Ch. 17: Sunny's Shake-Up
September 2 | Day
Jack dropped a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Are you worried about her, or are you worried about me? Because it seems like you can't decide which one of us you want." His seductive tenor murmur vibrated through my core, and I held a shudder in check.
"I keep telling you, it's not like that," I replied.
"Just say the word, and I'll back off. She's yours. On the other hand–" He tilted his head. "–Say the word, and I'll let her know you're mine."
"Jack."
"Yes? Do you want to be mine...? Hers...? Ours?"
"Jack, listen."
"I'm listening." He cupped the nape of my neck and tugged me in for a kiss that sent a thrilling shockwave from my crown to my toes. "I'm listening," he reiterated.
I stood there, speechless. I couldn't believe he had done that in front of Mal. I stole a glance, and she wasn't watching, but my heart pounded in my throat nonetheless. His molasses brown eyes stuck to my face. I prayed my expression gave nothing away, despite little faith in my ability to conceal my muddled emotions.
Did I want to be his? That wasn't even an option. I wanted him to be disentangled from the djinn's dark machinations, but I couldn't cut the cord if he didn't know it existed. His very soul was on the line, yet my day-to-day progress at saving him was hampered by this bizarre chemistry between the three of us, and I couldn't think straight.
I needed space.
The stunning condo had a marble dining table, sized for entertaining, positioned in front of the pivot door to the patio. The glass wall made the city skyline seem within arm's reach. As I moved toward the view, peering at the roving sun, I deliberately avoided looking at the woman draped over his chaise lounge.
Enjoying her freedom. I swallowed my anxiety. What did it mean that Mal's greatest aspiration was to be her own boss, and how did Jack factor into that?
I turned away from her at the chime of the doorbell. The caterers had arrived. Jack let me off the hook as he went to let them in. There was a self-consciousness in his gait. I truly empathized. If Mal's aggressive charm offensive was keeping me off-kilter, the working class ex-con had to feel waylaid by the lifestyle upgrades.
For all my complaining, every detail of the opulent condo had been selected with an eye toward beauty and functionality. The environment suited Jack, but I couldn't be happy for him. I was livid with Mal, flummoxed by her neverending bag of tricks. Obviously, Jack found being spoiled by her irresistible. Worse, Mal had managed to coral me into her every grand delivery.
She entered the living room with a relaxed grin. "Wow, that was refreshing. I forget how lovely the sun feels this time of year."
"Living in the shadows will do that to you," I muttered drolly.
"You boys ready to eat?" She ignored me.
"Famished," said Jack. "As ever, you know what I need before I even realize it. My appetite has been off the charts lately. Thanks for this."
The caterers, a team of uniformed professionals, came in bearing gleaming platters of golden crepes, seared meats, and exotic fruit. They transformed the dining area into an oasis of color, which was what the monochrome condo needed.
We took our seats, Mal and Jack at the ends of the table, facing off, and me in the middle. It wasn't my imagination that her influence was growing, and none of Wallace's advice had thus far worked. Once brunch was arranged, the djinn dismissed the staff. Then she took up a serving spoon and catered to Jack personally. I glowered through a helping of Eggs Benedict. He dug into a protein laden plate.
"Everything to your liking, Jack?" she purred.
"Mmph! It's food for the soul." He kissed his fingers. I suppressed a groan. If he only knew, it was precisely that. Fattening him up for the slaughter.
"What about you, Little Light?"
My companion held up a finger to interject. "So, is that like a pet name or something? Why do you call him that?" He smiled as he chewed through a lazy appraisal of the both of us.
"Why don't you tell him, angel?" Mal lowered her eyes and lifted them to mine in an attempt at being coy. We had a deal. Neither of us could reveal our Supernatural type. She wanted to bait me into breaking it.
"Actually, why don't you tell me?" I countered.
Electricity crackled between us. She rose from her seat to pour a drink, and as she floated by, she ensnared me with the gravity of her perfume. Herbaceous myrtle and floral narcissus toyed with my head. My eyes followed her back to her chair, her body a tantric mantra in motion. The daringness of her locked gaze on mine spelled doom.
Jack read the undercurrents with a speculative grin. "I think it's cute. You should give her a pet name back."
"Mother of Darkness," I grunted a laugh.
Mal slammed her fork to the table. I peeked at her, surprised. She looked perturbed, but I had been petty most of the morning. I didn't see why my latest gibe should get to her. Jack paused eating, noticing her change in mood, too.
"You okay?" he asked.
She forced a smile. "Of course. I may be many things, cherub, but 'Mother' isn't on the list."
