Dust

X

I arrive in the basement to find, surprisingly, both Gael and Damien intact. Damien is sitting on the workshop table, spinning a dagger in his fingers. He watches with a gleam of amusement in his eyes as Finn stabs Gael with his fake sword; Gael crumples to his knees, making gurgling noises with his mouth in an attempt to make it obvious that he is dying. I lean against the door frame, since none of the boys have noticed me yet.

My father had converted the basement into a training arena of sorts when I first began working with weapons. It was a small space to work with, but we got by; Father had set up a workshop desk to fix up weapons and the wounds sometimes caused by them (I was not perfect overnight), and the floor is padded. Two dummies are pushed towards the back of the room, knives not removed from their chests, and the far right wall is strung with weapons, from throwing stars to rifles. The walls are a dark gray, the color of the fallen ash in the unused fireplace.

Gael is still lying on the floor, profusely dying. "Finn...tell my mother I love her...agh...I see the light..." He lifts a hand, as if reaching for heaven, and then his head falls to the side, and that is when he sees me. "Gemma?" he perks up, obviously not dead, and both Finn and Damien moan.

"Gemmy, he was supposed to be dead!" groans Finn. "You ruined it!"

Damien adds, "I was enjoying watching the human die as well."

"Oh, whatever," I say. "I'm back, so, how about a hello?"

Gael sits up, Finn still on his lap, ruffling my brother's hair. He says, "Hello. How was Sloane?" There is something dark and cautious in his eyes, and I know what he truly wants to know: whether or not she believed me.

Damien quits spinning his dagger, and it just rests in his grip. "Is she going to talk to Elliott?" I had told Damien about Elliott after some hesitation, but my loyalty won out in the end. It feels wrong to hide anything from him. "I mean, I know she loathes him, but—"

"Sloane does not loathe her brother," I say. "He is not always kind to her, but that does not mean that she hates him."

Damien shrugs. "I hate him."

"That has nothing to do with this."

"I think it does. I don't trust the son of a"—Dame pauses, looks in the innocent eyes of my four-year-old brother, and reconsiders—"er, man. Very mean man."

Finn is giving him a skeptical look, but his attention is pried away from Damien as Gael sets him down and rises to his feet, approaching me. "So she is going to talk to him, then?"

"She's going to attempt to, I believe," I reply. "If I know Elliott at all, however, he'll lie through his teeth if confronted."

There is a twang as Dame sticks his dagger into the workshop table, causing the blade to quiver. He hops off his perch gracefully, red eyes burning with a sudden enthusiasm. "What if we talk to him?" Damien comes to stand beside Gael, and gives him a nudge that causes him to flinch. "I'm known to be quite scary at times, isn't that right, my human friend? He won't lie to me if he knows what is good for him—"

"Dame, that's enough," I chide. "Perhaps it is a Capello family business we're not intended to be a part of. Leave it to Sloane."

Damien folds his arms. "You are not my mother."

"No, I'm not; I am a caring friend who does not want to see you get your pretty little fangs punched out by Elliott Capello, Dame."

"Are you saying he's stronger than me? Gemma!"