by LJ Swallow
"And seven times the danger," adds Dex.
"We’re not a hundred percent sure there are seven, though," puts in Morgan. "Donovan says there is, and that the ones he doesn’t have must be found."
"Well, the thing can’t contain anything strongly magical; I didn’t sense anything when I opened the box."
"Syv!" I jump at Morgan's sudden shout. "You opened the box?"
"The cardboard box it was in, yes."
"And the box inside the box?" Morgan’s eyes widen with each word. "Please tell me you didn’t open that."
"The black one? No. Why?"
"What size was the box inside?" demands Morgan. "Tell me. Why didn't you mention this?"
"Whoa, dude. Calm your tits. Nobody asked. I dunno—maybe this big." I hold my hands about six inches apart on the table.
Morgan sinks back and Cillian places a hand on his arm. "This is good news. Maybe the box is still sealed?"
"Was it heavy?" continues Morgan.
"The box overall wasn't that heavy, no. There was packaging around it."
Dex chews a nail and looks between the two. "Do you know what they're talking about?" I ask him. He peers at me through his fringe and shrugs.
I turn back to the other two. "Right. Painfully obvious question here, but what's in the box? I can tell you’re lying about not knowing."
"Another box."
I roll my eyes upwards at Morgan's reply. "And in that one? Another? Like Russian dolls?"
Morgan squeezes his hands into and out of fists. The uptight guy jumped another ten notches on his tense-o-meter.
"Morgan," Cillian says quietly. "Tell her."
He remains silent. I take a large swig to empty my glass and am interrupted by his next two words.
"My brother."
The liquid hits my throat just as the surprise does my head. The drink spurts across the table, hitting Morgan's hands. I wipe my face with a sleeve as Morgan doesn't move. "Excuse me? Your brother is in a small box?" Scenarios run through my head. "Did someone steal his magic ashes?"
"No."
Worse ideas. Omigod. "Parts of him?" I half-whisper.
Morgan scowls. "No. All of him."
Don’t laugh, please don't laugh. But I'm picturing a tiny man. Like the kids’ books. TV shows.
Resting his elbows in the spluttered drink, Morgan holds his fingers against both temples. "He’s djinn."
"Gin?" My brain catches up. "Oh! A genie? Like one that grants wishes?”
Honestly, the look Morgan gives me cuts deeper than my keenest dagger. "No. Like one who's been trapped in a fucking box for a hundred years."
I widen my eyes and look at Cillian who nods imperceptibly. Now it's my turn to rub my head. "Sorry. I don't know much about them. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t detect the magic. Like I didn't know much about elementals and chrono... wizard-demons."
He clenches his teeth. "I'm sure you're aware how much labels suck, which is why I don’t use djinn to describe myself." He pulls at his shirt, showing his runic marks again. "I escaped, he didn't. My brother is as powerful as I am and can be forced into servitude by the person who releases him. We need to stop Verin getting hold of the box he’s in.”
"If he doesn't have it already," says Cillian quietly.
"I don't believe he does. The world will know."
Cillian places a hand on his friend’s shoulder. "No. If he has the box, he can’t open it. We have time, Morgan."
"But if he can?" Morgan retorts. "What then? You don’t understand how much power this could give him and what that would mean to the human world."
"Oh, fuck." I bang my head on the table. Once. Twice. I look up at Cillian. "You promised me this wasn't an apocalypse situation."
Cillian glances around and indicates with a hand we should lower our voices. But our strange conversation mingles with the noise around and nobody pays attention. "Nobody wants to destroy the world. They just want to change it."
"Well, that sounds ominous. Hell, I need another drink." I stand.
The guys fall silent and I watch Morgan. Everything falls into place: why he’s uptight and focused. His frustration around me. "Why would someone curse me too? How am I connected?"
"That's a good question," replies Dex. "One we're trying to figure out."
I take my lurching stomach to the bar. I have not had enough to drink to deal with this news.
