My plan was distinctly not good, terrible, in fact. My glance to James was as much an apology to him for the stupid thing I was about to do, as it was to see his deep blue, beautiful eyes and steel my resolve. Then I leaned down, my lips to Malachi's ear, and told him to let me in. I didn't know if it would work, if I could get into his mind when he was asleep, if he would let me, or if I wanted him to let me. And I had only briefly considered what I would do if I made it in or how I would get out. But none of that mattered. For some reason, I could only think of Malachi suffering in his dream, the Collector abusing him even here, now, in front of us in the Vault, a place we had told him was safe. And I had beat him in sleep once before. I at least had that to my advantage.
Something in me made the decision easily. I wanted to help Malachi in whatever way I could, I needed to. I felt a deep drive to save him - from the Collector, from himself, from everything in this life that was trying to break him and ruin him further. Instead of contemplating why I felt that way, I acted and did the only thing I could think of to possibly help. I forced my Gift into his mind. I closed my eyes, feeling weightless for a moment, like fainting. But then I heard voices, voices I recognized; one smooth and seductive, though it made the hair on the back of my neck raise, and one low, rough and rolling like distant thunder.
I opened my eyes to see a dark room, a hallway, and light from some unseen window spilling across the floor from an open doorway. I walked toward the door quietly, not knowing what the rules were here. Could I be seen? Heard? Or was I merely a phantom? I hoped for the latter for my own safety, but then I wouldn't be able to help Malachi, to push back the Collector. I stopped just outside the door to listen, but the voices were silent. I paused longer, my lungs burning to breathe, but I held it, not wanting to make a sound, not wanting to miss anything. I sent my Sight in instead, still hovering in the doorway, not getting too close in case I could be sensed.
Malachi sat in a chair in the center of a bare, stone room, a cell. He was tied to it, the dull gleam of electrum at his naked ankles and wrists. He was wearing the same as in the waking world; dark pants with bare feet, bare-chested apart from the blood dripping down his neck, lines of it continuing down his scarred chest and abdomen. The black of his collar and tattoos stood out against his skin in the room's slight light.
I could see the burn marks beneath the collar, the crackled skin, but his face held the most damage. I couldn't even see the yellow of his animal eyes through the mangled skin and wet hair as he hung his head. Then Malachi's low voice spoke into the silence, calm and cold, not an edge of pain in it despite his gruesome injuries.
"I don't know yet. They haven't exactly shared much with me. Gabriel despises me and obviously doesn't trust me. I'm surprised he even let me live, he's ruthless and suspicious, cautious. I've barely seen them since arriving at the Vault. They keep me under close lock and key - collar and all."
He was lying. He had seen plenty of us and knew so much already because we didn't think he could get information out of the Vault to James' father. And though we didn't trust him, James certainly didn't despise him, in fact, in his own way, it seemed like he cared for him. Or at least wanted to protect him, help him, similar to how I felt toward him. The collaring was true, but I was surprised Malachi was bold enough to lie to the Collector's face. I wondered if he could tell like James could when he was being lied to. I hoped not.
"What a shame, my pet, I was hoping for a lengthier report. But instead, you disappear for days, lose my sightlines into the glass castle Abraham has made, let yourself be collared by our enemies, and then, you protect that pathetic, shallow-blooded Clan that Jordan is so fond of-"
"I didn't have a choice, the collar, I-"
Malachi's explanation was cut short by a crack as the Collector struck with the back of his hand. Blood sprayed from Malachi's mouth as his head whipped to the side before lolling to his chest. The Collector twined his fingers into Malachi's white hair and made a fist, pulling his face up as he leaned in.
"Did I tell you to speak?"
A second of silence followed and I found myself cringing at the defiance. The Collector yanked Malachi's head back, his neck bent and strained as he gasped, a bubble of blood at the corner of his mouth.
"No. Forgive me, master."
Malachi's voice sounded distant, softer and higher. His breath was weighted with what might have been pain or fear and it made my chest ache somehow. If James' father could send us terror and hopelessness in our dreams, I could only imagine what emotions he was placing in Malachi's mind. The Collector let go of Malachi's hair, apparently satisfied with his submission.
"As I was saying, three transgressions but only two punishments have been dealt."
He motioned to Malachi's eyes and collar with a flourish that reminded me of how Malachi gestured for dramatic emphasis so often.
"So, boy, you are well-versed in the ways of amercement, what do you think your final penance should be? Your eyes for my sightlines, your neck for their collar, but what for protecting an entire Clan? For killing my Skia and sending my Shafes back? So much work to bring them into our world, but, you knew that. What is a fair price for your actions?"
