Chapter 12 #2
Nox finally unfolds himself from the armchair, the creature sliding easily from his chest to land at his feet as he sits up.
Sharp rows of teeth protrude from its jaw as it yawns, mimicking the actions of a puppy with practiced ease.
I loathe the sight of them, but I learned years ago to keep my eyes and my disgust away from my brother’s shadowy comforts.
When Nox turns to Gryphon with the sneer still painted across his lips, I move seamlessly into playing the peacemaker once more, though this time I choose a tactic that’s never failed to shift Nox’s attention away from his needling games.
"Do we have any leads on the Gifted or what their power actually is? I haven’t managed to look over the reports the General and his team have sent back yet. ”
Gryphon winces, but his tone is finally level. “He didn’t find anything, I’ve already read the reports. They gutted the sorting camp but there were nothing but empty cells and decoy files there.”
Nox shakes his head, his face still savage but the derisive edge finally dulling from his words.
“They're deranged but not stupid; a Gifted of that strength who we haven’t encountered yet is going to be the pet project of one of the higher ups. It’s not like Davies is going to leave their medical files just lying around a tent in the middle of the desert. ”
Gryphon huffs and shakes his head, accepting Nox’s truce for now. “And the General’s team never leaves enough Resistance alive to get any real intel straight from the source, so we’re back to square one.”
Nox stares at him for a moment, his head tilting to one side a fraction before he shakes it slowly. "Not quite. I’ve gone through the interviews with your entire team and Harrison said something that’s flagged with me."
Setting the papers back down on the desk before me, I shift my focus entirely to Nox. "Harrison? I was there at his debrief, he didn't have anything to say that the others didn't already cover.”
His head tilts a little deeper and I’m struck by the similarity between the gesture and his nightmare creature, still sitting obediently at his feet.
Its eerie void eyes shift between Gryphon and I as it keeps watch, never relaxing for even a second.
The rigid stance it holds itself in is a clear warning to us both; stay away or die a gruesome death.
Nox’s eyes focus on the carpet before him, squinting a little as he explains.
“He described the same set of events as everyone else, only he phrased it differently. I can't say exactly what it is, but it was familiar. I must’ve read something like it before, some other interview, but I’d remember if it were something in the last decade.
I've already pulled up the old reports from the riots, I'm working my way through the archives.”
He shifts again, pulling his tablet out from where he’d wedged it in the cushions of the armchair last night when sleep finally won out.
The moment he logs in, his eyes glaze over and in an instant he's lost in his research again. It’s the only time my brother is truly content, when he’s too busy sifting through a problem until he’s solved it to think about the horrors lurking in the darkest nooks of his mind.
Gryphon watches him out for a moment before he turns back to me with a firm nod as though we’ve come to an agreement. "I'll reread Harrison's interview now, see if anything looks familiar. I'm not sure what good I'll be, but it’s worth a try."
Collecting the papers once more, I glance at my phone when it vibrates on the table again right as someone knocks on the door. Gryphon calls out to Kyrie, the smile on his face as he greets his sister is the first genuine one I've seen from him since we found our Bond and brought her back.
It’s been two years since Kyrie left the TacTeams to take over their mom’s cafe when the General left Draven, but when she leans over to hug her brother tightly, there’s a gun strapped to each of her hips and a knife tucked visibly in her boot.
Raised by an unforgiving asshole who had no issue openly favoring his son over her, Kyrie is the definition of pent-up fury and daddy issues.
She’s one of the few Gifted outside of my Bond Group I’d trust with my life, but I secretly pity whoever ends up her Bond.
The moment she was old enough, she moved out of the General’s house and has lived in thirty different apartments since.
The TacTeams gave her enough variety that she stuck with them for almost a decade, but I wasn’t surprised when she resigned either.
Whoever she’s meant to be with, they’ll have a hell of a time convincing her to settle down in any aspect of her life.
I’m glad Gryphon isn’t the same.
My phone buzzes again and I sigh deeply, switching it to silent when Nox’s eyebrow twitches maliciously at me.
When I finally check my messages, expecting a reply from Gabe, I find a long and exaggerated explanation of my Bond’s morning routine, every minute detail drawn out tediously as though I have any use for her in-depth analysis of the benefits of cool mint toothpaste over peppermint.
Except I’ve never been a man who missed the finer details of things, and learning every tiny detail of my Bond’s inner workings was once my sole priority. Even now, it’s in my top three, but for far less favorable reasons.
I want to be able to not only anticipate her reactions and responses to things, but to know her safety nets, her comfort zones, and exactly where she’d run to if ever given the chance. I want to know absolutely every inch of her mind until I might as well be thinking for the both of us.
I’m once again writhing in vicious, violent jealousy for Gryphon’s Neuro Gift, consuming me with such force that he picks up on it instantly and cuts off his conversation with his sister to snap at me, “Whatever bullshit is on your phone has nothing to do with me, so stop glaring at me. Besides, if anyone’s allowed to be an asshole here, it’s me.
I don’t need any more rest, and I definitely don’t need Nox babysitting me. ”
Kyrie glances between the two of us, her brows pinching in a little. “Kieran said the bed rest was precautional—if there’s no threat, why would you need a guard as well?”
Shit.
Holding a hand up, I cut Gryphon off before he can curse me out fully.
“Nox wasn’t here guarding, he was making sure your brother followed the Healer’s instructions—and before you chew me out, Shore, remember that I’d happily move Kyrie in here to take over if you’re going to kick up this much of a fuss about it all. ”
The only thing more effective than using Kyrie’s worry as reason to comply is threatening Gryphon with her care, because he’d never get away with any of his petulance with her.
They’re close, the type of relationship I once hoped to share with Nox, but with the fraught tension and power dynamics within their family, they’ve always been fiercely protective of each other.
