Chapter 6 Jasmine
“You like him,” I say with a sly smile, leaning over the marble island in the kitchen.
Kacey and Amon spent the whole morning and afternoon together. She came to me a few times, looking slightly frazzled as he trailed behind, with his soft smile and eager eyes. Always waiting for her attention.
There was a hint of her being overwhelmed, but mostly, she was excited.
And Kane… well, he never reappeared.
I could barely feel him as he hid deep in the realm. Even when it was time to leave, he never returned.
Early in the evening, Kacey and I watched Amon leave the atrium alone, a small smile on his face and an adorable little wave in our direction. Hours later, we returned to Ezekial’s empty office before flitting back to her apartment.
Kacey has been silent ever since, and I haven’t pried. Until now.
“Do you want tea or coffee?” Kacey mutters while refusing to look at me.
She’s very preoccupied by the kettle, studiously waiting for it to finish boiling.
“I want to know what you think of A-mon,” I tease, drawing out each syllable of his name.
Kacey’s shoulders tense, just as the kettle clicks off. “You’re having tea.”
I mute my laughter. This is a new version of Kacey, and I love it.
“Yes, please. Give me all the tea.” I’m nodding away as though she can see me. “Tell me all the piping hot tea of what you and Amon got up to, especially when I couldn’t see.”
I never knew you could angrily pour water into a mug, but it seems Kacey knows how. She barely fills mine, the water almost sloshing over, before slamming the kettle back onto its stand.
“I gave the signal and you ignored it.”
“Oh, come on!” I move from my side of the island, reaching for my half-filled mug. “You didn’t need it. You knew you didn’t. And you know I would’ve stepped in if you really did.”
She finally looks at me and I see the blush she’s desperately tried to hide. I decide it would be too cruel to point that out, but I’m definitely cruel enough to continue my investigation—until her phone goes off.
Just one little ping, but she’s racing over to it, reading the message without a single glance my way.
“Who’s that?” I tease, leaning over and trying to see. “Is it Amon?” I smile.
She snaps her phone away and backs up, her mild irritation at my light teasing quickly disintegrating into a frenzied panic.
I freeze. Her panic twists into a thick mass of anxiety, churning concern, desperation, and…
Guilt.
“Who are you texting, Kacey?” My voice turns low, biting.
She hesitates, eyes flicking from me to her phone.
I stare at her. “Who?”
“It’s… They’re—they’re just worried about you.”
Has… has she just taken an axe to my chest?
I search her hands, the hands that grip her phone too tightly and nothing else, but she must have? Because that’s the only plausible explanation for how I feel.
But there’s no axe. No physical weapon. Just her words.
“You’re talking to them.”
She flinches at my cold, harsh tone. “N—no, not always, not for long, just… They’re worried.”
The gaping wound widens. “You’re talking about me. To them. Behind my back.”
Her eyes water, her emotions tangle. “I was… I was—I’m just trying to help—”
“Help who?!” I snarl, stepping closer. “Who the fuck does this help, Kacey? Me? You think this helps me? You think it helps to know that the one person, the one fucking person I thought I could trust is talking to them!”
I swallow, try to catch my breath, try to understand. “Why? Why would you do that to me?”
She forces down a breath. “Because I want what’s best for you—all of you.”
I scoff, shaking my head, trying to hide the crushing pain of her betrayal. “I’m so fucking stupid.”
Has she been in it from the start? Contacting them about me? Sending little updates like a spy? Has she always been on their side?
I head towards the front door. I don’t need to take anything; I have nothing.
I don’t even have her.
“Wait, what are you—you can’t go, J! Wait, don’t leave!” She’s following me, her panic and desperation chasing my footsteps as I reach the door. “I won’t respond, I won’t talk to them. I—I’m sorry, I’m sorry I did this. I should’ve told you! I know I should. It’s just, they’re my friends—”
Her friends.
“—And I care about them.”
Time. Stands. Still.
She cares… about them.
I turn to face her.
Kacey cares about them.
About my bonds.
Mine.
Heat burns behind my eyes. I will jam my arm down her fucking throat and rip out her heart—
“No, not like that!” she squeals, eyes widening. “Not like—”
“Like what?” I grind out.
I’m still envisioning the choking sounds she’ll make when she’s suffocating on her blood. This burning rage fills me so viciously, so suddenly, I don’t even realise I’m stalking towards her.