Several drinks later and more discussion about looking for bones—but none about boxes and brothers—we take the short walk along the dirty city street back to base. The cobbled street opens out to where the older building sits at the top of a hill, and as we approach the gates I stare at the place, shrouded in darkness.
"Secret isn’t a word I’d associate with this huge-ass building behind shiny gates," I remark.
Cillian walks beside me. "What happens inside, and the people connected, is secret. Doesn’t matter if the place can be seen."
"True," I reply. "A lot happens behind closed doors, I guess."
"Precisely."
"Oh, speaking of which..." I turn and start to walk backwards, watching them. "Dex. Morgan. Did Cillian explain you’re all my lovers now?"
"What?" Dex looks at Cillian. "Explain."
"I said that to Bastian to make him back off Syv."
"Weird choice of words," says Morgan with a short laugh. "Wishful thinking. Cillian?"
He digs his hands in his pockets. "Spur of the moment. Sorry, were you keeping yourself for someone special?" Cillian asks and fights a smile.
Morgan pulls a face at Cillian as he passes him.
I stay walking backwards. "We’ve known each other, what? Two days? I think I need to know you better before I start a harem."
"Harem," Morgan calls over his shoulder. "You’re weird. Both of you."
"That’s a no, then?" I call back and laugh to myself.
Dex catches up and I’m flanked by him and Cillian as we head back to the Institute. He makes no comment on the harem joke. I get a sense that Dex isn’t the sharing type, but who knows? I side-glance him. Dex isn’t paying attention to me, instead scrutinising every face that passes by. Two guys chatting are too distracted to see us, and they almost walk into our group. Immediately, he curls a hand around my waist and guides me to one side.
I’m too surprised to react with a protest. Our intense exchange in the library was true. This strange guy wants to protect me.
Chapter Fifteen
I stand and stare out of the window across the Institute courtyard. The guys sit nearby in the room that nobody comes in but us. With my encouragement, the drinking continues and the relaxation grows. Admittedly, I’m the one drunker and more relaxed, but that’s a common state for me.
"Don’t you mix with the other Dwellers who live here?" I turn back to the guys.
Dex sits, legs stretched in front of him, still dressed in his leather jacket. He’s slumped down in his seat and hasn’t spoken much. I get he’s not the chatty type, but he switches off a lot.
Morgan sits on the low coffee table and chews his lip as he scrolls through his phone. For someone with less clue about the world he’s in than the others, Morgan seems to have taken to modern technology happily.
Cillian stands close by pouring more drinks. "I guess the place is more of a base than anything."
"A sanctuary, even." Morgan looks up from his phone.
"Then who’s Donovan? Why’s he in charge?"
"He owns the place."
"No, but what is he? A Dweller? I mean, is he like you? Elemental?"
"He’s from a human organisation who’ve worked to help the original supernaturals for centuries. There’s not only him and this place. There are other Kirkas Institutes around the world."
I sip my drink. "How do the Horsemen not know about him?"
"They didn’t, but they do now," says Morgan. "The Institute is more prominent since the portals opened, of course. Their work had died down as most supes were settled. That all changed when the portals
opened so the organisation resurfaced."
"Ewan’s right, then. Like an outreach program? Dwellers in Need?"
Dex scowls at me. "Not really. Isn’t it better someone helps integrate Dwellers rather than allow them to walk around confused and, in some cases, dangerous?"
My scalp prickles. Like him.
"With our network, we can keep an eye on what’s happening. The more powerful of us help with other tasks."
"No wonder the Horsemen don’t like you." I hand my glass to Cillian. "You’re interfering."
He fills my glass. "No, they kill first and ask questions later. We assist and deal with those who can’t be rehabilitated."
"See! Outreach program."
"We have a common goal," puts in Morgan. "We want the human world safe. And the supernatural hidden."
"The Horsemen will need to work with us," puts in Cillian.
I flop down in a nearby chair and kick off my boots. "Good luck with that. They never trusted many, and now they trust nobody but each other."
"They trust you." Dex breaks his silence, his gruff tone holding curiosity. "Why?"
