Charcoal Tears (Seraph Black Book 1)

by Jane Washington

  Abe bustled in, setting down plates of food and pots of tea. Everyone dug in. When it was time to leave for school, we piled into the garage, where I was completely unsurprised to find a line of cars locked away. There was a bright red Lexus, a black Lincoln, a silver Porsche SUV and some alien-looking sports car in a steel-grey colour with black stripes.

  “Silas?” I asked, pointing at the car.

  Cabe laughed.

  “She knows us too well already,” Noah said. “Alright smarty-pants. Which one is mine?”

  That was easy. I pointed at the Lincoln.

  “Which is mine?” Cabe asked, dropping an arm over my shoulders and pulling me into his side.

  I grinned and kicked the tire of the car we stood next to. It was the red Lexus.

  Quillan shook his head in bemusement and headed for the Porsche with Tabby. I wondered why she didn’t have a car of her own, especially when the veritable car showroom that we now stood in. “Try to stay out of trouble today, you three.” He paused, his hand on the door, looking at me.

  I paused too, preoccupied with a kind of emptiness that had begun to crawl its way through my body—spurred on by whatever matching beast was stirring behind Quillan’s current consideration of me. After today, Quillan would be my teacher again. It felt like we had grown so much closer, and it hurt to feel him drawing that line between us again. I could see it happening, like he was building an actual barricade as he stood there, placing me firmly on one side and him on the other. He set the last brick into place, his hand flexing around the handle of his briefcase.

  “Stay safe, Seph.” He sounded unsure.

  I nodded, once. He got into the car and motored out of the garage. Cabe squeezed my shoulder, and Clarin looked after the car, confusion settling over his features. The Porsche pulled to a halt halfway down the driveway, and we all glanced over to see someone walking up from the road. I broke away from Cabe and ran down the incline, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. Silas paused upon seeing my approach, and Quillan’s car door opened. I skidded around him as he got out of the car, and Silas took a step back, looking as though he braced himself for my approach. I halted before him, my brows pitching together as my eyes dripped from his face to his hands, to his scuffed jeans and back. He had purplish, mottled bruising covering his left eye and clouding over the left side of his face. His shirt was ripped, the pocket torn off and the buttons missing, but the worst of the damage seemed to have been done to his hands

  I swallowed several times, my throat tight, and reached for him. He allowed me to capture one of his hands, and I could hear the others gathering behind us.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. His knuckles were busted open, his hands bruised and covered in dried blood. “Angel,” he repeated, softly this time, “I’ll be fine.”

  This was my fault. I knew it, I just didn’t exactly understand how.

  I wanted to scream at him, or hug him, or threaten him, but Silas wouldn’t respond to any of that. He was unreachable, high atop some kind of iron tower, leaving us mere mortals to bang our fists against the portcullis in frustration, begging to be let in. Instead, I battled to swallow my emotions as I dropped his hand, squared my shoulders, and stepped into his personal space. His eyes flared, and I caught the tightening of his fists by his sides—causing me to wince before I could catch it. The lingering violence was still there, ringing the usual glittering onyx of his gaze until it was a fire that burned deep into his soul, promising things that were unimaginable in their darkness.

  “I wonder what kind of job I can get around here.” I kept my tone low and even, my head thrown back so that I could see the terrifying after-effects of savagery that still seemed to taint his face. “I have plenty of experience, don’t you think?”

  His eyes bore into mine, and I caught the flicker of surprise before he drowned it in intimidation. He had forgotten my secret, the one thing that me and him had in common: we knew how to survive. Inexplicably, my survival now required something from him, and I wasn’t above manipulation if it meant that he would think twice before doing this to himself again.

  “Seph.” Quillan’s voice sounded behind me, a warning. I suddenly wanted to turn around and shout at him, to accuse him, because he had let this happen. He had known, the night before, that Silas would do something stupid, and he hadn’t tried hard enough to stop him.

  But that wasn’t right.

  That wasn’t fair.

