My knees tremble, almost giving way under me. Pulling my hands free I unwrap the towel and hobble to the bed. To where he’s laid out a fresh set of clothes. His clothes. Slipping into the too large shorts and T-shirt, I knot a belt around my waist, winding it twice before cinching it in.
I hobble to the living room to find him standing by the window looking out.
"Why?" I ask.
The sound whispers over the rawness in my throat, every breath feeling as if it’s scraping against sandpaper.
He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge me. His back is ramrod straight and even without seeing his eyes I know the soldier in him is back. He’s put those barriers up between us and now I’ll never be able to get through to him again.
"Why, Jai?"
Why did you kiss me?
Why did you walk away from me just now?
I bite my lips, trying to control the emotions warring inside.
I know I’m half in love with him. Am also relieved he didn’t take me up on my offer of sleeping with him. If he had, I’d never have gotten over him. If I had slept with him, I’d have to carry him inside me forever. He’d have spoiled me for anyone else. It’s better this way. I know that.
And yet that very female part of me still wants him, no matter what. Just want to feel his skin against mine, his breath on my cheek, feel him inside me. Already I’m dreading when it will be time to leave. I don’t want it to end. Want it to stay like this. Like now, when he sees me only for what I am, and not for what I am about to become.
When he still doesn’t say anything, a flash of anger ignites. Without realizing it, I move forward and am halfway across the room when he turns and asks, "Why what?" His voice is casual, his eyes shuttered. He leans back against the wall, his hip thrust out slightly, indolent, as if he doesn’t care that I am here with him, in this room.
I know he does care.
He must.
Ignoring the burn from my wounded leg, I take the few steps forward to bridge the space between us till I’m right in front of him. Almost touching. Close enough to see the amber sparks swirl in his eyes. I know then that he’s not as unaffected as he’d like to pretend.
"You know exactly what I’m talking about," I snap.
I’m working myself into a fine temper too but I don’t care anymore. That awareness, that thread of something which had bound us briefly, lingers.
And I want him to acknowledge it too.
He steps back, severing contact. Raises his hands before dropping it at his side, before running his fingers through this hair, messing it up even more. "I kissed you earlier. So what?" he says, half meeting my eyes. "I was just relieved to have found you. I’d been worried about you. I’d have done it to any friend…" His voice tapers off when I glare.
"Right. So if Gilbert had gone missing you’d have done the same thing when you found him? Devoured him with your mouth?"
I redden as I say that. But it’s true. He knows it’s true.
"I didn’t…" He straightens as if getting a grip on himself, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. "No. Look. I mean…" He runs his hand through his hair again, then turns away to walk to the window, looking out.
I stand where I am for a few seconds and when he turns, his eyes are clear.
His features set.
He’s back in that soldier mode of his, and this time there’s no bringing him back.
"Look I can’t deny there’s something here," he gestures to me and back to him. "Yes, we’re attracted to each other. And yes, I kissed you. Hard. But let’s put that behind us and move on." He takes a deep breath and folds his arms over his chest before muttering to himself, "This is insane. Tomorrow you go back to the Jungle and I go back to —’
"Back to what? Being a killer? A heartless soldier who does what the Council asks him to just because he doesn’t have the balls to stand up for what he believes in?" I snap.
He straightens and his face goes pale. For a few minutes he looks lost, vulnerable. Then, it’s gone. Replaced by that same iron mask. His voice is cold enough to send a shiver down my back when he bites out, "You have no idea what you’re talking about."
"No, I do." I take a step forward, knowing I am crowding him, but not able to stop myself. "I do know you, Jai. And that soldier, the one who blindly follows orders, is not you. You know what the right thing is to do."
I put out my hand, palm up, wanting to touch him, to feel his heartbeat, feel those emotions I know are churning inside him.
"You must help us, help the refugees find a new life. You have the power to change the history of this city, you…"
He walks around me, past me.
My hand falls to my side.
"Get some rest, you’ll need it for tomorrow," is all he says before shutting the front door behind him, very quietly.
Fighting a ridiculous urge to cry, I blink, and biting my lips, hobble slowly back into the bedroom. My eyes fall on the shelf in the far corner. There it is. His sword. He’s left it behind.
This time I too know what I must do.
Chapter Sixteen
Jai walks into the handsome Victorian building that serves as the office of the Mayor of Bombay and the headquarters of the Council. Untouched by the tsunami, it still stands more than 200 years after it was built.
Walking down the corridor on the fifth floor he pauses to look at the Arabian Sea stretched out before him. At low tide, the sea is calm, peaceful. But he is not fooled. He knows that those very innocent waves had once risen till they touched the skies. Had become a wall of green, a fast-moving death, which had advanced on the city and swept everything in sight away.
How did it feel to see your family die, to lose everything you ever had? The killer tsunami had destroyed much of the city, sparing random people and buildings. No logic to the death it imparted.
A shiver runs up his spine and Jai hastens his step. It won’t do to think of that, not now. Not when his heart is still too full of the girl he has left behind. Not when he needs to keep his mind razor sharp.
