He thought Nolan would ask for privacy for the next part, but he didn’t. He merely sat down on a table, removed his pants, and began unattaching his current prosthetic leg in favor of the other.
Loken looked away, feeling it somehow inappropriate to watch. Not because he'd removed his pants but because Loken wouldn't want anyone seeing his own vulnerabilities. He assumed others felt the same.
“Wouldn't it be prudent for me to enchant it before you put it on?” Loken asked, eyes averted.
Nolan didn't look up from his task of attaching the limb. “Well, no point in enchanting it if it's not one hundred percent, right?”
It was a valid point, so once the limb was secured in place, Loken settled in to watch as Nolan went through a series of test movements and motions. Its responsiveness and flexibility were both put to the test.
When he'd checked its performance to his satisfaction, Nolan looked to Loken. “So, how do we do this?”
Considering the enchantments he wanted to try, Loken said, “Get on the table. Lie down.”
“Wait. I think I had a dream that started like this…”
Loken ignored him. By now, it was apparent that Nolan flirted with everyone to get a rise out of them, to see how they would react. Theoretically, if he got no reactions, he would stop.
Never losing his grin, Nolan laid down. “Oh, wait. Wait. Neo? Record.”
“Recording,” a disembodied voice replied.
Loken tensed and looked about.
“It’s just a voice activated digital assistant. Like Siri or Bixby but for the house. I've used it on my phone in front of you. How'd you miss that?”
Loken scowled. Was he supposed to know what those names meant? Yes, he’d noticed Nolan giving orders to his phone, but it was disconcerting to hear a voice reply from nowhere. Clearly it was some form of AI, wasn't it? Deciding now wasn't the time to ask, he bent over Nolan’s mechanical leg and ran a hand along the surface to let his magic get a feel for the elements it was comprised of and how his maedir would interact with it.
“What I wouldn't give to feel that.”
Loken hadn't expected the wistful tone in Nolan’s words, and the unbridled vulnerability of that honest statement made him uncomfortable. So, he didn't reply. He finished assessing the metal, picked a rune, and began to trace it over the metal leg, taking care to perfectly craft each stroke. Rune magic was specific. First, he wrote the runes for ‘strength’ and ‘durability,’ mumbling them in Rellaerian over and over as he did, and then he connected them. The magic that had been building since he began writing shifted, snapping into place.
Fueled by the success, he tried another. He hoped combining ‘fear’ and ‘water’ would grant the metal a hydrophobic effect. It wasn't particularly an enchantment he'd had reason to attempt before, but the magical theory was sound.
Finally, he attempted the last enchantment—one he had been pondering since first seeing how the flaxen limb connected to Nolan. It didn’t look at all comfortable, so Loken began to draw the runes for ‘fear’ and ‘rock’ but hesitated. The opposite of a rock wasn't softness. Eventually, he settled on ‘forever’ and the word for a type of fabric renowned for its soft texture and exorbitant price.
Enchanting was taxing, but he didn't let it show. “Done.”
Nolan blinked. “That's it?”
The fact that Nolan hasn't sensed anything told Loken just how magic-blind he was. What a sad existence, he mused. “Yes, ‘that's it.’ I've attempted to make it hydrophobic, unbreakable, and more comfortable.”
“Huh. I think I can feel a difference in comfort already, but I'll need to do a test run.”
Confident in his calculations, Loken said, “You do that. I shall retire for the night.” He would rest while his magic reserves recharged and wait for Danika to call.
“Always so formal, Princess.” Nolan waved him off as he got to his feet. “Have fun.”
Loken left without a word, irritating though the nickname was becoming. As soon as he set his tablet next to him on the couch in his suite, he closed his eyes and began to drift.
When he woke in the morning, there was an extravagant vase of flowers waiting outside his suite’s door with a little card that read ‘Thanks, Princess.’
If he kept them, it was only to add some greenery to his lifeless suite.