  “I feel like…” I clicked my tongue and shook my head, pretending to think. “I feel like this kind of thing,” I gestured towards his general appearance, “will make me all kinds of anxious, and I’ll really need a way to work out that anxiety.” I nodded, as though just deciding. “A job is exactly what I need. I think I still have a leather ski—”

  Silas growled, stepping forward until he was crowding my personal space, and I was staring at his ripped shirt. I had anticipated the sudden movement, so I didn’t startle backwards. It was something that he did, predictably, whenever I said something he didn’t like.

  There was a scuffle behind me, and someone—Cabe, I think—murmured, “Don’t.”

  Silas didn’t pay them any attention, and I wondered for a moment if he had forgotten that they were there. I didn’t look up from his shirtfront, because I could suddenly feel the anger that he held in check. It vibrated from his body to mine, causing my bones to shudder and my knees to tremble.

  “Good.” I forced my voice to sound cheery, though it shook slightly. “We have an agreement then.” I spun and he grabbed my arm, preventing me from walking—or more likely, running—away.

  The others all wore the same mask of shock, though Tabby and Clarin seemed to boast a healthy dose of fear to accompany it. Quillan was watching Silas’s hand on my arm, and I realised that Cabe was holding him and Noah back, his hands fisted in the backs of their shirts, like he had pulled them up at the last second.

  I refused to turn around, and eventually Silas stepped up behind me, his voice sounding in my ear, cracked and low, as though he hadn’t used it in weeks. “Why?”

  I turned my head to the side, just enough to catch his eye. “We all have people.” It was similar to what I had said to him in the Jaguar outside my house, after he had revealed that very first glimpse of his violent activities to me, except it now held a different meaning.

  He was one of my people.

  He hovered there a moment, the slight widening of his eyes the only indication that he had even heard what I had said, and then he strode toward the house without a word to anyone.

  “We’re going to be late,” I announced, hoping to close their gaping mouths.

  I slid into the Lexus and Noah followed, leaving the passenger seat for Clarin. Cabe got behind the wheel, started the engine, and Noah dropped his arm over the back of my shoulders, drawing me comfortably into his side.

  “Okay, seriously,” Clarin burst out, watching us. “What the hell?”

  Cabe shot him a glare.

  “What?” asked Clarin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was bonded to you guys, or them. But she isn’t because Lord Weston would know about it… hell, the whole Zevghéri world would know about it. So what on earth is going on? She can stand up to Silas like that and he doesn’t lay her flat on the pavement? And now she’s cuddling up to Noah like they’re the best of buddies? You’re all in love with her? Is that it? What’s going to happen when your Atmá turns up, huh?”

  Cabe swerved the car to the side of the road, jerked on the handbrake and got out of the car. He opened Clarin’s door, grabbed the other boy by the collar and dragged him out, slamming the door. They started shouting, and then Clarin was standing there with his jaw unhinged, glaring through the tinted windows toward where I sat, huddled into Noah.

  “She’s what?” I heard him this time, because his voice had become shrill.

  “Sorry, pretty girl,” Noah muttered, slipping his hands over my ears.

  I stuck my tongue out at him, and his at
tention switched straight to my mouth. The voices were muffled, and I wanted to hear, but Noah didn’t remove his hands from my ears until the car doors opened again and we were back on the road. Clarin had his eyes fixed on the road, and Cabe was actually smirking.

  “I don’t think I need to warn you—” Noah started.

  “I’ll keep it to myself,” Clarin said. “Hell, I don’t want to be the bearer of this news anyway.” He paused, seemingly lost in thought. “You know… they’re going to want to use her, when they find out about this. What’s her power?”

  “Valcrick,” I answered.

  He blinked at me. “No shit.”

  “That’s enough talk about it for today,” Cabe interrupted. “She doesn’t know much, Clarin, and we’re trying to keep it that way. The more she knows, the more danger she’s in. We need to contain the whole situation as much as possible. And don’t forget that she’s posing as our sister at this school.”

