pillows, scratching at his stubble. Kara’s temper jumped. What hadn’t he told her now?
“Uh, yeah…” Gritting her teeth, she could feel herself leak ’lust as he minced words. A rumble started in his chest, scenting it on her. “Damn, you’re hot when you’re pissed?—”
She jumped on him, pinning his arms as he reached for her. “What the fuck am I walking into now, you jerk?”
“Holy shit!” He laughed. “I’ve never heard you swear?—”
Glaring at him, her halos flashed, wiping the smile off his face.
“All right!” he roared as her bind tightened. She dropped talent and was on her back a second later. How had he?—
“Fine,” he ground out, pushing her away and sitting at the edge of the bed. He reached down and adjusted himself with a grimace. “You want to know how it is, Kara? Wherever we go, plan on there being a massive fucking crowd of paparazzi all slavering for me to get plastered so they can publish the aftermath. That what you wanna hear? Every single one of those motherfuckers is just waiting for me to fuck up, along with the rest of the city.” Hanging his head, he ran a weary hand up the back of his neck.
“They’re not gonna leave us alone, and I learned a long time ago the easiest way to get through it is to play the fucking part.” His mouth tightened and she felt him shoving his feelings back into a hole as he stared at his knuckles. “Lord Laughlin Scott, arrogant, philandering drunk. Prodigal fucking son, what a goddamned shame. It’s a blessing Deirdre isn’t here to see it…as they lap it the fuck up.
“Once it becomes par for the fucking course, no one gives a shit anymore and you think you’ll finally be able to breathe, but they take the goddamned air with them. And after they’re gone, along with everyone else, you realize it’s fucking better that way.” He scooped his jeans off the floor and jammed a leg in.
Kara sat up, thinking about her Source persona. What if she had to introduce Flynn to who she’d been? The thought made her ill. “Talents at the Source call it ‘playing the game,’” she said in a small voice. “We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of to survive. Whoever you were… That’s not the man I met, not who you are now.”
Flynn snorted, grabbing a shirt. He sniffed it and threw it in a corner. “It’s different when you have to survive yourself.” The shades of meaning behind his words were as dark as the circles beneath his eyes; Kara stood and raised a hand to his cheek, erasing them with a bit of talent. A wave of nausea hit her. Why was it so hard to pull? His brow furrowed, and she forced a laugh.
“Now you’ll look like a well-rested arrogant dick. I suggest you drop the philandering bit unless you want me to significantly tighten that bind I put around your nuts.”
He grinned, moving her hand toward his crotch. “I don’t know, I might enjoy it under different circumstances…”
“You’re such a jerk!” She laughed, pushing him away to search for her clothes. “You said I can be anything I want to be up here, I want to be happy.”
He went to rummage around in a drawer. “I want you to be happy, too. Both of you.” Snorting at her ambivalence, he pulled a clean shirt over his head. “I don’t understand how you’re not excited about a baby. I thought women lived for that shit. Miriam sure as hell does. ”
“It’s hard to get excited about something you’ve spent your entire life dreading. Titus was supposed to own whatever offspring I had.”
His temper jumped again, and there was no denying bloodlust was in the air. She went to him, taking his face in her hands and searching his eyes. Not a trace of red halos, but she didn’t have any either.
“I can smell you leaking ’lust, Flynn. Who was the Breaker?”
It cut off like a switch had been thrown, and he paled. “I-I don’t—It’s not something we talk about.” He said the words like a mantra, turning from her as if that was the end of the discussion. Like hell it was.
“How can you not talk about your talent?”
“It’s not my fucking talent,” he snapped with another burst. Swearing, he buried it again. Mussing his hair, he stood there, dejected. “Look, I wasn’t sure at first. It hasn’t always been this bad, then that red haze started?—”
“Red haze? I don’t understand…”
He stomped into his boots. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us. All I know is it’s worse than it was.” Sitting back down on the bed, he scrubbed his face before bending to tie his laces. “Closer. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Kara joined him. That didn’t make any sense. Your talent was set when your halos came in. She pulled on a thermal, flipping her hair out of the collar to brush it.