Jack studied her thoughtfully. "I could be wrong, but I'm sensing big emotions beneath that statement. You want to talk about it?"
"Let's not get maudlin. I'm fine, darling. Care to pass me a mango?"
He handed what she requested and took another for himself. I eyed the blade he used to peel the tart, ripe fruit. The sharp edge bit into soft flesh with an audible hiss, and juice collected. He brought the wound to his mouth, licked, watched me. The yellow-orange fruit disappeared in a flash of white teeth. His jawline firmed and relaxed and invited, and my dizzy thoughts wondered how his five-o'clock shadow would feel rasping against my tongue.
I shook my head and refocused on Mal. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I meant no offense."
"Can we change the subject, please?" Her pupils speared the table, rather than Jack or me. I tensed. Jack laid a hand over her balled fist clenched around a utensil. She relaxed her fingers and made the same quick-change to her demeanor. "Jack, why don't you tell us more about you?" She was all smiles again, though the cheeriness didn't reach her eyes.
"I've got a better idea. Heads or tails?" He dug a coin from his pocket and gestured from me to Mal.
"What for?" I asked.
"I want to hear more about you two. We'll flip to see who goes first."
Oh, no. I mentally ran through the history curated for me by AngelGuard Headquarters. I couldn't tell Jack I was born of light at the dawn of the universe and spent aeons in specialized training in the imaginal realm in order to be a Guardian.
"Tails," Mal sighed. Her arched brow told me she was no doubt aware of my dilemma.
Smiling, Jack tossed the shiny dime into the air, and it landed on the back of his hand with a thwack. He clapped his other palm over it before taking a peek. "Tails it is."
"What? Best of three!"
"C'mon, don't be shy," he chuckled.
"Well, what do you want to know?"
"Tell us about your childhood," I suggested, genuinely curious.
"Ah, hell." Mal rolled her eyes. "I was a prodigy. My father taught me everything he knew. I completed a correspondence course via the state's flagship university and was able to graduate early from high school. By my twenty-secondth birthday, I was done with the bar exam, the same year my father died."
"That had to be bittersweet. I hate that you and your sisters had to go through that," Jack commiserated.
"Suffering strengthens." She sipped her mimosa, peering at him over the rim of her glass. "The experience helped me raise the twins. You see, our mother wanted an at-home birth, but there were complications. She died having them."
I suddenly realized why my flippant nickname had bothered her. "Oh my God, that's terrible! I'm so sorry, Mal."
"I was three or four years old. I hardly remember her." She shrugged, but revealing her past brought a stammer to her body language. She drew into herself. Her shoulders bowed, and she crossed her arms.
Compassion flooded me. Mal was such a survivor. She wasn't evil. The pressures of being intellectually gifted combined with her early losses had rendered her ruthlessly ambitious. Her sisters depended on her, as well. Whatever her motivations for weaving Jack into their web, they had to seem reasonable to her. However, no amount of suffering justified his complete destruction, in my opinion.
"You've both been deeply affected by the loss of loved ones. Jack, your brother's death before you were born shaped your destiny," I said.
"Yeah. I don't know if I told you, Mal, but I had an older brother who died in a car accident before I was born. I grew up with his ghost haunting everything I touched. Even now, the main reason my parents can't embrace the good things happening for me thanks to Mr. Cyprian is because I'm not walking in Adam's footsteps. He was the star quarterback. I'm the ex-con."
"And as an orphan, Mal has shouldered great expectations, too," I said.
"What about it? I've always been set apart, Little Light. There's a loneliness that comes with being incomprehensible, but I'm used to thinking beyond the scope of others. No need to recast my past as a sob story in your head. As you can see, I turned out amazing."
"Hang on. I do have a point, and I'm getting to it. You're right, there's no sense reducing oneself to victimhood. Struggle is the most ubiquitous human experience, but it's how a person transforms through their struggle that counts," I explained. Her history had given me an opening to remind Jack that fulfillment wasn't material. "Many choose to distract themselves from their pain. Thus, they never transform. They chase external motivators like wealth, social status, or revenge."
"I see where this is going." Mal smirked.
"Is he therapizing us?" Jack met her gaze and grinned, but tuned into what I was saying.
"I just think emotions are as vital as pain or pleasure receptors," I went on. "You touch a hot stove, and you learn not to touch it again because of the discomfort you experience. You have sex, and you propagate your species because, you know, it feels good or whatever. When you pay attention to your emotions, the feedback helps you discern what's good for you and what's not on, well, on a soul level."
