‘Were you trying to get yourself killed?’
Jude’s voice drags me out of the blackness. I keep my back to him while I surface. The morning light is subdued, not yet fully awake either. Pieces from last night fall back into place.
Oh. I bury my face in the pillow, try to focus. How much does Jude know?
‘What happened to respecting my privacy?’ I mutter.
‘Fuck your privacy. You almost died last night.’
That answers two of three pressing questions: Jude has spoken to Rafa, and he knows what really happened on the beach. But what about afterwards? The memory washes over me again. The heat, the urgency. What was I thinking? My fingers tighten on the corner of the pillow. I close my eyes and try to settle my poker face. It takes a few seconds.
‘Why would you go after them on your own? Is this about my fight with Nathaniel?’
I don’t answer and I hear him take a slow breath, like he’s struggling to keep his temper. And then: ‘How could you drop your guard like that?’
I roll over and face him. He’s next to the bed, hands resting on his hips. Bloodshot eyes and stub-bled cheeks. Behind him, George Grie’s River Styx ferry hangs on the wall, ominous in the dull light. Its black and grey sky seems almost cheery compared to my brother. I try to read his mood. A sense of distance. About me or Nathaniel? I rub my cheek on my shoulder and catch a hint of sandalwood. Heat flares in inappropriate places. I glance away, guilty. But Jude can’t know about Rafa and me: he’d be acting weirder than this if he did.
‘I needed a fight,’ I say. ‘In hindsight, I picked the wrong one.’ I sit up too fast and the room does a quick lap around me. Jude takes my elbow to steady me. He sits down and I can’t help but lean into him as the mattress takes his weight. He smells of lime and tequila and the sea.
‘I feel like an idiot.’
‘It was an idiotic thing to do,’ he says, but the anger’s mostly gone now. ‘You really scared the hell out of Rafa.’
Warmth creeps up my neck. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘I could hear it in his voice.’ Jude sits back so he can see me properly. ‘Why didn’t you call me from the infirmary? Why did I have to wait until this morning to hear about it from him?’
‘I didn’t want to disturb your choice of recreational release.’ I gesture to his bloodshot eyes—and register that Rafa’s only just phoned him. It’s the only reason Jude’s back from whatever bar he was in.
‘Gabe.’
‘I was embarrassed, all right?’ I’m not sure if I’m talking about the fight on the beach or what happened afterwards. Maybe both.
‘No shit.’
I pluck at his shirt—the same one he had on last time I saw him. ‘Not all of us have the foresight to stay out all night drinking ourselves into oblivion.’
‘Beats lying in bed staring at the ceiling.’
I bring my knees to my chest, wrap my arms around them. ‘Are you going to provoke Nathaniel again today?’
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘Same subject—forays into recklessness. Mine’s done and dusted, let’s talk about yours.’
His eyebrows twitch up. ‘You think I’m being reckless?’
‘In letting Mya drive the agenda? Absolutely.’
Jude lets out a loud sigh. ‘This again? She mightn’t have been here for as long as us but she’s allowed an opinion, Gabe.’
‘And what is her opinion?’
‘The same as yours: that Nathaniel’s kept things from us and it’s time to come clean. At the very least, tell us which archangel ordered him to track us all down as babies and train us up to be the Garrison’s reserve force. Come on, we’ve been talking about this stuff for years, all of us.’
‘Yeah, in hushed tones over bottles of wine, not getting in Nathaniel’s face about it. And don’t tell me her opinion is the same as mine. She wouldn’t know mine—she’s never asked for it.’
‘I know how you think, and I’m telling you she’s on the same page as us.’
I press my lips together. There’s no point arguing with him about Mya. He can’t see how destructive she is. She doesn’t care about learning the truth: all she wants is chaos. Ever since she found out it would take decades before she earned the right to stand for the Council of the Five.
‘Is this about Daniel? Are you worried he’s going to think less of you?’
I stare at my brother. ‘No, it’s not about Daniel. Fuck, give me some credit.’
‘Why? You’re not giving me any.’
I feel the anger tightening my chest, shortening my breath. ‘Jude, we could have confronted Nathaniel a thousand times over the last century and we didn’t. Why? Because we didn’t want to risk everything here unless we had to. I don’t think Mya’s need for rebellion is a good enough reason for a sudden change of heart.’
For all our baggage, for all our desire to tell the rest of the Rephaim what happened to our mother—what most likely happened to theirs—we’ve never done it. Partly because it will rip the place apart. And partly because we’ve dug ourselves a hole. We know keeping a secret this big is almost as bad as the secret itself.
I pause. ‘You haven’t told her about Jason, have you?’
He looks at me as if I’ve slapped him and I immediately regret asking. Of course he hasn’t. Even he knows there’s no way Mya could keep that bit of information to herself.
‘Sorry,’ I say, and I mean it.
Jude breathes in deeply through his nose. We sit in silence for a good minute.
‘I wish I knew what happened to him.’ He says it quietly. It still grates on him that our cousin hid from us over a century ago and hasn’t once reached out to see if we’re okay.
‘Maybe he’s dead. That’d be easier to forgive than him disappearing because he panicked we might tell Nathaniel he exists.’
Jude strangles a laugh. ‘Shit, Gabe, you can be cold sometimes.’
I shrug. He knows I’m a realist.
The light falling through my window is brighter now. Jude stands up, rubs his eyes. ‘You want to grab breakfast?’
I think about running into Rafa in the commissary, feel a strange sensation in my stomach. ‘I’ll get something later.’ I reach up above my bed to the sword rack, lift down the closest blade. I slide it out of the saya, check the line in a patch of sunlight on my bed, pretend that’s all I’m thinking about. ‘I lost a perfectly good sword last night. I need to get this one into shape before I do much else today.’
‘Okay. I’ll bring you something to eat.’
‘Thanks.’
We share a weary smile. No matter how often we disagree—how much we piss each other off—we always find a way to be okay. The door clicks shut as he leaves and I flop back onto my pillow, throw my arm across my face.
I hooked up with Rafa.
What was I thinking? What if everyone finds out? But even as I wrestle with the implications, I can’t shut out the memory of him. The contours of his body. The assurance in his touch. How he buried his face in my neck and said my name as he shuddered. It completely destroyed my self-control. But I didn’t make a sound. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction—not after all those years of being the punchline to his favourite joke.
But oh my god…
I touch my lips, remember his crushed against them. My skin is raw from his stubble, my hair mussed from his fingers. I catch another trace of sandalwood and the ache sets in without warning.
I pull a pillow over my face. God help me.
I’m crushing on Rafa.