“So, we’re about to be mobbed by people who piss you off, and you don’t have a handle on your bloodlust that isn’t supposed to exist.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue with her assessment.
“Only Breakers can sense it, Flynn… Well, unless it’s really strong. I’ve only seen that happen once though…” She bit her lip, thinking of the Commandant shooting Beritram with suppressant to get him back into his cell. It’d been terrifying; the entire arena had cowered beneath the madman’s onslaught, regardless of talent. How Marcos had gotten off those shots?—
Flynn wrapped his arms around her, feeling her disquiet. “You gonna be okay?”
“Do I have a choice?” She forced a smile and he looked away, ashamed. “Aww, come on now, it’ll be fun. I get to meet Lord Laughlin Scott and you get to meet Talent Jester. She’s a horrible mousy thing, jumps at her own shadow, and does whatever she’s told.”
He licked his lips. “Really? Anything she’s told?”
“Mmm. If you’re lucky.” She took his hand, playing with his fingers. “I—Just… Promise me you’ll take care of her when this Kara shuts down.”
“With my life,” he rumbled.
She laughed. “I’d take a pinky promise, but if you insist.”
He tipped up her chin so he could meet her eyes. “I swear to you now, Kara, there’s not a fucking chance I’m ever going to let anything happen to you or our kid.” That dangerous thing looked out at her as he said it, little motes of blue churning through his irises.
Her pulse sped and a smile flitted across his lips.
Someone pounded on the door at the base of the steps.
“Laughlin! We’re gonna miss the train!”
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and stood, pulling her up with him. Kara followed as he reluctantly led her down to the front hall.
Miriam fidgeted by the door in a deep fuchsia dress, twin to the one Bernice had been in. She clucked her tongue again at Kara’s jeans and thermal, muttering something about “being common.” The woman took it as a personal affront that nothing Shelby brought had fit. Kara tried not to be too smug about it. The long, fur-lined tangerine duster waiting for her on the banister helped. Miriam had been thrilled to foist it off on her. Flynn didn’t bother hiding his grin as he helped her into the wretched thing. The color was awful.
His aunt’s displeasure over his jeans and refusal to shave was apparent, but Kara was glad. He was starting to look more like himself. There were footsteps in the hall, and Cal appeared wearing trousers, a calf-length formal jacket, and a waistcoat. Everyone else had already gone on to the station. She shook her head as he added a bowler to the ensemble.
Miriam put on one of those huge, droopy hats. This one had bunches of pale silk flowers bedecking the rim. It just looked sad as she stabbed at it with a pin. She sized them up with another frown as flat and wide as a frog’s .
“Ready then? They’re not gonna hold the train for us, and you two still need to go through customs.” Flynn grumbled something and Miriam’s lips pruned. “If you’ve been gone for more than five years, it’s the law, Laughlin.”
He looped their bag over his shoulder, sighing. Tension thrummed through their bond. Kara gave him a little nod. She could do this.
“Yeah, set,” he said, putting a hand over his face.
Miriam’s halos pulsed and colors ran.
Kara was immediately blinded by flashbulbs going off, a cacophony of voices coming at them like a wall, bleeding together, shouting at them.
“Lord Scot! Why didn’t your father come with you? Glynfyls wants to know—Will you be taking a seat in the Assembly? Can we get your name, Miss?”
Kara flushed, sweat breaking out across her brow. Ducking her head, she let her hair fall over her face, pressing against Flynn. His arm tightened around her waist as he moved her forward. Her stomach cramped like she was going to be sick. Why was it so hot?
“Lord Scot! Can you just face this way, please? Are you a Talent, Miss? How did you two meet? What’s the lady’s name? Still for The Post !”
She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision, following where Flynn led her. His irritation was evident as they tried to make it through the crowd, the eye inside a storm of people. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, clinging to him. This was worse than anything she could’ve?—
“Over here! Miss! Which line is she? Are you speaking to your father? Have you come to collect your majority payout?”
