Charcoal Tears (Seraph Black Book 1)

by Jane Washington

  I had wanted to draw a picture that would tell me that Silas and Quillan wouldn’t get hurt tonight, but I was pretty sure that it didn’t work like that. I dipped the pencil and bit down on my tongue. I pressed it to the page, and nothing happened. I started to move, but the pencil didn’t want to go anywhere. The tears started to roll instead, and as the air grew colder and my bones started to shatter, I drew a single, wobbly line.

  “Show me,” I begged the page. “Show me everything.”

  More droplets fell onto the paper and I realised that it was raining.

  I couldn’t draw.

  19

  Peek-a-boo, I Found You

  A car pulled up beside the bus stop and doors slammed. I heard their voices, I knew it was them, but I couldn’t seem to look up. They broke me. They weren’t going to form the bond, and I knew that without it, I would turn very twisted inside. The valcrick was already sparkling unhappily, zapping at my legs and almost electrocuting me with the rain. I drew another wobbly line, and as they settled on either side of me, the line straightened. I hated them for it.

  I tore off the page and threw the notebook as hard as I could, and then I threw the pencil as well. I took off my boots because they were hurting my feet, and another car appeared, the lights illuminating me as I tossed my shoes. They landed a way down the road, the rain splattering them.

  More doors slammed, and I knew that Silas and Quillan had arrived.

  “Well, we’re all here,” I said, tossing my arms out wide. I hated that my voice broke off into a sob.

  They were talking around me, saying that they couldn’t touch me because of the valcrick. They were telling me to be careful. I ignored them and shrugged off my jacket, tossing it so that it landed with a wet flap onto the road behind me. My skin was too hot now, and the valcrick was prickling uncomfortably, but I liked that it was keeping them away. I didn’t want them to touch me, to draw me in again. Quillan would use his voice on me and I would do anything he asked, and then Noah would pull every secret right from my tongue with the wonderful force of his eyes. Silas would trick me into trusting them, and then they would break me all over again.

  I touched my leggings and they started to smoke, the uneasy prickling spreading over my skin. When I pulled off what was left of the leggings, my legs didn’t look injured, but my blood was boiling unhappily.

  “Stay away,” I said as Silas appeared directly before me, his eyes reflecting some of the terror that he felt.

  “Seraph, you need to calm down, tell us what’s happening. Please.”

  I opened my mouth to curse at him, but then Noah appeared next to him, and Quillan and Cabe moved around me. They were circling me, and I couldn’t go anywhere without electrocuting one of them.

  “You’re waiting until it’s too late to form the bond,” I whimpered. “It’s going to kill me. I can’t s-survive w-without it.” My teeth started to chatter too hard for me to speak properly, my insides turning cold again just as quickly as they had turned hot.

  “That’s not why we’re waiting.” Quillan’s deep voice was soothing, but it broke off at the end, and when I looked at him, he was clearly terrified.

  “Then why?” I flung the words out, my voice carrying with the force of how much they had taken from me, and how much I desperately wanted it all back.

  I hadn’t realised until now, but they had been slowly stealing parts of me, slowly infusing their essence into my very being, knitting me into them and threading up the pieces of my soul in a way that tied me directly to them. If they cut the strings, I would flop over into non-existence, a puppet without a handle. Maybe they had messed up.

  Maybe the bond was already formed.

  “I can’t draw.” I curled up and fell down to the road, burrowing my face into my hands as the sobs took over completely. “I c-can’t…”

  “Everyone get back,” Silas said. “Get off the road and stand on the grass.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Silas, you’ll kill yourself,” Quillan protested urgently.

  “It’ll be an interesting way to go.” He was trying to make a joke, but one of the others growled something in response. “Get back,” he ordered them again.

  I clutched my face tighter, my hands clawing into my wet hair. Why did they have to stand around and talk like I couldn’t hear them? I saw boots come into my line of vision, and my sobs quietened as a knee appeared. Someone was kneeling in front of me, and before I could warn them, they had grabbed my arms and pulled my hands away from my face.

