Abby watched me with sad eyes. He looked older. He had always been old, as long as I had known him, but he looked even older now. I suppose running your own world does that to a person. Saving your entire kind. Secretly pulling the strings of that world to try to save everyone else in it too.

By the time I had woken from my latest bout of unconsciousness, it was just the cute soul eater with the scruffy beard, Abby, and me. But my hands weren't shattered anymore, which I appreciated. They had been complex breaks, bad ones, and I so hated broken bones, especially in my hands. I flexed my fingers a few times. Good as new. The cute one had many talents apparently.

"Thanks. Ally, is it?" I looked up at the healer coyly through my lashes with a grin, he rolled his eyes and quickly turned away.

"So, Abby, what's your plan for me now that I'm here? Re-education? Torture? Therapy? Anything but that last one, if you have any soul in you at all you'll spare me from that at least."

"Kai, what happened?" Abby's voice was quiet, sorrowful, and his old nickname burned my ears. The one he had only used when we were alone, when none of the Darke House had been there to hear the familiarity.

"What happened was you left a child with a fucking monster and a goddamn letter saying 'hang in there, champ'. You clearly gave up on me, so I did the same. But I guess it didn't matter once you found out I wasn't the prophesied one, right? Bet you felt like you really fucked that one up, huh? Gave me all that attention when I wasn't even the one that mattered. Well, I'm glad Gabriel is doing so well at least. Sorry I didn't turn out the same, tough having all of my master's attention these last fourteen years. None of his other little pets survived, just me."

I realized I couldn't move my feet, which was lucky for Abby, as I wanted to tear him apart and bathe in his traitorous blood. Drink it down until I was sick with it. I felt my Shift dig into me, twisting its spines into my flesh, demanding release.

"I didn't care for you because of the prophecy, I cared because I saw something in you, something good, something I had never seen in a Half before."

Abby's voice sounded sincere, he looked it too, but he was a mage, which meant words were his craft. And I had learned many times over to never trust a magic-wielder's pretty words.

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but whatever you saw is long gone now, stripped away by a hundred thousand little cuts." I let my Shift tear from me, relishing the clarity the pain brought.

"This is all that's left now." I leaned forward, the closest I could get to him and snapped my teeth, knowing my Shift was a frightening sight for most, darker, purer, deeper than that of others.

Ailech's eyes widened slightly, his hand twitching as if he wanted to use his ability on me, but he stood down. Abby just shook his head sadly, as if I wanted his fucking pity.

"You will have three rules. And though I wish I could trust you to follow them on your word, you've already broken two since you've been before me. First, you will not Shift unless in the company of another Darkling, Ailech, in training, or alone. Second, you will not hurt anyone without their consent, meaning again, only in training and only to the degree they consent to. And third, you will have no verbal or physical contact with any but a select few in the Vault; Ailech, myself, the Darke Clan, some tutors, and a few others. These rules will be bound into you, and you will be unable to break them. I am truly sorry I have to control you like this. It was never my wish to force anything on you, not after the life you've lived, not after so many choices have been stripped from you. But the safety of my charges is my first priority."

"That's funny, you didn't give a shit about my safety when I was your charge. So tell me, what will happen when I break one of your precious rules and turn your safe haven into my murder games?"

I sneered back at the old man, hearing my own voice drop to a lower cadence, rolling out of me like a guttural growl. How dare he think he could control me with a few simple rules and a threat, force me. And how dare he pretend to care about his pawns.

"You will not want to find out the consequences, child. Again, I'm so sorry for this, for so much, but this is the only solution I have at the moment."

And with that, he came forward and my stomach twisted. He held a black stone collar, not unlike the electrum one my master had tested on me years ago, though this one was darker, a different material. I could feel panic rising in my stomach, climbing behind my rib cage and up my throat, but I couldn't move, couldn't run. I was just as helpless here as I was in my master's house, just as much at the mercy of others, ruled by them, owned by them.

In a final attempt I tried my last card, an emotion I knew Abby had in spades: guilt.

"So, this is what you've become? The other side of the same coin as my master. Collaring and forcing others to do your will? Do you hold to his other predilections too? What else will you make me do?" I scoffed to sell it. "What happened to me? What has become of you? I had hoped better of my oldest friend."

