Kael was still on his knees, his head hanging, his hands in his lap. And by the way his face was bowed, it looked like he was praying. Something about that made me pause, made me freeze, if just for a moment. And then Nevaeh was there, cradling her brother, petting his hair back and murmuring that she was there, that he was okay, and that he shouldn't have run off without her. Just another picture of how Nevaeh had changed, how she had softened, and how close she and Kael truly were. Even if I had never seen her show it before.

Kael looked up over his sister's shoulder as she held him, and I wanted so badly for him to look like he always did, or at the very least have his perfectly in-place mask on, but he didn't, not this time. He stared out into the woods unseeing, his black eyes glistening, tears leaving clean, wet lines down his dusty face from the destruction of our cabin and the ambush. I had never seen the black eyes of a Shift cry before, and it struck something in me, broke something in my view of Kael, of who he truly was, how deep these wounds went.

I could see Nevaeh's back trembling as Kael's sobbed breaths shook through her too. And as much as I wanted to help, I didn't know what to do. I wanted to go to him, but I couldn't get my feet to move. I couldn't look away either, couldn't tear my eyes from the vision of Kael sobbing on the forest floor, even through the strength of his Shift, the damper of Heaven or Hell still not enough to comfort him. That was the price of love lost, what it could do to even the most powerful of beings in the world. That's how our emotions, our hearts, could ruin us all, break us. I tried to shake the thought.

Seeing him like that, my friend, the jester with the booming laugh, the jubilant puppy, pouring out his broken heart, looking like Nevaeh's hold on him was the only thing keeping him from crumbling apart - it opened something in me, unlocked something far back in my mind, further than my physical form went. I felt an ache start, a stretching, a pulling, and I welcomed it, opened it wide. I pulled the anguish and sorrow and suffocation in with it, pulled it from Kael and into myself. I had done it before, done it for James. I had thought it was because we were Pairs, but now I knew it wasn't some Blood Twin connection, it was something in me, some Gift or curse I held. But regardless of if it was a Gift or something less desirable, I called on it and pulled his pain into myself, holding it in my chest, letting it fill me.

I felt my breath come harder, uneven, and shaking, my eyes burning, but I kept pulling it into me. And I knew I would do it a thousand times over if it saved Kael from feeling a torture he didn't deserve, the shattering Ambriel had caused him by being too weak to fight her nature, to choose him over James' father. The only thing I felt beyond the heavy sadness filling me was my hatred for her, for what she had done to him, to someone so kind, so deep and so selfless. I hated her for everything she had done...and for the things I knew she would still do that would hurt him further. And so I pulled at his grief harder, locking it deep within me as I clutched at my chest. I deserved to feel it, to suffer and know loss, but not him, not someone so good, so light.

His eyes found mine then, melting away from black to his warm puppy brown. Our eyes met and I saw him steeling himself, putting on his mask, that impenetrable mask that had always convinced me and everyone else that he was the happy, shallow, joking member of the Clan, that he was carefree and simple and easy. I saw him pull it up like walls behind his eyes, but the pain in my chest stayed.

Even as he stood, as he pulled his sister to her feet with him, as his breaths came out even and smooth, the pain I had pulled from him stayed, proving that it wasn't new and it wasn't temporary, but something he always carried, something he always hid. It lessened by a few degrees as he straightened and dried his face, becoming more manageable, but it didn't leave. Instead, it lingered behind my rib cage like an old wound, reminding me that it had been real.

Ailech came up next to me then, and I felt my breath come easier too. But then I remembered what he had done to Malachi, how he had made him crumple, screaming in pain or fear or something else without laying a finger on him. How my own strength had been sapped, leached away from me when I tried to wake him from his nightmare earlier that afternoon. How his face had looked in James' vision, how his eyes had changed, darkened, not with a Shift...but something not entirely Human either. The words about the third from the prophecy echoed in my mind as I turned to face my healer, yet another person I had thought was all light and life, but seemed to be harboring something darker, hiding it within himself.

