Page 11

CHAPTER 11 - PASCAL

“J ust one prick and then it’s over.” The doctor hovered a needle in my direction, and I jerked back.

A sharp percussion dominated the beat in my mind, the notes twisting into horror movie waterphones and tritones.

“No more needles.” My body hardened to steel, and my eyes crashed shut at the metal descending on my vein.

Yesterday, the medical team had to restrain me to inject bone healing serum and painkillers. The irony of goddamn tiny needles when I played with knives and other sharp weapons in training, and got scratched or worse on missions.

“Where’s Dr. Simmons?” I scrambled to the opposite side of the bed, not wanting this new doctor to touch me when I didn’t know him.

Dr. Simmons played Beethoven’s Symphony Number 9 and talked to me when he took my blood to soothe the maelstrom in my head.

“He’s not in today,” the stranger informed me. “His little girl is sick with a stomach bug.”

“Can’t this wait until he’s back?” Knoxe argued for me, squeezing my foot from the base of my gurney, prompting my eyes to snap open. “He feels more comfortable with Dr. Simmons.”

The doctor stabbed his needle into a vial of sedatives, drawing liquid into the syringe. “The warden wants to check his levels today.”

Blood taken weekly to monitor my morphing powers. I resented the invasion, being subject to these tests, and to wearing the bracelet to suppress my magick, when this connection was my only means to control my anxiety. Without my magick, I’d been forced to find new coping mechanisms, and maybe that a was a plus in a way.

“No more drugs.” I rolled on my side, and pain arced down my chest from the ribs the vampires broke. Thirty-two hours in, and the serum sealed the fractures and was on its way to reforging the bone. Give it another two days, and I’d be good enough for discharge and light duties.

Tor got in the physician’s way, blocking him with a hand to his chest, and a jerk of his head. “He said no drugs.”

The doctor abandoned the syringe on the portable bedside cart. Too close for comfort when in proximity to deploy if necessary.

“Can you put on Beethoven’s Symphony Number 9 to relax him?” Knoxe had been to a few of my medical appointments as a support person and knew the drill.

“Yes, Beethoven, please.” The harmonies carried my mind away.

“We’ll get you Beethoven, buddy.” Tor eyed the doctor until he removed his cell, searched for music, and activated it.

The notes of my favorite composer’s darkness took center stage. Taut muscles in my neck and back softened and eased the bite in my chest. Air streamed through my nose and mouth in slower breaths.

Beethoven wasn’t just music to me. I related to his inner struggles of his deafness and loneliness. The twist from melancholy to joy in the final verses gave me hope that I, too, could triumph against adversity. Despite his failing hearing, he was a pioneer, composing groundbreaking and boundary-pushing music for his time with raw emotional depth not encountered before. His symphonies carried me through a gamut of emotions and taught me how to understand the human condition when I had no reference for it.

“That’s better, isn’t it, buddy?” Tor gave my arm another pump, smiled, and let me go, respecting my space.

Normally, Astra was the one to comfort me, but my brothers stepped up to the plate, and my connection to them deepened.

“Yes, thank you.” I smiled up at Tor, breaking apart the ache in my jaw from clenching it tightly.

Tor nodded at the doctor and leaned down on the gurney’s arm. “I just got new Cupid’s Vengeance and Captain Victorius comics delivered. Wanna read them with me once this is done?”

I barely felt the wrap of a tourniquet around my bicep or the intrusion of metal in my skin as the doctor delicately drew blood. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Or play some chess?” Knoxe’s question stopped me from glancing sideways at the blood being drawn. He preferred the games to the comics than nerding out like Tor, Astra, and me, reading the villain’s dialogue out loud.

Yesterday, Knoxe and Loco finished questioning the vampire captives, collecting evidence in their case, and preparing them for transport back to their worlds for arraignment.

Afterwards, Knoxe returned to my room, spending the day with Tor and me, listening to music, playing a few games, and planning our lives once we were released from the Guardians. Activities that helped to pass the boredom of being stuck in a hospital bed. Honestly, I was surprised he wanted to hang out with me when finalizing the Styx contract. Collecting our bounty points and reviewing the thief avatar’s data to round up the escaped prisoners seemed critical compared to babysitting me.