It’s very telling that she hasn’t met our Bond yet.
More so that she hasn’t asked about her in my presence or demanded answers.
When she found out our Bond had disappeared from the hospital room when we first found her, Gryphon was still in college but she was already serving in the TacTeams. The General made every attempt to impede our search for her, but Kyrie fought him every step of the way, even weeding out the operatives loyal to him first to make up a team of her own without official authorization.
In the months it took me to wrest control of the TacTeams from the council, Kyrie’s response team was pulling extra shifts and moonlighting for me.
Gryphon and Kieran were both brought on board under her guidance, trained by our most trusted operatives, and gained valuable experience all while they searched.
My phone buzzes again with yet another long and pointless description, this time of the dorm room stairwell and why they’re a danger to the students using them everyday.
I finally reply to her, a curt and short confirmation that I’ll see to the safety issues, and I make the mistake of muttering furiously under my breath as I do.
When I glance up, I find Kyrie grinning at me, the gleam in her eyes a little too conspiratorial for my liking, but when I send her a warning look, she only cackles at me. “What a time to be alive. I get to watch North Draven find his true calling as a brat tamer.”
I almost choke to death on my coffee.
My childhood within the oppressive confines of the Draven household saves me, and I manage to swallow an entire mouthful of scalding coffee with little more than watering eyes.
Additionally, the burns distract my throat from the hacking fit it was about to descend into.
Instead, slipping death’s grasp only requires clearing my throat.
With a droll look cast at Kyrie as I stalk out, it might be too late to feign indifference, but my pride stays intact even in my retreat.
I thought the day couldn’t possibly get any worse, but I’m only halfway through my day filled with meetings before I’m forced to concede.
Instead of the usual petty games of the council meetings I was expecting, I’m sent out into the non-Gifted community to speak to their officials about the rising death toll.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that another war is brewing among the Gifted population, and I’d hate to think of what it would be like to be so defenseless.
How do you fight back against a Flame capable of incinerating entire city blocks in under a minute? Or an Elemental who violently draws the water out of your cells, ensuring your death is a gruesome implosion that will traumatize any witnesses for years to come?
How could anyone think to survive a Death Dealer?
Their fears aren’t just reasonable, they’re basic human survival instincts, and there’s an itch crawling across my skin in frustration before I make it into the restaurant for lunch with Hannity and Rockelle.
The dismissive way they both speak to the non-Gifted skates dangerously close to common Resistance ideology, the bullshit they use as propaganda to dig into the minds of Gifted and mold them into the grunt soldiers they need as cannon fodder.
I’m planning out exactly how I’m going to deal with them both and put them on notice when my phone buzzes in my pocket again, only this time, it’s the insistent pattern of a phone call.
The messages from my Bond have continued all day, her determination strangely commendable, but she’s never tried to call before.
The team watching her every move haven’t flagged any dangers or threats, so it’s no doubt something inconsequential and I’m already in a foul mood. Nothing about what’s eating at me today is her fault, but the way my bond is constantly in a revolt against me is, and I can’t help but snap at her.
I answer the call in a curt tone, “I’m about to walk into a meeting, Fallows. This isn’t a good time.”
Her voice is deceptively calm down the line, not at all what I’m expecting.
“That’s fine, I’ll be quick. Gabe has a football game tonight, and I’d like to attend it.
Sage is going and we’re going to grab hot dogs and bad game food there.
I just need to know that you’re not going to send a TacTeam in to grab me from the stands while I’m watching the game. ”
A swift refusal balances on the edge of my tongue, followed by a demand to go back to the dorms without delay, but a murmur behind me brings me to an abrupt halt.
Turning on my heel, I find Sharpe now sitting at the table alongside Hannity and Rockelle.
All three are staring at me without any pretense, but while the two idiots are hanging on my every word as though it’s their fate on the table right now and not my Bond’s, Sharpe is soaking in every inch of tension in my body as if it’s fueling the flame of his convictions.
The man is a Resistance spy, a sympathizer who won’t yet admit to the world that he’s complicit in their horrifying acts of violence, and he’ll use any scrap of dissent to harm my Bond given a sliver of a chance.
My bond pushes to the forefront of my mind, the whispered demands for action now a thrumming call to arms.
Bathe in their blood.
Consume their flesh and rend them limb from limb.
Kill them all.
The grip on my control slips as the inky blackness of my shadows overwhelms my mind.
All I know is the relentless need to protect my Bond, to let the rabid nightmares within me devour our enemies whole and to take her away from every threat that dares to exist within her proximity.
She belongs to me, to no one else, no other can covet what is mine—
Down the phone line, my Bond takes a long and very defeated breath, and my clarity returns so abruptly that I actually jolt on my feet as though struck.
Scrambling to sound normal and not like I’ve just come close to destroying everything I’ve worked my entire life for at the mere suggestion of another Gifted looking at her, I’m still curt and abrupt with her.
“Fine. I’ll keep a close eye on you, and Gabe will meet you after the game and get you back to your dorms. If this is an attempt to run away again, I am going to make your life miserable. ”
Her seething rage in the slight pause before she answers me is like a balm over the lasting effects of my bond’s rage. “You mean like it’s not already?”
Jaw tightening as the line goes dead, the room seems to be holding its breath as I take my seat. Even Sharpe looks far less smug from across the table, gulping when I level a dark look at him that clearly screams of his impending death at my hands if he so much as breathes near my Bond.
With another deep breath, I shove at the monster living within me until I’m sure my eyes aren’t about to void out and send the entire building into mass panic.
When I’m sure I’m back under my own control, I flag down the waitperson.
I might not be able to truly drink away the nightmare of today, but one drink will have to suffice for now.