Page 34 of Witches Be Damned

I met his fist with mine and smiled. “I hate being a pussy.”

Tor bumped my arm. “It’s no big deal. We’re all scared of something.”

The warmth in my leg tingled and expanded across my entire body, replacing the nagging dependency on my magical notes for stillness.

He produced the latest episode of Captain Victorius and set it across my lap. “What I’m scared of is whether the captain will make it out alive from his captivity at the hands of The Reckoner.”

I traced a finger along the artwork on the front cover, appreciating the artist’s color and composition and Tor’s gesture. “It looked pretty dicey from the last episode.”

“Sure did.” Tor’s elbows took up residence on the edge of my gurney as we read through the comic together. “I thought The Reckoner would siphon all his power away.”

I’d never had a friend before. Didn’t know how to make them.

Father started me on a strict regimen from the age of five, up at 5AM to exercise, breakfast at 6AM, shower, dress, and prepare for school. Martial arts and one sport for two hours after school taught me discipline, strength, and control. Homework for another two hours before setting the table for dinner at 7PM. Family time until 8PM. Bed after that. Sports on Saturday and dinner with my grandparents. Church on Sundays. Enrollment into the Army Cadets when I hit age twelve. No time for friends besides the semi ones I made at Cadets.

My father drilled his military world into me young, and when I graduated high school, I enlisted in the army, hoping I’d follow in his footsteps and become a colonel like him. Stopping the hearts of two soldiers that beat me so badly they broke my eye socket, and my resulting court martial foiled those dreams. I was lucky my father pulled strings to get me off, or I’d be rotting in a military prison. I guess karma caught up with me in that regard, sending me to a prison with magical inmates.

When I entered Nightfire Academy to train and hone my magical skills, Jaz took me under his wing and protected me from the bullies. He was the older brother I never had. Tor adopted the brotherly role after we lost Jaz, defending me against the gangs, teaching me ways to avoid strife, putting my martial arts skills to the real test. I beat up those dumb assholes, but they never learned not to try me.

I wanted something more than a team, brothers, and a family. I wanted to call them my friends. I just didn’t know if we were on the same page in that respect, and the urge to express this to Tor tipped me into confessing.

“Thank you for being a big brother to me since Jaz died.” That was the essence of Tor—protective, supportive, a nerd like me, the guy who everyone liked, and the first one to help anyone out in a bind.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Tor said. “We’re family.”

“I’d like for us to be friends for real and not because you pity me,” I replied.

He took my hand and squeezed. “I don’t pity you, buddy, and I’d never pretend to be your friend. That’s not who I am.”

My gaze dropped to the dialogue cloud on the third page of the comic. “I just wanted to know where I stand. Making friends is new to me.”

Tor slid an arm over my shoulder and snuggled close. “Buddy, if you didn’t realize we were already friends, and for a while, I might add, then you’re blind.” He kissed the side of my face and licked it to be smartass. “Kisses and licks are part of the package, just so you know what you’re in for.”

I laughed and leaned away. “Are you trying to lose a friend?”

Knoxe chose that moment to enter and laughed at our exchange. “A kissing, licking friend is the best kind.” He set down our lunch bags, crossed to the opposite side of my bed and accepted a second long, tongue-filled kiss from Tor. “See?”

Tor patted the spot he licked on Knoxe’s cheek and squeezed his ass. “Thanks, babe.”

I laughed again, finally feeling like I understood their humor.

The three of us sat down to eat lunch together. Knoxe impressed me that he chose a sandwich for me with toppings I liked. Ham and cheese on rye. Someone paid attention.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked him point blank about something that crossed my mind the last twenty-four hours, “Don’t you want to deliver the vampires to their court?”

Knoxe threw back some orange juice. “Once upon a time, I did. Not anymore. This is more important. Besides, Loco’s got it covered.”

Me? More important than the biggest contract of our life? The one that ensured our freedom? A new melody started in my chest. One of pure love and connection that I never knew with anyone when my parents never tried to understand or accept me.

That settled one question. Onto the next. “What about getting the jump on the thief avatar’s information?”

“We’re a team, and we’re doing it together.” Knoxe’s reply shifted the harmony into the choir of angels.

The old Knoxe had been hellbent on killing Styx, avenging Jaz’s death, arresting the rogue vampires, claiming the contract points, and getting us out of Dodge. This new version of him sounded different, his notes less sharp and angry. Astra entering our lives changed our brother for good, and now, he was driven by love for his team instead of hate and his personal vendetta.

I was proud that he settled his differences with Astra and gave her a chance. Proud that he protected Raze’s secret at all costs, despite mine and Tor’s objections—because that’s what a brother did. Proud that he overcame his challenge of demotion and respected Serena’s leadership. Proud that he let go of his pain over Jaz’s death and funneled it into his growth instead of his demise. Most of all, I was proud to be his brother.

“Aw. You’ve turned over a new leaf, babe.” Tor tossed Knoxe a slice of cucumber and he caught it, grinned, and crushed it between his teeth.

---