I don’t know what to say when she talks like that, so I take a page from Charlotte’s book and do nothing until I’m sure of what it is I’m supposed to do. I have a direction—this idea Sloan and I cooked up—but nothing terribly concrete than I can actually accomplish from in here.
But it’s not my job to figure it all out, I realize. It’s my job to be open to it all, so I’m ready when it comes to me.
The revelation relaxes my shoulders. It’s actually kind of freeing, being in the moment instead of spinning my wheels concocting contingency plans.
“You’re not a murderer,” Cass says quietly, squeezing Charlotte’s hand. “You’re a goofball.”
At this, Charlotte finds her smile, and all of us breathe a little easier. “And you’re not a thief. You’re a darkling.”
Of all the things I expect her to say, that’s nowhere near the list. My mouth drops open as bedtime stories I’d written off as fairytale come back to me with suddenly vivid detail.
Someone used to tell me stories about the ancient beings. Who was that?
My mind goes fuzzy every time I reach for the memory. There was a person I knew who used to get all excited about stories of magic when it was more pure, and the beings who could do far more with their power than we could ever dream of today.
Who was it?
Gray’s head pops up. “What did you say?”
Charlotte’s mouth pulls to the side and she tilts her head apologetically. “I wasn’t sure until you told your story, but yeah. You’re a darkling. More specifically, a shadowmelder.”
Cass freezes and then jumps up, backing away as if Charlotte’s just said something weirdly racist. “That’s not a thing. The fae are just fae now. The classes of fae got muddled ages ago. We all have random fae magic, some in higher concentrations than others, but darklings don’t exist. They’ve been extinct for like, a century or something.”
Charlotte shrugs, as if she couldn’t care less how the world is supposed to work; she only knows how it’s unfolding right now. “Arly unlocked us. That first time we meditated together, I told you as much. I said we were unlocked.”
“You were talking about our magic-muffling cuffs. We were unlocked from those.” Cass stares at her hands as if they’ve suddenly sprouted spare fingers.
Charlotte’s voice is normally calm, but to counter Cass’ worry, she’s overly serene. “We hear what makes sense, but not always what’s true. The time is coming for the world to change. The Sins of the Father bill needs to be done away with, and nature must have an inkling that we’ll need more than generic fae magic to make it all happen. So, we’ve been unlocked. Unlocked and enhanced.”
Gray raises his hand, his neck shrinking into his shoulders. “Um, what’s a darkling? You forget I didn’t grow up with tons of fae stories.” He points to his chest. “Shifter in the room.”
Charlotte takes the lead because, honestly, everything I know about darklings comes from fairytales. “Darklings can make friends with the dark. Cass is a special kind of darkling, called a shadowmelder. Must be in her blood.” She beams at her girlfriend. Pride shines through, even though Cass is clearly spooked. “Given enough practice, Cass will be able to merge with the shadows completely. Like, she’ll be able to disappear.”
Cass’ mouth drops open. “I’ll be invisible?”
Charlotte shakes her head. “You’ll be intangible. Invisible is a trick of the light. You’ve been unlocked, Cass,” Charlotte emphasizes slowly, as if we’re all not getting the breadth of what she’s communicating. “You’re not just going to be a diluted version of what a darkling could be if the magic hadn’t gone soft over time; you’ll be like the first darklings ever. If you learn to listen to your magic, you’ll be able to actually, physically, disappear.”
There’s nothing but stunned silence, followed by a thousand questions that aim at Charlotte from all angles. “How?” “Can we practice?” “Are you sure?” “What does this mean?” and loads more queries barrage Charlotte, who’s sitting on the mattress still, unassuming and taking no smug pleasure from being the only one with answers.
“I don’t know,” Charlotte replies simply, deflating us all in one sentence. “The answer will come to Cass when it’s ready, or when she’s ready. But that’s what you are, lovely dove. You’re a darkling. A shadowmelder.”