  “Christ…” Silas grunted in pain, and I immediately tried to pull myself away, but he grabbed my chin and pulled my head up, forcing my protests to stutter.

  Before I even understood what was happening, his mouth was on mine. The sorrow, the pain and the world as I knew it simply fell away, until nothing existed but the fraying ends of my soul, hesitantly flirting with reconciliation under the sudden force of Silas’s ragged kiss. The uncomfortable itching of the valcrick drained from the air around us, and as soon as it did, Silas looped an arm around me and dragged me into him. My knees scraped against the gravel but the pain was only a dull feeling in the back of my head as our chests collided, one of his hands spreading from the base of my neck upwards to cradle my skull. The movement sent a shudder through my body and I felt the hairs along my arms stand on end. He pitched forward on a groan, almost bowing me back as the valcrick returned with a vengeance, though instead of stinging or itching… it fluttered. His hands slid to my back, applying pressure at the base of my spine until my thighs pressed to his and our hips met, like he couldn’t bear the space between us.

  He whispered against my lips.

  I knew what he wanted, and I parted my lips as his tongue drew over them. I lost myself further. My pain retreated with each touch, each sound that was drawn from the back of his throat, the strings tightened and began to bind, threading me firmly back together again and filling me with a warmth so strong that it was almost unbearable. I was burning again, but from some place deep inside this time, some place that couldn’t harm me. Silas’s fingers were digging into my skin, his grip restlessly moving from a spot high on my ribcage, to my hips, and back again, pressing tight enough that it made drawing breath difficult, and then he was standing, pulling me with him and setting me on my feet.

  He drew in a deep breath and it caught on a soft curse. His eyes were molten, lighter than I had ever seen them—almost appearing a dark, velvety blue. He set his hands onto my shoulders, like he was about to push me away, but his fingers brushed over my neck and threaded into my hair, his eyes dropping back to my lips. He kissed me again, harder this time, his lips moving from my mouth to my jaw, along the rain-splashed skin of my cheek and then back to my mouth. The kiss became rough when I melted into him, but then he pulled back again, holding me slightly away from his body.

  “Angel…” He sounded like he was in pain, and he averted his eyes from me.

  I blinked several times as reality crashed back in around me. I stared at him, hard.

  “W-what have you done?” My voice came out as a croak.

  He didn’t answer, and the others approached.

  “You actually did it.” Cabe’s tone held disbelief.

  I looked from Silas to Cabe, and then the others. Noah seemed just as shocked as Cabe, and Quillan looked like someone had just torn his heart out and thrown it down next to my rain-sodden boots. Looking at him sent a mountain of pain right through my chest, and I grasped at my wet dress, my legs wobbling.

  “Quickly, Miro,” Silas sounded angry, and he was drawing away from me. “Don’t prolong it.”

  Quillan approached me just as my legs finally gave out. He caught me easily, lifting me until my feet dangled and my face was inches from his.

  “Forgive me,” he pleaded, his eyes flicking over my shoulder for the barest of moments, right before he kissed me.

  The warmth that had been building inside me from Silas’s kiss now exploded outward, and I was left dealing with th
e severe aftereffects as Quillan tore his mouth away.

  “Give me a moment,” he sounded confused, and I didn’t know who he was talking to.

  As soon as the flare of light died away, his mouth found mine again and the same thing happened. I thought the ground was shaking, but he was steady as he secured an arm around the middle of my back, holding me up as his free hand found its way into my wet hair.

  “I hate that this feels good.” His voice shook and he pulled his mouth from mine again, his hand tightening in my hair like he was trying not to kiss me.

  The smooth way in which Silas had melded my being was turning painful as Quillan uttered disjointed curses, his expression torn with agony.

  I could feel the sting of my tears again, and wished that I had the strength to push him away, to end his suffering… this simply wasn’t the relationship that we had. It wasn’t the one that we wanted.

