Charcoal Tears (18 page)

He stepped forward, cupping his hand around my jaw. “Okay.”

I ducked my face into his chest, too embarrassed to look at him. He gathered me into his arms, bending down to hook my knees so that he could carry me back to the lounge. I kept my face hidden as he plonked me onto the couch and settled in beside me. I tucked my legs up and Cabe sat on my other side, his hand curving around my ankle, holding me loosely.

Noah dropped the phones into my lap again, and I checked one of them. Fifteen missed calls. It was Cabe’s phone. I pressed a button to light up Noah’s phone. Ten. With a chuckle, I turned back to the television. When the phones kept buzzing, I pushed them away, and quickly found sleep.

I woke up the next morning with a problem: I had to go to work that night, and I still didn’t want Cabe or Noah to know about my job. Or Quillan for that matter. Thankfully, I was still on the couch in Silas and Quillan’s television room, a blanket tucked securely around me, so I had time to think of a plan before I saw them. I shuffled out and followed the sound of voices to the dining room, thinking that I would find Silas and ask what I should do. I passed through the arch to find Quillan buried in paperwork again. Cabe had his feet propped up on the table, and Noah was down the other end, facedown on an icepack. I frowned, moving to him. I touched his head, and he jerked upright like I’d taken a Taser to his neck. I gasped at the mottled bruises on his face, the swelling over his left eye and the torn shirt.

“What on earth happened to you?”

“He had a job,” Quillan answered for him. “Sometimes we do work for the Zevghéri.”

“What the hell kind of wor—” I paused, thinking back to my drawing. I had sketched five figures, me in the middle. The outside figures were holding guns.

I spun, facing Quillan. I knew he was one of the outside figures, because he and Silas were taller than Noah and Cabe, and Silas had been wearing his trademark hood. “You’ve got a gun,” I accused him.

His jaw unhinged. “How the hell did you know that?”

That was all the confirmation I needed. I turned back to Noah, checking him over. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

He didn’t answer, so I scowled at him and caught the hem of his shirt, tugging it up. He chuckled, and Cabe laughed too.

“Remind me to get injured some day soon.” Cabe leaned back in his chair, watching us with his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

I ignored him, checking over the bruising on Noah’s left side. It didn’t seem too bad, actually. I dropped his shirt and then went back to examining his face. I brushed a thumb over the bruise on his cheek and then picked up the icepack, pressing his hand against it to hold it up. I left the dining room and entered the other apartment, fetching a change of clothes and jumping into the shower. I dressed in black shorts and a plain white t-shirt. I tied up my chameleon shoes and stole one of Noah’s notebooks, tucking it under my arm. The piano room proved a perfect place to hide myself away, and Quillan found me a little while later with a plate of toast and a mug of coffee.

“You don’t eat enough,” he informed me.

“You swear too much.”

He smiled, his eyes lighting up. “What are you drawing?”

I shifted on the couch and he dropped down beside me, taking the notebook from me. It was only half-finished, a bent reflection of a form floating beneath water. He frowned, running his finger over it.

“Is she drowning?”

“I hope not.”

He looked at me, his brows drawing together. “There are things you’re not telling me.”

I leaned back, looking him straight in the eye. “You’re keeping secrets too.”

He sucked in a breath, drawing to his full height. I could feel his eyes changing, like prickly flames licking over my face. It didn’t intimidate me, because I was sure that Quillan was more afraid of me than I was of him.

“You’ve got five questions,” he decided. “Use them wisely.”

“Are there other kinds of… abilities?” I asked without hesitation, glancing down at my sketch. “Other than the valcrick?”

“The powers are rare,” he replied, “usually there is a sort of… pre-requisite.”

I gazed at him, taking in the gentle wave of his hair, styled back in a perfect sweep from his forehead. His smile-lines showed as soon as his lips moved, like shallow dimples. He was actually giving me information, but his black eyes were guarded.

“A pre-requisite?”

“It’s called a pair. To have a Zevghéri power—like the valcrick—you need to have a pair.”

“Like another person with the same power?”