Nolan had been staring at the damn equations for over an hour. They’d been working the entire day, and Loken was rather bored. Oh, a good project could ensnare Loken for days, but he’d grown restless.
He was ready for spontaneity.
Thus far, none of his usual tricks to break Nolan’s concentration had worked: he’d tried playing loud music (he was ignored), and then tried turning out the lights (Nolan asked Neo to turn on a backup light). Finally, he climbed onto the table Nolan was bent over, getting in the way of his work.
Crossing his dangling legs, he all but purred, “You’re taking me out.” Loken knew how to manipulate others into getting what he needed, and Nolan would not be an exception.
That seemed to snap the inventor out of his daze. “Huh? Oh?” He grinned as the words dawned on him. “Am I?”
“Oh, yes,” Loken replied silkily and pushed off from the table. “Your lucky day. Now, come. You’re working too hard, and it’s tiring to watch. I’m in need of a break.”
Nolan laughed but didn’t argue. After they freshened up, he let Nolan choose their destination, and he teleported them there, rejecting the idea of being driven.
It ended up being a little hole-in-the wall bar Nolan had never personally been to, reasoning that he’d have less of a chance of being recognized that way. When Nolan finished battling a bout of nausea—his stomach not taking well to his first teleport—they went inside.
It was dim, filthy, and loud.
It was exactly what Loken needed.
“I’ll be back. I’m going to see if they have anything here worth more than ten dollars a bottle.” While Nolan headed towards the bar, Loken stood for a few moments and swept his gaze over the patrons, looking for a little fun.
There was a crowd of men and women at the bar itself.
Nope.
Groups of men were gathered around green tables, stabbing at balls with sticks.
Nope.
Several men were whipping little metal projectiles at a board. In fact, it looked similar to the practice targets he had access to at ALPHA.
Oh, yes.
Loken ambled over to them, smiling coyly and falling into a flamboyant persona. He singled out the largest of the group, a gruff and rather handsome man in a leather jacket.
“Hello.” Loken smiled brightly.
The men collectively eyed and ignored him.
Loken heard Nolan’s approach but didn’t react until he tapped him on the shoulder. Perfect timing. Turning to Nolan, he spoke loudly enough for the strangers to hear. “Darling,” he said, hands grasping Nolan's arm pleadingly. “How’s this game played? I want to try.” Hopefully, Nolan would pick up what his part was.
“It’s darts, baby,” Nolan said without missing a beat. He slipped an arm around Loken’s waist, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “There’s several different ways to play, but you wanna hit the target in the center. Usually.”
Loken frowned, as if the task seemed daunting. “That little thing in the middle?”
“Yup! But there’s only one board and these lovely gentlemen are using it, so you’ll have to wait your turn.”
Loken pouted and turned to the group. “You don’t mind if I join, do you?”
They looked as if he’d said something funny, and though Loken knew they were laughing at his expense (as they were meant to), he only smiled expectantly.
“We’re busy here,” Leather Jacket said.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he purred, certain he’d pegged this man right.
Leather Jacket laughed.
“How about a little wager?” Loken batted his eyes. “You let me join, and if I wi
n, you’ll pay for my drinks for the night.”
This time the entire group laughed, either at Loken’s audacity or the idea that he could win.
“And when I win?” Leather Jacket asked.
Loken sauntered up to him, leaned in, and whispered something deliciously vulgar.
The man wouldn't win, but Loken wouldn't consider it a loss if he did. A little risk, a harmless wager, made life worth living. Besides, Leather Jacket was good-looking, and Loken had always lacked a preference when it came to the gender of his partners.
The man’s eyes gleamed. “Alright. You’re on.”
Keeping to his persona, he clasped his hands together in celebration and pretended to hold the dart he was handed uncertainly, listening as the rules were explained. The men put their game on hold so that Loken and Leather Jacket could have a 1V1 match, and the goal was to see who could get from 501 points to 0, subtracting points based on where their darts landed.
