Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Noah
I don’t know why, but I feel almost bouncy when I get to work the morning after my birthday.
Okay, that’s a lie. I know exactly why. I’m happy.
I had fun last night at my birthday party, even when Andrew and Alistair insisted we do the Macarena—which they had to teach me, and seriously, what the fuck, nineties people?
Were you high?—and then I went home and slept .
I only woke twice, and both times I fell back asleep easily. What’s not to be happy about?
The party surprised me. I really thought it was going to be awkward, but it was just casual and low-key—until Alistair got into the music with his weird nineties fetish—and I can’t believe Sam got me presents.
That was… wow. I need to try harder to be patient with his hovering.
He really wanted me to enjoy myself and know they care. Well, he cares, anyway.
The tablet is an amazing gift, and I’m not even talking about the monetary value.
I don’t have any kind of computer at home for personal use, just my phone, and it’s a really basic model.
It’s hard being part of a digital generation with limited access to electronics, you know?
I was going to study electrical engineering at college, or maybe software programming and design.
Before the kidnapping, I was used to having a device in my hand or being on my computer for a lot of the day.
Anyway, I had a good night, and today’s going to be a good day.
David sent me a text bright and early to say he’d snuck half an hour out of Percy’s calendar for us at nine, so I’m going to get to show off my new skills—hopefully.
I followed Andrew’s orders and meditated before bed and when I got up, and even though I was hella resentful about doing it, I’ve gotta admit, it does make me feel more settled and aware.
Not that I’ll tell Andrew that.
I dump my stuff at my desk, ignoring the people around me who watched the episode with Nikita yesterday and did nothing about it. Mind you, they also saw me leave with Andrew and not come back, so they’re probably curious about that. Like… dying of curiosity. I’m good with that.
I’ve heard enough stories about Sam’s time at CSG to know he slotted right into his team, after some initial gentle hazing.
Alistair fondly tells stories about tiny stuffed animals and recordings of hellhounds howling.
It hasn’t been like that for me. For starters, I’m not actually part of a team.
Officially, I’m on a paid internship doing data management.
It’s boring and mostly solitary work. Add to that the fact that I don’t really know if I want to be a part of this community and haven’t exactly made any effort with my coworkers, and it’s easy to see why they don’t greet me cheerfully every morning. Or at all.
But I don’t have time to chat this morning.
I log in and quickly flick through my emails.
There’s nothing there that can’t wait—a few new tasks.
None of my work is really time sensitive.
I shoot back acknowledgments that I received them, then lock the screen and head upstairs.
It’s a little early still, but I want to drop past Sam’s desk and thank him again for last night.
He was a bit… well, okay, the word is drunk.
He was drunk when I left his place last night.
I think it was the Kevin Bacon Footloose dance- off that pushed him over the edge, because when that started, I saw him drink two brews in about two minutes, and then he joined in .
I wouldn’t have thought Sam could dance, since he’s a bit klutzy sometimes (Yep.
Who knew graceful, elegant shifters could be klutzy?), but he’s got some serious moves.
He was unanimously declared the winner (to everyone’s relief, because neither Andrew nor Alistair would have lost gracefully to the other), and then he kicked us out of his house so he could “get down and dirty with my snuggle bunny.”
Gideon’s never going to live that down. And I’ll bet Sam’s feeling some regret this morning.
Part of me envies the way he just let go last night, completely secure in the knowledge that he would be safe even with his inhibitions lowered and his defensive instincts gone.
I can’t imagine doing that. I used to drink in high school—not a lot, because getting drunk all the time is dumb, and my parents verged on being overprotective (which I know now was not because they cared about me), but I went to the occasional house party when someone’s parents were out of town or bonfire party in someone’s uncle’s field.
I’ve been drunk. And if you can trust the people you’re with, there’s an element of freedom to it.
You get to stop thinking and worrying and just be.
Of course, sometimes that’s not a good thing, but I regret that I never got to the point where I learned what my alcohol threshold was—the loose-but-not-lost level.
Instead, I’m now afraid to ever let go of control. In any way.
Pushing aside the gloomy thoughts, I stroll down the hall that leads to Percy’s office. Sam and the others are in a shared office about halfway down, and when I duck in, I see Sam with his head on his desk and Gideon petting his hair.
