Page 52 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

Coming out of the Bastille, I nexed Maurice, calling him and his wife into another meeting.

Since the night of the reception, I was spending almost as much time with the Maumars as I did with Emma.

My life had changed drastically over the last few weeks and I’d hit more levels of stress on a daily basis than ever.

I hastened to our secret meeting spot and found the Maumars in intense conversation with each other.

"What happened?" They skipped the pleasantries, their concern evident.

"I had an interesting conversation with Number Two today," I began without delay, omitting my dealings with Number One.

The Maumars raised their eyebrows in unison. "Do tell."

"Apparently, there's a he , who will stop at nothing and has a vested interest in Emma."

Number Two had lived to see another day, though hearing him confess someone was actually after Emma, had nearly pushed me over the edge.

"A ‘he’?" Maurice furrowed his brow.

I nodded. "Yeah. It seems someone is orchestrating everything behind scenes, but I haven't uncovered any clues about their identity yet."

“Do they know about her untraceable translation?” Maurice asked, worry etched on his face.

I shook my head, “I don’t know for sure, but what other reason could there be for them to go after her blood?”

"We don’t know but keep pushing, James. You'll get there," Maria acknowledged, clearly impressed with my progress.

I gave her a short nod, effectively ending our interaction before they could ask me about Number One.

After they left, I reached out to Jackson, feeling the need to talk about…anything.

"Can we meet at the Cube? Now?" I asked when he answered his Nexus.

Instantly sensing the gravity of my tone, my friend wasted no time and arrived minutes later, finding me tucked away in one of the secure bubbles I'd created to ward off prying ears.

"What is it?" were his first words on seeing me.

“Something happened,” I muttered. I knew I would put Jackson in a horrible position by opening up to him about what I’d done, but I trusted my him with my life.

“Clearly.”

I took a deep breath. “I took a life from someone deserving.”

Jackson went completely still. His eyes, full of worry, didn’t blink and even his hair seemed to have frozen.

“As ordered by the Council?” he asked breathlessly.

I shook my head once.

“Jesus fuck. James, what the hell.”

I shrugged. “It had to be done.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You’re not getting away with it that easily, you tell me what happened and you tell me now.”

I dragged my hand down my face a little and rested my elbows on my knees, trying to grasp what exactly had happened.

“I can’t tell you much without putting you in a compromising position with the Council. Let’s just say, I had to do something and it tugged at my rage. I tried not to, but in the end, I couldn’t remember why the guy was allowed to live. So I unalived him.”

Jackson stared at me, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“You blacked out again?” he asked, referring to my rage-hazes as a kid.

I shook my head. “No. I was very much aware of the control I had. I decided to let it out. I remember every fucking second of it and I don’t regret it. It wasn’t a burst of energy, emerging because of a lack of control.” I paused. “It was my choice. I was in control.”

Jackson snorted. “You carried out an unsanctioned kill and you’re telling me you’re in control? Are you hearing yourself James? You are definitely not calling the shots, your anger is! And it’s not the first time either, I’ve seen you lose it a few times now.”

"It is under control," I hissed, clenching my fists under the table.

Jackson shook his head. "You’ve got to be kidding me. Have you seen yourself since Emma's arrival? It's like those first years in Cyclos all over again. You can barely contain your rage. It's pouring out of you like sweat after a godsdamn day’s training!"

I scoffed. "You're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not. You need to deal with whatever is bringing out your darkness before we all die at your fucking hands. You're a godsdamn walking fire hazard."

"You doubt my word?" I narrowed my eyes.

"No, I doubt your control."

I fell silent. I couldn't quite argue with his beliefs, considering I had just returned from severing someone's head not half an hour ago.

"Did you tell the Council about these 'doubts'?" I asked.

Jackson snorted. "Are you insane? Of course not. But you need to get a grip... What the hell is going on between you and Emma that's pulling out this side of you?"

I hesitated. I couldn't tell him everything—I'd be in breach of a massive confidentiality. But I could give him some information. After all, I trusted the guy with my life.

And so I did. I didn't tell him about her translation being untraceable, but I did tell him about her struggles to translate without the fear of death. Then I opened up about our recurring conflicts.

"I don't know why... We keep fighting over and over again." I sighed.