Loken let the first dart miss the board entirely, enjoying the charade a little too much. Crushing this man’s expectations would be better if he thought, at least for a while longer, he might win. He did the same for the second and third dart, walking to Nolan’s side to pout at the end of his turn.
“I don’t think I’m very good at this game.”
“Aw, baby.” Nolan’s light blue eyes danced with laughter. “Have you tried hitting the target?”
Loken gave him an innocent look. “Is that how it’s done?”
Nolan leaned close. “What did you promise him if he won?”
Smiling, Loken whispered, “Nothing you’d approve of.”
On his second round, he took extra time, as if determining how best to throw the dart, and threw a perfect bullseye. “Oh!” he gasped, feigning surprise. Then, without hesitation, he threw another, and with the third dart he tripled his score.
Each round, as Loken’s score got smaller and smaller, he could see the man growing increasingly more agitated.
When Loken won, he turned to Nolan and said, “Darling! You were right! It’s just like throwing a dagger.”
“What!” Leather Jacket roared when the words registered. “You tricked me!” Outraged, he stormed towards Loken aggressively.
Nolan stiffened, likely anticipating trouble. He’d seen Loken in action before, and was probably imagining the many ways Loken could kill this stranger and turn the night into a unwanted ordeal.
Because he could, Loken stepped towards Leather Jacket, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him into deep kiss. When Loken released him, he was pleased to note that Leather Jacket’s aggression had been replaced with bewilderment.
“I hope you brought your wallet, handsome,” Loken purred, patting his cheek.
Leather Jacket laughed, pulled it out, and handed Loken a twenty. “Can I get your number?”
Loken pretended to consider it. “Hm. Sorry. I’m not on the market.”
Then, he waltzed over to the bar to get himself a drink, smirking when he heard Leather Jacket tell Nolan, “Hell of a man you got there.”
“Isn’t he?”
Loken pretended not to hear the wonder in Nolan’s voice.
After Loken had consumed what Nolan called an “impressive amount of alcohol,” they left the bar. He’d tried more drinks than he could name, danced with more partners than he could remember, and he’d done it without spending a dime of his own money.
Afterwards, they walked the town. It had been far too long since he’d been out and about. ALPHA made a point of keeping him sequestered, and when he did go out in public, he had a chaperone. Even if that chaperone was Danika (and she was far from a deterrent when he was feeling mischievous), this temporary freedom was liberating.
Nolan made for an interesting companion, showing him the town and explaining with great amusement that tattoos and piercings were permanent.
In the spirit of spontaneity, Loken got the Rellaerian runic symbol for ‘deceiver’ tattooed on his forearm while Nolan watched, and afterwards they ate curry that had been made in a truck.
For the first time in a long time, Loken went to bed too satisfied for melancholy to sink its teeth into him.
The tablet’s ringing woke him up sometime later. Darkness filled the suite, but it had been that way when he’d fallen asleep so he couldn't judge the time. For a moment, he debated letting the tablet ring. He was much too tired for an ASL lesson, but he supposed he could just tell Danika that. He swiped the screen, but was met with Raaum’s face. Danika stood in the background, looking worried.
“Locke? You need to get down here. There’s been an attack on Rosalie Naiara’s apartment.”
A numb coldness overcame him. “The children?”
“They're fine. Locke...It's Nora.”
He didn't waste time questioning her further over the phone. As soon as Raaum gave him the address for a hospital, he teleported to her and took them there.
The atmosphere in the waiting room was solemn, quiet as small groups awaited news on their loved ones. Mrs. Naiara rushed over to embrace him as soon as she spotted him, as if no time had passed since he last saw her.
“No news yet,” she said. “But Nora is strong. She’ll be fine. Now, tell this old woman how you've been.”
Loken wanted to interrogate her, to ask what had happened, but he answered her question with as much detail as he could instead—recognizing that she needed the distraction.