I freeze, but then realize they’re not alone. Elinor waves weakly at me.
“Hi, Noah,” she whispers pitifully. “We’re talking quietly today.” She’s sallow, with dark circles around her eyes. I guess she partied a little too hearty—which would explain the attempt at Riverdancing.
Sam moans and lifts his head. “Noah? I’m so, so sorry if I was a bad host last night.”
I shoot a quick, nervous glance at Gideon, who’s smiling faintly. It’s kind of unnerving. Is that the expression he wears when he’s contemplating how much he’ll enjoy gutting someone?
“Ah, you weren’t a bad host. You were amazing, and I had a great time.”
“Really?” He looks like a hopeful kitten. I tilt my head. Like… what’s with his hair? Is that from Gideon stroking it? Because it’s standing up like he’s been electrocuted. Or… have you seen those pictures of little kids whose hair is always on end?
“Really,” I assure him. “It was fun, and I’m so grateful.”
That seems to perk him up a little, and the look Gideon gives me is… approving? I’m not exactly sure, but for the first time ever, I’m sure he’s not about to murder me.
Unless he’s just trying to lull me into a false sense of security….
Someone shoves me gently from behind before I can fall into that rabbit hole of terror, and I look over my shoulder at Alistair, who looks just as perky as always, even though I’m sure he drank just as much as everyone else, if not more.
“Good morning, Noah!” he sings. Oh, boy. This is going to get ugly. I step out of the way and try to make myself invisible.
Sure enough, Elinor and Gideon glare at Alistair, while Sam moans again and puts his head back down.
“If you’re not going to share the secret remedy, Alistair, then shut the fuck up. Any sound out of you, and I’ll call your mom. No, I’ll call Aunt Vivienne,” Elinor threatens.
“And tell her what? That you have a hangover? She’s not going to take your side.” He whistles as he crosses to his desk and thumps his satchel on the surface. Hellhounds are nuts, but this is a death wish.
I take a step back toward the door.
“You have a secret hangover remedy?” Gideon asks, his voice soft and even and deceptively calm. “One that you haven’t shared with your best friend, who’s clearly suffering?”
I turn around and run, not stopping until I’m outside Percy’s office. Gideon and Alistair going head-to-head might be fun to watch, but not when there’s a chance one of them (Alistair) might try to use me as a shield.
Besides, I have a meeting I can’t be late for.
I knock, and a few seconds later, Percy opens the door, startling me. I was expecting to have him call out for me to enter.
“Hi, Noah.” He smiles warmly in that way he has, instantly making me feel settled and welcome, and opens the door wide. “Come in. I hear we have some exciting progress already?”
I step past him, and my answering smile falters a little when I see that David and Andrew are already here, sitting on one of the couches with their heads bent toward each other as they talk quietly. Have they all been talking about me? Obviously they have, but what’s been said?
“Ah, yeah,” I belatedly answer. “I’m pretty sure I can do it again too.” I tried practicing a little after meditating, but when the goal is to make someone else feel your emotions and there’s no one else around, it’s hard to tell if you’ve been successful.
Percy closes the door, and I follow him over to the seating area and choose a perch for myself. The plush armchair is way more comfortable than the conference room chair was yesterday. Will that help or hinder?
“Good morning, Noah,” David says, smiling at me, and I smile back, but it doesn’t feel all that natural.
David’s been nice, but I’ve had a chance to think about it, and I’m not really sure why he’s here.
I know he’s been taking the lead on unraveling the genetic alterations Tish made, since he’s a sorcerer, but it’s already been established that there are no sorcery weaves attached to my DNA.
Percy checked carefully, and David helped. I am definitely human.
“You’ve probably got some questions,” he goes on, “but do you mind demonstrating for us first? Percy ordered coffee and muffins, which should be here soon, so if we get the demonstration out of the way first, we can talk over food.”
I have no idea how to respond to that. What does it even mean? It sounds like they’re expecting something dramatic—or have something big to tell me.
I swallow hard. “Sure.”
“Great! Uh, Andrew’s going to be your test dummy. The exercise is the same as yesterday—just focus on what you’re feeling and project it onto him.”