BY THE TIME I MAKE it back to my room, soaked to the bone from an afternoon drizzle, I’m desperate for a distraction, for something to take my mind off the people I care about and the fact that I’m helpless when it comes to fixing my relationship with them. I head for the bathroom, hoping I can soak this chill inside of me.
I turn the hot water on, shuck out of my clothes, and step into the bath. The water envelops me, covering every bruise on my skin, every cut in my flesh. I think about using my magic to finish the healing process, but choose not to. I’m too tired to care. My face still throbs, but only mildly now. It pales in comparison to the crippling pain in my heart. Between Jaxen and Katie, I don’t think this day can get any worse. I don’t think I can take any more bad news. I run my fingers over the bruises on my skin. They are reminders of everything that has happened, everything that I’ll continue to fight for.
I finally relax and close my eyes, but the silence in my mind is an open invitation for thoughts, and I’m not ready to think.
I pull the plug on the tub and step out to dry off. I change into black sweats and a tank top. Books about war tactics, fight techniques, and paranormal creatures are stacked on my desk; a gift from Gavin. I grab a book and scoot back against my headboard when a knock sounds on my door.
“Come in,” I say, tossing the book to the side.
Cassie steps in with her strawberry hair twisted up into a messy bun piled high on top of her head. Wild curls fall in no particular order. She isn’t in uniform, but is wearing a pair of dark denim skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder lavender sweater sporting a black cat stitched on the front.
“Hey,” she says, shutting the door behind her.
“Hi.”
She moves to the end of my bed and sits, glancing over at the book Gavin gave me. “Figures he’d give you something boring to read.”
I sigh. “I’ve only just started tonight.” I plunge a hand through my hair, pulling it all the way through to the end.
“Well, call me your savior, because I have a solution to the boringness of these books. That’s actually why I stopped by.”
“What?”
She leans in and says with a low tone, “Gossip.” She smiles proudly. “I know things. Things that not everyone knows in this Coven. Things that would probably get me in trouble if anyone found out that I knew them. And I’ve decided I want to share them with you.”
My heart flutters a little. “Why?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. ‘Cause I like you. ‘Cause you’ve had a rough day. ‘Cause someone needs to cut you some slack.” She pauses. “By the way, you sure you don’t want me to finish healing that shiner?”
I shake my head.
“Okay then,” she says. “Well, anyway, I tried to tell Gavin that you would be better off leaving this Academy, but he won’t hear of it. Banishment would be better than what the High Priesthood has in store for you, should they get their hands on you, that is. But he’s a stickler for following the rules. Lame.”
My thoughts freeze at the word banishment. What could the High Priesthood want from me? Visions of laboratories and doctors flood my mind. I quickly shove them away and focus on her. I briefly remember Gavin on the phone with Cassie after my meeting this morning. I remember him scolding her. “Is that what you told him on the phone this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? I mean, why shouldn’t I stay here?”
Her eyes dart left and right, and then she says, “Because, despite what Mack and all the other Elders want us to believe, there isn’t a single soul worth trusting higher up in the food chain. They all have personal agendas. Take Clara for example. She’s a raging bitch who can’t be trusted, and the fact that Mack knows this and goes around her every chance he gets just proves my point. Why else do you think he tried to keep your existence a secret for so long? I bet if you hadn’t blown your own cover last night, he would have never said a word to the other Elders and High Priesthood. He would have kept you all to himself.” She leans back, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“Kept me to himself?”
“Yeah, probably to escape the clutches of Clara. Maybe even to start a riot against the Coven leaders. Who knows?”
She’s lost me. This is unheard of. He wouldn’t do that...would he? A shudder settles over my shoulders, spreading to my limbs. I hate that I suddenly feel so naive, so blind to what’s all around me. “Yeah, but why can’t Clara be trusted? She’s Mack’s partner. They should be stable.”
