When We Collide [ON HOLD]

4.4

Jasper

As she left, I looked at the others.

Shit, that was awkward, Zahra was thinking. Lucien had zoned out, thinking about dessert. Jacintha was jealous. I blinked, delving further into her thoughts. She was jealous of ... mine and Tazanna's friendship. She thought she was being replaced.

Oh, Jacy, I thought. There's a difference between sibling love and friendship love.

I looked at Xael. His eyes were fixed on Tristan's and Tristan's on his. They were telepathically talking — I could only catch snippets.

— training? Tristan asked.

I — only one day — not in time — Xael replied. I strained my mind to understand.

Fallen — how long? Tristan asked. His thoughts were agitated.

Overheard Norman — they know — they're coming — we're doing nothing about it! Xael thought frustratedly.

How long? Tristan insisted.

Only — months! Xael replied. Damn it! It cut out, I couldn't hear how many months. I strained, leaning closer.

Three months?! — enough! — hasn't learnt — control powers — can't in time? Tristan babbled.

Then we're fucked, Xael said simply.

I pulled out of their conversation, putting the snippets together.

Three months? Three months until the Fallen — did what? Attacked? Took Taz? No, they couldn't take her. It couldn't happen. No, she needed to learn how to control her powers. I didn't know exactly what they were; all the books I'd read said the powers varied for each Disguiser — but one thing in common was that they were very powerful. If Taz was trained, she could beat them, but she only had three months.

And so far, one training lesson. Oh, no.

I turned my attention towards Norman and Haliade's silent conversation, but they had long learnt how to keep me out. Apart for Taz, they were the only two who could do it. It made me feel restless, not knowing what they were thinking.

I decided to go to Taz's room, skipping dessert. As I walked up the marble staircase and into the hallway with her bedroom, I realised I agreed with her. It's our home, and we don't know anything about it.

Knock, knock, knock.

I waited patiently for her to answer the door. After a minute, I knocked again, louder. Maybe she was on the balcony.

No answer. I sighed exasperatedly.

"Taz!" I called through the door. She must have been taking a shower. I hoped she wasn't exploring; it was the type of thing she would do. When she didn't reply, I slowly eased the door open, walking in.

"Taz?" I said softly. Something didn't seem right.

Walking into her room, I saw her bedside lamp on the floor, broken. The balcony door's curtains were torn off and in a pile on the floor, while the actual balcony doors were wide open. The door to her walk-in closet had been ripped off its hinges and the whole place had been messed, like there had been a struggle. On the ground, peeking out beneath some shoes (which looked like they'd been thrown as a weapon), I saw her phone, the screen on. I stooped and picked it up — she had been trying to write a text, and she'd clicked on a random contact but not actually sent the text, as if the message was meant for whoever picked up the phone.