“And despairing. Why do you feel despair and refuse to go somewhere safe?”
“You misunderstand the cause of the emotion. Why do you feel like you are the only one who fears losing someone?”
I didn't answer.
“You know, back in the fall, I thought for a moment, that you would succeed in resurrecting your brother.” He rolled magic slowly under his hand. “It was strange, having hope, something outside of revenge. You didn't succeed, but the hope had already clasped onto me, dug its claws in. Infected my veins.”
“I didn't fail,” I whispered.
He looked sharply at me.
“I had to...” I swallowed. “Raphael made it so that...” I shook my head. “I let him go. My brother. I let him go.”
“Why?” the question was succinct in both word and tone.
“Will. Christian would have...replaced him.”
Constantine watched me for a moment in a detached way. “You are terrible at sacrificing pawns,” he murmured.
“He's not a—”
“And even worse at letting go of closer pieces.”
“I'm not losing anyone else.”
“Even with powers like yours, that, I'm afraid, is out of your control.”
I turned the brush and focused on the device. “You'd better watch for a rotorsaur. I feel one coming.”
It was the name for the insanity that had burst from an earlier brush cleaning. A creature with a snake head and tail, but also with another head—a lion's head—a single human-like arm, three lizard feet and a lizard body.
Constantine grimaced—for once the quick tail of emotion matched his expression. “Even I don't know if the menagerier can handle another one of those. And I'm not sure he is someone who should be uncertain about creatures he usually loves. And you aren't avoiding speaking about your anxieties.”
“I’m painting too much.”
“You could move mountains right now.” The darkness peered up again.
“Or kill people.”
Constantine looked at the Origin Book. “Tell me about the places it wants you to go.”
“No. You aren't as tricky as you think you are.” I watched the container with resignation. “And this creature is going to be deadly.”
“I'm exceedingly tricky. You have an unfair advantage. And don't give me this little drama over a creature that half the beings in the Fourth Layer will probably clamor to claim as a pet.”
Constantine was shifting with the conversation, as I knew he would, but everything unsaid coiled through him, unforgotten. He would wait and strike at an even more vulnerable point.
“You do have a weird thing for snakes,” he said, reading my mind as easily as he always did, and turning suddenly agreeable, an agile viper looking for a better angle. “I blame our first meeting and your obsession with me. Understandable. Aim for something pettable, though, and you will find your adoption rate increases.”
“Furry, got it.” A smile broke through my turmoil, deep fondness underscoring relief as I felt him loosen his grip on his immediate anger. I twisted the last brush with a little tendril of magic and fur burst from the seams in the container.
Constantine sighed. “That's a Level 10 container. Nothing should breach it.”
And here we were, skirting the edge of the topic again.
I fished out the small bundle of fur and paws and scooted it toward him. The animal’s hackles were raised, and a low growl emanated between hisses. It could possibly be classified as a cat, if cats came in violet, cream, and electric blue, and had three forked tails and a hundred teeth too big for their mouths.
He stared at it, then at me. “Well, I don't want it.”
“It's yours now.”
The catlike thing sank its teeth into him and he swore. He tried to shake it from his hand, but the cat’s gaze was zeroed in on his and it never looked away even as it curled around his hand, kicking the underside at the same time it tried to tear the flesh from his fingers. Con swore again and magic blasted outward, outlining the cat’s skeleton in pure electric blue. Teeth still embedded, the cat gave a noise somewhere between a chuff and a growl.
“It is definitely yours,” I said and started to pack up.
The cat let go abruptly and magic sparked. Then, as if it had been its goal all along, it licked a stripe up the wounds it had inflicted and pushed its terrifying head against Con’s fingers.
The sharp, sly look in the feline’s eyes confirmed ownership as much as the scars disappearing beneath its tongue.
“Vile beast,” he said, frowning at the cat at the same time he started petting it. His shoulders relaxed a small measure as the animal’s head butted against his palm, slicing his skin only slightly with the graze of its razor teeth while trying to eat the highly magical signet stone on his finger.
Small waves of interest and humor emanated from Constantine as he rotated his hand to flummox the beast. Creating more furry things went on my mental agenda.
“Now, how are you feeling?” he asked, still petting the razorcat.
“Disquieted.” I swallowed. Powerful.
“I'm not going back to campus.”
“I know.” And I am glad—a guilty, horrible thought. “Something terrible is going to happen to you.”
“Something terrible already has,” he said, feelings coiled and harder to decipher.
The cat curled into the curve of his elbow, leaving slices in his sleeve.
Chapter Eight: Reminders of Others
Olivia immediately picked up my holocall—her perfect image sitting primly on the edge of my table with her arms crossed.
“Never hang up on me again,” she said.
“Right. Sorry, Liv.” I dragged a hand through my hair. It felt like days had passed. Maybe years upon which to put white in my hair. “I painted. Then there was another Awakening.”
She looked me over. Some of her embattled expression softened. “Yes. You relinquished control and let Dare's group take it, even if it was a bit rocky. I'm proud. Greyskull said the three made it back and checked out of Medical with permission. How are you?”
“I'm fine. Really.” Lies. “They are going to be caught, though. Constantine is going to get caught. You have to convince him to return.”
“We are all going to get caught,” Olivia said, bluntly. “And if you think anyone holds sway over Leandred but you, they need to check you for fever. What we do before we are caught is what counts.”
I shut my eyes hard. “Not helping.”
“You called the wrong person,” she said mercilessly. “If you want pleasantries and enabling, you should have called Nephthys or William.”
“I, yeah. Axer tagged the hunters. Any hits?”
“Of course, nearly twenty. The boys are tracking them now and logging everything. They’re looking for patterns and oddities.”
“That's good.” I ran my fingers along my brow. A step closer. “Axer does it far more efficiently than I do.”
“Of course, he does. He was born and raised for this,” Olivia said, crisply.