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I squeezed his arm. After years of insomnia, depression, and alcoholism, I knew what he meant. One good thing about prison was that it had ended the alcoholism at least.
“Oh, so your brain is like a senator too. You never know when it has a point or when it’s bullshitting with unclear motivations?”
Elliot squeezed my hip. “More likely that it reflects a reality that was not always kind.”
“Who hurt you? I’ll burn them.”
Elliot startled against me and took half a step back. Shit, I should have realized this kind man wouldn’t like my darker side. Okay, violent side. But the warm fuzzies from the spell had drawn me into a false sense of security. A false belief that my usual desire to destroy shit would be welcomed.
Of course, they weren’t.
“Thank you,” Elliot said.
I raised a skeptical brow.
“I mean it. Nobody ever fought for me before Jag and you. I’m not good at fighting for myself.”
“Wait… you’re okay that I offered to burn people for you? You know I’m serious, right? It’s not a figure of speech; I can and would do that.”
He smiled a little. “I know you mean it, and I appreciate it, but I’d rather not hurt my family.”
“Ah, of course. The pile of shit you sprang from.”
He rose a brow.
I shrugged. “Everyone springs from crap. Apparently good, loving parents exist, but I’ve yet to meet someone who had any. Maybe I just know a lot of fucked-up people,” I added, staring at the books across from us.
“My parents weren’t terrible,” Elliot said. “But I was always a disappointment.” He cleared his throat. “I was born with my… umm… special clarinet.”
I turned to him in surprise. I had heard of supes being born with rare attributes. His dad was a witch, and the unlikely abilities usually hit witches. But I had never heard of someone being born with an object merged with a body part.
“They called it a birth defect. And my parents and the doctors… well, they tried to change mine. Reshape it.”
Anger hit me like a crossbow bolt to the chest. I had suffered one to the leg years ago when robbing a French coven who hid out in some old castle, so I knew how much they hurt.
“Who was the doctor? I’ll burn them.”
“Please, stop offering to burn people. Though the adults wanted to get rid of my clarinet, all anyone could do was hide it. It was… stubborn.”
“I’m glad they couldn’t destroy it,” I said.
Elliot ducked his head and looked away.
I hoped I could convince him that there was no shame in playing his own cock, but with all healing, it would take time. Acceptance. Love.
“I’m guessing they didn’t tell you about your gift?”
“Gift?” He scoffed. “You’re right, they didn’t tell me. It’s probably why they closeted me far away from the supe world, so I wouldn’t realize I possessed a measure of magic, as strange as it was. It was definitely why they banned me from music lessons. I wanted to play so badly.” He squeezed my hand tighter. “More than anything in the world.”
I stroked the back of his finger with my finger. “It was already part of you.”
Elliot’s mouth twisted. “Unfortunately.”
“I liked your performance.”
His lips quirked almost into a smile but not quite. “Everyone says my music sounds good until they see where it comes from. Only you, Jag, and Moe still think it’s beautiful.”
I gripped his hand where it rested on my hip. “Because it is. The three of you together sound like moonlight on water, like joy and heartbreak. How did you learn to play?”