I gestured with my fork, saying, "I mean, think about it. The brightest diamond in the world isn't as captivating as the face of someone you adore. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"I do, and I adore you," Jack said in jest. At least, I think he was joking. I ignored him.
"Therefore, distracting ourselves from suffering–dampening our emotional antenae–has the counterintuitive affect of extending our pain because we're not listening to or learning from the feedback," I concluded. "It's like touching a hot stove but not feeling the sting, even though it's still burning."
Mal said boredly, "I believe the latest pop-psychology catchphrase is, 'You've got to feel to heal.' You should stick it on a t-shirt."
Jack placed a toothpick in his mouth. "Lucky for me, there weren't a lot of distractions in prison. I suffered, alright. There was so much I wanted to do with my future before I went in, but that shit derailed everything."
"Fate had other plans for you, maybe," Mal opined.
"Story of my life, at the mercy of mysterious forces beyond my control."
"But then there is free will," I said.
"Free will?" Jack scoffed. "Okay, riddle me this: Which of my choices account for someone else screwing up an investigation and landing me behind bars?"
I jolted as innumerable paths lit up my mind, connecting every choice Jack had made and could have made on his fateful last meet-up with the man he'd been accused of killing. Another lightning bolt of connections illuminated the choices that had been made by others who were involved directly or indirectly. As the zigzagging bands of light intersected, more paths formed. Squeezing my eyes shut and reopening them, the vision faded.
The conversation had moved on. "At any rate, Jack doesn't have to worry about his future anymore because he has me," Mal said cheekily. "And we have a dinner party later. Is there anything else I can do for you guys before I jet?"
Jack pushed away from the table. "Mm-hm, I need a favor en route to my car. Do you mind chauffeuring us to check on a friend? I've taken a homeless teen under my wings, and I got them a room at an extended-stay. I want to make sure they're okay."
"As you wish." Her teeth showed when she smiled.
Wait, dinner party? I was stuck in my head, reflecting on the marvelous insight into Fate that being a Guardian-in-training had just gifted me. I had almost missed what was said. "What dinner party?" I asked.
"An important meal with the man in charge."
I didn't like the sound of that. "Can I come?"
Mal peered at her manicure, and I knew she was hiding something. Instinct guided me. Could the djinn be preparing to have my friend on the menu? Jack looked to her for permission for me to join, but he seemed pleased that I had asked to be included. Knowing him, he probably thought it was for romantic reasons. I was trying to keep him alive.
Finally, Mal lifted a shoulder and said, "I certainly can't stop you."
***
Kato's hotel room was modest. A basic bed and side tables parallelled a knatty gray futon next to a corner dedicated to the kitchen. There were two burners, a narrow sink, and enough countertop space to hold a coffee mug. An ancient microwave mounted above the stove looked like it had seen its best days.
After Jack introduced Mal, she sat in one of the mismatched chairs at the "dining" table. I picked a snack cake wrapper from the futon and took a seat. The kid's eyes skated uneasily to the djinn. It was clear they didn't know what she was, but they recognized she wasn't human, and it made them uncomfortable. I was curious about the young Supernatural, too. Did Jack realize the prickly sensation of being in the presence of Supers? Most humans didn't.
The teen spoke animatedly about the perks of free wifi and cable television as Jack lounged in a canvas fold-out chair admittedly dug from a dumpster somewhere. He nodded, satisfied with the transformation a little ease of living had wrought on the normally sullen kid.
"And the gas station is, like, a hop and a skip away," Kato gushed.
"You've been living off gas station food? I'll get the grocery store to deliver something heartier. But I'm glad to see you're good. I started to worry cause you weren't answering your phone," Jack said.
"Oh, yeah. It's out of minutes."
"Why didn't you tell me? I'll get you a calling card."
"Nah, I can't accept that from you, man. You've already done more than enough."
"Don't mention it," Jack replied. "Remember what we talked about, right? It's not a hand-out; it's a hand up. I want to see you get on your feet. Everybody needs a boost now and then."
The two of them worked out a food shopping list, leaving Mal and I to our own devices. I snuck a glance at her, and a rare hint of uncertainty clouded her gorgeous orbs. She caught me looking.
"What is it, angel?"
I left the futon and took the chair across from her. "What's the matter? His heart isn't charring up quite the way you like it?" I asked quietly.
She folded her arms on the table and leaned toward me. "You think a few good deeds will save his soul? Unlikely. If you thought that, you wouldn't be as nervous about tonight's dinner party. It's a full moon, isn't it? You know what they say about full moons."
"Actually, I don't."
Her bow-shaped mouth fired a smile with stealthy bite. "You'll learn soon enough."