“So should your friend and the Witch-hating asswipe. Open your eyes, chick. Things aren’t what they seem. Mack and his Witch are far from stable, just like a lot of other affinity bonds. Word is, Clara has her eye set on a High Priesthood position, and once you get into it, you don’t need your power anymore, or your partner.” She lifts her brow.
That’s exactly why my mother turned down the Priesthood position offered to her years ago. She’d never consider leaving my father’s side. Magical power was taken from our leaders after Mourdyn’s fall. It was the Divine’s way of maintaining control within the Coven before they left to eternally sleep in Ethryeal City. It was a position only meant for those who were truly in it for the Coven, because to sacrifice your magic and your partner is like cutting off a limb. That would explain Mack’s lack of respect for her.
“How do you know this?”
“I’m nosy,” she says with a shrug as she examines her fingernails. “The more educated you are in the politics of the Coven, the better chance you have at surviving inside it.” She leans down on her hand, glancing around my room. “But aside from that, Mack doesn’t want anything to do with leadership. He’s only an Elder because of Clara and his guilt over Weldon.”
My face compresses in confusion. “Weldon?”
She clears her throat. “Weldon is Mack’s twin.”
I feel my jaw drop. “Twin?” There can’t possibly be two of him.
She shifts a little, her smile growing wide. She’s loving dishing out all of this information, and even more, she’s loving the response I’m giving her. “Yeah. He’s umm…well, let’s just say he’s a rare breed. Not a lot of people know about him. He doesn’t fall under the Coven anymore.”
I cross my legs, scooting closer to her. “Why?”
She takes in an over exaggerated breath and then lets it out. “It’s a complicated story. I’m not even sure I should be telling you, but in short, Mack was taken by a clan of Demons when he was little. He was taken to the Underground.”
“Underground? But I thought…”
“That no one could return from the Underground? Yeah, technically they can’t, but his twin Weldon made a deal with a Demon and ended up switching himself out, allowing Mack to return to our plane of living. Weldon didn’t return until many years later, and learned his Witch, Clara’s twin Claire, had replaced him while he was in the Underground. It’s a crazy mess, right?”
I nod, still trying to place everything she said together.
“Weldon hasn’t been the same since. He doesn’t really have a side to be on. He’s an outsider now. He stays over in Brooklyn at an abandoned theater.”
I sit there for a moment, staring at her in shock. Mack and his twin have not only been in the Underground, but have managed to escape as well. “That’s crazy.”
“Tell me about it. And speaking of Mack, he’s out of town. He and Jaxen left a little bit ago to meet with the Priesthood in Ethryeal City. They won’t be back for a week or two.”
My stomach sinks. “What?” I can feel my face flush.
Jaxen left?
“Wait…you didn’t know?” she asks. Something in her tone tells me she’s enjoying this. I’m entertainment for her.
I shake my head. He didn’t say anything. He just left. Completely. “I thought he was supposed to be training me.”
She shrugs again. “Guess Mack needed him.”
Or he needed an excuse to get away.
“Look, I uh…I know about you an
d Jaxen.”
My mouth opens in shock and then shuts. Although I know I don’t have to explain myself to her, I can’t stop myself from speaking. “Nothing is going on between us. He made that painfully clear to me.” I regret admitting it out loud. I regret even speaking about it, but I do feel better having said it. Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
“He’s lying. Denial is a Gramm trait. Listen,” she says, reaching for my hand, “I think you’re good for him, and I hope you don’t give up on him. I wouldn’t say this to Jezi of course, but he needs someone like you, and honestly, I haven’t seen him smile this much since I met him.”
I can’t help but blush. “Yeah, well, I don’t think it will get very far. He doesn’t want to open up, and you can’t force the heart.”
“No, but you can help it along. He’ll come around. He’s been through a lot. He needs what you have to offer- honesty, strength, no ties to death. Gavin and I…”
My hand flies up to my mouth. I hadn’t even thought about them, about the way Gavin looks at her so lovingly. “Oh no, Cassie.”