His jaw was set and he turned away from where Kael and Nevaeh now stood, looking back the way we had come. Back to where I assumed James was standing over the broken body of his childhood sparring partner. That's when I saw that not just Ailech's jaw was tensed, but his neck, shoulders, arms, even his hands were balled into fists at his sides.

"What happened?" I asked simply, not knowing how else to ask him what was going on, and how he had done what he had to Malachi.

"Your boyfriend won't kill him. That demon shot me in the damn heart and he won't kill him," he ground the words out, his hands shaking now.

"Ailech," I grabbed his shoulders and turned him toward me. "What is happening - what is this? How did you stop him? What did you do?" I could feel my questions bubbling up, waiting to spill from me in too-quick succession, so I snapped my mouth shut and bit them back as I looked Ailech in his eyes. Eyes that still seemed too dark, too clouded, less green.

Ailech pulled out of my grasp, taking a step back and squeezing his eyes shut. His hands gripped his head as he leaned forward and let out an exasperated breath bordering growl. Then he straightened, his face more relaxed, eyes still closed, as he took two more stabilizing breaths in through his nose, out through his mouth. When he opening his eyes, he finally looked like the man I knew again.

"James won't kill that thing, I believe your masochist of a Pair has found a new way to torture himself. The rest I'll explain later, not now and certainly not here."

That was enough for me, for now. And as I remembered the black hate I had felt when I thought Malachi had killed Ailech, I turned on my heel to find him, and see if James' reason for letting him live was enough to put out my rage. I doubted it.

As we trudged through the woods, I smelled the smoke before I saw or heard them, but soon I neared enough to hear Malachi's rumbling voice, ground out like stones underfoot. He spoke low, mocking and cool like he couldn't be bothered that he was captured, a prisoner. It reminded me of how James had sounded in Jevin's visions soon after he had joined him, when he was still jagged and broken, still so uncontrolled. I sent out my Sight and watched, spied really, from just beyond visibility, holding up my arm to stop Ailech as well.

James was crouched just outside a circle of blue and white flames, with Malachi knelt at the center of it. His deep voice drifted to me as he lifted his face to his old friend, his unnatural-colored hair hanging past his sharp jawline, black eyes staring out from behind the white and gray strands.

"I see you still play with your food, Gabriel. But this, your little fire circle, is this your newest ritual? You always did like patterns, routines. Am I supposed to confess my sins to you now? Because I doubt either of us have the time, I have quite the list. How about we save us all the hours and just skip to the torture and death bit - though I doubt even you can show me anything new, make me feel anything novel. You must know I'm not afraid of you, not anymore, not when your father is so much better at this. Plus, you do know how I love fire."

"I know you don't fear me. I imagine nothing scares you, not if you've been in his household this whole time. And you aren't in there for confession, trust me, I don't want to know. I just need time to decide what to do with you and I don't happen to have any electrum handy."

James sounded like he truly was deciding, debating, and the indecision sat strangely in his voice. I heard Ailech huff from my side, but he didn't make a move to get any closer.

"Ooh, I'm shaking, my dark prince. Deciding what to do to me? Good. Comfort is so terribly drab, and I'm ready to feel something exciting. Would you like some suggestions? I'm sure I have more creative ideas than you, after all, you said it yourself, I've had more time with your father than anyone. There are things in this mind you wouldn't believe."

Malachi's voice trailed off, low and teasing before James spoke again with calm sincerity, the opposite of Malachi in every way.

"No, you misunderstand. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to do anything to you. I'm taking you with us."

Malachi paused for a moment before he stuck out his arms, letting the flames barely curl and lick at his long-sleeved shirt. He held his wrists together, ready to be bound in mock submission. A smirk just barely showing his pointed teeth.

