Page 113 of Tempest

Ardyn

“So … that’s it.”I hold my bent knees. Tightly, like I’m holding him.

Tempest leans against a gnarled tree root, the green of his eyes brighter than the somber forest surrounding us, changing colors and dying with the season. His haven’t transformed since he was a boy—always heavenly, despite the horror he describes.

“I’ll never give you everything,” he says. “But that’s a large reason I’ve become the creature I am today.”

“The Vultures.” I test the name on my tongue, my chin bumping against my knees.

“We’re the cast-offs of the mafia. Failures lucky enough to be given a second chance instead of dying on our knees in front of the capo.”

“You. Rio. And … Professor Morgan?”

Tempest casts his eyes skyward. “Yeah, him. He’s a different story. Like me, but unlike me. We didn’t fail at becoming a soldier and therefore were exiled to the Vultures. Nor were we ever eligible to be a made man—both our parents have to be Italian to move up the mafia ranks. I’m neither. He’s half. We just have fathers and family who decide our destiny. My father sold me as a debt. Miguel, Professor Rossi as you know him, saw the potential in me because of my history, and Hunter’s dad was—”

He stops abruptly.

I lean forward. “What? Professor Morgan’s dad was what?”

Sensing more than seeing Tempest’s closer scrutiny, I hug my knees tighter to my chest. He waits among the dying trees and leafless branches, sitting in the decay of summer flourish as if waiting for me to join him there. I have the feeling I’m supposed to find importance in his sudden silence because there’s something he almost told me but didn’t.

For the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is.

“Hunter’s dad is the nephew of the capo,” he finishes quietly.

If Tempest was fearful, I’d react in a negative way to that, he’s sorely disappointed.

I blink. “And the capo is what? The king of the mafia?”

His teeth flash. “You can put it that way. The highest ranking official.”

“Okay. Is Professor Morgan being punished? As a nephew to the capo, you’d think he’d be much higher up than the Vultures.”

“Mm. Good girl.”

Thank god he can’t see me. I almost preen under his praise before remembering why I’m sitting in the rotting woods with Tempest, and he’s confessing to me in the first place.

“Hunter has fetishes that make most of the made men uncomfortable. As a boy who can’t inherit or earn the capo title, they weren’t sure what to do with him, especially after he unveiled his preference for witches and wizardry.”

I watch the whites of his eyes practically roll back into his head.

“If I have this right…” I hold out one hand, counting off my fingers. “You were put into the Vultures against your will but trained under Professor Rossi’s—sorry, Miguel’s, skilled eye. Hunter Morgan was put here because they didn’t know where else to assign him and wanted to teach him skills other than the dark arts hoping he’d become useful one day. And Rio…?”

“Follows me anywhere. He’s a good friend.”

Tempest’s curtness after choosing to be surprisingly open is enough of a clue not to pursue Rio’s reasons. I don’t mind since I have about a million other questions.

“What’s Professor Rossi’s story?”

Tempest lifts a shoulder, a sliver of its movement caught by the moon above. “He prefers an air of mystery.”

“Well, I prefer my professors not to be murderers, so you’ll have to do better than that.”

“You’re getting more than anyone else ever has who isn’t part of the Outfit, princess.”

“Why is that? Do you think all this information will scare me into silence?”

“You’ve said you’ll keep my secret for Clover’s sake. And I feel like you deserve an explanation for what you witnessed.” Tempest clears his throat. He’s uncomfortable with the subject of opening up to me. I quite like it. “Do I have your word you won’t tell anyone? It would only end up bad for you.”

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