Chapter 10 #2
It causes me more pain than it's worth, but a groan tears out of my chest that’s more of a pained snarl than anything else.
Of all the Gifted I don't want to put up with right now, Nox is at the top of the list. He even beats out my father, who I’ve barely spoken to since he found out I was in the Draven Bond Group.
When I finally brave opening my eyes again, the pain returns, but something about knowing it’s coming helps to dull the sharpest edges of it.
Nox looks like shit.
Hungover, or maybe even drunk still, he’s barely contained right now.
There’s a manic energy around him, like electricity trapped within the sneering meat casing beside me, and all it’ll take is stumbling over a single tripwire for him to detonate, taking the entire building and all the Gifted within it with him.
Watching him go after our Bond, even knowing why, it’s damaged the steadfast and careful friendship we spent a decade building.
I’d never reveal his trauma, not even to Oli, but it’s hard not to resent him for lashing out at her the way he does.
Especially when he involves me in it, like bringing that girl to dinner.
I’ve avoided Ashlee Mercurio for years and Nox knows it. Bringing her was a ‘fuck you’ to me just as much as it was to our Bond.
With my skull on the brink of collapse as it is, I don't have it in me to play twisted mind games or hold in my temper, not when it’s the last fucking thing I want to do.
If he so much as mentions our Bond right now, I’m going to say something that will destroy what tenuous peace we still have between the Bond Group.
“Stop pouting; I have no interest in torturing you. I’m only here because North insisted. Apparently, you need a babysitter because he doesn’t have time to solve any more problems.”
Squinting, my assessment of him is a slow one. “Are you sure I’m the one who needs a sitter? Because I’m incapable causing your brother any headaches right now—you, on the other hand, look like a fucking disaster waiting to happen.”
I must look pathetic because he only stares back at me, not rising to the bait at all.
Something about that chafes worse than if his mouth were running at its usual speed and I squeeze my eyes shut again, as if clearing his face from my vision will help keep my frustrations from boiling over.
Too bad for me, Nox Draven has never backed down from a fight.
“I wouldn't count yourself out so quickly, Shore. Almost having your brains blown out on a simple recovery mission by some unknown Gift is sure to keep my brother up for many coming nights.”
The words are shaped like an olive branch, but Nox never offers one without explosives strapped to the side of it, waiting to detonate the moment your fingers get a firm enough grip.
Maybe it's the pounding of my head or the impotent fury that still lingers in my gut from the dinner, but I'm less worried about starting a fight with him now than I ever have been before.
Instead of tip-toeing around him, or trying to find some placating middle ground, I throw caution to the wind.
With a groan, I rub a hand over my aching brow as I blow out a long breath.
“I've never seen anything like it before.
Even if that Gifted weren't making scrambled eggs out of my brain cells, it would've taken me just as long to figure out what the fuck was happening to me because that ability is unheard of.”
There might just be something to taking off the kid gloves when it comes to dealing with Nox, because he barely even registers the contention in my tone as his eyes sharpen into a searing focus, an intensive interest that lands entirely on me.
There's a reason the younger of the Draven brothers became a professor at Draven University despite being wealthier than most modern countries and holding a deep distaste for interaction with any Gifted, let alone college-aged students.
His obsessive research has saved our asses more than a dozen times over the years, and if anyone is going to be able to figure out what the hell the Resistance has dug up to weaponize against us, it's Nox.
He leans back in the armchair, the sleeves of his button-up shirt pushed up his arms bunching up where they cross over his chest, and he looks every inch the Oxford scholar even as he scowls dangerously at me.
From looking at him, it's sometimes hard to remember he's one of our most deadly operatives, even without his Gifts in the mix.
Arching an eyebrow at my silence, when I don’t immediately offer him any information, he finally snaps, “Do you have anything to go on or is this really going to be a hunt for a needle in a haystack for me?
All that Black could tell me for sure was how quickly the Gifted had you disarmed and unable to fight back. That's not exactly much to go on.”