Gray and I both gawp at Cass, marveling at what was once our salty friend. Now she seems nearly glowing in my imagination with power, electric enough to light up the night.
What I love most is that none of us questions Charlotte. We just know she’s right, even though it’s unfathomable. That these ancient magics long dormant would resurrect themselves in us? Most people think the only skill I have is filing my nails, and my manicurist might even debate my prowess at that. To think that I get to be near someone amazing enough to have ancient magic awake in them is an honor I don’t take lightly. I respected Cass before, but I’m closer to revering her now.
Charlotte brings us back down to earth. “Your turn, Gray.”
“Huh?” Then he holds up his hands and backs up. “I’m not fae. I’m not going to get ancient fae magic. I’m just glad Rafe is able to come out and play every now and then. I’m good.”
Charlotte tilts her head, a smile quirking her lips. “Not that, silly. We’re sharing about how we landed in here. It’s your turn.”
Gray’s jaw tightens. “I think this should be a fae sharing time, or a woman sharing time. Anything that gets me out of this.”
Cass crosses her arms. “Speak, shifter. The darkling hath commanded it thus.”
Gray snorts and rolls his eyes at her. “That didn’t take long to go to your head.” Then he sits back down on his bunk, his elbows on his knees as he avoids our gazes. “You three are the first people who’ve ever asked me why I’m in here. I mean, I know it’s not a common topic between acquaintances, but I’ve been in here for a year, and no one’s asked.”
“Well, you can’t say that anymore, can you,” Charlotte replies, scooping her legs up and crossing them atop her mattress. She’s such a little cutie like that, a child ready for a campfire story. Then she leans forward with tenderness only she can exude. “Gray, you belong with us. We want to know you.”
Her small sweetness softens his shoulders. “Thanks, cub.”
I lean in when Gray’s aura begins to glow out of nowhere. His head is surrounded by a spread of light that emanates the blue-green of his healing energy, but the lemon-hued glow around the colorful curls signals that he’s deeply afraid of loss. He doesn’t want to lose us, and I’m betting it’s this conversation that’s putting him in that anxious headspace. I don’t mean to be spying on his aura, but there it is, manifesting before me.
I’m not in the thick of a meditation, so I don’t completely understand why or how I’m seeing his aura, but it begins to move like slow-slinking tendrils toward Charlotte. Her pale yellow and blue that’s streaked with shades of the rest of us comes to life and reaches out to his, like a rope seeking its tether. It’s an odd dance, these two groups of colors, slipping like vines toward each other.
When they meet, there’s a gentle curling, twining loosely in a way that almost looks loving. It’s hard to tell exactly what I’m looking at, because I have very little reference, but it’s clear that a connection is solidifying, and I get to witness its magic.
And just like that, they’re family.
Gray can’t see the beautiful thing that just happened to his aura. None of them can. He rubs the nape of his neck as he tries to work out the reason he was sent to Prigham’s a year ago. “I was brought in for multiple counts of rape. Six years.” His aura dims but doesn’t go out. “When I stood on the stand to be sentenced, it was the first time I’d ever met my father.”
The horror that hits us all at once leaves us dumb. I’m useless for offering any sort of comfort.
“Not all that uncommon for shifters (the not knowing your parents part, not the rape part). Packs knit tight together, b
ut if you’re not one for pack life, you’re usually not a family man, either. Mum was all about the pack helping raise me, but Dad wasn’t up for more than knocking her up and splitting, I guess. I’d never even seen a picture of him.”
Cass finally finds her words. “He’s a bastard for pushing his crimes off on you. He’d never even met you!”
Gray shrugs, as if the whole thing doesn’t tear him apart. “That’s probably what made it so easy for him to do it. The judge felt sorry for me or something, because he set the price on my head to have me pay for my father’s crimes higher than the usual bounty. But Frank—that’s my father’s name—found a way to pay it.”
Gray cracks his knuckles, and I can tell his nerves are peaking. “Shifters aren’t meant to keep their animals locked away. They need to breathe every so often, or they turn wild. I’m the first and only shifter ever to be sent to Prigham’s, and I hope I’m the last.”