I watched my words sink in as he approached. Watched the hurt, the guilt grow in his light eyes. I didn't look away as he placed the collar around my neck, making sure the memory of what he was doing to me would be burned into his mind.

"I'm so sorry, for so much," he repeated quietly before turning his back on me, yet again.

» ✦ «

Ailech escorted me to my room, but I wasn't about to sleep, not with the dreams my master would send, the nightmares that plagued me even without his command. I leaned on the door frame and smirked at the healer, running my tongue across my lips suggestively, clicking my piercings on my teeth. He looked at the crossroads of uneasy and disgusted.

"You coming in?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Wha-what are you doing?" He stuttered as he slapped my hand away, the one I had snaked up to play with the neckline of his T-shirt.

"You can't touch me, it's one of the rules." The healer sounded like a child stating the instructions to a game he had just lost.

"Actually, I cannot touch the others in the Vault. I can touch a small circle of people...I just cannot hurt them. At least, not without their consent." I gave another look, biting my bottom lip as the healer began to look more and more horrified.

"Then, I...don't consent?"

He was clearly out of his element and I was thoroughly enjoying it. Silly Humans and their rigid little sexual identities, especially the males.

"Well, old Abs never said I couldn't make that small circle uncomfortable, did he? As long as I don't hurt you, right?" I leaned in and was pleased when Ailech actually stumbled back to keep his distance from me.

"I don't know about where you're from, but I'm pretty sure we all consider sexual assault a 'hurt' here."

He straightened as he spoke, trying to compose himself as he realized I wasn't advancing.

I fanned a hand over my chest in feigned hurt. "Assault you? Why, I would never. Though I do wonder how far I can go before the rules apply - aren't you the teensy bit curious? What if I make the pleasure outweigh the pain, think the collar can tell?"

In a flash I was in front of the mage, firmly pushing him back into the wall, leaning into him, my lips at his ear.

"Does this hurt?" I purred, trailing my hands down the front of him.

Then I crumpled to the floor in a heap, the healer apparently finally feeling justified in using his ability on me. Frankly, it took much longer than I had expected. He must be the rule-following type. He stepped over me as I found my entire body covered in prickles and static, like each muscle had fallen asleep. When the mage spoke next, it was with a note of amusement in his voice.

"You are not confined to your room, though you may not enter anyone else's without their permission. And, of course, if you try to leave the Vault, you will find that you cannot. Also, regardless of the hour, person or location, the rules still apply and the collar still works."

He leaned down and tapped my stone necklace for emphasis. I snarled up at him.

"Oh, and remember the next time you want to mess with me - I can drop you whenever I want. You don't scare me."

Then he was gone, a door down the hall clicking shut and I felt my power again, my muscles rousing immediately.

I wandered the halls until I found food. I was starving, but even after I finished, I sat with my back to the corner, watching the little magical Human masses mill about, all of Abby's precious 'charges'. Most of them couldn't look me in the eyes, and none approached. And thanks to my third rule, I kept my distance as well, not quite ready to find out what the punishment was. It had been too long a day for needless pain. Perhaps tomorrow.

I stayed for hours, through most the night, amazed at how there was rarely a slow moment, the mess hall never fully deserted. I wondered how many were housed in the Vault, how many Abby had saved by sacrificing me.

A couple of hours before dawn I left and found a gym, itching to hit something, to Shift and quiet my pesky thoughts about how many Humans equaled an Angel, or half an Angel. How many of their lives did it take to equal mine? I closed the doors and let my power rip me apart, feeling it like a thousand razors. I smiled pointed teeth when I found the weapons closet.

» ✦ «

I woke up before Jordan and sent my sight through the Vault, searching for Malachi. He was alone in a gym not far off, training. It was only shortly after five, but that was probably a normal time for him, used to be for us both, maybe he was continuing his daily routine here. I slipped from bed and made it halfway to the door before I felt my hair ruffle, like someone was blowing on it. I looked over my shoulder to see Jordan awake and watching me, her Sign tickling my neck.

"Going to check on Malachi?" Her groggy voice was full of morning and it made me feel warm and crack a small smile, though I didn't know why.

"He's training. Kael and Nevaeh are still asleep." I closed my eyes to spy on Ailech, but he wasn't in his room, probably with Levi.

