Tragic Magic [boyxboy]

Chapter Eight

Tristan glared at Gregory for one tense moment before turning around and calmly leaving the room.

                I knew I’d have more chance of getting answers – not to mention I’d probably be safer – if I stayed in the kitchen, but before I could stop myself I’d jumped back to my shaky feet and rushed after him.

                I didn’t miss the knowing smirk Gregory and Edwin exchanged.

                ‘Hey,’ I called after him, catching him going upstairs, probably to sulk in his room as usual. He paused on the stairs and looked down at me impassively, waiting. I shifted from foot to foot awkwardly before he sighed, jerked his head upwards, and resumed climbing the stairs. I hurried after him, catching up only once he reached him room, holding the door open for me.

                ‘So what’s up?’ he sighed, like this was something that happened frequently and he couldn’t possibly imagine what was on my mind this time.

                I spluttered indignantly. ‘“What’s up?”’ I demanded. ‘ “What’s up?” What do you think is up?! What the hell just happened to me? Did you do this?!’

                One look at him confirmed that he had not, in fact, been responsible.

                ‘It’s like Edwin said,’ Tristan said, his voice carefully controlled. ‘Your powers are trying to manifest.’

                ‘So, what does that mean? Do we not have to do the ritual anymore?’

                ‘We’re not doing it anyway.’

                I couldn’t help it; I leaned forward and punched him on the arm, hard. Of course, I knew he had some sort of super-strength going on so it didn’t hurt him, but he still looked surprised.

                ‘What was that for?’ he asked, touching his arm lightly.

                ‘I don’t know what gives you the right to think you need to protect me,’ I said hotly, ‘but I’m not actually your responsibility. I don’t know why you’re treating me like some sort of child – worse, a baby, Annabelle is a child and you treat her like an equal, but some reason I’m somehow beneath you, which really isn’t fair, by the way, just because you’re so fucking “special” – but I am sick of it. More than sick of it, I was sick of it last week. This week, obviously, as I demonstrated downstairs, it’s making me want to literally kill you.’

                It was really starting to irk me the way these little aggravated speeches were inciting barely hidden smirks from Tristan. Like I really was some sort of toddler that had to be indulged.

                ‘Stop it!’ I shouted. ‘Stop looking at me like that!’

                The smirk disappeared, but there was still amusement in his eyes. I dropped it. You need to know to pick your battles.

                ‘You’re very articulate when you’re angry, Cody,’ he said carefully, stepping towards me and catching my face in his hands. My heart started beating even faster than it already was and my breath caught. ‘But you’re going to have to learn to control it,’ he whispered, moving my head slightly so I could see my reflection in the mirror across the room. My eyes were darkening; not yet black but a muddy grey, and my skin had a recognisable pallor. ‘Deep breaths,’ Tristan murmured, but calming down was going to be more difficult rather than less with him at such close proximity. I focussed on doing as he’d said, closing my eyes and breathing, trying not to think about the feeling of his hands on my face. Slowly, I felt my heart rate return to normal.