  16

  Beware the Adair

  The school was definitely a private school. It looked like a castle merged with a hospital—all stone masonry and pillars, but with endless hallways, sterile lighting, and the incessant tread of busy feet. It was called Hollow Ground College, which I found pretty funny, because it kind of looked like it was haunted—and I didn’t mean that in the traditional sense. It was haunted by Zevghéri. Adults and college-age students, dressed far too formally to be faculty members, crawled the passageways and whispered in offices with the teachers and administration staff, shifting their eyes to the high school students that breezed past without a care in the world. Noah explained that there weren’t many ‘normal’ kids in attendance. He said that their kind liked to stick together, so when William “Bill” Webber—a “Zev executive” with his hands so deep in the Klovoda’s pockets he could probably reach down and tie their shoelaces—took over the school, the other Zevghéri families in the region flocked to him. It was the school that Silas and Quillan had graduated from, and Noah and Cabe had been in attendance the year before last, so they knew their way around.

  Clarin ran off to class when we parked, and we went to the front office where the office lady all but fell over herself with nervousness the minute she saw Cabe and Noah. When she looked at my fake ID, she gave me a speculative glance, and there was a mix of disgust and sympathy in her eyes, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense. I though it was maybe because of my mismatched eyes, so I averted them to the counter and mumbled a thanks when she slid me my timetable. The boys had enrolled me into a bunch of advanced classes, including Advanced Creative Industries, AP Music, Advanced English and AP Calculus. I also had Gym, and History. I swallowed past the nervous lump in my throat and followed them out of the office to my first class: Calculus.

  Cabe waved us off at the door because he had a different class, and Noah gently nudged me forward. The students in the room turned to stare as a whole, their eyes widening at the apparition of Noah. Whispers broke out and spread around the room like wildfire. I glanced back at him, confused. Granted, he was a walking angel with his impeccable golden hair and electric eyes, and there was an underlying intensity to him—the kind that made the world seem like it tilted on an axis with him in the middle—but the reaction to him hadn’t been this big at our last school. Even the teacher here was shocked.

  “M-Mr. Adair, welcome back,” he stuttered.

  “Mr. Silver.” Noah nodded, and propelled me a little further into the room.

  Mr. Silver glanced at me then, and I thrust out an arm, a note in my hand. He read it and then returned his eyes to me. There was the same mix of disgust and sympathy. He dismissed me by turning his back to address the class.

  “It seems Mr. Adair is back with us, and we have another addition.” He glanced at the note again. “Stephanie Adair.”

  Some of the students snickered, and I looked to Noah. He shook his head imperceptibly, and took my arm when Mr. Silver told us to find seats. As soon as we sat down, someone leaned across the aisle and landed a hand on my knee, squeezing. I almost jumped out of my seat.

  “Hope it runs in the blood,” the stranger murmured in my ear.

  Noah’s arm flashed out, colliding with the shoulder of the boy sitting next to me, who fell to the side, getting his legs tangled in the desk as he hit the floor. A few of the students laughed. Mr. Silver was pretending not to notice.

  “Don’t. Touch,” Noah snarled.

  I rubbed at my knee, trying to get the feel of his hand off me, and stared at the front of the classroom, unblinking. Mr. Silver continued with his lesson, and I pulled out a notebook from the bag Quillan had given me that morning and started scribbling. Calculus wasn’t going to be easy, and I already had a lot to catch up on. After ten minutes, a note landed across my desk.

  Want to go out on Friday?

  Noah grabbed the note, scrunched it into his fist, and stuffed it into his pocket. His jaw was working tightly, like he was grinding his teeth. I ripped off a corner of my page and wrote something to him.

  What’s happening?

  I dropped it onto his desk and he turned it over and wrote on the other side, handing it back.

  Tell you later.

  Typical.

  I ignored the next three notes that landed on my desk, and Noah collected them all. When the bell rang, we walked out into the corridor, and Noah took my hand, dragging me down the corridor so fast I was almost tripping over myself. The office lady had assigned us lockers, and he hunted them down. He found mine and turned on the girl who was taking books out of her own locker, right next to mine.