I think Nox forgets that the words that form his own triggers aren’t the same devastating weapons when directed at other people because I would have to be an idiot to claim I wasn’t utterly defenceless against whatever was out there.
Worse, I became a liability to my TacTeam that could’ve gotten my operatives killed.
Nox would rather die than admit such so-called weakness.
The complete absence of shame or hurt at his petty jabs shouldn’t give me such a sense of victory, but the cracks running dangerously through the foundations of our friendship are widening into chasms that grow rapidly with every passing trial we fail.
Maybe North is right to be so worried, maybe the damage of our Bond returning here is irreparable no matter what secrets of hers I uncover.
"It didn't feel like a Neuro gift. It didn't feel familiar in any way."
Nox tilts his head to acknowledge that he's listening and encourages me to go on, and the motion is strangely familiar.
Whether it's the damage to the most vital parts of my brain matter or just my ignited temper making me slow, but it takes me a second to realize the gesture is the same one his nightmare creatures do as they study a meal before they consume it whole at his command.
Their absence from the room is unsettling.
In the decade of friendship we’ve had before our Bond returned, they were always standing guard over him.
Even when we attended Draven and were supposed to be complying with the strict rules about Gift use on campus, Nox’s nightmares were always the exception.
North went to war with the council and then Draven’s Board of Directors until they reached an agreement.
For his own protection and stability, Nox would be allowed to keep them but only if they were hidden.
Most students would’ve never known, but the puff of air ruffling his hair sporadically in even the most stale classroom was all the proof those who knew Nox well needed to be sure that a little shadow was hiding in his hair.
Maybe their absence is the real reason he is teetering on the edge of sanity.
Struggling to sit up in the bed, I stretch out my back as I try to piece together what little details I do have for him, but there’s not much. “It’s not a Neuro. It might seem that way because it was my mind being attacked, but it wasn't Neuro.”
His eyes narrow. “How can you be sure?”
“I recognize Neuro Gifts even when the Gifted wielding it is well-trained at masking. Even if I can’t tell exactly what the Gift is doing, or what pathway is driving it, I can still say for certain it’s a Neuro. This Gift was foreign to me and my bond.”
Gaze snapping to meet mine, his eyes sharpen instantly. “Does your bond often recognize Gifts?"
I scoff, recognizing his old obsession reigniting. “Does yours?"
When our bloodwork flagged originally, Nox had become obsessed with our bonds and the novelty of our Bond Group. Clearly a coping mechanism, he was obsessed with the idea of there being something wrong with our Bond Group, something dangerous instead of just an anomaly.
Within the Gifted community, Bond Groups are most commonly made up of a Central and two Bonds. Three Bonds is also fairly common, while one Bond or four is considered uncommon.
Five is extremely rare—like ‘only found sporadically in history books’ rare.
Again, having two or three Top Tier Gifted Bonded to the same Central Bond isn’t entirely unheard of, but to have five Bonds and all of them are not only Top Tier Gifted, but some wield Gifts that are unprecedented? It was difficult to argue with Nox’s viewpoint, even if I knew what fears drove it.
He shoots me a scathing look. “My Gift is not Neuro, Shore, don't waste time on stupidity.”
My own eyes narrow back at him, but I can’t grasp where the hell this conversation has been derailed to.
I’m intimately aware of the fact that both of the Draven brothers are Death Dealers, I’ve seen their Gifts in use more than any other Gifted in our community.
So then why does a whisper of a lie’s acid suddenly linger at the back of my throat?
Standing abruptly, Nox’s lip curls as he snarls at me, “Stay the fuck out of my head, Shore."
I shake my head at him, ready to snap back, but the vitriol dies on my tongue when a shadow bursts out of his chest and lands at his feet, a snarl already growing on the beast’s lip as it stares up at me as though waiting eagerly for the command to consume me.
He really is at his limit, teetering on the edge of complete chaos and destruction that’ll surely take us all with it.