"I don’t think they do. Not really. Like Col, they need me when I can help them." I focus on my drink. "I mean, I helped them save the world, so that makes me more trustworthy than some."
Morgan chuckles. "You’re really proud of that world saving moment, aren’t you?"
I sit forward and meet his eyes. "Yes. I might be a thief, but I don’t harm humans. Don’t forget I grew up in a human family. This is their world."
"And now you’re no longer in that human world." Cillian sits in the chair opposite me. "Kind of in between two worlds like us."
"I’m not a Dweller."
"Probably not, but maybe." Again, Dex interrupts and I purse my lips at him.
Cillian shakes his head. "No, between demon and human worlds. Not quite fitting in. The Institute is as open to you as us."
I blow air into my cheeks. Is this why I feel an affinity and comfort around these men? I’m unused to working closely with people, but in this case, I have little choice. I wait for one of them to ask the story about my past, but there’s an unspoken understanding between everyone. If somebody wants to share, they will. Otherwise, don’t pry. Right now, I don’t want to take that trip down memory lane.
"And you’re some of the powerful ones, I presume?" I gesture at Cillian. "I’ve seen your magic—close up today. What else can you do?"
His mouth tips up at one corner. "Plenty."
He snaps his fingers and small flames appear at the tips, as if he’d rubbed kindling together. Cillian flicks his wrist, palm upwards and the flames travel towards his palm. Taking his other hand, he holds his fingers up as if pouring from one hand to the next. The fire grows and spreads across his hands, to his lower arms. All the while, his face remains impassive.
"Holy crap. I think I preferred the ice, because that’s dangerous." I keep my eyes fixed on the flames, half-fascinated and half-worried what he’ll do next.
"Yes. I am." He pats his hands together and the flames dissipate as if he’s rubbed them away. "But you’ve seen that I am."
"The dangerous Dwellers are best controlled," puts in Dex. "Donovan knows that and it’s why he keeps us close."
Morgan glances at him. "Dude, he doesn’t know what you are."
"I bet he does," I say. "Donovan doesn’t seem the sort you can hide things from." I nod at Morgan. "Show me what you can do. Impress me."
He arches a brow. "What? Here and now? In front of the guys?"
I poke him with my foot. "Very funny."
"Aren’t portals and barriers impressive enough for you? And saving your backside the other night."
"I want to see what you can do with time." I set my glass down. "Can you rewind?"
"Not often. Certain circumstances." He points at Dex. "Why not ask him what else he can do?"
Dex scowls. "Is that a dig at my lack of magic?"
Morgan straightens. "No. I just mean Syv’s ‘twenty questions’ should be aimed at you too."
Without another word, Dex stands and leaves the room. I watch him, mouth parted. "Wow. Touchy much."
"That’s Dex. Makes moody Morgan seem sweetness and light." Cillian smirks.
"I’m not moody."
"You are a bit." I poke him with my toes again and he catches my foot. Morgan looks back in challenge as I attempt to pull my foot away. "But I understand why. The brother thing."
"Brother ‘thing’." He snorts and drops my foot.
"You’re different this evening," says Cillian. "Less snarky."
I hold up my glass. "More relaxed. Next time, we should dance."
"Dance?" Morgan’s face transforms, as if I’ve asked him to jump out of a high building.
"Or not." I stand and place my glass down. "Anyway, thanks for everything today."
"Whoa. Calm down, Syv," says Morgan with a laugh.
"What?"
"Thanking us again."
I bristle. "I always thank people if they help me."
"You’re welcome," says Cillian and nods. "But keep away from the fae guy."
"The Collector?" asks Morgan.
I keep my eyes on Cillian, warning him not to say more. "No. Just some trouble catching up with me earlier. I bet you can imagine that happens sometimes."
He eyes me doubtfully. "Did something more happen at the fae place?"
"I don’t know, because I’m unsure how much Cillian told you." I flick a look back to Cillian. "And we’ll leave things at that, thanks."
"Is the trouble sorted?"