She holds her hand up, her smile turning a little sad. “It’s okay. He can’t help it. He loves me. You can’t deny what the heart feels, no matter how hard you try.”
“Don’t I know that, but there has to be a way, right? A way to break the curse?”
She laughs, bitterness puffing around the musical sound. “Sure, if you want to make a deal with a Demon. Believe me, Jezi and I still continue to search for a way. There’s always a way, it’s just a matter of finding it, but with no one knowing who placed the curse on their bloodline and why, it makes it hard to undo.”
“How long?”
“‘Til we croak?” she says, shrugging a little. “I don’t know. Thirties seems to be the magic number. That’s the prime, right? Long enough to build a strong love and family, but too short to enjoy it?” She smiles, but I can see the strain. I reach for her hand, feeling overwhelming heartache and guilt. “Just don’t give up on him, okay? Jezi will eventually let her anger toward you go. She just needs some time to adjust to the fact that she couldn’t be the one to make him open up. It’s hard when you’re in an affinity bond.”
I nod, biting my lip. It doesn’t feel good to be on the outside of it either, fighting for someone who won’t even fight for himself.
“Jaxen will come around in his own time. They always do. You have to realize that guys have feelings too, no matter how suppressed they are.”
Her phone beeps in her back pocket. She takes it out and looks at it. “It’s Gavin. I have to go meet him.” She puts it back in her pocket and looks at me. “Look, I’m here if you need me.” She gets up and bends over the desk, writing something down on the notepad. “Here’s my number. Call whenever.” She flashes the paper at me before setting it back down. “See you tomorrow in training.”
“Thanks, Cassie,” I say, smiling as she walks out the door.
I stare off out the window. She’s right. Jaxen does have feelings, all linking to the fact that he’ll inevitably lose his life to something he cannot control. What he doesn’t realize is that death is not the tragedy of life. The tragedy is never truly living the time you have.
And I don’t know if I could live with myself if I didn’t try.
THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER MY jog, I meet up with Gavin outside the gymnasium. He’s patiently waiting for me out front, dressed in sweats and smiling despite standing in the middle of a freezing cold breeze. Though I know how to shut off my pain receptors, I’m still learning how to call it on and off at will. It seems my best moments happen under pressure.
“Hey,” I say when I approach him. I force myself to look him in the eye even though I don’t want to. I don’t want him to see the hurt I feel underneath, the hurt that won’t go away.
“Hey,” he says with a bright, easy smile. “Since I’m going solo today with training, I figured we could work on your gun skills. Even though a lot of the paranormals we handle require our volation for entrapment, there are still some, like Werewolves and other beasts, which can be handled with guns and knives. Basically, we try to be as versatile as possible. You never know what you’ll need to use.”
“Got it,” I say, turning my thoughts to the training ahead.
He pulls the door open, and then directs me down the hall to the weapons room. “There’s a shooting range just past the track,” he says as he unlocks the weapons cabinet. He grabs two hand guns, tucks one into his pants, and advises me to do the same with the other.
My eyes go wide for a second.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry. The safety is on.”
I tuck it into my pants, the cold metal sending chills over my skin. He grabs two shot guns, hands them to me, and then shuts the cabinet. “We’ll start with these. It’s fairly simple, so we’ll spend the first part of our day on this, and the last half in the gym.” He looks me over. “Building and maintaining muscle is essential, especially when we move into live combat.” He takes one of the shot guns and rests it against his shoulder like a soldier marching into battle.
I do the same, feeling the weight of the gun rest comfortably against my shoulder. Nerves flitter in my stomach. Live combat? Who would be my opponent? I follow him out of the gymnasium to the shooting range. By the time I get there, I’ve managed to shut my receptors off entirely. I let the freezing chill in the air be the driving force behind it. We trod through the snow and over to the wooden overhang where the range is. Large mounds of hay and snow sit down range, waiting with targets to be struck.
