Sixty Four: Hard Truths

Jordan sat across from Grace and Nova in the front room, trying not to look nervous. He might have hidden it from his sister, but he could tell from the Angel's gaze that he couldn't hide it from her. His rune manual lay forgotten in his lap.

"So...Harkenn is losing the plot," he summarised, "Caelum and maybe the Devils are behind it, and also there's plague."

This last news had come first thing that morning from Nika, already weighing him down with concern. Nova and Grace had brought even grimmer tidings from the castle. It must have been dire if Harkenn allowed Nova to live elsewhere until the matter was resolved. But that wasn't why he was nervous; Yddris had been evasive in the few moments he'd been inside, before he hurried off muttering something about talking to Kerrin of House Kiel, and Grace kept staring at him as if trying to see into his soul.

"Harkenn seems to think that you're a good candidate for finding out how the Devils are involved," Grace said, pretending to be offhand, but he knew her far too well for that. Instead of the panic that threatened the edges of his mind, he forced himself to step back from it, the way Cara had taught him to do with his magic when he was angry. From that temporary sanctuary, he noted that Nova was watching him intently, urging him to speak. It was no mystery where his sister had heard it from.

"Does he?" he asked. If he hadn't been fixated on a meditative state to stay calm, he might have felt bad about how detached he sounded. It was the only way that he was going to get through the conversation without spouting fearful drivel that dug him deeper. He silently thanked Nika for working on it with him in the last few days – the man was a master of the technique – and then wondered if Nika knew this as well.

"Who's Arlen?" Grace pounced with next. He hadn't been expecting that, and his focus shattered. He knew he betrayed himself in that moment. "So you know an Arlen. Harkenn thinks a man called Arlen has been the one sending people to try and meet with me. One of his cronies cornered a thirteen year old acolyte in a bathhouse laundry closet."

Nausea bubbled in his gut. Any one of the Devils he knew could have done that without thinking twice about it. While he knew they were capable of such things, it was sometimes easy to forget the real implications of it when faced with Jes or Akiva's easy manner and friendly banter. "I've heard of an Arlen. Perhaps."

Grace scowled. "You're lying to me, Joe. You've been lying to me for months. I'm not stupid, and I need you to stop treating me like I am."

"I'm not treating you like you're stupid," Jordan snapped back. "I'm treating you like my sister who I care about more than anything else. If anything, you're treating me like you think I'm going out of my way to hurt you. When have I ever done that? If anything, I should be upset that you don't trust me."

"Trust? This isn't about trust!" Grace exploded. "I'm as stuck in this place as you are! We're the only people in this entire world who understand where we came from. And then I find out you're keeping me in the dark about things, and that's why you don't visit as often and can't meet my eye and never ever want to talk about what you've been doing, not even when it affects me! Do you not think I've got a right to know?"

"Maybe I don't talk about what I've been doing because you find my magic uncomfortable!" Jordan snapped. "That's what I do, Grace. I train to use magic. I go out and watch demon kills so I can learn how to do it. I sit for hours doing control exercises so that one day I don't panic and incinerate myself or someone else. I can't meet your eye because mine fucking glow and I can tell you don't like it." He cut himself off, panting. It felt good to get it out, but it did not feel good to see her eyes welling up. He tempered his voice, blaming his frayed nerves and lack of sleep. He knew coming back to the Reach would start this cycle over again – he had just hoped it wouldn't happen so quickly. "Look, Grace, I'm sorry. But I just... There are some things I can't do anything about right now. And you can't help with them, either. I don't want you to worry about me." Or hate me. Or find me repulsive and morally bankrupt.

When she didn't say anything immediately, he snapped his book shut and got up to start the stew off for lunch, just for something to do with his hands. He pretended he didn't notice Nova set her hand on his sister's knee. He wasn't sure how to feel about the woman's presence in the house, let along having her witness this.

"What if I decide that I want to know, worry or not?" Grace stood up as well and planted her feet beside him, arms crossed and hard stare forcing him to look at her. "Will you decide for me that I'm making the wrong choice? How do you know I can't help?"

