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Kole nods and takes back the whiskey. “Then let’s hope that doesn’t take too long.”
16
NOVA
As I start to clean the deep, angry scratches on Mack’s shoulders, his eyes open and he reaches for my hand. Relief washes over me. “There you are,” I whisper. “You’re okay, Rhone. We’ve got you.”
He squeezes my fingers. “I like it when you call me that,” he says.
“As much as you like it when I call you Daddy?” I ask playfully, trying desperately to make him smile so I know he’s really okay.
Mack’s lips twitch, but instead of smiling, he winces a little at my touch. “Never as much as that,” he replies quietly, stroking my palm with his thumb.
“Tanner asked me to clean your wounds. You’ll be okay.” I pick up the cotton swab and the bowl and return to what I was doing.
Mack screws his eyes shut and mutters, “Fuck.”
“Take these.” Luther is holding out a glass of water and three of Tanner’s small pink pills. Mack opens his mouth, and Luther presses the pills onto his tongue, then steadies his chin while he drinks from the glass. It’s a tender gesture—the kind I wouldn’t usually expect from Luther. But maybe I’ve underestimated just how much he loves his friends. Or as he calls them, his brothers.
Turning his head, Mack notices Tanner and Rev. “Is Rev alright?”
“She’s okay. Tanner’s working on her hand. It was in pretty bad shape.” I pat his shoulder. “Stay still. This will take a while.”
Mack looks back at the ceiling, clearly trying to focus on something other than the pain. Moving on from his shoulder, I turn my attention to the deep, nasty looking scratches on his chest.
“Is Snow alright?” I ask, unsure whether that’s a silly question or not.
“He’s resting,” Mack says. “But he’s very grateful to you for saving us.”
“I didn’t—”
“You reached him. You made him shift. If you hadn’t, we’d have been stuck on that roof.” Mack fixes his eyes on mine. “You saved us, Nova.”
“Saved me too,” Luther says, sitting down on the other side of Mack and starting to clean the cut on his wrist. He raises his eyebrows at me. “She lifted the truck clean into the air then dropped it on the hounds’ heads.”
I flinch at the memory. I still don’t know where the lightning or the strength came from. “I wish I knew how to summon it,” I say quietly. “On the roof, all I could do was create fire. I couldn’t even make them explode.”
“Couldn’t Johnny them, you mean?” Luther says, concentrating on Mack’s hand.
When he first coined the term, it made me feel a little icky. Like Johnnying someone shouldn’t be something I was proud of. Now, it seems quite appropriate; reserved for the absolute worst kind of punishment.
“No. I tried on the roof, then when I saw them coming for you, but all I could manage was lightning.” I turn to Mack because he’s supposed to understand these things better than I do. “Why couldn’t I do it? I tried to…” I paused, then give in and use Luther’s nickname, “Johnny them but all that happened was lightning rods shooting from my fingertips.”
Mack’s fingers twitch as I slot my hand into his. “We’ve always known you have great strength, Nova. We just need to help you find a way to control it.” He strokes my knuckles and adds, “You will find it. I promise. We’ll help you.” His lips twitch into a smile. “We just need to be some place safe for more than five minutes so we can have a few of those lessons I was supposed to give you.”
“I know what your lessons likely entail,” Luther quips sarcastically. “She needs magick tuition not ‘how to be a good girl for your professor’ tuition.”
Surprisingly, a rumble of laughter shakes Mack’s chest. “Fuck you, Luther,” he chuckles.
“Fuck you too, Baloo.” Their eyes meet and something passes between them. It looks like love—the love of two guys who have been brothers for so long they’ve forgotten how to live without one another. Luther squeezes Mack’s good shoulder. Mack pats his hand. “Glad you’re okay, man,” Luther says quietly.
Mack nods. “Me too.” He glances down at the blanket slung across his middle. “And glad someone thought to cover me up so I wasn’t lying here like a cadaver in the middle of the living room.”
“That was me,” I tell him, taking hold of the corner of the blanket. “But now it’s time to flip you over.”
Luther helps me, easing Mack into a sitting position. He pats the table, encouraging Mack to lie down again—on his front this time—but Mack shakes his head. “I’m good like this,” he says, shuffling the blanket across his lap again. “What little blood I have left is going to my head lying down.”
By the time Luther and I finish cleaning Mack’s back, the pills he took seem to be taking effect. The redness has subsided, and he’s able to move more easily.