We were at the gym minutes later, pausing briefly outside of the closed doors. We slipped in to see Malachi surrounded by such a large collection of weapons, it was clear he had been awake and training for a fair amount of time already, though disarray probably described the scene more than 'collection'. He always had been messier than me.

He had also always been slighter than me, a stone or so lighter, an inch shorter. But that certainly wasn't true now, as I was only just beginning to put my natural weight back on and he looked to have not skipped a day of training or a meal for the past decade and a half. He looked like a weapon through and through, and even before this winter when my Darkling half had let the Human side of me waste away, he would have been larger than me, stronger. It was strange to see him as he was now, a man when I still pictured a teenager, strong but lanky.

He had his shirt discarded in one corner but began to walk toward it immediately upon our entrance. His eyes ran up and down us both, lingering on Jordan in a way that made my Shift bear its teeth inside of me. But even though he was working very hard to distract me, to keep me focused on Jordan and his leering, I saw evidence of his past that went far beyond muscles and strength, evidence that told a much more violent story in every smooth line.

In the past day since our unfortunate train encounter and his capture, Malachi had been wearing a dark, long-sleeved shirt that hid most of his skin from his neck down. But as that shirt was now lying in the corner, I could see the scars that covered him. I thought I had a collection, but that wasn't true, not really, not when I had Kael who could heal almost all injuries away without a trace, and when our training was so much less brutal. I had only gained a handful in recent years, from Jevin or when Kael wasn't near, and even fewer before when I had been on my own - when no opponent had been enough of a challenge to truly injure me.

The story my scars told from my first fifteen years was easily doubled on Malachi's skin, maybe tripled. And it made sense - he had been with my father twice as long as I had, and the second half had left him the only focus, the most-promising warrior and favorite toy, the most disciplined pet. He had stark scattered tattoos across his body too - spreading from his shoulder across one side of his chest, circling a bicep, a wrist, up one side of his ribs, even crawling up his neck, just barely able to be covered where his shirt's collar and long hair met.

They surprised me more than his scars. My father hated tattoos, thought they were too Human, though he hated scars too, or he used to. He used to say they distracted him from my beauty. I gritted my teeth at the approving smile I could still picture in my memories, of the way he had looked at me, at his appreciation for what he saw.

"Well, isn't this embarrassing," Malachi rumbled at us with a feigned shy grin, though his pointed teeth and black eyes made the look more damned than embarrassed.

I felt bile rise as he turned his back on us to pull the shirt over his head, showcasing a new, wide canvas of scars layered over one another, not an inch of unmarred skin across the whole of his back. His back and shoulders were the worst by far, and I knew why, it was a favorite of my father's punishments. There was almost nothing he loved more than whipping a bound victim, than making sure they were helpless, knelt before him with arms stretched wide, nothing between his whip and their flesh, no shield, no quarter or mercy, just his brutal will for as long as he wanted.

He basked in their dread building each second, waiting for the next strike, wondering how many more would follow, so tightly bound they couldn't even flinch away. That level of control, that degree of pain and fear, it was ecstasy to him. And having another, especially someone powerful, at his mercy had always been one of my father's greatest, sickest pleasures. I felt my teeth grind again at the memories and worked to loosen my jaw.

I pulled my attention back to the first line I had noticed that marred my old training partner, this one much newer. A black collar. I felt my stomach sink as the pieces fell into place. How else could Abby control him but with some magical bind, but a collar? The implications alone made my blood boil.

"Now that I'm more decent - good morning, love birds. Sharing a bed I see, how very risqué of you. I do hope you're being safe."

He breathed in deeply before leveling his black eyes on Jordan.

"Smells like frustration though. Feel free to invite me to your bed next time, and remember, I have more training in every area."

He flicked his tongue across his lips, flashing a piercing I hadn't noticed before, and gave Jordan another lengthy, hungry look, which she met evenly. I felt my discomfort rising, but refused to show it. Keeping my breath even and stopping the hard swallow that was trying to push down my throat, the aversion. Before I could reply, he continued.

"Did Abby tell you my rules?" He clicked his nail on the collar rhythmically, making me feel sick all over again.