  “Quill—”

  He cut me off by sealing his lips to mine again, and I sagged against him as another surge of heat rocked through me, leaving me disoriented and trying to deal with the flaring light that seared in repeated memory over the backs of my eyelids. He shifted me higher and then grabbed my jaw, passing his finger over my swollen bottom lip. His eyes were fathomless when they met mine. Resigned to his fate. It broke my heart every bit as much as Silas’s kiss had set me on fire.

  “Everything is about to change,” his voice was a painful rasp. “I hope you’re ready.”

  He set me onto my feet and I pitched sideways, my arm flinging out to grab a handful of his shirt, except that my fingers brushed the ribbed black vest that he had been dressed in before the party, and it was too hard to grab onto. He caught me again, steadying me, and I spotted my notebook soaking up the rain a few feet away. Unbidden, I thought of the picture I had drawn in Quillan’s office, and the feel of soil between my toes rushed back, except now it was accompanied by the sting of rain and the wonderful ball of flame that now resided in my chest. I ran over to the wet notebook, and then rushed to the others standing beneath the meagre shelter of the bus stop. Silas had his back turned, and I could somehow feel the turbulent emotions that shuddered through him, but my mind was snagging on the remembered drawing, unable to focus on anything else. I dug around in my bag for another pencil, and then opened it to one of the back pages, which wasn’t so wet. I started to draw lines again, but my touch was sure this time. The lines connected, curved and straightened, and then abruptly ended.

  A touch landed on my shoulder, and I recognised the spring-and-toffee scent of Cabe, dampened by the rain.

  “I think I walked this way for a reason,” I said to him.

  When the pencil stopped moving, I set off. Cabe grabbed me, spinning me around.

  “Where are you going, Seph?” He seemed wary, but there was a spark of something like anticipation in his eyes.

  “Something terrible…” I answered, pointing at the lines. “I drew a map. It’s taking me to a grave.”

  “The picture you drew in my office?” Quillan asked.

  I nodded.

  “Let’s go,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

  That was all I needed, and it seemed to be all the others needed as well. I turned and walked, my bare feet uncomfortable on the gravel, my scraped knees trembling with cold. A jacket settled over my shoulders, a touch passing over the back of my neck. I knew it was Silas, because I could feel him closer than the others—feel him like he was an extension of myself, a ball of energy and fire, tethered to the end of one of my previously severed strings. I no longer felt like a puppet without a handle. I was simply the centre, and Quillan and Silas were now my extensions. They existed as I existed, borrowing the same life. I felt stronger, yes, but also more vulnerable. I no longer had one body to keep alive, but three.

  “So this is what it feels like,” I said as we walked. “I can feel where you stand, even though I’m not looking at you.” I wondered if they expected me to freak out, or demand to know why they had waited. They were uncharacteristically quiet.

  “Yes,” Silas finally said. He sounded off.

  “Why did you wait?” I walked straight, because my first line was straight. When I hit a bend in the road, my line also tipped to the right, so I followed it.

  “You’re not freaking out.” Noah had to raise his voice over the rain. “Why aren’t you freaking out?”

  “Maybe I should be,” I conceded. “But I felt what it would be like to go against the bond, and I… I don’t think it’s possible. It would drive a person insane, or kill them.”

  “Oh, it’s possible.” Quillan’s voice was dark. “We would know.”

  “How?” I aimed the question without glancing away from my map.

  “Our father had a pair.”

  My feet didn’t falter, but my brain did. My body had a mind of its own, walking the lines that I had drawn with dogged intent while my mind tried to catch up with everything.

  “Tabby?” I asked.

  “Her and Yvonne,” Noah answered. “Silas and Miro’s mother.”

  “But Tabby—”

  “Isn’t as fine as she seems,” Cabe interrupted. “Trust me. She’s barely holding it together most of the time.”

