by Jaymin Eve
And while my emotions around Jacob held a whole lot of confusion, hate was not part of it.
“Baking is precise, almost to the point of scientific,” he explained. “Like a formula I have to get right, with no flair for my personal tastes. I like it better when I can wing it and let the gods tell me when to stop adding garlic.”
A snort of laughter escaped me. “Can you ever have too much garlic?”
Jacob’s smile was natural, more relaxed than he’d been in a long time. “Not in my experience.”
“Maybe I can learn to bake, something other than cookies, anyway,” I said, thinking about it. “I’m much better with a formula. Winging it is not my strong suit.”
“It’s hard to be calm about baking with Jessa around. If you fuck up her cake, she will destroy you. Best to leave it to the experts."
I laughed, a real laugh, and I could feel the president's eyes on me, from where he sat a few rows away. That shut me up, and thankfully he went back to his paperwork quickly enough.
"So, if you don't bake, what's your favorite food to cook?" I asked, enjoying learning these unexpected details about him. “Outside of garlic, of course.”
His eyes were extra light as he thought it over. "My favorite is pasta and stir-fry, with lots of fresh herbs and vegetables. It’s fun to throw ingredients together and experiment with flavors."
"What's the best thing you cook?"
No hesitation. "I make this incredible garlic and chili chicken dish with rice." He closed his eyes like he was savoring the memory of it and I found myself drinking in his fucking face like I was dying of thirst.
Jacob Compass was a thirst trap and I almost got stuck.
"What else?" I choked out, needing him to stop doing whatever he was doing to my sanity and hormones.
Green-as-fuck eyes assaulted me and I suddenly wondered if that was worse.
"Well, there's my stroganoff and beef subs. I promise you’ll want to marry me after you taste those."
My heart did this weird rapid beat. He's just flirting with you. He does that as easily as breathing.
I tried to remind myself of that, all the while ignoring his little smirk. This side of Jacob completely disarmed me; I was in no way ready to deal with a flirty fey.
The pilot's voice came over the loudspeaker: "We will be landing in approximately thirty minutes. The weather is a little rough today, so return to your seats and make sure your seatbelts are fastened tight and low."
I clicked mine back into place; Jacob did the same and I was surprised. Usually he'd be too arrogant to think a little turbulence could hurt him. Probably he was just humoring the humans; it was something a lot of supernaturals did. They didn't respect the human race, but in all fairness, the humans didn't really have much respect for anything beneath them either, including animals, plants, or the very land they needed to survive.
Supernaturals were much more evolved in that way.
"Were any of the supernaturals ever human?"
I jumped, only just noticing that the president had taken a seat much closer to us. Right across the aisle to be exact. He was watching me with an inquisitive expression, and for the first time he seemed just like a regular guy trying to make small talk.
"Are you evolved from us?" he continued. "I've been doing as much research as I can, but very little knowledge of your existence is anywhere. It's … peculiar."
Jacob's expression was neutral as he returned the probing gaze of the president.
"Supernaturals were never human," he said simply. "We’re not evolved from you. X-Men did not get it right, but Superman came a little closer."
"So, you're from another planet?" he pushed, jumping on the Superman thing immediately.
The jeweled lands flashed across my mind, especially the ruby lands where I'd been born. For some reason Faerie never felt like another planet to me, more like an extension of Earth. Earth 2.
"Yes, but not one in your solar system," Jacob said. "Supernaturals originated in a world we call Faerie. At one point we were all much closer in abilities, but over time we evolved, creating the four races you’ve learned about. Our energy required different things to flourish, and in turn this divided us."
"You suffer from race wars too…?" the president asked contemplatively.
We both nodded. "Absolutely," Jacob said. "But we've formed communities where all races live together in a bid to prevent any further fighting. For many years it has worked to keep the peace."
The president leaned back in his chair, and I felt my ears adjust as the plane continued to descend. "You're the equivalent of the president for your people in America, right?" he asked Jacob.
The fey nodded. "Yes, but unlike humans, it's not a voted role. The power of the supernatural determines if they’re able to rule."
This had a shrewd look appearing on John Caine's face. "So you’re very powerful, then?"
Jacob wasn’t remotely cagey in his reply. "Yes."
The president nodded. "Yes, that's perfect. We might be walking into something that would be disturbing for most people. I want you to be prepared for what you'll see, and to remind you that everything we’re doing here is in the hope of achieving a peaceful world. Eventually."
I managed not to snort out a derisive laugh, because what a fucking line that was. He could justify any of his actions under the guise of one day achieving peace. How altruistic of him.
Thankfully we didn't have to hear any more of his pearls of wisdom, because we were landing. It was a smooth transition onto the runway, and then we were taxiing across to what looked like a large private airport hangar.
"Where are we?" I asked as we stepped out into the moderate temperature. It felt like a spring day, despite the arid landscape outside of the airport. There was a sheen on the horizon, though, that spoke of a much hotter day coming our way.