“No,” his eyes slid over my face, and I wondered if he were basing the volume of his information on the extremeness of my reactions. “I can’t explain it completely, but we’re not built to have that much adrenaline running through us all of the time—and the power is downright unnatural. Having a pair gives us the strength to withstand it. The stronger your pair is, the stronger you are, and likewise, the stronger your bond, the more powerful your ability.”

“I’m not really following.”

He sighed, reaching out a hand and capturing mine. “Seph… you’ve changed since Noah and Cabe showed up. You smile, and laugh, and tease and joke. You stand up for yourself and look people in the eye more, and it’s barely been a week.”

I sucked in a breath, shocked to my core. He was right. I’d only known Noah and Cabe for a week.

A week
.

“I’m… bonded to them in some way?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what a pair is?”

“No.”

I groaned, confused all over again, and he squeezed my hand before releasing me and hovering his arm over my lap, facing up.

“A pair is two people of the same gender born with the same mark,” he said, pointing to the mark on the inside of his arm, right below his elbow. I touched it with a quiet gasp. It was a disfigured star, an exact replica of one of my birthmarks.

“But I’m a girl,” I muttered, still tracing my finger over the mark.

“The pairs are made
for
someone.”

“But… if I’m bonded to Noah and Cabe, then how can you be part of the pair? That makes three people.”

He clenched his fist, pulling his arm away from me. “You have two pairs, Seraph.”

He got up and left me, and I fell back against the couch, trying to piece together everything that he had said. I had two pairs. Cabe and Noah; Quillan and… Silas. I was connected to them in some way. Strangely, it was relief that once again flooded me—as it had when I had learned of the Zevghéri—and I released the breath I had been holding in. That was why I wanted to push girls away from Cabe and Noah… I was connected to them. That was why I felt strange whenever they touched me. We were connected.

I picked up one of the pieces of toast, nibbling at the edge. That wasn’t so bad. There was no real reason to keep that from me.

My mind was too far removed from the sketch I had been drawing, and I found that I couldn’t finish it. I made a mental note not to stop sketching again until I’d finished a drawing. I doodled half-heartedly, played the piano and borrowed Cabe’s phone to check up on Tariq. Silas had been gone all day, and I could tell that the others were uneasy about it, but whenever I walked in on one of their whispered conversations, they immediately quietened.

When it came time to go to work, I hunted down Cabe, finding him in Silas and Quillan’s apartment, fixed to one of Silas’s monitors.

“Hey, Lucifer,” I whispered, bending over him.

He jerked up and swore softly. “Do that again and I
will
put bells on you!”

I chuckled, because he was smiling. “I need to go to work.”

“I’ll drive you.”

Heat rose to my face, and I averted my eyes. This wasn’t going to work. Cabe would want to know why I didn’t want him to drive me, and I wouldn’t have an answer for him. Hit with a sudden inspiration, I looked up again.

“Silas can take me. He said he would.”

Cabe looked confused. “But it’s Sunday. Silas disappears on Sundays.”

Instead of answering, I reached toward his pocket. His eyes flew wide, locking on my face, and I bit back a laugh, grabbing a hold of his phone. He seemed to relax. I thumbed through his contacts for Silas’s number and dialled.

“Angel?”

My palms started to sweat. “How did you know it was me?”

“You need to go to work.”

“Um, yes.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, come downstairs.” He hung up.

I handed the phone back to Cabe. “He’ll be here in ten minutes, I need to meet him downstairs.”

Cabe stared at his phone like it had grown a tail. “He picked up,” he said, astonished.

“Yes?”

He looked back at me, and I blinked at the hope in his eyes. “Good,” Cabe breathed out. “Go downstairs.”

I went downstairs, deliberately avoiding the other apartment. I didn’t want any questions. Silas turned up in a white sports car, the engine rumbling softly as he pulled to a stop. I stared at it, my mouth hanging open. He reached over and pushed the door open. There were only two seats inside, maroon leather trimmed with black.

“What kind of car is this?” I asked, sitting down and shutting the door. “And why haven’t I seen it before? And how did you
buy
it?”

Silas made a sound beneath his breath, and I couldn’t tell if it was amusement or exasperation. He reached over and strapped my seatbelt on, since I was too busy staring at his car to do it myself. “I go on assignments for the Zevghéri, and they pay well. This is a Jaguar.”

