Chapter 4: Bianca - Ties - Change

Bianca
Ties

* * *

Brayden led me to a brightly lit room tucked away in the far corner of the first floor. I looked around at the glass windows and bright-colored books as he spoke, never having explored this area of the library before.

“The most popular hangouts in the library are psychology and science,” he was saying. “No one comes back here.”

Here?

I glanced at the markings at the surrounding aisles—which I hadn’t been paying even the slightest attention to at this point.

“Children’s literature?” No wonder the small tables were bright red and the chairs smaller than the other study sections. “Why do we have children’s literature?”

Brayden shrugged, holding out a red chair for me. “The early childhood education department uses it sometimes.” He pushed my seat. To anyone else it might have been a tight fit, but for me, I was still able to fit semi-comfortably.

“Now”—he sat on the floor and pulled his backpack around to his lap—“I stole this from—”

“Wait.” His choice of words had thrown me off, and I held up my hand, interrupting. “You, what?”

Brayden paused, watching me in the most critical way, before he finally opened his mouth, speaking more slowly. “I’ve recently acquired this book that basically has everything that you’ve asked for.” He finished, setting a deep-brown colored book on the table and sliding it toward me.

I eyed the book with a racing heart, and my palms began to sweat. Why did I not believe that this book had been ‘recently acquired’ by anything less than illegal means? My fingers began to tingle.

“What is it?” I heard myself ask. My voice had a hollow quality that caused a shiver to run down my spine.

Brayden didn’t appear to notice. “It’s from your private library,” he said.

I was finally able to tear my eyes from the book.

“Your personal library.” Brayden was almost bouncing in excitement. Clearly, he was thrilled to be sharing this with me. “You have a few.”

“And… you stole… from me?” Now I was personally offended. What kind of lackluster security measures were being put into place around here? “How?”

“Never mind that now.” He waved his hand, dismissing my question.

No, I really did mind.

Brayden moved to his knees, opening the book. “The first couple chapters are a broad overview of your origins, a breakdown of fae powers, how quintets work—the basics. Then it moves on”—he ran his finger down a finger smudged page—“where there’s a list of some—of many—prophecies. Some have already been fulfilled, they’re marked in the book. I’ve put a sticky in here”—he pointed to the yellow paper—“where you’ll find the whole dragon prophecy.”

“Is that the rest of the book?” There was still quite a bit of reading after the marker. “Just prophecies?”

“Nah.” Brayden flipped forward a few random pages and moved it more fully in front of me. His curly hair fell over his eyes mischievously. “There’s also a lot about fae customs.”

“Customs?” I breathed, a sense of foreboding filling me as this topic came up, once again. There was no way that this was a coincidence.

“A general overview of culture.” Brayden sounded shy and his knee began to bounce. “It’s an introduction book you created, a long time ago. They say you’ve always been curious and like to learn things for yourself.”

Did they now? Though it’d make sense—if this was like reading a diary I’d written, it wouldn’t feel like someone else telling me about my life.

It’d feel like…

Everything was no longer spiraling out of control around me.

“Culture?” I frowned down at the grotesque image. “Is that a goblin eating a human?” It totally was.

It was even labeled—in fancy cursive—as a preferred punishment toward humans who’d attempted to trick or steal from the fae.

“Don’t worry too much about every chapter.” Brayden quickly flipped forward through the book. “Most of these things are outdated anyway!”

“Brayden…” I was still staring in the location where the image had once been, which was now replaced with a wall of barely legible text. “If this was from my private library, then how did you know what was in it?”

He froze, and I huffed out a breath.

Maybe I didn’t want to know.

“Never mind.” Whatever reason he had to snoop around, it worked out for my benefit anyway. Just so long as he was putting his sleuthing skills to use in order to do good, I didn’t care.

“Brayden,” I said again, as—now—a nervous tension began to fill my stomach. I highly doubted that it was unintentional that two people in two days had come to me with this topic.

Brayden was watching me with wide-eyed wariness, and his voice shook a little when he replied, “Yes?”

“Why are you and Dr. Stephens talking to me about fae custom all of a sudden?” I moved my finger over the pages of the book, vaguely noting that it felt warm under my touch. “We’ve barely had time to even go over everything we do as mediums—empaths—whatever you want to call our abilities.”