“We’re going to start with the hand gun,” he says. “Have you shot anything before?”
“No.”
“Well, today is your lucky day,” he says. He walks over to a small cabinet nailed to a wooden post and opens it. He grabs two pairs of protective glasses and ear muffs. “Let’s not waste the morning. Here, put this on.” He hands me the gear as he slides bullets into the clip for the handgun. He slips on his ear muffs, and then walks over to the x on the ground, waiting for me to get on it. I do, and push my ear muff back enough to hear him, waiting for his instructions. “Make sure you have a firm grip on the gun,” he says, standing close to me. He puts the gun in my hands and ensures I keep it pointed at the ground. “Safety’s on, but never point a loaded gun unless you’re ready to shoot it.” He eyes me up and down. “And widen your stance a little. You need to have a good center, good balance.”
I widen my stance, giving me enough space for leverage, and bring my arms up to point the gun at the target down the range. After tightening my grip around the handle, I peer over at him.
“Focus is one of the most important things when shooting. You always want to be aware of what’s in your line of fire and what’s around it. You don’t want to hit the wrong thing,” he instructs. I survey the area in front of me, which is still a large mound of snow without a soul in sight.
“Your grip also needs to be a bit higher on the butt. This is what will help you control the recoil after you fire.” He carefully adjusts my hand, and then wraps my supporting hand around the other side. I bend my knees a little, getting into the stance, and then close one eye, focusing on aligning the gun with the target. “When you’re ready to fire, ease your finger against the trigger.”
He places my ear muff back over my ear. I must be ready. I feel ready. I breathe in and out, letting everything disappear around me. All that matters is the target. I squeeze the trigger the rest of the way. The gun fires, and my hands jerk up, but only just a little. I was so tense with anticipation that I think it helped control the recoil. When I open both eyes, Gavin’s grinning. I hit the target dead center.
Gavin claps, the muffled sound causing me to grin. “Again,” he says with the enthusiasm of a teacher.
I squeeze through two rounds of ammunition, each hitting near or dead center on the target, before he lets me move on to the bigger gun. He runs through similar instructions, all preparing me for the jolt I’ll feel in my shoulder when the
gun fires. When I line up with my target and breathe through the shot, the recoil sends me stumbling back a few steps.
I pull my shirt aside. A red welt already forms along my skin. “Battle wounds,” Gavin says, slapping me on the back hard enough to rattle my teeth. I scowl at him. He laughs, which in turn makes me smile. “Again, kick ass.”
I press the gun hard against my shoulder and position myself, this time ready for the harsh recoil. He lets me get through three more rounds, and then takes his turn showing me the smoothness of a skilled marksman. His execution is deadly, blowing through nearly the same hole with every shot with both guns. An hour passes before he feels satisfied that I can handle myself behind the cold metal.
“You uh… you pick up quick,” he says as he leans down to pick up the empty shells.
“Thanks,” I say as I carry the muffs and protective goggles over to the cabinet. I hear him sigh heavily behind me and brace myself. You only ever sigh like that when you’re about to say something you don’t want to, but have to. And when it comes to Gavin, there’s only one common subject between us that weighs that much.
“There’s something you should know about Jaxen,” Gavin says softheartedly after I turn around.
I huff at the mention of his brother. “That he’s an egotistical, cold-hearted man-child?”
A knowing smile picks at the corners of his mouth. “You figured it out that quickly?”
I smile a little. “It wasn’t very hard to spot.” It feels good to say it out loud and have someone else agree. Gavin’s the complete opposite of Jaxen- calm, kind, and collected.
Gavin smiles and says, “The truth is, our father died when he was 13, and shortly after, our mother left us.” His eyes harden a little. “When she left, she took something from him that could never be replaced, no matter how hard I tried. She took his innocence, his faith in people. He’s had a rough childhood.” The bitterness in his words is unavoidable and deeply rooted.
But what he says makes sense. It gives reason to the fear I saw in Jaxen’s eyes.