He pulled out of the parking lot, and I put my hands all over his car. I hadn’t seen my cell phone since Friday, or I would have started taking pictures too. He caught my hand after I opened the glove box for the fourth time, and gently returned it to my lap. I didn’t complain, because my mind had gone numb from his touch. I spent the rest of the drive staring at my hand and thinking about the bond Quillan had spoken about, wondering at the differentness in my reaction to each of the four people supposedly connected to me. My yearlong fascination with Silas seemed to manifest in my reaction to him now, despite the mystery of him mostly dissipating by now. His touch was a heavy thrill, almost sickening in its intensity, but not entirely… not like Cabe or Noah’s touch. Theirs was too
much
, too unnatural. It seemed that my brain couldn’t handle it, and that was why I tended toward loss of consciousness.

He pulled into the parking lot behind the club. “Go ahead, I’ll be in soon.”

I got out of the car and started to walk away, but hesitated, going back to his window. I didn’t know why he disappeared every Sunday, but I was grateful that he had anticipated my call, and had helped me, even though he was probably protecting his own secrets as much as he was protecting mine. His window rolled down and I poked my head in. He grabbed my jaw, surprising me, and whatever thanks I had been about to utter died on my tongue.

“Don’t mistake this.” His accent had thickened with an almost-growl. “I still don’t want you around.”

“You’d prefer me to wake up naked and finger-painted again?” I tried to sound nonchalant, but the hurt and anger shone through clear as day.

His wild eyes flared, almost shocking me back a step—except that his grip on my jaw tightened, preventing me. I waited for him to reply, but instead he made another growling sound and released me, turning his eyes firmly to the front windshield.

“Go inside,” he said, his voice once again soft and low, the way I had grown accustomed to hearing it.

I backed away with uncertainty marking each of my steps, and made my way up to Sally’s office. She wasn’t there; a pot-bellied man sat in her chair, glaring at the papers on her desk.

“You Seraph?” he grunted.

I hadn’t realised he had seen me. I stepped into the office and turned my eyes to the floor. “Yes.”

“I’m your new boss. Name’s Henry. Get changed.”

I looked up, and then back down at myself. “Changed?”

“You look like a little girl. You can’t work in a club looking like a little girl. It says here you’re seventeen.” He waved a piece of paper.

“Ah, yes. I’m seventeen.”

“Ruby!” he shouted.

A woman appeared behind me, her eyes wild, her brow sweaty. I had worked with her in the past, but we never really spoke much. “Yeah?”

“Find some clothes for Seraph. Make it quick, she ain’t on the god-damned payroll for a makeover. And why in the hell is a seventeen-year-old on the payroll in the first place?”

Ruby grabbed my arm and drew me away without answering him. She had only been working at the club for a month, but I supposed that my clothes gave me a lower rank, according to Henry.

“When did that happen?” I gestured towards the office.

She grimaced. “Yesterday. They’ve been in talks to sell the club for months. Sal couldn’t hold out any longer. What size are you? You look like a two. I don’t think my clothes will fit.”

I trailed her to the staff locker room that I never used, and she rummaged around inside hers for a little bit before clicking her fingers. “I know, come with me.”

She marched me back out into the main part of the bar and down to the kitchen area. Crystal was there, her head poked out the window so that her cigarette smoke could escape outside with the faint breeze blowing in from the alleyway that ran down the side of the club.

“Oi!” Ruby waved a hand and Crystal flicked her cigarette away, sliding off the bench.

“Heya Ruby, Pipsqueak.”

“Pipsqueak?” I asked.

She waved a hand. “It’s what we call you.”

I blinked, and then wondered if
their
names were also made-up.

“She needs clothes,” Ruby informed her. “Give her some for tonight, will ya?”

I cast a critical eye over Crystal. If Ruby’s clothes would be too big, then Crystal’s would be too small. She was rail-thin.

“Henry make you change?” Crystal asked as we all walked toward the locker room together.

I nodded, and she opened one of the lockers, tossing me a measly wife-beater and a short leather skirt. I held them in my hands, slightly away from my body like they would swallow me up and I’d never see the light of day again.