“It’s all of that,” Brayden interrupted.

But I pressed onward. “I’d think, then, that culture would be one of the last things to talk about, since it’s a given that I wouldn’t be going to the fae realm any time soon.”

Brayden made a sound of understanding and leaned back. “Well, Mu created our realm. So you should probably feel some sort of connection…”

He was telling the truth, but not entirely. Brayden made a terrible liar.

“Is there any personal information about Mu in here?” That, probably, would help me feel a ‘connection’ other than reading about gruesome traditions that—the first occasion I could—I would definitely be addressing. That was, if my ‘oversight’ was as strong as everyone implied.

“No.” Brayden frowned. “There are other books—about family lines, history, personality analysis and past lives. I have those here.” He pulled out two more thick books, laying them beside the first on the table. “But I figured you’d want to start with the prophecy.”

My chest swelled. He really did understand me. Trying to figure this out on my own would have taken ages.

Meanwhile, Brayden was giving me something that I hadn’t been able to find before—a way to more fully understand myself.

“There’s a lot more, obviously, between the public and private archives,” Brayden was saying, green eyes shining in apology. “And Uncle Caleb and I have been trying to find your private journals and diaries for years, but we haven’t—”

His sentence stopped abruptly as I jumped off the chair and threw my arms around his neck. Maybe it was the medicine making me warm and emotional, or maybe it was just because it was that time of the month, but I didn’t want him to feel guilty when it was obvious that he’d been trying so hard.

And even more than that, he’d already helped me so much.

No one had ever taken my research seriously before.

“Thank you.” My cheek was pressed above his clavicle, and I could hear his heart racing even as he remained frozen under me. “You didn’t have to.”

“Oh…” He finally moved—exhaling—as he hugged me back and pet my shoulder. “Of course.”

There was something about the hitch in his voice that made me hold him at an arm’s length, glancing up at him with watery eyes. “You do have to listen to me?” I’d been half-joking when plotting out all the ways I could torture Bryce. But now that I thought about it, that was kind of terrible.

“No,” Brayden replied. He watched me in a way that could only be described as affectionate, and his face was slightly pink. “It doesn’t work exactly like that. We help you because we want to help you.”

That was reassuring, at least a little.

“What about Mr. Weaver?”

“You should really call him Uncle Caleb.” Brayden sighed, lowering his arms back to the floor. “Same thing with Uncle Gregory. I think it’d make them happy.”

I’d thought about it… really, I did. Especially while working with Dr. Stephens and Damen so closely lately, it sometimes felt weird to be so formal.

I looked away, pushing myself the rest of the way out of Brayden’s lap. “But… He has a doctorate.” The excuse felt flimsy, even to me. “He’s worked hard to earn that and—”

“If that’s your reason, you’ll need to start calling Uncle Caleb ‘doctor’ too.” Brayden didn’t sound fooled at all. “He has a Doctorate in History—his focus was the middle ages and European renaissance.”

“But…” I said again, but for an entirely different reason this time. “Everyone calls him ‘mister’…”

Brayden shrugged. “That’s because he doesn’t care about that stuff. He’s extremely laid back once you get to know him. He was the popular one.”

I bit my lip, thinking about the ghost I’d been associating with thus far.

Laid back? I couldn’t imagine it. Even as a spirit he was one angry rant away from a heart attack.

Regardless, I wasn’t sure I could just talk to either of them and call them ‘Uncle.’ They might laugh at me.

“He was the first in the family to go to a non-fae university,” Brayden continued. I glanced at him in surprise, and he nodded. “It inspired Uncle Gregory to branch out too. But Uncle Caleb left for a reason—he was looking for something.”

I could hear my own sharp breath. “Do you think if we called him here, he’d—”

“Don’t!” Brayden was no longer relaxed and held his hand up. “He might like you, but not that much.”

“He doesn’t like me.” Therefore, there was nothing to lose.

“Oh, he does.” Brayden was quick to reassure me. “But he’s probably not going to talk to you about it yet.”