The silence stretched on and even beneath the mask of blood, I could see Malachi's jaw set, his chest's rise and fall quicken. He was afraid, and though I was too, I had seen enough, and I wouldn't let Malachi be hurt again. My eavesdropping had served its purpose. I now knew the role I was to play - cold, ruthless Pair to James, coming into Malachi's dreams to retrieve our prize, our prisoner. Not to save him, not because beating a bound man was wrong, not because torturing your surrogate son was evil, but because we wanted to do worse and wouldn't let the Collector have even this small victory over us.
I filled my lungs with a stabilizing breath, drawing from my Sign as much as I could for strength and calm, then I let my Shift cover me as I stepped into the doorway's opening. The Collector stood to the side of Malachi and saw me immediately. A feather of shock passed his dark blue eyes and I tasted triumph, even if it was weak.
"Surprised to see me?"
My voice came out icy and mocking, inhuman, just as I had ordered it to. I made sure to flash my teeth, to show their points, as my blackened eyes landed on my Pair's father, then on Malachi with disinterest.
"It seems you are playing a bit rough with a toy that is no longer yours."
I was glad my voice sounded confident, as I honestly had no idea what I was doing. I couldn't feel the mixture of James' and my Signs like the last time. The thought that maybe I could only pull from both of our Signs when we were both present in a dream pushed against my mind, but I tried to not think of that. This wasn't real regardless - that was my advantage. Though Malachi must know this wasn't real too, yet he still couldn't escape. Maybe I couldn't either. I felt my heart begin to race as I thought of what a stupid plan this had been.
But then a wall of anger hit me, rage beyond what I could create on my own burned through me, at least what I could create right then as I was choking on fear. The storm of anger pushed away my doubts and I felt my second Shift stir, opening one bloodthirsty eye to survey what had awakened it. I quickly grabbed at the anger and pulled it into myself, taking every last sharpened edge Malachi was offering up. I felt my Red Shift rising, filling me along with the anger, and I let it overtake me too.
My mind cleared and I remembered that this was only a dream, and not even my own. It wasn't real, and though Malachi might not be able to defeat James' father because of his connections or past - I knew I could, at least in sleep. I could do whatever I wanted here. I had before. I opened my palm, lifting my hand before me as blue and white flames danced an inch above my skin, spinning into an orb as I added wind to it until a small burning tornado spun. I widened my grin, or rather, pulled the corners of my lips back, showing my long canines.
The Collector watched the spinning flames for only a moment before raising his midnight eyes to mine, recovering from whatever thoughts had run through his mind, his surprise of seeing me in his servant's dream.
"Hello, my dear Batnae. You've been up to trouble lately, but I am a forgiving master. I am more than willing to still welcome you when you are ready for true power, true knowledge. In fact, I'll even share with you now in a showing of goodwill. You can choose the next diversion." He gestured toward Malachi, making his offer clear.
I pushed my lips out into a pout, half as if I was thinking, before shaking my head.
"But I don't want to share him, except maybe with your son, he's so much better at playing with his old childhood friend, so much more creative in our games. No, I think I'll take him back with me now - and every night in the future. Say your goodbyes. You shouldn't have sent him to us unless you were willing to lose him."
My voice came out in a growl more than once. Even as I tried to stay calm and taunting, my Red Shift had other ideas and it physically hurt to keep my feet planted, to not dive at the Collector, or hell, Malachi. My Shift was calling for blood, and it clearly didn't care whose it was. I tried to pull in deeper breathes to calm myself, but it wasn't working this time. I tried to stuff my second Shift back, but it dug into me and I had to fight off a cringe instead.
The Collector's head turned slightly, not like James' and Malachi's sometimes did, but with the shadow of similarity as he watched me like he could sense my battle for control.
Bleed.
Malachi's deep voice whispered through my mind, and though it didn't make sense, though we weren't on the same side, we were right then. He wanted a way out of this and that just so happened to be me. He had let me into his dream, he hadn't told the Collector all that he knew, he had given me anger to cover my fear. So, I trusted and bled for him.
I dug my nails into my palms, so deep I felt my skin break and wet, sticky warmth run immediately. I heard the rhythmic drips of it splattering on the floor in the silence as the Collector and I watched each other. I hoped my bleeding fists would look like rage, and not whatever bloodletting it truly was. But even just from the few drops leaving me, I felt the pull of my Red Shift lessen, satisfied in some small way by my sacrifice. I dug my nails in further, baring my teeth as if I was preparing to fight, and stabbed their points into my lips in the process. I felt blood run down my chin as my second Shift ebbed further until I had control of it again.
"You're going through an awful lot of work for one little toy. Makes me wonder what you think you know about him."
The Collector's velvet voice made a shiver of both pleasure and disgust run my spine, but I kept my eyes evenly on him as I rolled my shoulders to rid the feeling.
"I could say the same to you."
I took a step forward, knowing I could stop myself from diving for him now.
"But of course, I have many more uses for him than you do. He has been a lovely weapon and companion to me for years, a replacement for my son, but that doesn't mean he cannot be replaced as well. Kill him if you must, though it will be a shame to deprive the world of such a beautiful face."