I can’t with this story. It’s unconscionable, sending your kid here whom you’ve never even met. To track your child down for the sole purpose of having them locked away because you’re a horrible person who can’t keep his hands off other people’s bodies? It hits me like a brick, just how hard-won Gray’s steady nature has been.
I move toward Gray, but before I reach out and hold his hand, the glittery gold and red of my aura slips forward and strokes the edges of his. My energy is tentative at first, wanting to comfort but also not wanting to intrude. Once it works its way around the edges, it dances closer to his chest.
The second my hand slides into his, blue-green swirls through his chest and cages my aura’s reach, holding it firmly in place, as if he can’t bear to be without the contact.
The lemon-yellow that was surrounding him evaporates within seconds.
“Frank’s a horrible person,” I manage.
Gray exhales. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want to come near me if you knew what I was in here for.”
Intensity bleeds out of me into the air. “You are not your father’s sins. You are your own man, and I’m proud of you.”
Cass closes her eyes and lets my words stick to the broken bits of her soul. Charlotte touches her heart to let me know I’ve tapped into something important that isn’t often poked at.
“Cheers, Arly-girl. That means a lot.” Gray nudges my shoulder, his aura downright sticking to mine. I love it. I love that we’re not easy to brush aside. “Your turn, honey.”
The nickname vanishes any notion that my aura will ever be able to separate from his.
I touch my shoulder to his side. “Everyone knows why I’m in here.”
Cass leans against the wall opposite the door. “Sure, but we want to hear your take on it. It’ll feel better to get it out on your own terms, rather than everyone just knowing.” Cass’ throat constricts as she moves in the center of the two bunks, switching her weight from her left foot to her right. “Venting will keep you out of solitary, so I wouldn’t pass up on the chance. What are you in for, honey?”
I snigger that she’s appropriated Gray’s cutesy nickname for me, but a few seconds is all the levity lasts before a coldness settles over my shoulders. My hand is still resting in Gray’s, but I can’t feel it. I can’t feel much of anything.
“There are a lot of moving parts in the family business, and one of them had light shone on it when Daddy wasn’t expecting it.”
When I don’t offer anything else, Cass crosses her arms. “You know that’s not actually talking about it, right? The point of venting isn’t to concoct some vague politically correct non-explanation.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘snitches get stitches?’ We don’t talk about stuff that goes on in the family.” I motion between the four of us. “This is new to me.”
“Then take it slower.” Charlotte’s dulcet tone lulls me into obedience.
The loudspeaker announces that we’ve got five minutes before lights out. I hope that’s my ticket to get out of talking about this, but they all stare expectantly.
I run my tongue over my top row of teeth, gathering my gumption for bravery. I’m not sure I’ve got any, but I dig deep.
“Luster Oak,” I admit, though this is no secret. It’s in the court documents. “It’s an easy drug to push. Easy to keep the supply regulated. If someone gets hooked on it, they don’t often get off it. A shipment went missing, so Daddy and a few of his men handled the handlers while inside one of his not-so-legal businesses—our underground gambling ring.”
I swallow hard, wishing for a glass of water. I’m not supposed to talk about this stuff. I’m not supposed to talk, period. I wear the high heels and distract the public by flashing something pretty while Daddy does his dirty things behind the scenes.
I cup my hands and use the fae magic I’m not supposed to be able to access in here to conjure up a small well of water. I sip it down slowly, but no one’s letting me off the hook. They want me to truly open up, but I have no idea how to do something like that.
Gray prods with a quiet, “Your dad ‘handled’ them, meaning…”
I draw a line with my wet thumb across my throat. “Daddy doesn’t tolerate mistakes, but the order he gave was for a kneecapping, not execution. His man was a bad shot, and he accidentally killed one of the handlers.”
The breath that finds me is deep and rattles with nerves I’m finally shedding. The second I realize I’m still alive after confessing far too much, more begins to spill out of me.