"I can't Shift unless alone, with one of you, that little healer, or honing my craft. I cannot speak or lay a finger on anyone in the Vault outside of our little group, and I cannot hurt anyone...unless they ask me to. I also cannot enter someone's room unless they give me permission, but we could knock multiple of those off right now if you like."

His eyes were on Jordan again in such a lewd way I almost stepped in front of her. He winked before walking back to a pile of knives.

» ✦ «

Malachi was doing a damn good job of making James uncomfortable with all his bedroom talk, and even I felt my cheeks flush at his offer, my breath pause. But my eyes kept snagging on the collar he wore, the one he had pulled over the neck of his shirt, making sure it was visible.

It seemed strange to me that he didn't tuck it beneath, hide it. Especially as he had been so careful to cover each of his gruesome scars. I hadn't noticed them up until now. His presence pulled attention so easily. He seemed a master of distraction, of only allowing people to see what he wanted them to see. It was strange that he would hide his scars so diligently but showcase the collar, as I assumed he wasn't fond of either. Maybe he was showing the collar to elicit guilt, or to shock us. But then his scars would have done that as well. On some level I could understand his desire to hide his scars, even if I didn't know his specific reasons. After all, I still hid my own, the ones I hated, the ones I was ashamed of. Maybe he was ashamed too.

His back had been disturbing, but not so much as the seemingly strict parameters of his scars. Nothing above his shirt collar on his neck or marring his beautiful face, nothing below his wrists ruining the smooth skin of his hands, though many continued past where the eye could see at his waistband. It was like a true healer, a skilled one, was only used to preserve his beauty, to keep the places the world saw immaculate. His tattoos also seemed to follow the same rules - nothing showing from under his clothes, besides the sneaky one that peeked up over his shirt on the side of his neck, following up behind his ear, though his hair covered most of it.

I had a feeling he always wore long sleeves, especially as the scars that stood out the most to me, the lines that pulled my eyes even more than his dark new collar, the swirls of black ink, or his back...were the thick rows running up his wrists to the inside of his elbow, clear overkill, the scarred skin too wide, too uniform for any accident or training injury. Self-inflicted, I was sure of it.

There were four covering each arm, some marking the top of his forearms too, as if the blade had gone clean through. I wondered if James had seen them, if they had happened before or after he got out. If a Half could even die by being drained of their blood, by taking their life in such a way. But then I remembered that James had tried to do the same when he slit his throat. His scar was so thin though, so slight. It made it clear which of his playthings the Collector took greater care of. Or maybe he had just wanted to preserve James' beauty too. I felt my anger rising as the reason came unwanted into my head.

I didn't have more time to think on scars and suicide though, as Malachi was suddenly before us, faster than he should have been able to move, Shifted or not.

"If you won't take me up on my first offer, little light Angel, then how about a dance?"

He held a knife out to me, handle first, his power and proximity making my own Shift shiver. But I didn't grab it...and I knew it was because I was afraid of sparring with him, afraid of what he would do, of how Abby's rules worked, how far he could go.

"No? How about you, like old times?" Malachi turned to James at his invitation, who grabbed the knife but let it drop to the floor.

"No weapons - we are the weapons. You know that." James' voice was a growl and I knew he had Shifted next to me. I wondered how often he had said those exact words before, to Malachi no less.

And then they were gone.

Malachi was fast, and not just fast for a Darkling, but fast for a Half, fast for any living creature. I found myself wondering what his Sign was, his powers, as he hadn't shown any in his short time with us yet. Then again, James didn't use his Sign either as he sparred with his old partner.

In all my time of watching my pair fight; Juda, the Skia, training with Kael and Nev, or me, I had never seen him move like he was now. First, this dance was whole and perfect, or at least, I couldn't track a single mistake. Second, most of their hits landed, not dodged or blocked, most were unavoidable and neither man was pulling his punches. And third, Malachi was winning.

*Happy 4th weekend!*

Ah, James has met his match, or rather, his better. Or rather rather, re-met his better?

Now don't get me wrong, my little blue-eyed devil would probably easily wipe the floor with Malachi if they had both continued their training in the house of Darke...just like he always won back when they trained together.

But as only one of then continued that level of training, well - there's something to be said for raw talent...but there's more to be said for practice.

I still adore Malachi, even if he's quite clearly cracked 💔