Chapter6

#Chapter6

Seconds. Minutes. Hours? Time passed in an agonizing contradiction. Slowly, but all at once. Every rise and fall to the brat's chest seemed to mock me, a brazen reminder that I was no closer to deciphering him than before the near suicide-journey; every flutter of his eyelids, his long lashes kissing against his pen-streaked cheeks, tried to persuade me into relenting caution.

I was trapped mid-thought, prying into the Vidua's words, trying to wrap my head around them enough to formulate some kind of plan, when the kid bolted upright. A high-pitched sound burst out of its mouth, grating against my ears. It was charming as a fork being scraped against the surface of a plate.

Bright and forceful, two dormant supernovas on the cusp of infinity, his eyes found me. They were blue, I noted absently. Not the steely, reassuring blue that painted my Beta's irises, but a vivid variant, so intense that they seemed to steal the light from the room. Paired with the halo of golden curls and the cherubic features . . . yup, it took a jumpstart of the senses to shake free the illusion.

Another sound left the kid's mouth. His limbs sprung into propeller mode, whirlwinding as he scampered back against the ground, putting as much distance between us as he possibly could. And when his back hit the wall, nowhere left for him to scuttle, his hands flew up, covering his face. Then his fingers parted, peeping, before snapping shut once more. And repeat. And repeat. It went on for a while.

/"You might have fooled Jonathan,/" I said after blowing out a harsh sigh, lowering my tone after the first syllable rang out an octave too loud. /"But you don't fool me./"

With a weeping heart and a glass that never dropped below half-full, my Beta had shown the boy sympathy. Pity, even. The clothes that the brat wore, a shirt that was two sizes too small, and joggers that only reached his calf, belonged to Jonathan's youngest nephew.

I had been prepared to let the little wildling bastard freeze its bare ass off after it had pissed on the floor like an animal. But for as fucked up as the kid had been, for as much as he had freaked us both out, Jonathan had succumbed to the baby blues, likening the child to that of his own blood.

It was a mistake. I'd told him as much, but the man was nothing if not a stubborn bastard.

Another garble of nonsense sounded in reply. A mesh-pit of noise that lacked substance. His peepers beamed out from the slits in his pen-stained fingers once more. Met my gaze again. Snapped shut. Annnnd repeat.

/"You're going to tell me where you came from,/" I continued, rising to my feet in a single swift movement, /"And what you are. You're going to tell me everything I want to know. Starting with your name./"

The demand hit the air with surety. Yet, half an hour later, tolerance having dwindled down to the dregs, I sank to my knees, falling back on my ass. The taste of defeat brayed arrogantly, threatening to choke me.

But if only for the sake of refusing to be bested by a child, I tried once more. /"Look, kid./"

Threats, snarls, along with every other technique in my arsenal of intimidation, had been used to try and pry free the answers I needed, but apart from the slither of reassurance that the kid saw me as the same big bad wolf that the members of my pack did, it had been a fruitless effort. Tears streaked the brat's cheeks, and its chest heaved as he choked on the broken sobs that wormed their way past the fingers jammed in his mouth. But apart from telling me I was 'scawy', the kid had kept to his silence.

Which would have been admirable if not for the fact that he was grating against my last fucking nerve.

/"Look, kid,/" I repeated when the watery eyes flicked up. /"My name is Sterling — /" I tapped my chest for emphasis /" — What is yours?/"

The change in tactic seemed to knock him off guard. Head tilting like a confused puppy, his hand fell away from his mouth, a stringy trail of drool keeping the connection.

/"Sterling./" Another tap to the chest before flipping my index in his direction. /"What's your name?/"

Three more attempts. Three puzzled looks. Giving up, my head fell back, flicking up towards the mosaic design that ridged the ceiling. The light, shielded by a dusty shade, stabbed at my eyes. Exhaustion nibbled away, trying to lull my lids into closing. They almost did.

/"Stawley./" The pronunciation was massacred, broken down into three syllables and a pause, but a finger poked in my direction before the kid turned it inwards, tentatively tapping his own chest. /"Lumen./"

/"That's right,/" I breathed, /"My name is Sterling. And yours is . . ../" I replayed the grinding of sounds he'd made, trying to accommodate it into a word. /"Lumen?/"

An eager nod was the only confirmation that I'd guessed right. /"Staw — /" He giggled, pawing at his snotty face with his sleeve as he jabbed towards me /" — Lumen./"

/"That's right./" For one troubling moment, the facade of innocence eclipsed reason. A wide grin broke across his face, revealing an uneven row of gapped teeth, and he squealed so damn loud that I could have sworn the lights flickered. /"I'm Sterling, you're Lumen./"

/"Lumen,/" he confirmed with an encore of claps, his hands comimg together like it was fly-swatting season. /"Star./"

The way he said my name, or tried to, became clearer with every attempt, but still fell short. But it was progress.

/"Here's what's going to happen, kid,/" I said after the creature had worn himself out by echoing his newfound words, finally lagging into silence. Curiosity appeared to have dominated his cowardice, and he'd shuffled along the floor on his bum until he was only an arm-stretch away from me. /"We'll end this on a high note. I'll give you the night to think about being a little more loose-lipped, and just maybe I won't send you to the academy for the cubs to use as a training dummy, and we'll pick it up again in the morning./"

It wasn't how I'd envisioned the interrogation going, and I was disgusted with how eager I was to call it quits. It'd taken the best part of an hour, maybe even more than, to get a name from him, and strangulation or a full-body shut down seemed more likely than getting anything else out of him tonight.

/"Star,/" the kid chirped, looking so damn proud of himself as he pointed at me again. /"Star. Star. Star./"

Pushing to my feet, boots pressing in deep and transferring some of the caked in mud, I fought off the dizzy spell. /"Alright. Get up./"

I needed coffee. Strong. Black. And lots of it. Locking the door and leaving the kid to his own vices, as I had during most of his stay, seemed appealing, but after eyeballing the mess once more, I decided against it.

For now, at least. As much as the disturbance of order bothered me, I was willing to bet the boy's company held a more irksome quality to it.

It took a hot minute for him to get with the program, clumsily clambering to his feet. /"Star,/" he cooed again, extending an arm

/"You've got to be shitting me,/" I scoffed as his fingers went all starfish, opening and closing, reaching for my own. /"Sooo not happening./"

Lumen gasped, eyes widening. /"Bad,/" he whispered.

/"You ain't seen nothing yet,/" I replied darkly. But as he stumbled forwards, as clumsy as Bambi on Ice, trying to grab at my hand again, my teeth locked into a harsh grind.

This was going to be a long night.