Page 136 of By the Moonbeam and the Mist
And I’d never even known his name.
Rage curdled beneath my skin, lighting adrenaline inside me until I practically vibrated with it.
I speared into his mind and rifled through the thick, gauzy material that housed his thoughts and memories and all those other vital pieces of him.
His name was Jaques. He’d grown up in Yellowseek.
He had a mommy and daddy who loved him. Who couldn’t wait for him to pass his Final Test and come home.
He’d met Fergus at the Branding Ceremony. They’d caught up afterward, Fergus whining that Jaques had the cooler power, and Jaques had thrived off of that jealousy. Had sought to prove it true by doing anything Fergus asked of him, no matter the consequences to others.
And yet…
Yet…
After Fergus had died, I couldn’t find a single memory of him bullying or abusing others.
No hitting or poking. No yelling or cursing.
No meeting up with Quinn, either. No attempt to revisit any of those past friendships that had goaded him into doing what he’d done.
Just this: cards, smoking, and relatively pleasant friends from a variety of sectors. It was as if Fergus had been a poisonrotting his brain and heart from the inside-out, but once that poison had been removed…
“I…” the Object Summoner started, eyes widening in vague recognition. Even if he couldn’t remember actually hurting me, I was sure he remembered planning to do so with Fergus.
“Forget it,” I pushed out on a razor-sharp breath.
My fists had clenched like the rocks he’d once thrown my way, and I wanted to bash them through his skull until it splintered, until his brain oozed through my fingers, but… I also didn’t. I didn’t want to continue the hurt or feed the cycle of pain. Maybe, if I let it be, if he stayed away from festering friends like Fergus, Jaques wouldn’t use his power for ill ever again.
I turned to leave when the first man whistled.
“What, you got a boyfriend or something?”
Something that wasn’t quitemebristled at the tone.
“Yes,” I lied. Anything to cut this conversation short and resume my search for Quinn. Anything to get away from the Object Summoner’s guilt-riddled gaze through the haze of his current high.
“Oh, come on.” The man squirted water playfully from his fingers again. “What’s his name, then?”
“That’s none of your fucking business, is it?”
I whipped around as the dark, fathomless presence in my mind solidified behind me and Steeler stepped from the shadows of the hallway.
I’d say it is my business considering you’re in my house, the man wanted to reply. I knew so because my blockade had cracked open in shock and all the thoughts in the room swept over me in the instant before I heaved it up again.
But as the man’s gaze dragged up Steeler’s muscled figure and up to his face—his much-too-identifiableface, for God’s sake—that fury faded. As did the water from his fingers, which trickled down to a slow leak.
“No, I suppose it’s not,” he muttered finally, apparently deciding that Steeler wouldn’t be a fun opponent to get into a raging fistfight with.
“Good.” Steeler pressed his mouth into a rigid line that melted when he looked down at me. “Come on, beautiful.”
His hand clamped possessively around my waist, twirling me around and dragging me back into the hall.
It was only when I’d picked up the pace and marched us around a corner that I let go of the hiss that had been building in my chest.
“Are youseriousright now, Steeler?”
“Dead serious.” His attention buried itself into every inch of my body, as if he’d forgotten what the moon looked like but found beams of it shining from me now. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