Because you're the reason it's happening. The words queued behind his teeth, bitter like vomit. Then he felt disgusting for even thinking it, like Grace had had any more choice in it than he had. Perhaps she did need to know, if only to stop her looking at him like he'd betrayed her – as far as he was concerned he'd done nothing but the opposite. He wasn't sure that she would view it that way, though, once she found out what it entailed.

"I killed that Angel spy during the demon siege," she suddenly declared. Jordan stared at her. Her voice trembled as she continued. "I did. I stabbed him in the side with a knife. Is it worse than that?"

"You never told me that."

"It's not a big mystery why, is it?" She sniffed. "So is it worse? Have you killed someone?"

"Almost," he replied truthfully. "I lost control of my magic, ironically trying to save them from wights." He took a breath. "I was only there to collect money for a Devil."

The silence that followed was painful. Grace had ended a life and kept it from him. The spy had been trying to kill her and he struggled to feel any sympathy for him, but the fact remained that she hadn't told him what had happened. He sensed her perception of their relationship shifting as radically as his was; they were living totally separate lives now. She had a lover he barely knew; who wasn't even human. His magic and his link to the Devils created a barrier that was hard to breach from either side. Both of them, polar opposite to their childhood together, had willingly been evasive about massive events. His list of transgressions was longer and wider-spanning, granted, but what else wasn't she telling him?

"Why did we start this argument?" he muttered, dropping his eyes back to the chopping board.

"Because it needs to happen," Grace said stubbornly. "Or one day we'll meet up for a chat and realise we're both talking to strangers."

He flinched. His sister was one of the most important people in his life – if not the most. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't go through all that stress and trouble and deception to save her life, only to lose her over it.

He braced himself. "You know, I presume, that the Devils have their eye on you."

She nodded. "Nova told me. Because you clearly weren't going to."

"Grace, this is really hard. Please stop biting my head off until you've heard all of it."

Her only concession to that was a grim nod. The distance in her gaze chilled him. He wondered for one terrible moment whether it was already too late.

"They don't have your eye on you for you. They're showing me that they could get to you faster than I can, if they wanted to."

Some of the tightness left her jaw. "I'm being used as blackmail? For what? Money? Drugs?"

He looked away, clutching the knife handle until his palm hurt. "For service."

She processed that for a moment. That she hadn't immediately started railing at him and throwing things was a good thing – at least, so he hoped. "What kind of service?"

"Arlen is my...my teacher."

"Is he missing a leg?"

Jordan flinched and dropped the knife with a clatter. He had been so focused on Grace that he hadn't noticed Nika standing in the hall, and he suspected the Unspoken had made his astral signature less intrusive for that purpose. "Nika."

"Is he missing a leg, Thorne?"

The word escaped him almost without sound. "Yes."

The Unspoken nodded. It was impossible to tell his true thoughts from his voice as he asked, "And both Yddris and Harkenn were aware of this?"

Jordan nodded. His neck felt as though it creaked with the tension. The long-healed Devil tattoo between his shoulders suddenly seemed to burn. "We had a plan. To get me out when I graduated."

"But that could be years," Grace protested. "You're supposed to get bullied by criminals for years?"

"It's the only chance I'll have, Grace. They know my real name, several of them know what I look like. They all know who I'm apprenticed to, who I'm related to, and who I work for. Until I graduate they've got me in a corner."

"Your...Guild thing can't do anything?" Grace asked, voice rising in pitch, but she was looking at Nika. The Unspoken was still watching Jordan.

"As Thorne said, all Cara can offer him is a chance to disappear," Nika said. He didn't sound angry. He didn't sound anything in particular – like some of the fight had left him. "If Harkenn and Cara both know of it, then Thorne is as safe in this situation as he is ever going to get."

"What if I left? Disappeared? They couldn't threaten him with me then."

"They'd find you. I couldn't tell you how, but I know they would. And I'd be punished for it."

"Certainly if they are working with the Caelumese," Nova added. Jordan had almost forgotten she was there. He felt a flush creep up his neck. He knew he couldn't have kept it completely off of Grace's radar forever, but the Angel's infatuation with his sister had not helped his case any. As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Nova quirked a small, sad smile. "I didn't give her as many clues as you think I did, Thorne. You just underestimated how well Grace knows you."

Not entirely convinced, Jordan scowled, but his nervousness wiped it away as Nika stepped inside the room. "Grace, you and Nova can take the attic room for yourselves. I've cleared most of my things out, but I left some books you might enjoy. Perhaps you could sort them for me?"