  He tapped her on the shoulder. “Swap lockers with me.”

  She spun around, and I got the impression of delicate features and a sleek black bob before her blue eyes widened. “N-Noah? Noah Adair?”

  He didn’t seem to remember her name, or even recognise her for that matter. I could tell, because he was shifting around on his feet, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Mine is 705.” He pointed. “Over there.”

  She slammed her locker door, anger flashing in her eyes. She pressed a hand to her chest. “Amber,” she reminded him. “You should remember it, especially after you dragged me into the janitorial closet last year. You certainly knew how to say my name then.” Her eyes flicked to me, running over me from head to toe. “Who’s this?”

  “Another of Lord Weston’s bastards,” a male voice said, coming up behind Amber. He was tall, with floppy blond hair and eyes that would have crinkled at the sides… if he hadn’t been frowning so hard. “Noah and Cabe have a full-blood sister, apparently. It seems Lord Weston was still playing around with his Adair toy even after he divorced her.”

  Amber dismissed me with another flick of her eyes, and turned back to Noah, planting a hand on her hip. “How cute.” She forced a smile. “The big bad Adair brothers want to protect their bastardling.”

  “Grab your shit, Amber.” Noah sounded bored. “Move it.”

  To my surprise, she started pulling her stuff from her locker, but she did it angrily. She told Noah her combination, and then stalked off.

  “What’s up, dude?” The blond guy leaned against the wall of lockers as Noah started packing things into his newly claimed locker. “I thought you liked Amber. Welcome back, by the way.”

  “Not interested.” Noah slammed his locker shut and folded his arms. “And don’t refer to my mother as the Adair toy again, Aiden.”

  The blond boy sighed and gestured to me, half-hidden behind Noah’s back. “Fine. Going to introduce me to your sister?”

  “Stephanie,” Noah ground out, moving to block me fully. “Meet Aiden.”

  I peeked around Noah, and the boy stuck his hand out. Hesitantly, I reached around Noah and slipped my hand into his. He grinned, and I flicked my eyes to the ground, pulling away.

  “You’ll need to look out for that one.” Aiden sounded amused. “She’s kinda gut-wrenching, and it’s kinda hot.”

  Noah’s fists balled up, and Aiden smiled wider, backing away
. “I’ll see you at practise, right? You back for good?”

  Noah shrugged his shoulders stiffly. “We’ll see.”

  “Right. See ya!” Aiden turned and sauntered off. Noah slapped his hand against his locker.

  I quickly emptied my stuff into my locker and tapped his arm. “History?” I asked, trying to calm him down.

  He took a deep breath, his chest puffing out and then deflating. “Right. History. Come on.”

  He started walking, and we met up with Cabe at the door. The reaction to the boys doubled in this class, and I couldn’t tell if it was because there were two of them, or because word of them had begun to spread around the school. Noah snapped at some people, and three seats cleared immediately. They put me in the middle, and Cabe watched his brother warily. No notes landed on my desk, but then again, I was being flanked, so I was pretty sure the postal system in this class was going to be rigged. I knew I was right when I looked over at Cabe and saw him looking just as tense and angry as Noah. There was a note on his desk, and I reached out and swiped it before he could stop me.

  I’m starting a harem too, want to be my first wife?

  I stared at it.

  I stored that particular note away, but didn’t look at another for the rest of the period. My third class was Creative Industries, and I was nervously wondering if Quillan would be teaching the class. Neither Noah nor Cabe were in this class, but they walked me there all the same. I opened my mouth to ask questions at one point, and Noah slammed a hand over my lips as if he had been waiting for my breathing to change with the preparation for speech. Shocked, I stayed silent, and they deposited me at my classroom before disappearing.

  I moved straight to the back, bypassing the teacher and the note I was supposed to give him. I sat down and tried to make myself as small as possible. The class filed in and nobody seemed to notice me. Once the teacher walked in and started calling out names, I was almost half-way relaxed, and then the door opened and Quillan walked in. The teacher—I didn’t know his name—looked up, and the rest of the class broke out into whispers again.