"Maybe you guys are too similar? Opposites attract, but you two are two alphas in the same room.

Both so fearful to fail, all other aspects of life get thrown out the window.

I love you, man, but your priorities in life are messed up.

Wanting to be the best is fine but wanting it above all else is fucked up," he said, shrugging.

"It's not normal, her not translating anything else than a fear of death. I don't understand it; why is she so blocked?"

"Maybe she's blocking something out," he suggested.

I hadn't considered that yet. "What, like an underlying trauma of some kind?"

"Maybe... She’s been through a lot lately. With the uprooting of her life, her failing regularly… Plus, you don't know what might have happened to her during those twenty-three years on the outside."

Or in the last few weeks, I thought. Not that I could tell Jackson about it but, she had been abducted and bled out by three strangers in the middle of the night. Maybe that’s what she was blocking out…

I nodded slowly. "You might be right about that... Okay... so how do I fix it?"

He laughed. "I don't know, man. Make her talk about it? Get her into therapy?"

Before I could respond, I noticed Matthew walking into the Cube, translating another cubicle with Justine and Nino.

They transformed theirs into an outdoorsy setup with lean-back chairs, a fire pit in the middle, and each had their own small table.

Noticing us, Matthew signaled to go join them, and I was relieved to finally push Emma out of my mind, looking forward to washing it all away with some good old Scotch.

Which is why I was less than enthusiastic when I spotted her coming in through the next cube. Without giving it much thought, I turned my back toward her. The darkness outside provided some cover, and there was a chance I was too far away for her to notice me. I hoped.

Jackson, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to my feeble attempts to ignore her.

"Hi, Em!" he called out to her enthusiastically.

"Hi, Jack!" she responded with equal enthusiasm, waving at him from afar. And ignoring me while doing so.

"Jack? Em?" I asked him disdainfully.

He frowned at me. "What? You have a problem with me befriending Emma, Walker?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"Of course, he does!" Matthew chimed in with a grin. "Obviously."

"I'm sorry; I fail to see how that is obvious," Jackson responded dryly.

Matthew snorted derisively. "Because she can't be trusted!"

Jackson looked at me, and I shrugged in obliviousness. I had no idea where Matthew was going with it.

"And why is that?" "Jack" asked.

"You know... because of her thing," Matthew answered impatiently, as if we were morons for not understanding.

"Her thing?" Jackson and I asked simultaneously.

"Yeah, her emotion thing."

"What emotion thing?"

"Dude… she was in the Human World for twenty-three years… twenty-three! She didn’t translate for twenty-three years! Do you know how few emotions she must have? She must be like… I don’t know, a psychopath or something." Matthew tapped his foot impatiently on the ground.

It would have been so much easier if I could’ve just told at least the guys I considered my brothers about Emma’s untraceable translation, but I couldn’t. Not without committing treason. Not without endangering her.

"A psychopath? Because she doesn’t have a lot of emotions?" Jackson asked, clearly stunned.

"Yes! If she doesn’t feel anything, she can’t be trusted," Matthew said, rather confidently, evidently not having consumed his first beer.

"Well, of course, you would think so," I muttered.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Matthew asked sharply. I looked at Jackson for help—a foolish mistake, he was even less diplomatic about anything than I.

"Well, you know, because you ooze emotions," Jackson answered lightly.

"I ooze emotions?" Matthew asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know, you always feel stuff, and we have to hear about it non-stop... You live for what you feel, so yeah... You ooze emotions."

"Well, it’s better than being a robot like you," Matthew retorted.

"Excuse me? How am I a robot?"

"You know very well how. You're always so rational; it's bizarre. We derive our powers from our feelings, and you practically have none."

The situation was escalating, and I attempted to intervene, but Jackson cut me off.

"Being rational is not the absence of feelings, you big babbling bipolar buffoon, it’s simply handling them differently. When you feel something, it engulfs your entire existence. I feel something, and it just doesn't hold too much weight. Doesn't mean I don't feel it."

"Whatever, dude." Matthew snorted dismissively.

"Good grief, Mat, you're so judgmental! Anyone slightly different from you, and they're instantly unacceptable. If they don't look, talk, or feel the way you do, something must be wrong with them! It's absurd!"

"Guys, let's simmer down; the girls are coming over," I attempted to defuse their conflict.