Wicked Ones {bxb}

{Chapter 15 : Jahni}

Shrunken down by a set of very sharp, very dark eyes, Vincent waited for the silence to pass. Jahni towered in front of them, not a drop of expression on his face. He was staring. Just staring. Kailan didn't seem bothered, of course. Vincent, however, was itching to escape his unrelenting glower.

"Where's Apr—"

"Classes," Jahni interrupted, the weight of his stare growing heavy.

Vinny pressed his tongue petulantly against his inner-lip and scoffed. "We get the point. You don't like us. Can we just cut to the chase?"

"I do not like you enough to 'cut to the chase'."

"So are we just going to stand here?" Kailan asked, without even blinking. He was used to this kind of intimidation, they used it quite often in military school.

Jahni didn't say anything, but loured at Kailan—that same primal, predatory glare they'd been pressed with for ten minutes now.

Kai only smiled in return. "So what are you and April, exactly? How'd you two meet?"

"Do not waste my time with foolish questions," Jahni snapped, and Kailan's hands rose in surrender.

"Yeah, Kai," Vinny taunted, only to receive the brunt of Jahni's glaring.

"Perhaps you should just stand there." Jahni took a step closer. For once, his expression shifted. His eyes stared, emotionless, but a ghost of a smile peeled across his face. "April seems firm on bringing the both of you into our safe-haven. If you have come back, surely you are ready to show me your potential, are you not?"

"Oh." Kailan's voice fell flat. He knew the purpose of returning to the warehouse, but he'd kept it out of sight and out of mind up until this point. His troubled expression caused Jahni to narrow his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up in satisfaction.

"Are you not ready?" Jahni asked, as if he already knew the answer.

Kailan's look soured into something irate. "What exactly do you want us to prove, grandpa?"

Jahni didn't blink at his insult; any negative feelings he held toward Kailan's words stayed hidden. "What makes a Wicked differ from a human, Kailan?" The way Jahni said his name almost felt like he was spitting out something disgusting.

Kailan practically bristled, but remained quiet.

"Let me give you a hand." Jahni looked to Vincent. "What was your name again?"

"Vincent." Vinny held a firm tone of voice, but it was laced with something weak and wary—Jahni was a terrifying man.

"Vincent," Jahni said as he took a step closer, looming in a nearly dominant fashion, "there is a lesson to be learned here. Let Kailan set an example for you. I am not one to be overlooked; do not turn a deaf ear to me."

Vinny shook his head, making little sense of his words. "What are you talking about?"

"Your friend,"—Jahni gestured with his eyes,—"you may want to help him."

Vinny paused until the words settled in, and his head snapped in Kai's direction. Confusion melted his worry down. He looked fine. What was there to help? But as objects came into his peripherals, his hair stood on end. Rocks and debris had begun lifting from the ground around his friend, the smallest pebbles and flecks of dust circling him like Saturn's ring. Then the fabric of Kailan's sweater floated up as if he'd taken a drop into a tank of water. Even his hair had become weightless, a loose tress ghosting upward, slow and graceful as it went. Time seemed to stop around him, his movements sluggish as he swung to look at Vincent with widened eyes. He took a step back, but he was treading through pure density. And then it came to him. He was not struggling through water, but standing on the moon. Gravity was lifting around him, and in the moment, he was weightless.