Page 63 of Echoes From the Void

“I do not brood,” Bishop protests.

“You’re literally brooding right now,” I point out, feeling his mock offense through our connection.

“—peppermint for Matteo because he’s fancy?—”

“It’s refined,” Matteo corrects, accepting his mug with dignity that makes his shadows dance.

“—and extra marshmallows for the twins because they deserve sugar after dealing with our drama.”

Dorian eyes the mountain of marshmallows dubiously. “That’s essentially sugar soup with chocolate garnish.”

“Bold words from someone who puts exactly three and a half sugar cubes in his tea,” Leo retorts. “I’ve seen you measure them, Dorian. With a scale.”

“Precision is important.”

“You’re all ridiculous,” Tori declares, but she’s smiling as she accepts her own mug. Her shadows reach unconsciously for Finn’s light, making him blush harder. Through our twin bond, I feel his pleased embarrassment at her closeness.

“Speaking of ridiculous,” Leo sprawls across the couch, somehow managing not to spill anything, his shadows curling contentedly around us all, “who’s ready to watch the worst horror flick ever put to film?”

“Please no,” Dorian groans, though his usual sharp edges have softened. “The last one had far too many jump scares.”

“That’s why it’s perfect!” Leo insists, his enthusiasm pulsing through our bonds. “After the day we’ve had? We need something so bad it’s good. I’m thinking all of the Halloween movies. Or Scream!”

“Scream!” I rest my head on Matteo’s shoulder as Leo puts the movie in. Through our bond, I feel Finn’s growing comfort as Tori’s shadows drift closer to his light.

“Oh hell, why did we agree to this?” Bishop groans twenty minutes into the movie. “The amount of basic survival instincts these teenagers lack is physically painful to watch.”

“My personal favorite,” Dorian drawls, “is how they keep answering their phones despite clearly being stalked.”

Leo straightens up excitedly, shadows dancing. “We should totally get one of those voice changers?—”

“No,” Matteo and I say simultaneously, our bonds pulsing with shared exasperation.

“You’re no fun.” Leo pouts, then brightens. “What about just for training?—”

“If you ever call any of us asking what our favorite scary movie is,” Matteo warns, “I’m telling your sisters about the rugby incident.”

Leo gasps, his shadows recoiling dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare. We swore never to speak of that!”

“What rugby incident?” Finn asks innocently, his light flickering with interest.

“Nothing!” Leo squeaks.

Tori leans forward, her shadows curling with interest as they unconsciously reach for Finn. “Oh no, now you have to tell us.”

“Let’s just say,” Bishop smirks, his usual Guardian formality completely gone, “it involved three cheerleaders, a misplaced shadow jump, and Leo somehow ending up stuck in the girls’ locker room ceiling.”

“In my defense,” Leo protests, his shadows swirling with embarrassment, “the ceiling tiles looked very stable.”

“Your defense is noted and rejected,” Dorian says. “Much like your dignity that day.”

Through our twin bond, I feel Finn’s delight at being included in these stories, at seeing this playful side of people who had been so fierce earlier. His light pulses happily as Tori’s shadows drift closer, both of them pretending not to notice their growing connection.

“For trained killers, they’re remarkably inefficient,” Bishop critiques, gesturing at the screen. “The amount of unnecessary dramatic pausing alone...”

“Says the man who once spent twenty minutes explaining the historical significance of different stabbing techniques to his freshman class,” I remind him, feeling his mock offense through our bond.

“It was a relevant academic discussion!”

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