Grace didn't take the hint graciously. She stalked from the room, and Jordan knew he could expect a more thorough grilling later, when what he had told her had filtered through. He didn't think the implications had yet registered with her. It felt surreal that she now knew, after months of living with it hanging over him like an axe. He was scared, and anxious, but also filled with a terrible, visceral relief. Now all he had to do was deal with the consequences, instead of the anticipation of them. He tensed when Nika joined him at the cooking pot and gently took over.

"You aren't angry," Jordan said, half-statement, half-query. "I thought you'd be angry."

"Oh, I am," Nika said, in the same soft, even tone. "Just not with you."

"With Yddris?"

"With Yddris. With Harkenn." Nika's chopping got louder and faster. "You were so vulnerable when you arrived here. You knew nothing about Nictaven and yet you had Gift potential. You should never have been sent out into the city so early on. Failing that, you should not have been left alone at that inn at any point. People like the Devils smell vulnerability like that from miles off. Carrion demons, the lot of them. They see a chance, they take it and wind the knot so deftly that their victims don't see it until it pulls tight. You had no chance. And those who were best placed to protect you from it failed you." The knife paused. "This Arlen. He killed Eril, didn't he?"

Jordan's silence was likely answer enough. Nika sighed, short and sharp, and began to chop so fast it was a miracle he kept all his fingers. Jordan didn't think they needed as many carrots as were currently being sliced, but had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

"And Yddris just lets you wander out with a man like that. By all rights he should have seen the gallows by now."

Jordan shrugged, even as his stomach was doing nauseating somersaults. Arlen's past crimes were something he didn't dwell on, not if he wanted to stay at least outwardly calm in the man's presence. Arlen would smell out that kind of terror in an instant, and god knew what he would do with the information. He capitalised on Jordan's nerves enough as it was. "I don't blame Yddris. He was just doing what Harkenn told him to."

"Doing what Harkenn tells him to gets him into most of his worst scrapes," Nika said, but it was with resignation. The heat left his voice, with a seeming effort. "But no, I would never encourage you to let it get between you. You seem to be closer since you returned."

"That night, when I came home and you found me..."

Nika put down the knife. He scraped some obliterated potato into the pot. "If it would endanger you to tell me, Thorne, do not tell me. It will only make it harder to pretend I haven't noticed you sneaking out at night."

"And on that patrol?"

"I suspected it was you. More than suspected."

Jordan almost couldn't make himself ask the next question. "Did Koen notice?"

"No, I don't believe so. He has never said as much to me or Hap. And if he hasn't mentioned anything to you, either, you can assume that he doesn't suspect anything. Koen is not a man of subtlety."

Jordan chuckled weakly. "No, he isn't. It's quite nice to be around, actually."

"You never told me how his ceremony went."

As they prepared the lunch, they talked in more detail about the visit to the Guildtown. With a pang Jordan realised that he still missed it as much as he had the day he left, and longed to go back to a place where the Devils were only a peripheral threat. Nika had taken it much better than Jordan had expected, though probably not as well as he seemed on the outside, and it was a given that Yddris would be hearing about it later, but there was no going back to how it had been before the truth was out. He couldn't relax, knowing it still hung between them. Dreading the next moment alone with Grace. Dreading going back to the dead quarter and acting like he hadn't spilled his guts about the whole deal.

"Thorne?" Nika said quietly, after a silence that couldn't quite be called comfortable fell between them.

He couldn't keep the trepidation from his voice, so he settled for a neutral, "Hm?"

"Have you... That is, has he made you..."

Jordan closed his eyes, sickness rising. "No. God no, I haven't killed anyone. And I don't plan to."

"Good." Nika sounded relieved, but it only made his stomach churn more to think that the Unspoken could have entertained the remotest idea that he had. Was this what it was going to cost him to have any kind of association with Arlen?

Grace and Nova returned downstairs to eat. They had clearly been busy; his sister's face was flushed and her dark-dyed hair was in disarray. Nova's usually blank stare had a twinkling vagueness in them. He almost envied them. Though Nova was a slave, of Lord Harkenn himself no less, they had still been more successful at holding together a relationship than he had. He didn't think he and Laurel even had one to speak of; the more he thought on it, the more it looked like friends with benefits than anything serious. Certainly nothing that approached Grace and Nova's closeness. Hell, he'd been back in the Reach for a week and he hadn't even seen her yet, and the worst part was that it was his fault.