"We're in Syria," the president said as we were ushered into black, armored vehicles just like the ones we'd taken from the White House. "There's been war raging here for too long, and we've been doing our best to corral it. We've been sending aid to those who oppose the Syrian government since they continue to break so many humanitarian laws. I can't sit aside and watch it happen any longer."
I kept my thoughts about this to myself. I wasn't even sure what I believed when it came to war, outside of wishing it didn't exist. So many innocents suffered and died … especially children. It all just felt like a huge waste of life and hope and potential. The brave men and women who risked their lives every day as well … fuck. It was a lot to wrap my mind around.
"What's your endgame here?" Jacob asked. Like a true leader, he wanted more information to make the best-informed decision.
“The Syrian people deserve a democracy where they can vote in their next leader. That will stem the corruption and poverty rampant under the current leadership, which was what led to the uprising."
Jacob eyed him with one eyebrow raised and lips pressed together. "Are you trying to tell me there's no corruption in a democracy? Or that even with voting, presidents aren't elected based on false documentation and underhanded tactics?"
He wasn't directly digging at President Caine, but the implication was clear. Even America wasn't immune from corruption.
"Nothing is perfect," John replied. "Nothing. But our aim is to find a system that is as fair as possible."
I held my tongue, but as a person living in America, most of the time well below the poverty line, it pissed me off when people like the president talked about fairness. John Caine languished in luxurious mansions with all the food he could eat, fancy clothes he could wear, and luxury items he could buy. He had no clue what it was like for the average American, and clearly, since he was so happy with his democratic government, he wasn’t even open to seeing the flaws in his system.
Like he'd heard that thought, he zeroed in on me. "How do supernaturals work? Leaders aren’t voted in, and that makes sense because a power structure works, but what about jobs and money? Do you have
any homeless or poverty? How do you deal with that?"
Jacob laughed without sounding amused. Neat trick. "We all have jobs, but no one is paid for them,” he said. “We work together to keep our society running, with most supes working in fields that interest them. In that regard, we have no homeless or poverty."
John Caine opened and closed his mouth, clearly stunned. "How? How is that possible? Are you telling me that there are supernaturals that like cleaning people’s houses? Or taking out the trash?"
Jacob leaned over, getting right in his face, and it was like the human suddenly remembered that we were powerful and able to kill him without even touching him. "Trash duty is shared. Houses are cleaned by the people who live in them, or by magic, and we share our wealth.”
The president looked like a fucking fish at this point, opening and closing his mouth to suck air in.
“Why do you value money so much anyway?” Jacob asked him. “What intrinsic value does it even have?”
The president shook his head. “It gives structure to a society. Everyone has their place within it, and it ensures that all jobs are filled.”
Jacob shrugged. “And yet we only need it when we venture into the human world. Otherwise, we pool our food and materials, and there’s never an issue.”
The president didn't seem to understand, his eyes wide and glassy.
"If someone doesn't have a house," I said, "then the community builds them one. If someone needs food, they grow or find it somewhere and share. It's not always perfect, but it's as close as I've ever seen."
"Wh—where do you get the money for the human world then?" he choked out. "Do some of you work with humans and send it all back?"
Jacob seemed to be searching for patience, his voice curt. "No, our communities are rich because we live for a long time, and most of us invested early in land, stocks, minerals, and commodities. Those who struck gold, so to speak, share with those who didn’t. Some of our demi-fey are keen miners, and in doing the very thing they love, they happened to make us all wealthy. In human terms anyway."
One of the president's bodyguards snorted, and it was such a break from their normal silent invisible character that all of us turned to look at him. He didn't lift the dark glasses when he said, "I find it hard to believe that you share that much wealth around. Surely the ones who initially discovered the gold prefer to keep it for themselves."
Jacob just shook his head. "The reason you don't understand is the reason you have so many people suffering in your country. I can't explain greed to those who see it as success."
You could have knocked me down with a feather. I can't explain greed to those who see it as success.
My God. How did someone who looked twenty-five speak like he was Yoda reincarnated.
And why did I like it so much?
The car moved faster once we were out of the airport and on the main road. I focused on the world outside my window. "Whoa," I said softly. Jacob pushed in closer to my side to see from his position in the center seat.
War zone was an understatement.
The world here was rubble and dirt and death. I could almost smell it, even though the air in the car was clear of any discernable scent. But it was one of those images that was so strong, it was more than visual.
"This is the outskirts of Damascus," the president said. "There were some recent bombings in this area, so we won't linger, but it should be safer in the city."
I turned to Jacob, wondering if he was concerned with this information, but he looked relaxed as always. Clearly, the possibility of being bombed wasn't a worry, so I followed his lead. If there was one thing I knew about the Compasses, it was that they took their pack and families’ safety seriously. Through Grace, I was an outer member of their group; Jacob would protect me if shit hit the fan.
