Why is Paxton here then? They can only just have left. Unless Asher has been out there watching, but I’m pretty sure he’s not in the city right now. Unless he came back. But then he’d have let Vlad know, and probably me, because he’s getting into the habit of either him or Quinn texting me when—
“Focus, Grant. Deep breaths again.”
I fidget in place and concentrate on my breathing. This part isn’t too bad. It’s just exhausting, reminding myself to come back to this, not to follow every train of thought speeding through my mind.
Maybe that should be exhausting instead. But I spend a lot of time with my own thoughts, so it’s quite nice, all things considered.
After some indeterminate amount of time—it could be five minutes or five hours, fuck if I know—Paxton lets out a long breath.
“Right. Keep your eyes closed. You told me before you can see our power, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” I haven’t even told Vlad that, though I don’t know if Paxton has told him. Maybe not. Sometimes it feels like he’s way older than me and then I remember we’re not that far apart in age at all.
Anyway. Yes, I can see their power. It’s how I can tell who has the most control—Maurice’s is easy to see when he’s using it or preparing to use it because he can wield it so well. I could see the energy from Asher’s wolf, too. Weaker than all those wolves in Deacon’s pack house and embraced by the blessing he now carries, but I’ve always known there was something different about him.
“What about your own?”
“Can’t see it like that.” Not even when I look in the mirror. Or maybebecauseI can only look at myself in the mirror. Who knows?
“What about when you use it?”
“I don’t—” I frown and squeeze my eyes shut so I won’t open them. Lights flare behind my lids from the pressure I’m applying. “It’s not like that. I feel it.”
“You don’t see anything at all?”
“Not really.”
“What do you feel?”
I do my best to turn my attention inwards. We’ve been through this before. It’s easier with Paxton than with Maurice because Maurice has only slightly more patience than I do. Still. They all talk about the same thing—there’s this place in their chest where their power sits. They feel it there, feel it push at the edges of their control like it’s too much, like it might burst out of them and do as it likes.
Mine is… everywhere. It’s part of me like the blood that still magically flows through my veins, or the air I drag in and out of my lungs. There’s no centre, no place where I end and this power begins.
It never feels like it’ll be too much either. I can, in a way, get it to do what I want, but that’s because I feel like it wants to help, not that I have any true control.
“I don’t know,” I say and sigh. “It’s just… there. It’s not like a strange thing.”
Paxton makes a sound of agreement and we’re both silent for a few more minutes. It’s taking everything in me to stay sitting still. There are a couple of books up in my room I want to finish going through. Reijo sent me a text this afternoon and I need to reply. Lots of the fae have been hiding since the high fae broke through, but that might only last for so long. If the tide turns intheir favour, then some of them will hedge their bets against us. Against the Hunt.
“Try reaching out,” Paxton says, interrupting my thoughts. “Eyes still closed. Tell me what you feel around us.”
I bite back another sigh but do as I’m told. Maybe we do need to talk to the Huntsman about this. He’s the one who wants me trained, after all. Or I could push harder to meet the rest of Quinn’s pack. I’ve been keeping my distance because of all this mess with the fae. I don’t want to bring trouble to their door. But the second of his pack is a mage, a true one, and he might be able to help me more than anyone here.
My magic creeps out in a slow-rolling wave, stretching out to fill the room around us. Paxton lets out a little gasp. Oh, there’s a lot of it. I know that. I don’t think any of them—even Maurice—have realised how much. Even now, my power quivers but holds back, probing gently at the spot where Vlad hit the bookcase yesterday.
I flinch and curl my fingers inwards. My nails dig into my palms. I really didn’t mean to do that. I don’t like fighting him. I don’t want to hurt him.
I think he thinks I can’t. Notwon’t. Can’t, like I’m not powerful enough.
But I am. My power generally tends to listen to me, and I can’t find the edges of it, but I know there’s a lot of it, and sometimes I’m dizzy with the fact that it would overwhelm the rest of them.
There’s no lingering magic where Vlad landed. He healed quickly. I know that. I feel the faint trace of Jeremiah from the morning and then of Vlad again because he stayed down here long after I’d run off to my room.
I turn my attention to Paxton. I think I see what the Huntsman means about bonds, which is the most frustrating part of all. Fae bonds are unbreakable. In death, one person follows the other over the edge, and by turning me…
Vlad did that. Oh, he didn’t know. I know he didn’t know. But he did it all the same.
And then hedidknow. If he were just my sire, the bond between us would already be fading. If he didn’t have the Huntsman’s blessing, I’d just be coming out of the worst of my bloodlust and I’d be learning how to interact with this new world I’m part of.