“The man who died was wearing a wire. Turns out, he was an undercover cop. So Daddy’s man didn’t just murder one of his people, one of his fellow criminals; he murdered an officer. The law tends not to look the other way on things like that. Daddy’s got loads of Get Out of Jail Free cards, but none that extend to cop killing.”
Cass swears, her eyes wide as saucers.
“So, that’s how I landed here. Accessory to murder, drug smuggling, plus an underground gambling ring. I can’t believe I only got five years, to be honest. And then part of me can’t believe he got caught at all. He’s always wriggling out of these types of situations.”
I think that’s all there is to the story, but the longer no one speaks, it gives everything else permission to surface. Things I was positive never needed to see the light of day.
“He bought me a bracelet. When he found out he couldn’t make this all go away, he bought me a diamond bracelet. I thought he was giving me something to remember him by for when he would be locked up. I was all upset, promised I would visit every week. Told him I would help find a way to get him through this. Living how we do, we’re used to getting out of jams, but we always knew one could sneak up and take us away from each other at any moment.”
I can still picture his face as he watched me open the package. “The sadist even thought to wrap it. Gave me something pretty to hold before he told me that after all he’d done for me, it was my turn to do something for the family. I needed to serve his time, because no way could I run the organization in his stead.” I scoff. “No arguments there. I don’t want his job. I don’t want his gifts. I wanted a dad who…”
But I can’t finish that sentence. I can’t say what I want because it’ll never be real. Any semblance of hope might choke the life out of me.
“Sloan, my bodyguard, only ever argues with Daddy when it comes to me. Sloan raised me. He was given me to guard when I was a baby, and he’s been by my side ever since. When I was sentenced, Sloan retired from the family business. Temporarily, but still. It was a statement of solidarity, and I love him for it.” I straighten my shoulders as much as my felled dignity will permit. “So, I do have a person who loves me. I don’t need it to be my dad.”
When enough silence fills the gaps to make it clear I’m not going to keep digging into this disgusting wound, Gray’s arm curls around my middle, dragging me closer to his warmth. He kisses my temple because that’s who he is. He doesn’t brush away or try to fix my pain; he holds me through it, so I’m bolstered enough to figure out how I’
m going to handle this grief that might never be absolved.
Charlotte’s voice finds me in my melancholy and draws us all to a common focal point. “Then when we get out, we’ll make sure to take Sloan with us. Now we should sleep; things will start happening tomorrow.”
None of us speaks, though we want to know what she’s seeing in her vision of the near future. Instead, Cass lowers herself into Charlotte’s bed, not needing to ask if she’s welcome on the mattress. She situates her head on the pillow and opens her arms to Charlotte, who snuggles into the embrace like a kitten settling in for the night.
I think we all need someone to hold us after such horrifying confessions.
I love the sight of them, especially when Cass lightly kisses Charlotte’s lips, and Charlotte grins with a sweet coo of contentment. They’ve just revealed the ugly parts of their past, but it didn’t drive a wedge between them. Instead, I watch as their auras tangle and cement together, making it clear that there’s no way they’ll tolerate a separation now.
Gray kisses my shoulder, and then jerks his chin toward his mattress.
We’re quiet as we settle in for the night, letting Charlotte’s words wash over us like the first steps toward freedom.
25
First Kiss
It doesn’t take more than half a minute in the bed before my hand finds its way atop Gray’s chest. I love sleeping cuddled up to him, his even breathing lulling me and soothing the jumpy gaps in my psyche. His lashes are long and black, curling at the tips so cutely that I can’t help but stare.
“How long are you going to watch me try to fall asleep?” he murmurs, his eyes closed.
“How did you…”
“Rafe wants to cuddle up on the bed with you. He’s all excited to be near you. Go back to sleep,” he scolds us both.
“What if I want to stare at your eyelashes?”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “You have an eyelash fetish?”
Sins of the Father: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrified Book 1) Page 18
