Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Sixty Four: Hard Truths

Jordan sat across from Grace and Nova in the front room, trying not to look nervous. He might have hidden it from his sister, but he could tell from the Angel's gaze that he couldn't hide it from her. His rune manual lay forgotten in his lap.

"So...Harkenn is losing the plot," he summarised, "Caelum and maybe the Devils are behind it, and also there's plague."

This last news had come first thing that morning from Nika, already weighing him down with concern. Nova and Grace had brought even grimmer tidings from the castle. It must have been dire if Harkenn allowed Nova to live elsewhere until the matter was resolved. But that wasn't why he was nervous; Yddris had been evasive in the few moments he'd been inside, before he hurried off muttering something about talking to Kerrin of House Kiel, and Grace kept staring at him as if trying to see into his soul.

"Harkenn seems to think that you're a good candidate for finding out how the Devils are involved," Grace said, pretending to be offhand, but he knew her far too well for that. Instead of the panic that threatened the edges of his mind, he forced himself to step back from it, the way Cara had taught him to do with his magic when he was angry. From that temporary sanctuary, he noted that Nova was watching him intently, urging him to speak. It was no mystery where his sister had heard it from.

"Does he?" he asked. If he hadn't been fixated on a meditative state to stay calm, he might have felt bad about how detached he sounded. It was the only way that he was going to get through the conversation without spouting fearful drivel that dug him deeper. He silently thanked Nika for working on it with him in the last few days – the man was a master of the technique – and then wondered if Nika knew this as well.

"Who's Arlen?" Grace pounced with next. He hadn't been expecting that, and his focus shattered. He knew he betrayed himself in that moment. "So you know an Arlen. Harkenn thinks a man called Arlen has been the one sending people to try and meet with me. One of his cronies cornered a thirteen year old acolyte in a bathhouse laundry closet."

Nausea bubbled in his gut. Any one of the Devils he knew could have done that without thinking twice about it. While he knew they were capable of such things, it was sometimes easy to forget the real implications of it when faced with Jes or Akiva's easy manner and friendly banter. "I've heard of an Arlen. Perhaps."

Grace scowled. "You're lying to me, Joe. You've been lying to me for months. I'm not stupid, and I need you to stop treating me like I am."

"I'm not treating you like you're stupid," Jordan snapped back. "I'm treating you like my sister who I care about more than anything else. If anything, you're treating me like you think I'm going out of my way to hurt you. When have I ever done that? If anything, I should be upset that you don't trust me."

"Trust? This isn't about trust!" Grace exploded. "I'm as stuck in this place as you are! We're the only people in this entire world who understand where we came from. And then I find out you're keeping me in the dark about things, and that's why you don't visit as often and can't meet my eye and never ever want to talk about what you've been doing, not even when it affects me! Do you not think I've got a right to know?"

"Maybe I don't talk about what I've been doing because you find my magic uncomfortable!" Jordan snapped. "That's what I do, Grace. I train to use magic. I go out and watch demon kills so I can learn how to do it. I sit for hours doing control exercises so that one day I don't panic and incinerate myself or someone else. I can't meet your eye because mine fucking glow and I can tell you don't like it." He cut himself off, panting. It felt good to get it out, but it did not feel good to see her eyes welling up. He tempered his voice, blaming his frayed nerves and lack of sleep. He knew coming back to the Reach would start this cycle over again – he had just hoped it wouldn't happen so quickly. "Look, Grace, I'm sorry. But I just... There are some things I can't do anything about right now. And you can't help with them, either. I don't want you to worry about me." Or hate me. Or find me repulsive and morally bankrupt.