Drawing on his training as a soldier, he evens out his breathing, shutters the emotions on his face. Reaching the end of the corridor, he walks into the room, his steps steady.
In that instant he looks every inch the role he is growing into. The role he’ll soon perfect for the world. A Guardian of this City.
The two men standing at opposite ends of the table look at him.
It strikes Jai again how different the half-brothers are.
His father, tall, broad-shouldered, his face wiped clean of feeling. The streaks of gray at his temples only add to his charisma. Wearing the formal black trousers and shirt with the purple armband and stripes, he looks every inch the Mayor of Bombay.
Vikram doesn’t smile, doesn’t even acknowledge his son with as much as a nod, before gesturing to him to take a seat at the table.
This is exactly what Jai has come to expect from his father. As if when it came to his son he is unable to express himself. As if when he sees Jai all he can see instead is Ruby. The woman he loved, the only one in the world he had been capable of loving. And with Ruby’s death, he’d also lost his capacity to love anything else.
Can you love someone so much that you pour everything you have into that person, love enough for many lifetimes? And when that person is gone, you lose your ability to love anyone else?
The other man walks towards him. Vishal engulfs him in a hug. His thick forearms weigh heavy on Jai’s neck as he locks his nephew in a playful man-to-man grip.
As always, a hint of desperation in Vishal’s touch has Jai shifting away.
It always feels like Vishal’s pouring all his unrequited love for Ruby, his not having children, all of it, concentrated in the circle of arms wrapped around his nephew.
Jai moves back another step.
He’s always loved his uncle the way a young boy loves the only adult in his life who’s shown him any affection. This is, after all, the man who’s introduced him to
books. A surprise even now. For looking at the General, you’d never think this man was a reader.
It’s the only trait that Vishal and Vik share.
Other than a common father.
With his closely shorn crewcut, muscled torso and skin like tanned leather he looks every inch the Leader of the Guardians, charged with protecting the city.
His uncle loves him all right. Just, sometimes it felt as if Vishal gave his love with the expectation of getting something back.
"So have you learned anything more?" Vik asks without preamble.
Cold. Incisive. Logical. It’s what he’s come to expect from his father.
"At least be grateful that the boy is back safe," Vishal explodes.
Vikram stiffens. His jaw hardens and he fixes his brother with a cold stare that has reduced so many to silence.
It has the opposite effect on Vishal, who draws himself up to his full height, which still means he only comes to Jai and Vikram’s shoulders. And again the difference between the two half-brothers is striking.
Vishal’s lived his life trying to get the better of his brother. Trying to prove to the world that he’s better than his brother. He’d do anything to have more power than Vik. But he’ll never be anything other than a shadow of Vik. For Vikram has a core of steel, a presence that is real; a soul that simply reaches out to people, convincing them that they could trust him.
It’s why Jai can never stay angry for long with his father. For despite it all, despite his long absences from home, despite his sporadic parenting, still he knows his father will stand up for what’s right, no matter what. And it’s a trait that Jai envies and has struggled hard to emulate all his life.
And now Jai watches as Vishal struts around the table to where Vik is standing by the window. Jai is sure he’s going to launch into an argument, as is the norm. But Vishal contends himself with a smirk before that too is wiped off his face.
Pulling out a chair he drops into it. Then holding up his hands, says, "Fine. This is between father and son. I’ll stay out of it."
Jai is taken aback. This is the first time that Vishal’s even come close to agreeing that his father is right about something.
To his credit, Vik takes it in his stride. A short nod and then walking to the table, he sits down.
"So what else have you learned about the situation, Jaidon?"
His voice is polite, formal.
The only other person who’d called him by his full name was his mother. From her lips, it had been a term of affection.
Thoughts of Ruby, never far from the surface, come pouring through. Perhaps it’s because he’s seeing Vik and Vishal together after a long time. And both half-brothers had loved Ruby. It was for her that they had put aside their differences to work together to build a new Bombay.
And after she’d gone, they’d stayed together. Something that still surprises Jai.
Vik had been voted to become the Mayor of Bombay. And Vishal had agreed to stay on as General. As if Vishal can’t help but stay close to his half-brother, shadow him, live off his energy.
Since then an uneasy truce resides between the brothers. One that could snap at any moment.
Jai pushes that thought away too.
"The shifters," Vik prompts, his voice impatient. "What more have you learned about them?"
Looking at Vik’s closed features it’s difficult to imagine that he’d shown concern for Jai’s wellbeing in their last meeting.
Jai’s jaw hardens, "They are attacking the Jungle more frequently," he says.
"We know that already," Vik makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. "What else?"
Jai hesitates, unsure whether to speak, but of course Vik’s sharp eye catches even that tiny gesture.
"What?" he snaps. "What are you not telling us?"
"It’s only my gut instinct," Jai says, his voice hesitant.
"Instinct," Vik snorts. "You need facts, proof on which to base your conclusions."
