“Here,” Donovan grunts, handing Nolan a rich, lacquered, cherry wood box. Flipping the latch, Nolan swings back the lid, and is stunned silent looking at the item inside. When his wide-eyed gaze reaches Donovan’s steely one, Donovan adds, “I expect you to learn how to use it.”
“This…was your sister’s,” Nolan whispers, finally lifting what appears to be a semi-ornate dagger from the box. “I can’t…”
“You can and you will,” he declares stubbornly, then with a quirk of his lips, murmurs, “She always said kill them with kindness. Meet Kindness.”
Nolan chuckles and lifts the box so I can see the underside of the lid. Crudely carved into the surface is the word “Kindness.”
“It’s an Alvarez dagger. Passed down through my mother’s side, so it shouldn’t draw… special attention,” Donovan continues, crossing his arms over his chest. “Starting this weekend and every following weekend, you’re going to train with that until I’m satisfied you know how to use it.”
“I was that bad, huh?” he laments, putting the dagger back in the box.
“Considering you dropped it before you could use it? Yeah, it was bad,” Donovan grumbles, with the usual gravel in his voice even more pronounced by his low tone.
My heart squeezes, because my mind can only account for one recent time when Nolan needed a dagger. They’re talking about the night of the attack. The night of a battle with undead vampires that were swiftly sent back to hell that they’ve only given me vague details of. Any time I’ve tried to prod further, they’ve clammed up stating there wasn’t much to tell. I’ve let it lie for the most part, since I haven’t been too keen to talk about that night either.
More secrets.
“I claim front row seats to the ‘Nolan impersonates a pin cushion’ show,” Felix teases, steering around the tension in the room. “Might want to practice those healing spells, pretty girl. Nolan may need you to reattach some toes.”
“He’s not going to drop it again,” Donovan assures us, making his way over to the other empty armchair.
“Thanks for your faith in me, D,” Nolan comments, taking his gifts and stacking them onto the small dining table in the kitchenette.
Once Nolan comes back, Donovan adds, “I’ll duct tape it to his hand first.”
“Thanks for your faith in me, D,” he repeats, this time sourly, as he climbs over the back of the couch and situates himself on the other side of me.
While there’s fiddling with remotes and Connor is handed the controller for the PlayStation—apparently he has the steadiest hands for survival horrors—I maneuver myself until I’m sitting more evenly between Connor and Nolan on the couch. The situation reminds me of the first time I came over to Nolan’s house, and I realize how much has changed since that day several weeks ago.
I’ve seen so much. Know so much more. Not just about the supernatural world, but the guys themselves. They’ve brought me into this web that binds them into a family, and I can’t articulate how grateful I am to be a part of it. Safety and joy. Laughter and love. When they’re together, all of it is as natural as breathing for them. No matter how scary the world outside may be at times.
However, as I watch Felix settle onto his belly in the middle of the floor, I remember the look on his face when he saw me with Nolan. I don’t fully understand what was behind it, but with the rumors swirling in the air that I’m dating all the guys, it didn’t occur to me how delicate some pieces of that web might be. Despite my desire to be otherwise, I may be a knife in their midst. Cutting them apart without meaning to.
“Creepy cabin in the middle of a snow storm. What could possibly go wrong?” Felix snickers, the glow of the TV intermingling with the subtle golden sheen of his incorporeal skin.
“The snow storm isn’t the problem,” Donovan comments, leaning back into the huge armchair with his hands folded behind his head. “Dude with a machete would suck no matter where you are. Especially if it’s properly sharpened.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Felix mutters from the floor.
We’re just friends. The mantra plays in my head like a safety blanket, ignoring the more than friends feeling that blooms inside me when I think of any one of them, and the painful ache when I recall Nolan assuring Felix the same thing. Sitting straight, I wrap my arms tightly around me, fighting the part of me that wants to snuggle into Nolan’s side and rest my feet in Connor’s lap. I won’t destroy this precious world that they’ve invited me into.
Nolan rests his arm along the back of the couch, and unconsciously starts playing with my hair while he argues with the others regarding the best course of action to take. Apparently, the game changes depending on the player’s choices.
I let my eyes slip close and relish the gentle tugging of Nolan’s fingers slipping through my hair. Connor leans back into the couch, his arm and thigh pressing against me, and I welcome the heat of his body into this sweet memory of the guys around me.
I also won’t let this world go. They invited me in, and I’m staying. I just need to make sure that I’m a glue to make them stronger, not something that tears them apart. A lofty goal when it seems destroying things is my specialty.
My hand reaches up for my necklace, clutching at it through my shirt. The binding spell is gone. My magic is mine to use, but how? For what purpose? The first thing I wanted to do with my magic was to help Connor be free from the Alpha. It may have been in the worst way imaginable, but technically, I accomplished that.
Groaning internally, I inhale and exhale slowly, the scent of Nolan’s spicy cologne sharp in the air. His curse. I must be able to do something about that, right? Spirit witches are supposed to be crazy powerful. Relative goddesses on Earth meant to do Mother Nature’s will and keep balance or something. Well, if Nolan could consume bagged blood, that would definitely bring some balance into our lives.
“‘You look good in that shirt, but you’d look better out of it?’ Really?” Nolan mocks, still hung up on a note they found earlier in the story while his fingers make corkscrews in my hair. “Something that cheesy can only be sold in person. Written down it just looks lame. Make sure we let him die as punishment for horrible pickup lines.”
I open my eyes in an attempt to distract myself with the game, while my cheeks burn at the memory of Nolan and I pressed close together. My body warms, recalling the sensations of his mouth on my skin and his flesh under my fingertips. I can still feel his hand under my shirt, running up my spine, and I’m aware once more that I’m not wearing a bra.
Before it all happened, I was too occupied with how uncomfortable the garment was to consider anything else. Now, as I witness the girl in the video game nervously unbuttoning her blouse in front of her crush, unaware it’s all a prank, I wonder if the others noticed and if they care. Maybe these more than friend feelings are all in my head, and I’m worried about nothing.
As the game plays on, the girl is heartbroken when she learns the truth and runs out into the dark, snow packed woods. My mind swirls to Felix once more, his devastated expression, and I know it isn’t all in my head. Which brings me back where I started. Wanting everything that the guys will give, but afraid I’ll break something precious in the process.