“Knoxe wants an ass-kicking, does he?” Tor teased with a wink Knoxe’s way, who wasn’t the best with board games, being more a sports guy.

“I think you do.” Knoxe winked back.

Knoxe. Winking. Joking. Having. Fun. Were the heavens falling from the sky? Pride injected into my veins at being able to recognize humor when previously I couldn’t understand emotion or facial expressions. I worked so hard with Dr. Anders, and private sessions with Astra, until I got it right. After almost twenty eight years, I finally began to feel more normal.

He moved to the side of the bed and play-punched Tor, and they engaged in mock wrestling, ending with Tor kissing the side of Knoxe’s head. I enjoyed those two getting along smoother after months of tension before and after Astra arrived. They separated with a laugh, and Tor roughly pulled Knoxe in for a heavy kiss. My dick twitched, thinking of the next time we shared a bed together.

My cock fell still when the clip releasing on my left shoulder said the doctor removed the tourniquet, and moments later, off came the blood collection tube from the vacutainer. The rattle said he placed the serum tube in the plastic basket. I knew all the names from asking Dr. Simmons, and him going through the process with me to ease my mind.

“One down, Mr. Fielding, two more to go.” I appreciated that he kept me informed but also wanted it to be over with.

Beethoven’s beat wobbled, and I glued my eyes to Tor for grounding my anxiety before it took off.

“You’re doing good, buddy.” His praise set off a new string of melodies that I hadn’t heard before. Light, relaxing, friendly, brotherly even. Pleasant notes mixed in with the inspirational ones coming from the doctor’s phone.

Each day, I felt accepted by them. One of them—their brother, teammate and lover. The darkness and challenges of Beethoven’s world that represented mine began to shift into the joy and celebration of his triumphs.

A second serum tube unclipped from the vacutainer.

“Just one more to go, Mr. Fielding, then we’ll be done,” the doctor advised.

I shot out my hand and clasped Tor’s. He returned the tight grip, and I felt like he’d always protect me and never let me go.

“Thanks, Doc,” my brother said for me when my voice vaporized.

Scratchy, sinister violin strings plucked in the background.

“What do you want for lunch?” Knoxe added to my distractions.

My earlier hunger dissolved, I didn’t want to think about food yet.

“How about I get some sandwiches?” he suggested, and I nodded absently. “Back in a bit.” He clapped me on the leg and left. A pleasant warmth lingered where he touched me, longing for his hands back.

“All done.” The doctor removed the needle from my arm and disposed of the sharps. “I’ll have the results tomorrow, and we’ll have a meeting with the warden to discuss.”

I croaked out a thank you and reclined back in my pillows.

Tor shot out a fist for me when the doctor departed. “Good on you, buddy.”

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.

“Yes, I have, pookie pie.” Knoxe blew Tor a kiss, and those two indulged in some sexual flirtations bound to end up in the bedroom.

“I’m proud of the man you’ve become, Knoxe,” I voiced, breaking up their little game. “Proud to call you my brother and friend.” The rest didn’t need to be said, and I hoped he understood my meaning.

Knoxe fell silent and dropped his sandwich to his lap.

Tor smiled, waiting for his reply, probably to commence a new tease.

Knoxe set aside his food and lifted from his seat, coming to me, and bending over to hug me despite the awkwardness of the angle. “I’m proud to call you the same.” He thumped me on the back and let me go, respecting that I didn’t like to be touched for long.

I grabbed his arm, drawing him back down, wrapping my arms around him. “I love you, brother.”

“Me too.” We held each other for a record amount, and for the first time, I wasn’t bothered by the burn of our contact.

Balmy harmonies danced through me, and I reveled in our mutual respect and love. This small step told me we were all climbing to the next level. Who knew where it led. Hopefully to our freedom and sovereignty. Surely we earned it. Right?