“One hundred and twelve,” Charles murmured, his voice making goose bumps prickle across Jac’s skin. “Oh, you’re very scared.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’d hurry. You don’t want that invitation to expire. Or she’ll pay the price for it.” His gaze flickered to Sophia. “I bet I’ve made her scream louder than you.”
Jac shoved him with his other hand and tore himself away. “You’re twisted.”
This time, when Charles smiled, it was genuine. And much like his late cousin’s, it was wolflike.
“Let’s go,” Sophia said sharply. Jac nodded and followed her. Charles smiled as the doors of the elevator closed.
And even though Jac knew he shouldn’t accept anything from such a man, he slipped the invitation into his pocket.
* * *
The pair didn’t speak for most of their journey down Tropps Street. Sweating in the August heat, Jac removed his suit jacket and draped it over his shoulder. His heart still pounded, and he craved a cigarette.
Sophia followed him down his street, though she lived several more blocks down.
“Walking me to my door?” Jac asked. Even though his words were joking, he sounded terse. He didn’t want another fight. “Looking for a kiss goodbye?”
Sophia managed a half-hearted smile. “I thought I’d invite myself inside.”
“That’s forward of you.” Jac climbed the stoop to the door and blocked it from her. He didn’t want her inside. All the meeting with Charles had proven to him was that Sophia’s secrets would always create distance between them. Jac had always known Charles to be a monster, but she could’ve prepared him. She could’ve—for once—actually treated him like a partner.
Sophia’s hand slipped around his waist, making him tense. Then he realized she was reaching for the invitation in his pocket.
Jac grabbed her by the wrist and yanked it out of her hand.
“You don’t know Charles like I do,” she growled at him, tearing herself away. “He gets into your head.”
“You’re right. I don’t know anything, but that’s on you. I’m done. I have an offer to finish this alone, and so I’m taking it.” He turned his back to her and twisted the handle.
Sophia pulled him by his shoulders, but he didn’t budge. “You can’t do this.”
“Of course I can.”
“I won’t let you.”
“And how will you do that?” He slid inside and turned around, prepared to shut the door in her face.
She slid her foot between the door and the frame, stopping him from closing it. “Whatever it takes.”
“You know what it would take.”
“I...” She bit her lip, and Jac hated the way it made him stare.
When the pause lasted a second too long, he pulled away and let her stumble inside. He wasn’t going to resort to kicking her foot out of the way. So instead, he did the mature thing: he ran up the stairs and locked his apartment door behind him.
Much like his last one, Jac’s apartment was cramped and empty of nearly all belongings. His bed stood across from a small gas stove, and a clothesline spanned from the kitchen table to the closet.
“Todd!” Sophia pounded on his door. He ignored her and fumbled around his drawers for a pack of cigarettes. “Please.” Her voice cracked. She’d never been good at begging.
Jac found his secret pack hidden inside what looked like a deck of cards. He lit one and collapsed onto his unmade bed.
“I haven’t told you these things because you’ll look at me differently,” Sophia said through the door. “And I know that isn’t fair to you. I know it’s not.”
She paused, as though waiting for Jac to let her inside. But she hadn’t actually told him any answers yet, only more meaningless, pretty words. So he didn’t move, and let her continue.
“Delia, Charles, and I are all half siblings. We all have different mothers, and so we all each have different split talents. Delia was a split-Apothecary. Charles comes from a Dorner family, just like you. But his split talent manifested differently than yours. He can give pain, rather than take it.”
Jac had met others with the same surname before. It was uncommon, but not unheard of. He didn’t know his parents, but he preferred to assume he and Charles weren’t actually related.