What in the world was he talking about—Mr. Weaver didn’t like me at all. Before, there was a slight chance we might have come to an understanding, but then I’d accidentally trapped him in a room with Ms. Protean for two weeks, and so…

I hadn’t had the courage to face him yet. It was at my insistence—after I sheepishly admitted to Bryce what I’d done, and he laughed at me—that my oldest brother went and freed the ghost. I hadn’t heard anything from the spirit since.

Still, he was a ghost. Maybe he would be magically compelled to be nice once I asked him a direct question.

I sighed, twisting my fingers into my skirt. “Shouldn’t he have to answer me if I asked him outright?”

Brayden threw his head back and laughed. “That’d make things so much easier.”

I watched him and heat rose to my face in embarrassment. Finally, he began to quiet down. “I’m sorry.” He pushed his curls back from his face. “I didn’t realize…” He cleared his throat, shuffling nervously before he answered. “Sorry, you said before… but I didn’t know you believed we had to listen to you.”

My skin burned and I looked at the books he’d brought for me. It seemed I was in more desperate need of education than I’d thought.

“Outside of a spirit, who has to physically go where you command them, no one else has to obey your orders.” Brayden swiped a tear from his eye. “Where in the world would you get that idea?”

But Damen had said—

“Ah, I get it—Damen must have said something stupid, because that’s what he expects of his own constituents, even though he doesn’t really enforce that either.” Brayden slapped his thigh. His green eyes sparkled in mirth as his lips quirked. “I listen to you because I like you, I’m supporting your efforts, and I want to help you out. I just don’t understand… Do you honestly believe you’ve been telling Bryce what to do this whole time?”

My skin warmed as my fingers curled into fists. Well, yeah—

“I would pay good money to see that,” Brayden said, lips twitching once more. “Bryce doesn’t listen to anyone. Bryce is doing what he wants to do, and because he thinks you’re adorable.”

My breath caught as these horrible lies permeated the air.

“He acts the way he does—like challenging you when you’re not expecting it—because he’s trying to help you become more confident in asserting your authority. For the most part, officers are allowed to make our own decisions and to act independently, unless you’re coming to us with a direct order. Even then, if we feel strongly against what you say, we can opt out. However, depending on the order, refusal might affect us keeping our position.”

“So…” My blood was rushing in my ears, and I rushed to change the subject. “You said that it’d be you or…” This felt weird to say, but Brayden was watching me so eagerly. “Uncle Caleb, that would know about my library. Why?”

Brayden perked at this and lowered his face toward mine conspiratorially. “Because he knew you in your last life. You trained him.” My fingers prickled as I held my breath—my last life? When was that, and what was I like?

My skin hummed as the biggest question of all remained unspoken on the tip of my tongue. ‘What was my name?’

For some reason it felt incredibly important to know—but also not quite. There were so many other things going on. Was it something that really mattered right now?

Brayden didn’t notice my sudden silence and cupped his hand around his mouth as he continued. “He’d know because the upkeep and protection of your personal library was something you assigned to him in your last life. What do you think he’s been working on?”

I blinked at him, a sudden sense of emptiness causing my stomach to drop. “What?”

Brayden’s expression fell and he stuck his lip out. “Darn, I thought we were on to something and it might trigger a memory. He wouldn’t tell me either.”

I frowned at my lap, disappointment lacing through me.

“And there’s another reason I’d leave him alone,” Brayden grinned, resting his elbow on the table. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that he really isn’t happy with you right now. It’s extremely rude to trap a spirit.”

“I know that.” I sighed, my shoulders slumping further. “I didn’t mean to…” Realization dawned as I asked, “He told you what happened?”

“No.” Brayden’s lips curled up. “Bryce did—he thought it was the cutest thing. But enough of that.” He pulled another book out of his bag and laid it on the table. “If you have some time, read this. But don’t feel pressured or anything,” he added, and I realized that this fidgeting had been nervousness. He might say not to feel pressured, but he totally wanted me to read this book.

Why?

“It’s about fae mannerisms and family dynamics.”

His words were light, but I could sense the underlying hint of something larger there, and it wasn’t such a stretch for me to venture, “Why would I need to know that?”

