Chapter Eight
Jackson
I t's her.
My throat's bone dry and tight. My heart pounds along with my footsteps as I stalk toward our office. I slip through the private door, leaving the throbbing music and flickering lights of the club behind me. My heart seems even louder on this narrow staircase. Lucius and Thomas let the door shut behind them, making their way up the stairs behind me. Their laughter ricochets off the concrete walls and clangs heavily in my ears.
Millie is here.
I throw myself into the room. The door slams into the wall and almost knocks Lucius off his feet when he and Thomas slip into the room behind me.
“Easy, Jax,” Lucius mutters, dusting off his burgundy tweed. Only a librarian can pull off tweed in a nightclub. He runs a hand across the warm brown skin of his face, taking a deep breath as he recovers. Thomas nudges him teasingly as he walks past.
I say nothing, just busy myself with pouring drinks on the small brass bar we keep beside the window. Glass spans most of the wall, allowing us to look down over our little dominion. For the last few decades, Lucius, Thomas, and I have bought a bar, club, or pub in every city I've moved to, and I've lived in many cities. I find the place, settle into the new city, and build a new haven before moving on. We bought a speakeasy in New York during the prohibition, a pub in Ireland, and a beach bar in Hawaii. To my friends, it was a distraction, a hobby. To me, it was an escape. Being a reaper is more than a job to me. It was a calling, but it left me with a lot of empty hours between shifts. And I liked to fill them with as much fun, drink and female company as I could.
“She was cute, that brunette. You should have made a move.” Thomas chuckles as he moves deeper into the room.
Lucius's face screws up at the question. “What's the rush? You know I like to take my time?”
“Like you're taking your time with Ginny?”
“I'm waiting for the right moment …”
“Because there couldn't have been a right moment in the last thirty years?” Lucius fights hard, but his stern expression slips into a smile as Thomas's teasing turns to bellowing laughter.
Glasses in hand, I turn back to my friends. They're still laughing as I hand them each the tumbler of amber liquid. Thomas sinks into the settee in the back of the room, his large frame making the deep burgundy fabric dip as he stretches his arms across the back. Lucius spins in the office chair behind his desk as he sits down.
“So, you gonna tell us what's up, or do we have to guess?”
Lucius sips the whiskey, our usual drink whenever we first arrive. Our office is on the top floor of Worship. I'd bought the derelict church the moment I saw it during a reaping. It was a crumbling gothic nightmare filled with squatter's piss and empty cider bottles, but I had to have it. I moved to Bristol a week later.
Lucius stares up at me, his eyes not wavering as I cross the room and slip behind my desk. Sinking into my chair and leaning back, I stretch my legs out across the wooden surface. My stomach still feels like lead from the shock of seeing her again. Of touching her for the first time, her velvet skin under my fingertips. Her scent still clung to my shirt from where she'd stumbled, like dark berries and spice. I feel overwhelmed by it, just like I had that day in the hospital.
What is it about this girl that makes me feel this way?
“What makes you think something is up?” I lie. Drinking the rich, fiery liquid too quickly makes the back of my throat burn.
“Because you poured the drinks? You never pour the drinks. Ever.”
Thomas chuckles, his body shaking the louder he laughs. Even the ever-serious Lucius is grinning broadly.
“You make it sound like I do nothing for you guys. I've made you breakfast before?” I look between them, and Lucius rolls his eyes.
“Was that the time you were living in California? If I recall, we had the cocktail bar in Miami?”
“Yeah, it was …”
“You made us toast. That was the one and only time you cooked for us. You only go into your kitchen if there's a woman involved,” Thomas says between laughter, his pale-skinned face turning beetroot red.
I slam my whiskey down on the desk, and they laugh so hard that the furniture practically quakes.
“That can't be true …”
“It is. So come on, what's up? It was that girl, wasn't it? I mean, she was cute, but …” Lucius shrugs and finishes his drink. Thomas, who'd been chucking to himself, suddenly falls still.
“Wait, I thought she looked familiar. That was the girl you failed the test over, the girl who …”
I put my hands up. I plaster a smile across my face, but inside, I'm getting annoyed. They can't see my hand clenching on the edge of the desk. Thomas's ice-blue eyes are pinning me to the spot.
“She's just a girl. It threw me a little, that's all.” I down the rest of my drink. Quickly, I slip out of my chair and towards the bar. I busy myself with pouring another, relishing the excuse to avoid their intense stares. The clanking of glasses and the faint beat of the DJ break the loaded quiet.
“Maybe we should go. Come back another night.”
I spin sharply. Lucius's face is serious. His dark eyes are wide with concern.
“Are you kidding? We've just got here? We're not going anywhere.”
“Mate, Lucius has a point. You've just got back from your suspension. Do you seriously want to jeopardise that by being near that girl? That … Millie?”
“If she got under your skin, it's too risky.”
“Has a girl ever got under my skin before?” I chuckle, and they both fall silent, glancing at each other blankly.
“See? There's nothing to worry about.”
Shaking my head, I laugh at their serious faces, the tension in my body growing with every passing moment. I didn't want to feel anything for this girl. I didn't want to feel anything for anyone, especially a mortal. This was a blip. And I'd show it to them, and I'd show it to myself.
“You don't trust me? Fine, I am totally unaffected, and you guys will have a front-row seat as I prove it,” I tease lightly, sipping my drink and staring down at the club.
Millie is standing by the bar, her friends downing drinks and laughing dramatically. Their heads are pulled back, pale throats exposed. Millie looks bored and unhappy. I swallow back any reaction, any desire to rush down there and do anything to put a smile back on her face. In this light, her resemblance to Camille is faint. I barely recognise what I saw, but it doesn't lessen the impact. It doesn't lessen that strange tug I feel, and that scares me more than anything.
I down the whiskey, regretting it instantly as the burning liquid takes hold. It makes me feel bold and reckless. I head to the door, Thomas's laughter in my ears and Lucius growling something under his breath. I twist, leaning into the doorframe as they both watch me.
“You ready to be proven wrong?” I grin, feeling feral as I watch them shift in their seats.
“Jackson, this isn't a game. You know what happens …” Lucius starts, his gruff voice low and irritated.
“I know what happens when people get serious with mortals. And that is not something I'm dumb enough to let happen to me.”
“We're teasing you, mate. You don't need to prove anything to us.” Thomas smiles, his lips still perched on the edge of his glass. “Let's just have a good night. There are plenty of other girls here.”
No, there aren't. There's just one. And the idea of having just another night out, talking to another group of girls, makes me feel tired and drained. I love creating the clubs—building them up, enjoying the opulence and atmosphere I've created, but right now, it all feels shallow. I don’t want to, but I can’t help it —I want more. And that was a bad feeling. A spark I had to extinguish. And there was one simple way to do that.
“You want to make it interesting?”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Drinks on me for the rest of the night if I don't have you both eating your words. I'm going down to speak to her. And you'll see for yourselves that she has no power over me.”
“Deal!” Thomas responds, grinning wildly, whilst Lucius groans into his hand. Still smirking, I bang on the doorframe and slip out of the office.
“This is a bad idea, Jax!” Lucius yells after me.
I head down to the club, to her. My movements are light, but a sense of dread makes me feel like I'm carrying the world with me.