What he doesn’t say aloud is that it was instinct which had got Ruby killed. Hot-headed as she’d been, she had reacted purely on instinct in trying to save the wolf-cub, and in return had her daughter taken by the shifters.
In that instant Jai wants to run out of the room and never look back. Inside, he’s too much like his mother. Impulsive, spontaneous, wanting to follow his heart on many things. He’ll never be what his father wants.
A soldier.
What he’s trained his entire life to be.
He’s pretended it so far and meeting Aria has shown him just how close to becoming exactly that he is now.
Cold. Unemotional. Just like the Mayor.
And yet, the most creative part of him comes from Vik too.
Vishal may have introduced him to books, but it’s Vik’s love of poetry, which first made Jai try his hand at writing. And he’d found that his ability to string words into phrases, into hidden gems of delight, had often brought tears to his own eyes as he’d bled onto those pages.
Now, hearing his father question his conclusions, one solely based on a sixth sense that insists he is right, he knows it’s a losing battle. And yet he cannot stop himself from sharing what’s on his mind too.
"The refugee strikes are just a front. A way of getting our attention. They want a safe place for their families. And attacking the Jungle is a way to draw us out, to get us to engage with them."
"Good guess," Vik says. "Doesn’t explain why they’ve been attacking and carrying off some of the females from the Jungle, though. So far the shifters have been restricted to the refugee camp. If we give them space of their own, who’s to say they don’t become a danger to our people too."
Jai hesitates, choosing his words with care. "They are getting desperate. Without enough of their own to propagate their species they are turning to humans. All the more reason to sit down and negotiate with them. Find a solution before it gets out of hand."
"All this sounds plausible. But what do you have to back it up with? Vik’s voice is not angry but not pleased either. It carries that neutral 'parental' tone that Jai hates so much.
"Not much…but what other explanation can there be?" His voice is serious.
"Why are we even talking about these animals, just kill them all. Shoot them," says Vishal.
"That’s if you can get to them. They’re too fast for bullets. And growing stronger every day." Jai directs his words to Vishal but doesn’t take his eyes off Vik.
"Too fast for bullets? That’s impossible?" Vishal explodes but neither of them pays him any attention.
Since Jai’s begun standing up to his father there have been more of these long, tense pauses. Silent fights unresolved until one of them, normally Jai, stands down. Today, he’s not going to give in. Jai doesn’t know why but this time it’s important that he be heard. That he win this round.
Vik stays quiet.
The lack of emotion on his face makes it difficult for Jai to figure out exactly what he’s thinking. He taps his fingers on the table, thoughts whirling through his head. "Why else would the shifters hit the camps in such a tactical manner? And each time before we get to them, they manage to escape."
"Not the last time," Vik reminds him. "You got them then, didn’t you?"
Jai’s stomach muscles clench at that. That shifter, the last one he’d killed, had been in wolf form, and yet had felt human. So human. And it hadn’t attacked him, almost as if it’d wanted to signal something to him. Tell him something. But what?
He shoves the image from his head. "That was only because I had been nearby and arrived faster than anticipated. A few minutes more and they’d have been gone."
"What are you trying to say?" A spark of interest in his father’s voice and Jai feels his shoulder muscles relax.
"That we should talk to them. Find out what they want. Try to find a peaceful agreement before it’s too late," he says, his voice coercing.
"You want to negotiate with your mother’s killers?"
Jai flinches at
his father’s words.
"I loved her too," he says, his voice harsh, his face folding into granite hard lines. In that moment he resembles Vik more than he’ll ever know. "The shifters have hurt others…people close to me."
He hesitates and as he says it he knows it’s true. That what he feels for Aria is different. And yet as powerful as what he’d felt for Ruby.
"But this is now, and we have this city and its future to think about," he adds. "And if that means negotiating face to face with the shifters, then we must do it. Let’s not blame the entire tribe for the fault of one."
Before Jai can complete his statement, Vik is on his feet. Coming around, he pulls his son up by his collar.
More than the suddenness of his gesture, it’s the fact that it’s coming from Vik which startles Jai.
He’s seen his father lose his cool perhaps once since his mother died. And now Vik’s face twists with rage, those amber eyes spark golden, filled with a churning, a desperation for something he’ll never have again. Pain bleeds out of Vik, slamming into Jai with a force that sends him reeling.
He’s still not over Ruby’s death. Not after almost two decades. Perhaps he never will be.
Vishal cuts in with, "Let the boy go." And when there’s no reply, he adds, his voice harsh, "He’s your son. He’s…Ruby’s son."
If Vishal had intended to hurt Vik with that, he’s succeeded. Enough to snap Vik out of the anger that has gripped him. At the mention of Ruby’s name he stiffens. His grip on Jai loosens and his hands falls to his side.
For a second longer, Jai senses the anguish in his father, then the mask is back in place.
Vik raises his hand as if to touch Jai, as if he wants to say something. To apologize?
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he turns to Vishal and, snapping back into his role of Mayor, says, "I’ll leave you to look into it."
Without waiting for Vishal’s agreement, Vik turns on his feet and walks to the door, his tread heavy.
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 131