“Thanksgiving is coming up. Here, read this chapter,” he added, opening the book and flipping through the pages. He finally stopped, pointing to blurred words in fancy font.

Well, it was a blur to me. The words themselves were probably quite clear, but my head was beginning to feel light, and my body numb. “What does that have to do with anything?” I forced myself to ask, and to add another major point, “The fae celebrate American Thanksgiving?”

“Not necessarily.” Brayden’s nervous grin wavered. “We do get together any chance we can get though. Most major worldwide holidays, and even some minor ones… every weekend…”

“Isn’t that overkill?” Seriously, I enjoyed food as much as the next person, but who could keep up with all this demand?

“Will you come to Thanksgiving dinner?” Brayden didn’t answer my question. His fingers dug into his arms as he spoke, and he was studying the ground.

His nervousness was a bit adorable, and the fact that someone else other than me was feeling off about even having this conversation made the knot in my stomach loosen.

But his nervousness only meant one thing—he was afraid of my reaction.

There was only one major thing we disagreed on thus far.

“Will he be there?” I asked, and this time it was me who looked to the floor.

It was a miracle he’d heard my low question, but he did and responded anyway. “Yes.”

I couldn’t reply at first. My throat closed as panic and betrayal swelled in me. How could he bring this up again? However, I really couldn’t blame him. I promised to think about meeting my biological father.

But did I want to?

No.

Just the thought of it made my thoughts fuzzy. It was one thing to be rejected by people who weren’t biologically related, but blood? I was lucky with just Brayden and Bryce.

But…

My father had already abandoned me once; how awful would it be if he decided to do it again?

“Did you know that he doesn’t know what you look like?” Brayden’s quiet statement reached my ears, breaking through my spiriting thoughts. My mouth went dry and my head was beginning to ache.

So, it was true. He really didn’t care.

“He wants to see you in person the first time.” Brayden continued, still not meeting my eyes. “Bryce’s phone wallpaper is a picture of you eating. He snuck it when the two of you went out once.”

Well, that was a little bit alarming.

“Dad refuses to even touch Bryce’s phone. When we found out you were alive…” Brayden said, shoulders slumping. “He’d given up hope. Kieran was supposed to contact us throughout the years, and we’d heard nothing. Even though he was afraid you died, Dad still set aside money and a room, everything you’d need, just in case you came back. When Bryce and I first told him we’d found you, he changed. He’s not sad anymore. But Dad is also really dramatic. No matter how excited he was, he refused to even look at your picture.” Brayden pointed his finger in the air as his voice changed slightly. “He says that there’s no way a photograph can accurately capture your essence, so he’ll wait until you’re ready to meet him in person. He smacked his head into a wall trying to get away when Bryce tried to show him. He cares.” Brayden finally lifted his eyes. “More than you can even imagine.”

I swallowed—almost unable to breathe under the weight of this heavy atmosphere—and nodded. I was still terrified, but for a different reason now.

But if it was like this, maybe I was afraid of nothing. “Maybe I’ll go.”

Brayden’s face lit up, and his smile was blinding. “That’s awesome.”

We could discuss details later—there were things I still needed to process. “Bryce has a picture of me?”

“Yes. Lots of pictures.” And for some reason, Brayden’s face colored. “You don’t get it.”

I didn’t get a lot of things, and I knew that, but I was growing rather tired of hearing that phrase. “Get what?”

“We adore you,” Brayden muttered, almost shy. “And Bryce… he’s been dealing with guilt all these years. You’re back, but now he blames himself for everything that you’ve gone through. I make fun of him,” he almost whispered, his tone a bit petulant, “but he is a good brother. To continue our earlier conversation, Bryce might listen to you, but let me make something perfectly clear about us.” His tone became serious, and his eyes were harder when he looked back to me. “If we believe for a second that there’s a significant threat to your life, or that you’re putting yourself in harm’s way, we will not hesitate to do what we think is best.”

Conflicting emotions warred inside me. On one hand, it was rather nice to be so… treasured, was it? Although I could see it becoming slightly overbearing.

On the other…

How in the world was I supposed to do my job correctly—whatever it was exactly I was meant to do—if two of the people meant to support me thought they could intervene at any time?