"Mostly. But we should keep away from the fae, like Cillian says." I stand and stretch. I need out of here before the conversation heads any deeper into what happened. "Sleep needed. Busy day tomorrow."
"Hopefully. If your Horsemen friends come through with some help." Morgan stands too.
He follows me from the room and we walk side by side in silence. Their rooms are close to where I sleep. An awkward tension joins the undercurrent from the physical awareness we have of each other. Alone. Walking to bedrooms. I grasp at what to say.
"Thanks for telling me about your brother."
Morgan pauses. "I didn’t want to."
"Oh. Okay. Why?"
He chews on his lip and studies my face. "Because I can’t figure you out. I don’t like sharing information with people I hardly know."
"I totally understand. But at least I know what I’m getting myself mixed up in."
Morgan steps forward. I wish I understood the look on his face, but this guy can hide his feelings as easily as I can. I’ve been told I have a ‘resting bitch face’ and I can never figure out why those people don’t say the same thing about guys with sullen looks. I did think Morgan was the perfect example, but now I understand why he walks around distracted and on edge.
Morgan’s intense eyes continue to search mine. "I didn’t think I liked you at first, but you’re funny. Confusing and snarky, but you bring something to us."
"Like a death mark—and maybe a box soon?"
He gives a wry smile. "Like that: funny. This situation is similar to when Dex arrived. He’s totally different to us, but something about him fits."
"But you don’t trust me, do you?"
Morgan doesn’t reply for a moment. "Not yet," he says eventually. "But you draw me in, and that’s what worries me."
"I’m not doing anything but being myself, Morgan." He has this wrong. I don’t draw him in—we’re intrigued by and attracted to each other because we know little and want to know more. I can see this in his puzzled expression. The way I catch him watching me sometimes. And the way he catches me watching him.
The news about his brother hurt my heart. Many people think I’m a snarky, cold-hearted thief. Those who judge don’t know me—I don’t like emotional involvement, but sometimes my empathy draws me to people. Col and his hidden loneliness. Dex and his painful past. Cillian and his desire to belong. Even Morgan, who's as clever at hiding his
emotions as I am. I don’t only empathise, but I feel the same, and I want to watch how they work through this.
I could learn what it takes to find happiness.
I blink the thoughts away. In my short time here, I’ve grown to like these guys and they've drawn me in. And right now, Morgan pulls me closer, as if he’s taken hold of my body and mind.
"Are you using magic on me?" I whisper.
His face sours. "What the hell? No. I wouldn’t and I’m insulted you said that."
I can’t take my eyes off him or stop thinking about the effect he has on me. I looked for an explanation, but I can’t blame these thoughts and feelings on magic. They're real.
He closes down again, hands pushed in pockets and softened expression gone. "I think it will be some time before we understand each other, Syv."
"And before we trust each other?"
"That too. But please don’t do anything to break the guys apart. The three of us—we’ve a close bond."
"And you don’t think a fourth person fits?" My stomach lurches. If one guy doesn’t want me involved, I have no chance.
"I never said that. I’m asking you not to unsettle everything, then cause problems and walk away."
Unsettle. "I’m sure I can’t have such a big effect that quickly."
He smiles. Hell, I love it when this guy smiles. And when that smile is aimed at me, I rewind to the teen Syv whose stomach flutters and body heats.
The teen Syv who didn’t know what she was and hadn’t hardened against her world.
"But you have, Syv. And you know that." He steps back and breaks his steady gaze. "I hate to sound harsh, but we can’t be distracted by you too much. I’m happy to help you and don’t want to see you hurt, but I need to find my brother. We need to stop Verin. That will always come first for me, however I feel about you."
He pauses and bites his lip and the situation switches from tense to awkward.
"I mean, how I feel about you being part of us." He looks over my shoulder at a spot on the wall as he corrects himself, then back to me. "And I think if things work out, we’ll make a great team."
Team. That word again. I cross my arms. "Well, I guess I should sleep now. Can you tell Dex not to sleep outside my room again, please?"
