Forty

Quell

Jordan moves closer to me, and my hand tightens on my copy of The Anatomical Difference: Darkbearers’ and Multistrand Magic. The dimness washes the alleyway behind Headquarters in an orange glow.

“You’re blocking the streetlight.” He doesn’t move, so I stand back, putting more space between us. I turn the page, skimming a section on the chemical anatomy of toushana. I turn another page, thinking of Knox and the others, wondering what happened to them. A part of me aches. I share a connection with them in a way. And yet, I abandoned them.

Jordan eyes me.

“Not a fan of my reading preferences?”

A vein at his jaw pulses. He checks his watch again, then he pulls out an inscribed vial. “Don’t lose this.”

I unscrew it. Inside are fine glowing granules. Sun Dust.

“How’d you get this?”

Jordan only raises a brow. He stole it. Jordan Wexton broke a rule. I won’t give him the satisfaction of my being impressed.

“What time is Yagrin supposed to be able to slip out?”

“Any moment.”

I return to my book and he groans. “This is going to be a long trip if you’re going to grumble every time I read a page.”

The streetlamps reflected in his eyes shimmer golden. He reaches in his pocket. “You’re welcome to do something other than fill your head with that propaganda nonsense.”

He pops a green candy into his mouth. His mouth puckers and his cheeks rise, defining their sleek craters, and it makes me dizzy. I glare at my book. Two can play this game. I turn to a section in the text that I’m sure will irritate him and clear my throat.

“ ‘The prevalence of toushana has been denied by the Order since its inception. The official response has been that it poses too great a risk to consider giving it any credibility. Though that only seems to underscore its importance.’ ”

Jordan walks away and I follow, projecting my voice.

“ ‘The Order fears that binding with toushana is an awakening of boundless power.’ ” I snap the book closed and rest against the building, utterly satisfied with myself.

“Are you finished being incorrigible?”

Cold yawns in my chest, and I urge it through my bones and into my hand. Black drips from my fingers and I coil it playfully in the air.

“You should reserve your energy for what’s ahead.”

“I can spare a bit to get under your skin.”

His head cocks. “This isn’t some game we’re playing at. This is the life and livelihood of members all over. You should take that seriously and prepare.”

“You prepare your way, I’ll prepare mine.”

He marches up to me, snatches my book, and presses his palm across my stomach.

“Is this where your toushana lives in you?” His hand moves across my body to my lower hip, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “Or is it here?”

“What are you—”

“It’s one of those two places. Toushana attaches to the stronger organ in either place, burrowing a home for itself inside you. En domum it grows, until it’s strong enough to attach to each and every part of you.” His hand traces up my body, grazing my ribs. “First, it explores your neighboring organs.” His knuckles stroke the bone between my breasts, careful to avoid touching either one.

My neck breaks out in cold sweat.

“There, it can latch on to the ventricles of your heart, changing your body chemistry drop by drop until your blood bleeds black.” His fingers walk up my chest and pause at the hollow of my neck. “Before it finally moves on to exercise its power over your brain.”

I swallow a dry breath.

“Binding Mechanics, volume two, around chapter five or so.” He hands me back my book. “If you’re going to read that poison, read both sides.”

When air moves between us again, I’m not breathing. What he said can’t be the full truth. He’s just trying to sway me to his twisted way of thinking—to hate myself, like I used to.

“I have it under control,” I say.

He lifts his shirt to show me the handle of his fire dagger.

“Underneath your veneer is fear,” I say. “You wouldn’t carry a weapon otherwise.”

He drums up another snappy reply, and I realize we’ll never get anywhere if we’re at each other’s throats like this. “The Dragunhead mentioned Yagrin. Of all people, why him?”

He picks his nails. “He knows the most about sun tracking. I’m not taking any chances out there.”

I frown in confusion before realizing both Yagrin and Jordan finished at House of Perl. So they must have been at Hartsboro around the same time.

“He lied to me, pretended to be one of his personas to gain my trust. He knew my mother was at Hartsboro and never said anything. I’m not working with him.” A strangled laugh escapes my throat. I did all I could to get away from Yagrin and yet here I am.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“You can’t trust him. He wants to bleed the Sphere out of spite.”

“He can’t bleed the Sphere. He’s tried. He wasn’t strong enough. He needs you to do it. Lie to him, I don’t care.”

“So we’re using him?”

He chuckles, a real laugh that creases around his eyes. “You act like you’re above such a thing.”

“All this time you’ve been thinking I used you?”

“I don’t spend any time thinking about you at all.”

His words cut, even though they shouldn’t. He is tossing his bag of candies in the trash when the alleyway door to Headquarters opens and Yagrin appears. His pallor is worse and his hair is longer. A thin scruff of a beard shadows his face.

“This is a surprise,” Yagrin says. “What’s happened?”

“We were just talking about how I never wanted to see your face again. But Jordan insists that, of all the brotherhood, we have to drag you along with us because you’re good at sun tracking.”

“The best,” Jordan says.

“Ah. Who better than his spiteful, sorry-excuse, waste-of-space brother?”

“Enough, Yagrin.” Jordan glances at me. “Quell, are you ready?”

Yagrin’s brows bounce, his features curling into a smug expression I know well. Beside him, Jordan huffs with impatience, his expression twisting in the same pompous way.

Almost the exact arrogant way…

Jordan’s taller, with lighter eyes, fuller lips, and more melanin, but if that were taken away, he’d look a lot like Yagrin.

“No. There is no way.”

Yagrin and Jordan look at each other, and the slopes of their profiles match.

“You’re—”

The sharp cheekbones, the deeply set eyes, the aquiline noses. Genetics are a funny thing. I hardly look anything like Mom.

“Brothers?”

“How could you not tell her?” Yagrin mumbles.

“I thought you had,” Jordan mutters back. Before I realize it, I’m stomping in his brother’s direction. The slap shocks both of us and leaves my hand stinging. Yagrin’s cheek is bright red.

“You rat. Are you just made of lies?! And you!” I turn to Jordan.

“I thought—” he starts.

My hand flies at his face. He catches my wrist before my palm slams into his cheek.

“I thought you knew.”

“Let’s get this over with so I never have to look at either of you again.”