Jack lifted his head, his features carefully blank. He nodded.
Ezra blurred in a step forward and finished the spell in a distraught blink.
Jack reacted, jerking with a deep inhale before hurdling from the bed. He bellowed in ferocity as he stalked to the living room area grasping at his chest. He lifted the coffee table and pitched it against the wall; the glass shattered as he bent at the waist, yelling, “Nikki!” Another furious shout and he roughly seized the golden chair and propelled it into the bookshelf, half the books tumbling to the ground. His chest heaved, and he stared at his now plain palm, his mate mark gone, and roared, using that same hand to shove a different row of books off. Then another row. And another.
With his hands gripping the empty shelves, he kept his back to us as his body sagged and his shoulders started quaking. Crying silently. His massive frame drooped against one of the bookshelves, his forehead resting against the wood, as his pain began unleashing in a torrid of soundless sobs, overtaking his fury.
Ezra briskly wiped a hand over his face, and appeared to fortify himself with a gradual, deep breath. Cracking his neck once, he tossed the lipstick aside and moved behind Jack. Ever so gently, he rested one of his hands on Jack’s shoulder.
As I rocked Pearl, only my soft humming was heard on this forsaken day.
Abruptly, Jack turned to Ezra, wrapping his arms around him, and wept — still soundlessly — against his best friend’s shoulder, no words said.
Ezra held him, much like I was holding Pearl, and soothingly rubbed his back.
I doubted Jack felt it. Just as I was betting Pearl couldn’t discern my touch. Their own loss pulling them into a dark abyss I had hoped they would never find.
Ezra and I were still there for them. We always would be.
Though this night was not one I would ever wish to remember.
Dragging minutes passed. Another round of fury unleashed from both of them. This time Pearl also unleashed her anger by blowing up the couches, as Jack froze the bookshelves to crack them with his iced fists. Their tears were ever-flowing.
When they both crashed, falling to the floor, Ezra and I picked them up, lay them in the center of the bed, and crawled in around them, holding them as they wept themselves into a fitful sleep of mental exhaustion.
Ezra eventually left the bed to flip the switch, turning off the glittering golden lights, and only the stars and moon of the spelled ceiling lit his way back through the debris.
My eyes met his troubled gaze as he crawled back in beside Jack.
Without a sound he lifted one of his hands and rested it on Pearl’s side, his fingertips grazing mine in a comforting gesture, before he intertwined our fingers. Our eyes held the truth now. We had both been drawn back into our own haunted memories of when we had lost our mates; the actions of tonight had brought them to the fore. But together, in due course, we fell asleep alongside our heartsick besties.
English accented cursing woke me.
Rolling away from Jack and blinking, I opened sleep-blurry eyes to see Pearl glowing golden in the living room area, one of the couches she had demolished last evening wavering and materializing back into shape…except it didn’t look quite right. It was too long and the color was navy. I watched as she jerked an agitated hand — she was still in her clothes from the previous evening, her golden hair askew around her face — and the couch darkened to black. It was still too long.
She cursed again.
Gently leaving the bed, being careful not to wake Jack or Ezra, I padded toward her on silent feet, but gave her plenty of space, since she wore the furious expression of the tormented. “Pearl,” I whispered, the sun beginning to rise above us and giving enough light from the yellow, orange, and blue ceiling for her to see me clearly, “May I help you?”
Her jaw clenched, and she flicked her hand. The couch turned purple. “I’m trying to clean up the mess.” Another twitch of her hand, and the couch went black and only three cushions long, appearing as it did normally. She nodded once, crossing her arms.
“I can see that,” I murmured softly, prudently, because she was still glowing. “Is there anything I may do to help?”
Perhaps make sure you don’t harm yourself from Mage energy? I wasn’t sure that was possible, but right now her expression didn’t bode well. She appeared a bit crazed.
Her lips pursed and her gold eyes darted, never staying too long on one area of the hazard zone that had become our living room. “You could dust.” Her words held finality. She raised her hands and a bottle of Windex and a washcloth appeared in her grip. She held them out. “Take the couch first while I continue with the other furniture.”
Who the hell cleans leather with Windex? Not to mention, it wasn’t dirty. But…yeah. I would clean alongside her and watch to make sure she didn’t take one of the shards of glass from the shattered coffee table and do something unforgivable.