Forcing a slow breath out, I speak steadily and calmly so I don’t set him all the way off.
“I haven't used my Gift once since waking up with you here, Nox, and you know it. I can't help if your deception flags with my Secondary… though, fuck knows what you’re lying to me about because you’re right, I am one hundred percent sure you’re not a Neuro. ”
My gaze is unwavering on his, but from the corner of my eye, I watch the rise and fall of his chest. Even as it stays steady and sure, I don't let myself relax for a second. Nox has always seen even the most banal gestures and actions as a threat. Glancing away while he's teetering at the edge will surely be taken as an admission of guilt—though I’m still absolutely clueless about what exactly it is that he thinks I’ve uncovered. With him, it could be fucking anything.
When he finally grips the back of the armchair, stepping around it haltingly before he takes the seat again, I silently curse North in my head.
It's hard to remember we’re on the same side, that the man must be overrun with threats to our Bond Group right now if he’s left me in charge of babysitting his brother after being taken out in the field, especially with how violently my head is pounding.
When Nox finally breaks away from my gaze and glances down at his nightmare as it comes to heel obediently at his feet, I figure it's safe enough to grab the glass of water waiting at my bedside.
Downing it in three gulps, I refill it from the pitcher to distract myself from the unspent violence in the air just in case my own Gift is tempted to join the mix.
I haven't had a slip like that in years, but if the last few weeks have taught me nothing else, it's that we’re navigating uncharted waters here.
“I'm working on my third Gift. It's not up for discussion."
Not even the barest trace of a lie.
Nodding easily, I take the peace offering from him and run with it.
"We're going to need everything we can get our hands on if the Resistance are about to start unveiling more Gifted like the one who attacked me today. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
It felt like it was my own Gift attacking me, like it was being fed back to me. "
His eyes narrow. “Fed back to you?"
I shrug. “I don’t know how else to describe it… but I can tell you this; it’s impossible to fight against your own Gift like that, especially when it’s being boosted.”
That catches his attention, his eyes sharpening back on me as he leans forward in the armchair.
My own gaze drops down to the nightmare creature sitting at his feet, but the shadow beast doesn't move.
Nox flicks a hand at me impatiently, as if I'm silly for even considering its presence, but it’s impossible for me to so easily dismiss the fact that it was salivating at the idea of ripping my throat out barely a minute ago.
"How was it ‘boosting’ your Gift? How do you know that's what it was doing?"
I shrug again, aware the action will probably piss him off, but I really don’t have much to give him.
“I know what my own Gift feels like, and even though I knew there was another Gifted involved, it was like they were Shielded while they were in my mind. I only ever felt my own Gift… like it was attacking me, except it was more than it should’ve been.
It’s like the moment we Transported in and my feet hit solid ground, my Gift heightened and turned on me.
I was being torn apart from the inside out. ”
Something shifts in his guys, a flash of the voids so fleeting I could almost be convinced I imagined it before he turns away from me once more, muttering under his breath.
"Have you ever heard of a Gift capable of that? If I need to retake History 101, North will have a field day.”
The sarcastic drawl of my tone doesn’t draw out a sneering smirk like I’m expecting, or even aiming for, and instead Nox glances down at the nightmare creature again. The tension in his shoulders when he leans forward in the seat like he’s going to get up and leave spurs me on.
“What is it, Nox? Just tell me.”
Shaking his head, he leans back again, though I wouldn’t say he’s getting comfortable. If anything, he looks like he’s been strapped into a torture device. His answer has my gut hollowing out.
“It's not something from the records, Gryph… you’ve reminded me of something from the Resistance intel. Davies has been obsessed with the Gifted he thinks will win them this war—the ‘Infinite Weapon’. What if this Gifted is able to take command of the shadows as well? What’s more infinite than controlling every Gift around you? ”
And just like that, a new nightmare settles into the room between us, only this one is beyond either of our control.