"Oh yes, of course. Not enough time here to hit the spot, I suppose. You have some cell somewhere for me? For days of your games, so you can have a healer on standby to bring me back again and again until you bore of me and finally let me drift off to that sweet oblivion. By all means then, let's go, let's get started. But just know, if you plan on trying to pull information from me, learn something of your father's grand plans, it won't work. There's nothing you can do to me that hasn't already been done, there's nothing you can do to me that will break me, make me bear my blackened, dirty little soul."

Malachi barked out a laugh, sounding far too similar to James, to the humorless laugh that came out when he was mocking someone. Then he cocked his head in the canine way James did and I felt it like a blow to my stomach. So similar, they were too similar. Malachi continued in his low, distant-rolling-thunder voice, seductive and smooth, as James seemed to be at a loss for words.

"That's the benefit of your father, isn't it? We all know he is the best at what he does, so his enemies cannot possibly outdo our master. It takes the fear right out of capture, and the fun right out of it for you, I'm sure. So, let's go, take me wherever you wish, do whatever you wish - I bet you can't even make me beg."

Malachi was standing now, closer, smiling with his arms still held out, the fabric of his shirt beginning to catch in the flames. He wore a cold smile as he stared at James evenly, not even the whisper of pain on his face as his shirt burned through and the skin of his wrists began to crackle and char like logs in a campfire.

I found myself holding my breath waiting for James' response. But instead of an answer, he hung his head, tucking his chin to his chest, his overgrown hair falling in his face as he shook it slowly. His shoulders slumped as he exhaled, but then he looked up, pulled his arm back and struck Malachi in the temple so fast and so hard he was unconscious before he hit the ground, the flames extinguishing a moment before.

I pulled back my Sight and walked forward, seeing the same scene but with my eyes instead of through my Sight's wavering smoke. James was still standing over Malachi's body, staring down at him with a deep, wide sadness on his face. And then I knew why he wouldn't kill him, why he wouldn't torture or hurt him, even if it gained us information on his father. Because in my Pair's eyes, he was looking at himself, at what he would have become if he hadn't gotten away, or if he had been caught and brought back. If he had been unable to escape his father.

He suddenly wasn't James, but Abby - running away and leaving a child to his abuser, to suffer alone. And then being confronted with that victim years later, the evidence of what he had let happen, what he had left behind, given up on, forgotten. But where Abby's guilt could be overcome because James had survived, had pulled himself out of that pit of despair and lived outside of his father's reach for years. Malachi had never been so lucky. He had taken all the undivided attention, all the twisted pleasure and black wrath of James' father, all that suffering, for decades. And James felt responsible. Not just because he had gotten out and Malachi hadn't. But because he got out and never looked back. He had only mentioned Malachi to me once or twice, just in passing, and I knew that would tear at my Pair as well, stoking the fire of his guilt.

Whether from some connection, or simply knowing my Pair to his core, I knew that James wouldn't judge Malachi for any of his crimes, he would only blame himself, or see his old training partner as a mirror to what could have been. That was why Malachi reminded me so much of the James I had seen in Jevin's vision. Because, in a way, that's exactly what Malachi was, what James had been, what he still would be.

It seemed we had gained yet another pawn of the Collector to protect within the magical walls of the Vault. Even if this one would be unwilling.

I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GET THIS CHAPTER DOWN FOR OVER TWO WEEKS!

But alas, life in quarantine is just as hectic as normal life. And with work + classes + GA & now field work (even if it is all remote) basically taking up 25 hours every day, well, writing is sadly falling by the wayside.

But something new is out now, and it's one of my favorite chapters, with one of my favorite characters. (Edit: my absolute FAVORITE character)

Anybody want to make a death pool for my silvery shadow? How many chapters do you think his deranged little mind will last? Though I gotta say, I'm going to love writing interactions with him...maybe I'll try to keep him around...or maybe not.

Guess we'll see 💀

Stay safe & sane, you guys. We'll all be able to go out and play again soon.

T

P.S. If any of you are anime fans, I picture Malachi like Kaneki Ken - the tortured, knuckle-cracking & later seasons one, of course.