It wasn't a bad family to be part of. That was for sure. Even if I was, as always, just on the outside looking in.
7
Jacob Compass
Humans were fucking idiots.
Nothing was changing my mind about this, and if anything, the president and his pretend "concern" for his brethren was only making it worse.
War was ugly, and it was heartbreaking, and it was often preventable. Not that supes were completely innocent—we craved and worshipped power too much, but we were trying to be better. Sometimes you got points for trying.
Humans could really use some points.
Justice continued to press her face to the window, lines of sorrow crossing her forehead and cheeks. It was a heart-wrenching sight, even once we moved past the desolate rubble of the outer areas. The city itself was mostly still intact, but it painted a bleak picture. People scurried about and I could feel the vibrations of fear in the air. This was not a place I’d want to live, and the fact that some humans were stuck here at the mercy of those in power stirred darker emotions inside.
I mourned for them.
As my anger and sorrow grew in equal parts, I felt my brothers hovering on the edge of our bond, offering their support. I'd sent them a text before we left, so they knew of this change in our situation, and they were equally as curious about what the president had planned. We all knew this was just a small part in the whole of his plan. At least after this little trip, it would be over. John Caine was done playing games.
That made two of us.
When we finally reached our destination, it was a large barricaded compound. The president was surrounded as soon as he stepped out of the car, and I wondered at all the new bodyguards. Almost none of his regulars were here; that crew must stay behind when he traveled overseas.
"This is one of my American safeholds," he said as we were led toward a bunker. "We have multiples of them. We do no international business on these grounds—American citizens only past this gate.”
Like he'd summoned the fucking attack with his arrogance, there was an explosion right where we'd been standing mere seconds before. The cars behind us were engulfed in a ball of fire, and as the heat and force of the blast slammed into us, I grabbed Justice, pulling her into my chest while throwing up a protective shield of air.
People were screaming; the president had already disappeared into the building. When the smoke and debris cleared, the acrid scent of charred metal remained.
“Jake,” Justice said, pushing against me.
I finally noticed how tightly I was holding her, and with reluctance let her go.
"You know I have the same powers as you, right?" she muttered, probably thinking I wouldn't hear her over the chaos of the human panic around us.
If my entire focus wasn’t on cataloging the threats and protecting my pack, I would have smiled. "Yeah, but you never use them instinctively. In all the time I've known you, you’ve only ever used your powers when you’re forced, startled, or overwhelmed. It’s reactive. You still think like a human, not a supernatural."
Her cheeks darkened as her eyes narrowed, and I wondered what the fuck I'd just said wrong.
"Let's deal with this situation before I rip your head off, okay?" she muttered, shaking her own head as she turned away. Pretty sure she added under her breath: doesn’t think of me as a freaking supernatural … and I was starting to see where I went wrong. Justice always felt like she was on the outside, never belonging anywhere, and I’d basically taken away her supernatural side in one thoughtless sentence.
Fuck’s sake. I always said the wrong thing around her.
Armed soldiers poured out of the bunker to the right of where we were standing, and I was thankful to focus on that. So many emerged that it was clear the president had more than just a glancing presence here in Damascus. Who was to say he even wanted this war to end? War was a profitable business after all.
Half the soldiers headed toward where the bomb had detonated, while the other half converged on the fence line, shouting orders and readying their weapons.
“We need to help!" Justice growled and then she was running out of the relative safety of the bunker doorway and int
o the open yard.
I was right there with her. If she needed backup, I’d be at her side.
Our women were warriors, but she was so new to this world. Protecting her was my priority. “Did you see where the missile came from?" she asked.
"No, but I should be able to hear if they’re preparing for another attack."
I stopped running and dropped to the ground, energy pouring out of me as I searched through the cracked and parched dirt to find the humans who'd almost blown us up.
"There’s a cluster just to the west of here," I said quickly. Justice nodded. "At least twenty of them, and they have another bomb."
All explosive devices, anything with nuclear resonance especially, was easily read by my energy. Elemental power resonated with much of the world, even the objects humans believed they had “created” in their labs.
“They’re going to wish they chose another day to try and kill the American president,” I rumbled as I got to my feet. "I'll be right back."
Justice had barely opened her mouth to protest by the time I was sprinting, using the wind and my own energy to push me faster than ever. It was important to keep the existence of supes secret, but thankfully the humans were busy looking in the opposite direction to me, firing bullets relentlessly out of the compound. I could hear the tanks coming as well but they would be too slow.
A second rocket was about to launch.
Wind swept me over the fence, and I heard Justice scream something, but I was too far away to know what. Once I was out of the fenced area, there were more shouts—the soldiers had finally noticed my escape, most of them confused about my appearance from nowhere.
Bullets raced past me, but I deflected them with an air shield. A heavier thud from behind did steal my attention for a second, and as I turned, a familiar pain-in-my-ass, zooming across the bullet strewn landscape, came into sight.