Dispirited by those thoughts, and made lower by Grace's furtive, suspicious glances, Jordan found he had little appetite after all. The house held a palpable tension, as if they all waited for someone to admit some final piece of the puzzle but didn't know who held it. The only exception was Nova, who appeared to take disproportionate delight in Nika's stew and the spare bedroll he offered her.

A note arrived by castle runner as they were clearing bowls away, written on Yddris's behalf to inform them that he wouldn't be back before evening. That meant the visit to Laurel was likely not going to happen until at least the next day, as Nika was going on patrol and even Arlen had expressly banned Jordan from ranging too far alone. Usk was going to collect him later, like picking up a kid from school. He had no idea what Arlen had planned for the evening. He supposed that at least if he sneaked out now, it wouldn't matter if someone noticed - but that thought only made him put his bowl aside unfinished.

"Are you getting on alright with your work, Thorne?" Nika said. The effort to sound like nothing had changed was so strained as to be painful. "I have an hour spare now if you've got questions."

"I wasn't concentrating on it," Jordan admitted. "How long is your patrol today?"

"Six hours, and then I have a shift at the Medica," Nika said grimly. "So I do hope that Yddris meant it when he said evening. I'll see if I can get anyone to oversee you tonight, considering our additional company. Torian might be free."

"That would be great," Jordan replied, and had the horrible feeling that Nika only needed that much to know that he would be out for the night, as well.

"If all else fails, I'll come back and take you to the Demon's Brew after patrol," the Unspoken sighed, speaking mostly to Grace. "Harkenn won't know the difference for one night. Or two. I've got another one tomorrow"

"How is Laurel?" Grace asked. Her effort to sound normal was almost worse than if she'd made no effort at all. Jordan was starting to almost look forward to the evening, just to get free of the house.

"I...haven't seen her yet. Haven't had time."

"Hm." There was a world of possible interpretations in that hm. Few of them were favourable. Jordan looked away, mind racing to think of something he could do that would remove him from this situation, give him a breather for just five minutes. Ren provided the distraction for him in the end, bounding into the front room with half her fur still rumpled from her nap. While Grace set to cooing over her, Jordan slipped into the corridor and hurried to the yard. He had a cigarette half-rolled before the door slapped shut behind him.

He sagged onto the bench under the eaves, taking a grateful drag and willing the mild soporific to ease the knot of tension in his neck. A Firebull cry echoed over the city, though it sounded a long way out. His eyes burned with tears he was desperate not to shed.

"You look miserable."

Jordan lurched from the seat. A slim figure sat on the fence, legs swinging idly, though the pale gaze fixed on him was cold. He experienced a flash of panic; all his blades were inside except the small dagger Yddris had given him, and if Silas was close enough that he could use a blade that small then he was already in deep shit.

"What are you doing here?" Jordan asked in a low voice. He edged one foot towards the back door, and froze at a miniscule movement at the other boy's side – a knife winked at him from his pale grip.

"You know," Silas snarled. He looked Jordan up and down, exaggeratedly. "What does he see in you? Have you even blooded a blade yet?"

"I don't think that's the metric..."

Silas lunged. Jordan had enough time to throw his hands up in defence as he crab-crawled back towards the door. He snarled as white pain shot down his arm from a shallow gash. He hoped it was just shock and not because the little shit had put something on the blade. He straightened, widened his stance, and grabbed the knife hand at the wrist as it came flying at him a second time, using a momentum-stalling grip he'd learned from Usk; he used Silas's surprise to kick him in the groin once, and then twice. As Silas lowered himself, groaning, to the floor, Jordan leaned in and hissed, "Get. Out."

He stumbled back in through the door and slammed it behind him. Grace hurried into the hall at the noise and he stuck his bleeding arm behind his back.

"Are you okay, Joe? I thought I heard someone..."

"Fine." Blood soaked into his sleeve as he forced some levity into his voice. "Just fine."

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Regards,

Elinor (S E Harrison)