As her vision cleared, Kara cast furtive glances around at the station. It was a large, vaulted brick building. They’d shifted in at a designated platform and were trying to make their way across the room to a gate marked ‘Customs’ in bold block letters. People thronged around them, dressed in heavy skirts, hats, and jackets. The two of them stuck out like a sore thumb. Her fingers dug into Flynn’s arm. Cal bent close to his ear, whatever he said lost in the clamor of the crowd. Frowning, Flynn nodded and handed Cal her bag. He disappeared with Miriam, slipping through the chaos of the throng unnoticed, leaving Kara and Flynn at its mercy. The crowd screamed out more questions, pushing toward them.
“Will you take up residence at Meddleton or in Glynfyls? Miss, are you a Talent? A statement on the legal proceedings with House Glass?—”
Flynn stopped, and she felt his resignation. A broad, arrogant grin spread across his face, and he pulled her unseemly close. His hand skated down to cup her rear beneath the coat, and she stood straighter in indignation, her cheeks flushing. Torn between the urge to slap him and run, she froze, thinking of all the ways she was going to kill him once they were alone.
Flynn laughed at her predicament, and she had to smile. Jerk was doing it on purpose. Kissing her temple, he raised a hand, and the crowd quieted. Her pulse thudded. Glory, what magic did this man hold over them?
“I don’t have the luxury of taking questions right now. You’ll all have ample opportunity to speak with us once we reach Glynfyls. I can assure you, I’ll be more accommodating with my time then, if you respect it now.”
Kara’s hands tightened on his arm, mouth dry. This was Lord Laughlin Scot? He’d become all slick and polished, even the cadence of his speech changing—Flynn’s hand slid up her spine, embarrassment grounding her again.
“Is it true you’ve bonded?” someone yelled from the back of the crowd, starting the tumult of questions again. More flashbulbs went off. “Have you come to challenge for First? Miss, over here! How did you survive Outside? Are you from the Source?”
Flynn scratched his jaw and grinned just long enough for everyone to catch a still before starting to walk again. This time, the assembled crowd cleared a path as they continued to shout at them.
“Another still for The Day ! How did you meet? Will you reconcile with Julia Cree? When’s your first bout at the Pony? Lord Scot, where have you been?”
A guard held back the crowd and another let them through the gate. The door shut, muffling the noise from the main terminal. Kara sagged against the wall, heart pounding in her ears. She wiped the sweat from her forehead.
Flynn smiled down at her. “Not too bad, right?”
She smacked him hard enough for him to take a step back. “Are you kidding me? If that’s not too bad, what would you call it?”
He shrugged. “Typical, unfortunately.”
She gave him a hard look, and he laughed. An official in an olive uniform a size too small lumbered over just as she opened her mouth to lay into him. Her eyes narrowed at the amusement in Flynn’s. The jerk knew he’d just won a reprieve. Glancing between the two of them, the rotund man cleared his throat. Kara took a step back, her stomach burbling. He smelled like eggs and crumbs dotted his jacket.
“Ah… If you’ll just follow me, Lord Scot, Miss. You’ll have to hurry if you’re going to catch your train.” He led them down a short hallway to another door. Beyond was a small, windowless room with a metal desk and a ledger. Her stomach lurched. He’d definitely been eating in there. She had the worst urge to make a break for the door on the opposite wall before she vomited.
Swallowing her nausea, Kara stepped over the threshold and cringed, the discordance of a nullifier filling her mind. The bind on the back of her pants let go, and she stumbled in with a little gasp. Behind her, Flynn growled, not understanding her mortification.
“Standard procedure, Lord Scot, sir. Halos please?” the man asked with disinterest.
Flynn’s temper jumped, and the official’s head jerked up at the whisper of ’lust, the barest thread of a crimson halo around his irises. This was a Northern Breaker? He looked confused for a moment, then turned to her expectantly. Kara met his eyes, and he took in a sharp breath. She stepped behind Flynn, trying to unobtrusively pull up her pants. Ugh, that was embarrassing!
The man dutifully wrote something down in the ledger. His hand trembled. “Thank you. Reason for your visit?” His face was a careful blank.