He ran his fingers down Malachi's bloody cheek at this, and though I felt my own stomach constrict at the intimate touch, Malachi didn't flinch, didn't even move. He continued to stare emptily straight ahead as the Collector's fingers trailed from his lips down his jawline and neck until they rested on his shoulder. I hid my derision and instead rolled my eyes, though I still didn't know if others could see the motion with them black and depthless.
"Unfortunately, you won't have any more visits with your replacement son. Malachi - it's time to wake up. We have plans for you that are so much more fun when you are conscious."
After a beat of pause, the Collector let out a bark of laughter and ran a hand through his inky hair. His other still grasped Malachi's shoulder, his fingers digging in, eliciting a wince.
"Oh - you do not know how to wake him? Then I suppose I can continue my plans of discipline. You are welcome to watch until I am finished with him, of course, maybe learn a thing or two." He chuckled again. "You had me believing you for a moment. Crafty. You will be such a lovely addition to my collection, little one."
The way his eyes devoured me in that moment made my shiver from earlier return, but I didn't need to reach for the anger Malachi offered, not this time. I had enough all on my own. I took another step forward, feeling my hair lift off my shoulders, feeling flames lick up my arms. The blood still dripping from my fists began to sizzle.
I ground out the only words I could think of, my last attempt. But I knew it would work because it already had before. I didn't need to wake Malachi, I just needed to get rid of the Collector.
"Get out. Let go of him and leave now or I will turn you to dust. This is your last warning."
I felt my Red Shift rising again but it was different, more controlled now that I had something to direct the rage at, the bloodlust. The Collector seemed to see the difference in me and released Malachi's shoulder nonchalantly. His eyes dropped to the flames licking my skin, taking in my stance and anger, and then smirked, just like his son did.
"As you wish, but you cannot pretend this is simply a turf war over who can bloody one pretty soldier. I know what my son has become; weak and soft. And this, you..." he waved a hand at me, at my clear aggression as he stood calmly before me. "It is obvious that you are here to save him, because all you see when I touch him, hurt him, when he cries out, is my son beneath my hands. So, you may have him but you did not win today. I still gained the information my insolent son wanted to keep hidden and Malachi failed to report. You are both weak. But once I get you, that weakness will just make you all the easier to break."
His smile widened and it made me feel sick. He continued in his same silken voice.
"Enjoy your shallow victory - but I know you will not kill your prisoner, which means he will be returned to me, along with you and my son. You may take him now, as a loan, but I know I will be able to break you just as I have broken this one, as I will break him further if needed."
His hand returned to Malachi's shoulder, his fingers tracing the lines of scars absentmindedly before inching down to linger at his collar bone, his chest. I felt my stomach rising into my throat from rage and disgust and other emotions I didn't even have the ability to name. Something bitter and powerful and protective. I raised my hands as I felt my power growing, ready to throw it forward and destroy the Collector once again, to burn his hands away from Malachi's skin. But then he was gone, vanished, only Malachi and I sharing the dark room.
Malachi's face slowly became less swollen, the skin stitching itself back together. His eyes became visible behind the curtain of gore and hanging flesh until I was met with sharp yellow watching me. Then the blackened skin beneath his collar lightened, the cracked and curled skin smoothed, and I knew Ailech must have gotten to Malachi's body in the real world.
With a thought, I made the electrum fall away from his ankles and wrists, but he didn't stand. He continued to stare at me with his glowing eyes. What seemed minutes passed slowly, though it might have been much less before he spoke in that rumbling voice I could feel in my bones.
"This changes nothing."
I nodded and opened my eyes to find the Vault's ceiling.
Bruh, I quietly (and awkwardly?) love this chapter.
1. I like seeing Jordan put on her BA front (even if, let's be real, James and Jordan are both much squishier now than when I first wrote them - that's what love/healing does to you, folks, trust me from experience)
And 2. I like writing the Collector. Gotta make it clear what an absolute & complete abusive assh0le he is so we can all agree to hate him, right?
Plus, I mean, if I'm not writing some kind of violence/torture/gore into a chapter...is it really even a true Grays chapter?
Now, for those of y'all being like...less blood and guts, more love and butts...um, no.
I mean, the storyline will progress, and yes, eventually we will have to revisit JamesXJordan in that capacity, but this isn't a smut book, mmk? It's a dark hunter/antihero story with a kinda cute redemptive relationship arc and all of my favorite fantasy tropes and visuals jammed in ><
I basically took everything I've ever liked from any form of fantasy entertainment (from the Avatar series to Shadowhunters to Darker than Black, Tokyo Ghoul, Sword of Truth, Sarah J Maas, etc) and wove it together into this...but I honestly don't know how to write steamy scenes, so, my apologies.
Also, can we all just agree that Malachi is a yellow-eyed Kaneki Ken + like 10 years? I should post character photos...