Raaum remained with them, but she sat apart, as if afraid to intrude. Ironically, Loken felt like an intruder as well. What right did he have to worry over Nora when he’d attempted to cut her from his life? Did Mrs. Naiara know of their fight? What had Nora even been doing home?
When the elderly woman excused herself to the bathroom, Raaum took the opportunity to tell him all she knew. “ALPHA called in the attack just after midnight. As soon as I found out, I reached out to you. We have one suspect in custody. One escaped and another was killed.”
Though he had a feeling he already knew the answer, but he asked, “What did they want?”
“A way to contact you. When she refused, one of them lost patience and shot her. Neighbors heard it and called the police.”
“And where exactly were the assigned agents?” he growled. “Where was the protection I requested?”
“We don't know how they slipped by yet. The agents that were on duty are being questioned now.”
Seething, he was only able to get out a single word. “Who?”
“It looks like Maganti was behind this.”
Not many knew this ordinary family meant anything to Loken. How had Maganti known? Had the Archangel told him?
There was nothing to do but wait. It took hours before a woman (the surgeon) approached them with an update. Nora had made it through the surgery but was still in critical condition.
Loken kept his rage private, trying to be strong for the elderly woman who had welcomed him to Earth as if he wasn't a dangerous fugitive, as if he mattered.
Mrs. Naiara smiled, looking tired and worn. “You're welcome to stay the night here, dear. They've put me up in a family room nearby.”
“I wouldn't want to impose. Are the children here?” Loken needed to make sure they were safe before he did anything else.
And he was certain he would do something. Loken hadn’t been angry with Nora in quite some time, privately admitting that their fight was likely due to a misunderstanding on his part. He simply hadn’t had the will to approach her, to deal with the consequences of his actions. Now, sitting around and waiting for Nora to live or die was his punishment.
He’d never felt more useless and self-derisive.
“They're spending the night at a friend's house.”
It wasn't a perfect situation, but it would have to do. They would hopefully be safe there until Loken handled this problem. “Alright. I'll join you after Agent Raaum and I get caught up on the investigation,” he lied. Loken wasn't certain how much Mrs. Naiara knew of ALPHA, so he left the details out.
As soon as they were outside, Raaum grabbed his arm.
He resisted the urge to wrench away and instead gave her a heated glare.
It did nothing to intimidate her. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t. You’re not thinking with a level head.”
“So, I should do nothing? Sit back and let ALPHA handle it?” he hissed, too enraged to reel in his temper. “They failed. For all I know, ALPHA didn’t even try to protect them.”
Paranoia uncoiled in his mind. Had it all been a lie just to get him to agree to their contract?
Raaum narrowed her eyes and stood her ground. “I get that you have difficulty trusting others—we all do—but you can stop waiting for me to let you down. Even if you don’t trust ALPHA, you can trust me.”
The piercing, unexpected words hardened his resolve to do this alone. He wasn’t afraid of the solidarity; he was practical. “I’m sorry,” slipped out, and he wasn’t even certain what he was apologizing for. For offending her? For not trusting her? For what he was about to do?
He couldn’t face her unexpected loyalty, and he gave into the impulse to flee, teleporting to Mrs. Naiara’s apartment building in the blink of an eye and leaving Raaum behind. The flashing red and blue lights made his plan to investigate her apartment more difficult, so he reassessed his options.
Maganti.
Maganti was the one responsible for this. He was an excellent target for Loken’s rage. Only after he cut the mastermind into tiny pieces would he hunt down the man who had escaped custody. Once he was apprehended and dispatched, Loken would kill the captured culprit as well. They would all pay. By then, he reasoned, he would return to the hospital to hear that Nora was alright.
Nora had to be alright. It was his fault she was hurt, and he wasn’t certain he would survive the guilt of adding that crime to his list of offenses.
Trickskin (Worldwalker Book 1) Page 18