  “Is that why you haven’t told her about me?”

  “One of the reasons,” Cabe answered. “She can’t keep anything from our father. Even though he cast them out, she still runs back to him every time he calls, and they’re both waiting for our Atmá to appear.”

  “Why do you not want your father to know?”

  The road continued on ahead of us, but my line was cutting sharply to the left. I turned without hesitation, walking straight into the line of shrubbery at the side of the road. A slippery, barely-there trail wound its way beneath my feet as we filed into a line, weaving through the trees and carefully picking our way downhill.

  “It’s something we can’t tell you yet,” Silas answered because he was the one behind me. “Trust us.”

  “I…” I had been about to say that I did trust them, but something stopped me, lodging in the back of my throat. How was it possible to feel so close to someone, and yet still feel like they were hiding things from you? “I need you to tell me.”

  “If we did, he would hurt you terribly. He would lock you up until Noah and Cabe came of age, and then he would kill you,” Quillan said. “Weston has an ability, sweetheart, like your forecasting and your valcrick. He can see what people hide. He can hear the whispering of their thoughts, and know the things that they keep hidden within ten minutes of meeting them, unless they guard their minds carefully. He has been hunting for our Atmá for a very long time, but not for the reasons that everyone thinks. He—”

  “Miro.” Silas’s voice was a warning, and Quillan fell silent.

  “He’ll find out about you eventually,” Silas said as we slid down a particularly steep bank and then hugged the tree line moving forward. “The less you know, the safer you will be. You would have been much safer if we had managed to prolong the bond, but it couldn’t have been helped.”

  I didn’t say anything more as we walked, and eventually I folded up my wet notebook and tucked it under my arm. I broke out of the cover of trees and we spilled into a graveyard. It was high on the side of the mountain that we had been walking down, and it jutted out, looking over the lights of civilisation beyond. The rain began to clear as I moved cautiously between the headstones.

  “Spread out and search.” Noah’s voice was low, his hand slipping into mine.

  The others melted away, their silhouettes shifting as they became three more spectres in this place for the dead. Noah pulled me after him, toward a tree in the centre of it all, pushing me gently against the bark and planting his back to me. I supposed they were taking over from here, and I leaned forward to rest my head against his broad back. He reached back, pulling my hands around to his stomach, holding them there. I had though that with only one pair remaining to bond with, the scratching feeling would be gone,
but it seemed to be stronger than ever.

  “I can’t believe you thought that we would never let the bond form,” he said lowly.

  “But Miro and Silas will be turning twenty-six next year—”

  “We would have done it before then,” he sighed. “When have we ever made it seem like we didn’t… didn’t… ugh.” He spun, his hands cushioning my back as he crowded me against the bark of the tree. “We’d do anything for you.” He breathed softly. “How is that not obvious to you?”

  “Over here!” Cabe’s shout forced Noah to fix me with one last stormy glare before he pulled me from the tree.

  We arrived at the same time as Quillan and Silas, and we all just stood there, staring at the freshly-dug grave, shovel still wedged into the turned-up earth. It was completely filled-in; the earth had fresh boot-tracks over the top. I dropped and started to dig away the dirt with my bare hands.

  “Seph, what—”

  I shrugged off Quillan’s touch, my breath ragged with the insistent pressure in the back of my skull as I dug. This wasn’t supposed to be here. I had come too late. I had been too broken to draw a straight line. When my fingers scraped something, I heaved back an armful of dirt and stared down into the pale face, my brows drawing together.

  Aiden stared back at me.

  The boys all fell forward, clearing away more of the dirt as I sat there, staring. There was something clutched in his hands, and as the boys cleared out more of the dirt, I reached forward and extracted it. It felt like the canvas-paper that I painted on sometimes, and I rolled it out over the grass behind me, my dirty fingers running over the details of a shadowed staircase and menacing balustrades, a figure at the top and a scattering of money at the bottom. In red crayon, someone had scrawled a message.