“We’ve come to take up residence.”
The official made another shaky notation. “And your halos, sir? ”
A muscle in Flynn’s jaw jumped. “You’ll need to turn the nullifier off,” he gritted out testily.
The official looked embarrassed and fumbled beneath the desk. The discordance stopped. Flynn’s halos sprang into view as he glared at the man. The official licked his lips, chins bobbing. “Just doing my job, Lord Scot.”
Flynn grunted, turning to touch her cheek before his own halos winked out. She buried her face in his chest and pulled talent, binding her jeans with another wave of nausea. “And you’ve done it admirably.” His eyes flicked to the man’s name tag. “Master Crimpbow. May we proceed?”
“Sign here, please, ah, middle initial. Thank you, sir, and Miss…” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow.
Flynn signed his name in the book with a flourish. “Lady Kara Scot,” he said curtly, slapping down the pen. “You’ll keep that to yourself until she’s Introduced formally.”
The man moved the book in front of Kara, failing to bite back his grin. The pen faltered in her hand as she wrote the unfamiliar name, glancing at Flynn’s looping signature. Only one t.
“Ah, records are public, sir. Soon as you leave this room, it’ll be all over the city.”
Flynn pursed his lips. “You’ve seen us both sign it?” Master Crimpbow nodded. “Look away.” The official stammered for a moment, then averted his eyes. Flynn put his finger over their signatures and his halos flared, cloaking them.
“Keep it away from a nullifier until the official announcement, and I’ll make it worth your while.” The man licked his lips, looking between the book and Flynn. “Do we have an understanding, Master Crimpbow? Whatever you’ve been offered, I’ll double it. You won’t mention my use of talent either, will you?”
“No sir, Lord Scot, sir. I understand you very well, sir.”
Flynn pulled Kara toward him, kissing her brow. She fell against him, dazed. Who was this man?
“Very good. Now, if we can move along?”
The official led them through the next door, out onto a crowded platform. The wind whipped across it, and Kara huddled against Flynn, glad for the fresh?—
Another burst of flashbulbs and a riotous mash of questions assailed them.
“Lord Scot! Are rumors of your debt true? Were you in the Deep South? Did you bond?”
“Your car’s number six, sir, just down to the left on track E,” the official shouted, retreating into the warmth of his office. Kara couldn’t even see the train past the crush of bodies. A whistle cut through the mob’s racket, and Flynn swore.
He looked over the crowd, then at her. A smirk flitted across his lips.
“Sorry, not sorry.” He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, muscling his way through the crowd. Kara laughed at the mixture of shock and glee on the faces around them. Flynn was right—They were lapping it up. It probably didn’t help that he had his hand clamped firmly on her rear. Not the most proper way to get through the mob, but it was effective. The door to the train car slid open, and Flynn put her down on the step. Her face burned at the crowd ogling them.
“Damn, I love how embarrassed you get.” He laughed, kissing her like they were alone. A wave of his desire surged through their bond, their echo sweeping away her awareness of the throng. He picked her up again, carrying her inside. She wrapped her legs around his waist, fingers tangling in his hair. Her back pressed up against the car wall, his hands busy beneath the hideous coat.
“Couldn’t even make it out of the station, huh?” Cal’s voice snapped dryly.
Her feet dropped to the floor. Flynn acted like he didn’t hear him. Holding her fast, he rumbled deep in his chest, kissing her again.
“Laughlin James!”
He slammed his hands on the wall to either side of Kara and pushed back. Staring at her from beneath his brows, he bit his lip hard enough to split it. His tongue flicked over the cut, and she made a small sound. A jolt of lust shot through her.
Distantly, she heard Miriam saying something. Flynn grimaced, pushing off the wall, and clamping down on their link. For once, she was glad she couldn’t feel all his emotions. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted himself, stalking to the far side of the car.
Kara watched his back, trying to calm her breath. She collapsed onto the jade-colored couch across from Miriam, blushing furiously.