“Like. What.” My coils spike around me and her eyes frantically watch as they multiply into vicious shapes.
“L—like—” she tries, but I keep pacing forwards, closing the distance as she splutters and stumbles in her haste to get away.
Each step, every breath, my rage grows.
“Have you fucked them, Kacey?” Another step. “Have you fucked my bonds?”
Kacey goes pale, shaking her hands and head. “N—No! I would never, no! It’s not like that! I don’t—they don’t—”
“Really? Because you’ve got this nice, big apartment, a job in their building, all their fucking numbers, Kace,” I sneer her nickname like it’s sour, making the implication clear—they also gave her that.
I get closer and closer, canting my head as she scrambles backwards.
“But you’re telling me they just gave you all of that—handed that all over—because they’re such nice guys,” I spit, the mocking sweetness butchered by my unrestrained rage.
She keeps shaking her head, strands of dark hair flying. “You’ve got it all wrong, J. They’re good guys, they—”
“Good? They’re liars and manipulators!” I hiss. “You don’t know them. Not like I do.”
“And you don’t know them like I do!” she yells back, her gaze glowing vibrantly, hands clenched into fists.
Is she… is she challenging me?
Hot, blinding, visceral rage erupts inside of me and manifests into roaring flames of obsidian that surround us.
How dare she.
I don’t know them like she does? I don’t know MY bonds like she does.
What does that even fucking mean? Like what? Like friends?
Lovers?
The rage curdles into a sickness I can barely contain. The lights in the room flicker out, and even the dark orange glow of the sunset is swallowed whole.
“They saved me, J,” she utters softly.
Saved?
The words are physical blows.
Saved her? Saved her from what? From who?
Kacey is terrified and she should be, but she’s also not backing down. She faces my glower head on, her aura expanding around her in soft purples. Then I catch ghostly shapes in my peripheral.
There’s a tiny part of me hanging on, keeping my feet glued to the spot as my teeth grind and my legs tremble.
“Explain. Now,” I bite out, the amount of exertion those few words take causes my flames to splutter.
Kacey clocks the action before focusing back on my face.
“I know you don’t trust me right now, but I trust you.”
“We barely know each other,” I murmur, cringing at the sharp ache in my gut.
“I know.” She nods, the glow in her eyes still prominent.
“But I still trust you. I might not be an empath but necromancers have other senses, warning signs. We know when someone is close to death, when someone is in pain…” She lets that last comment hang.
“We can also sense ill-intent, when we’re in danger, and—even though you look pretty freakin’ scary right now—I can sense you holding back.
I can feel the pain it’s causing you to even try. ”
I can’t deny it and her gaze softens, the violet glow dulling.
“I trust you, J. Enough to tell you my truth, to risk my life telling you. I swear I don’t expect anything in return.” She nods again, to herself, I think.
When I notice the shapes around the room have begun to dissipate, I let my flames reduce—just a little.
Our eyes stay locked as she slowly walks backwards until she’s right by the sofas, and sits, staring at me with pleading eyes.
I bite my tongue, then follow, sitting on the opposite one.
Kacey takes a deep breath, then begins. “After the Dark War, necromancers formed their own district, like most creatures did. But mixing with others? Big no-no. Anyone caught leaving without the king’s permission is given a fate worse than death.”
She waits, watches for my reaction, but I remain stoic, the fury still bubbling, waiting for a reason to erupt.
She continues quickly, “Okay, well, you see…” She takes another big breath, appears to be counting in her head, then exhales.
“I’m not a good necromancer, never have been.
I’m a defect, born to a family already deemed broken.
We lived on the outskirts of the district with my parents and three siblings.
Every year, the king’s scouts would travel the land and seek out anyone powerful enough to serve the kingdom.
My younger sister caught their interest. My parents said it was an honour, said it would bring glory to our family name, but she was so scared so I…
I volunteered to go with her as an aid.”
A soft wave of dread settles in the air and my anger softens. Kacey peers away, her eyes glazing over with memories and the guilt spikes with terror.
“The things they made her do,” she whispers, staring out the window as the sun sets.
“I watched from the sidelines, unable to intervene. It was… they… she was only ten. Ten years old and they physically and emotionally tortured her. Called it training.” Kacey wipes at her face.
“She pushed through, I healed her in the evenings, held her as she cried herself to sleep. The other recruits were so much older—meaner. They weren’t like us.
Then, she had one more test, the final one.
I thought if she failed, we could go home. ”