Page 63 of Avidian
“Why won’t Damien tell you who killed him?” Malachi asks, his voice edged with frustration. “Maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe he never saw the killer’s face either and he’s messing with you, using this as an excuse to keep getting his hands on you.”
His fists clench slightly in his lap, the muscles in his forearm taut with restrained anger. I reach over, resting my hand on top of his, grounding him.
“I think Damien knows exactly who killed him,” I say. “But he’s bored. And an asshole. It’s a game to him, Malachi. He’s doing it because he can.”
Malachi’s gaze flickers down to my hand then back to me. I pull my hand away, the contact lingering in the air like a silent promise.
“I don’t like it,” he growls. “The idea of him touching you—even in the veil—it pisses me off.”
“Trust me, I’m not thrilled about it either,” I say, managing a faint smile. “But I’ll figure this out. I always do.”
“I don’t want you projecting again,” Malachi says, almost commanding. “If he can leave bruises on your neck like this, what’s next? How far can he take things over there? I’ll call Marco and tell him you’re done working on this. Viktor can find someone else.”
He stands, pacing as if he’s already made up his mind.
I shoot to my feet, spinning to face him. “Yeah, that would go over great. Marco would come get me or demand you take me home and?—”
I don’t want to say it. Don’t want to admit to myself what that would mean for us…for me.
“And what?” Malachi presses, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not going back to him, Kat. I told you I’m going to take care of him. Give me and my team time.”
I want to believe him. I want to lean into the hope he’s offering. But Marco isn’t someone you “take care of.” He’s astorm, a hurricane of calculated power and paranoia. I glance at Malachi, his jaw tight with resolve, and my chest aches with the fear he doesn’t fully understand what he’s up against.
He has the Syndicate, sure, and they’re good—hell, they’re better than good. But Marco? He’s a monster, and monsters don’t fall easily.
“I know you believe that,” I say, treading carefully, “but I know Marco. Killing him isn’t one option of many; it’s the only option. And when that time comes, it’s not going to be as simple as you think. He’s still your father.”
Malachi’s expression hardens, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes. Pain, maybe. Or guilt.
“Do you think I haven’t thought about that? Every single day, Kat. I’ve made my peace with what I have to do. He’s not my father anymore—not in any way that matters. He hasn’t been for a long time.”
I search his face, trying to gauge if he really means it. If he truly knows what he’s walking into.
“In the meantime,” he says, breaking the heavy silence, “I know what we’re doing today.”
The shift in his tone catches me off guard, and I blink at him, my thoughts scattered. “What do you mean?”
A sly smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll see. It’s going to be therapeutic.”
Therapeutic? Knowing Malachi, that could mean anything from target practice to a fight ring.
“Don’t worryabout the why—tell me if you think it will work,” Malachi says to Bash, standing in front of the cabinet filledwith small vials and swirling orbs of Avidian. His tone is sharp, urgent, and it sets my nerves on edge.
Bash runs a hand through his dark curls, typing something furiously into the machine beside him. “I don’t know,” he admits, not looking up. “I’ve never tried it on a power like hers before. What she can do isn’t tangible—like creating fire or manipulating elements. But in theory, it should work.”
Malachi nods, like that vague answer is all he needed to hear, but I’m not convinced. “Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “Didn’t you tell me you could amplify an Avid’s power for a short time? How does that work?”
Bash glances at Malachi then back at me, his brow arching in curiosity. “I did,” he says slowly, clearly wondering where I’m going with this.
“Then that’s a much better idea,” I press. “Amplify my power tonight. Let’s see what happens. Putting me in this machine, pulling some piece of my gift to test it out on Malachi? That’s risky. Even if it worked perfectly, I don’t think you’re ready to project with me,” I say, glancing from Bash back to Mal.
Malachi turns, his jaw tight, his hands braced on the edge of the counter. “And what happens if I do nothing? You go into the veil alone, like always, and I’m left standing here with no way to protect you.”
Before I can respond, Bash speaks up. “Wait a minute, did something happen between you two in the last couple of days?” There’s a glint of suspicion in his eyes that makes me flush.
“No,” I say quickly, shooting Malachi a look that dares him to contradict me. “And I think you need to tell him he’s being irrational. Tonight, we test the amplification theory. End of discussion.”
Bash leans back in his chair, his grin widening. “Mmm-hmm. Sure, Kat. No tension here at all.”
