Ink & Quill

Chapter 19

 ~ Jaxon ~

I listen as Sylas speaks in a quiet monotone. He tells me how Linden Edwards saw through his disguise, how Aurelio took him to the Spire, and how he'd agreed to Craft for Edwards in exchange for help finding the Devil's Song.

A devil's bargain, as far as I'm concerned.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the book that rests between us on the table, the worn cover appearing faded and threadbare in the late afternoon light. Aurelio remains silent and still, letting Sylas carry the tale, only occasionally giving a nod of agreement, or adding a word here and there for emphasis or clarification.

As I learn, bit by bit, how wrong, and how blind I've been, I struggle to keep my anger in check. When Sylas gets around to describing what Edwards had him do with the stones, I find myself balling my hands into fists beneath the table.

"It's harmless, really," he says, finally lifting his eyes to meet mine. "If things hadn't gone so badly with Lyssa, I'd have been fine."

"You'd have been able to keep lying to me, you mean," I snap, and he flinches as if I'd raised my hand to strike him.

Aurelio casts me a reproving look. "Jaxon. It's not his fault."

Taking the invitation, I turn my anger on him. "No, it's not. It's yours."

Infuriatingly, he sighs and leans back in his chair, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, his right brow slightly higher than his left.

"You don't quite understand, I think," he says patiently. "Linden Edwards is no longer the inept little 'gadget nerd' you remember from our school days, with his gangly limbs and glasses, and his strange little contraptions that never worked quite the way he expected. You remember the second year 'science' fair?"

I did. The auditorium had caught fire.

"He's improved significantly. As Sylas described, he's got a device that detects deception. A device, Jaxon. Mechanized magic. You understand the implications, I'm sure."

I didn't, but I wasn't about to admit as much.

"The point is," Aurelio continues, "he'd know if Sylas told you anything, and even I can't say, for certain, what he'd do if he thought we'd gone against him."

I scowl at my brother and swallow the bitterness at the back of my throat.

"And what now?" I ask. "What happens when he finds out you two spilled his precious beans?"

I hear the mean edge in my voice, and it makes me hate myself.

"Leave that to me," Aurelio says easily. "I know Linden's... 'tastes,' shall we say. I'm sure I can appease him—if he is displeased, that is. I rather suspect that, in giving Sylas the book, he knew the game was up—on that front, at least."

Forcing myself to take a breath, I shut my eyes and rub my brow. It feels like I'm a kid again, being tortured by my dad. He'd called it 'education,' but 'emotional abuse' would be a more accurate term. He'd pit us against each other—my brothers and me. Make us match wits as if we were in battles to the death. Place bets on who would react to what, and why. Try to foresee every possibility.

I always lost.

With his death, I thought I was free of that, but I'm beginning to see a pattern, now: just because I stopped playing the game doesn't mean I'm not still in it.

"What's with the book, anyway?" I ask, more to distract myself than from real interest.

"I haven't had time to read it," Sylas says, not meeting my eyes. "It's a... a history of the college, though."