The car was laid out like a plush sitting room in hues of green and navy, offsetting heavy, dark wood. Cal sat smoking at the far end. The triplets were dressed in silks and velvets, playing with gilded cards around a small inlaid table. Miriam and Jon occupied two over-stuffed armchairs having tea. The whistle blew again. With a sharp pulling motion, the train departed the station.
“How’d you have her sign the book?” Cal asked, flipping through a stack of papers on his lap.
Flynn leaned against the door, peering out through the heavy velvet curtains. “With her name.”
“Couldn’t be helped, I suppose.”
“I cloaked the signatures then bribed the official to keep it away from a nullifier. You’re gonna need to send Master Crimpbow a check.”
One side of Cal’s mustache tilted up. “He keeps his end of the bargain, I can make that happen.”
“You know, I didn’t even look.” Flynn glanced across the car at Kara. “What’s your middle name?”
Leo snorted. “It never ceases to amaze me how far you get with women with so little personal information.”
Flynn smirked at him, and the smaller man muttered something under his breath. Graham kicked him.
“I don’t have a middle name,” Kara said, trying to diffuse the situation. Leo was as fractious as Lot. She wondered where he was but couldn’t say she missed him.
“You do.” Cal stubbed out his cigarette. “Ermeldine.”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “Ermeldine? That’s horrible.”
Everyone in the car grinned at her.
“That’s the point,” Flynn said, coming to sit on the couch beside her.
“My father always told me an awful name insured the Gods didn’t think you were too well-favored and try to take back some of your luck. That’s why every Scot has at least one horrible moniker. I named you, so you got one too,” Cal said, lighting another cigarette and waving out the match.
Were they serious? Like Karabelle wasn’t bad enough. Flynn raised his arm for her to sit against him.
“That and you need three names so Miriam can yell at you,” Leo quipped.
“It’s a heathen practice. You mind your manners, Laughlin.” She looked at him pointedly and pulled out some knitting.
Kara’s stomach burbled.
“You feel okay?”
She shook her head. The swaying of the train was making her sick. Flynn got up and came back with an ice bucket.
“Great.”
“She’s pregnant. Cut her some slack,” Flynn snapped back at Leo. His voice softened. “Here, look out the window, it’ll help.” He settled behind her, brushing her hair from her brow. She relaxed against him, watching the wooded landscape go by. He was right, it did help. Her eyes slowly closed, and she slept.
Cal contemplated his grandson from over the top of the report he was reading. He never thought he’d be able to ascribe contentment to the boy, but that’s the word that came to mind watching him stroke Kara’s hair as she slept. Whether by trick of memory or light, for a brief moment he saw them as children again, curled together in the rose garden. Two halves to a much greater whole… If they made it that far. Boy needed to buckle down to make that happen. Hopefully, being bonded would mellow him out.
Though all things considered, Flynn hadn’t done too badly with his first public appearance after his exodus. It’d been a touch of genius cloaking those signatures. He wished the boy could’ve waited to bond her, but it was a minor complication in the grand scheme of things and not unexpected. Flynn never had been one for following convention. Case in point, that business at the station. That hadn’t been ideal, but it sure as hell had been him. The press was gonna eat it up along with Lot being in a separate car. Cal didn’t care, the last thing they needed was a repeat of the other night.
He’d been hoping that their hiatus from each other would’ve made things easier, but they’d picked right up where they’d left off. The sad part was, he could tell the both of them were trying. Flynn and Lot were just oil and water.
Cal sighed, looking out the window. They were still in the foothills, it’d be several more hours before they got into the city. The sooner they did, the better.
He felt a momentary pang as the boy kissed Kara’s brow, smiling down at her. Glynfyls wasn’t going to be kind to either of them, but it was too late to stop what he’d set in motion. Not now, there was too much at stake. He wondered again if making that call last night had been the right thing to do. The boy was on the hairy edge, but if everything went to plan it shouldn’t matter. What he needed was time… He took another drag. His enemy’s next move was coming, they needed to be up north when it did. Cal looked out the window, the trees thinning out as they ascended to the plateau. He said a Hail Mary.
Time. He could feel it slipping through his fingers, faster and faster.