cheeks had nothing to do with the
sweat beading on his forehead. He didn’t bother to hide the sob
that escaped him. Bran sat placidly while Adin wept, one finger
stirring Adin’s bathwater, the other hand holding his chains up
so they wouldn’t get wet. When he had no more tears left Bran
handed him a small, thick towel and he dried his face with it.
“Thanks.” Adin handed it back and began the effort of
soaping himself up and rinsing off, determined that if it didn’t
Vigil 43
seem unusual for the boy to be in the bathroom with him, he
wasn’t going to go out of his way to make it weirder than it had
to be. Bran remained silent, and when Adin looked up Bran’s eyes
shimmered with unshed tears. “What?”
“Beautiful family,” Bran said in perfect Urdu. “Much love.”
Adin’s breath caught. “What are you?”
Bran smiled faintly. “Yes. Exactly .”
ChAPteR fiVe
Adin fell into bed and slept. If it was uneventful for most
of the night, dream-wise, it more than made up for that in the
seconds before he woke, when hundreds of images, mostly faces,
flickered like paparazzi flashbulbs going off in his head, pop , pop ,
pop .
It was as if everyone he’d ever known, every person he’d
ever seen, was displayed before him in a lightening round. A
PowerPoint presentation slideshow of old love and painful loss,
of things that were frightening, and people best forgotten.
“Stop,” Adin ground out when he realized he had no control
over what he was seeing. Adin heard a noise near him that might
have been a sigh, and might have been a smothered laugh.
Adin threw the sheet off his body and swung his feet over the
side of his bed. Silk sleep pants clung damply to his sweaty legs.
He put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands.
The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Bran, who
lay curled on the floor around a pillow like a cat.
Adin watched the boy for a minute and realized he was
pretending to be asleep.
“I can see you’re awake.” Adin drew his feet back up into
the bed, as if the boy was going to chew off a toe or something.
“There’s no point in pretending. And stop rummaging around in
my head, Bran.”
“But I haven’t gotten to the best bits yet.” With a heavy metal
scraping noise Bran unfurled himself and sat up. “To look at you
a bloke would think that you’ve never had a moment of anxiety
in your life, that it was all pricey and painless—”
“I don’t appreciate you fooling around with my memories.”
Adin leaned back against the well-crafted mahogany headboard.
When Bran would have joined him on the bed Adin pushed him
back. “Get a chair.”
46 Z.A. Maxfield
Bran tugged one of the leather chairs to the spot where he’d
been sleeping next to the bed and sat in it. He slid back and
lifted his legs to rest his feet next to Adin’s. His eyebrow rose in
defiance, daring Adin to complain.
“Is that why Harwiche wants you? Because you can get inside
of people’s minds?” Adin asked.
“I don’t know why Harwiche wants me.”
Adin frowned in disbelief.
“ No . It’s true! I don’t know why he wants me. I don’t know
what anyone would want with me.”
“That’s probably true,” Boaz spoke from the doorway. He
entered the room holding a tray of coffee, carefully setting it
down between Adin and Bran and then climbing onto the bed.
“He doesn’t know.”
“Make yourself at home.” Adin grumbled.
“I am home.” Boaz smiled. He handed Adin a cup of coffee
then offered one to Bran, who shook his head. “Bran was probably
kidnapped for something random. Perhaps someone saw you do
something unusual and they put two and two together, yes?”
“For the love of heaven, Boaz. Just tell me what he is.”
“That’s part of the problem. If I’m not mistaken, Bran isn’t
any one thing.” To Bran directly, he said, “Am I right?”
Bran stayed silent.
“Look.” Boaz turned back to Adin.
sweat beading on his forehead. He didn’t bother to hide the sob
that escaped him. Bran sat placidly while Adin wept, one finger
stirring Adin’s bathwater, the other hand holding his chains up
so they wouldn’t get wet. When he had no more tears left Bran
handed him a small, thick towel and he dried his face with it.
“Thanks.” Adin handed it back and began the effort of
soaping himself up and rinsing off, determined that if it didn’t
Vigil 43
seem unusual for the boy to be in the bathroom with him, he
wasn’t going to go out of his way to make it weirder than it had
to be. Bran remained silent, and when Adin looked up Bran’s eyes
shimmered with unshed tears. “What?”
“Beautiful family,” Bran said in perfect Urdu. “Much love.”
Adin’s breath caught. “What are you?”
Bran smiled faintly. “Yes. Exactly .”
ChAPteR fiVe
Adin fell into bed and slept. If it was uneventful for most
of the night, dream-wise, it more than made up for that in the
seconds before he woke, when hundreds of images, mostly faces,
flickered like paparazzi flashbulbs going off in his head, pop , pop ,
pop .
It was as if everyone he’d ever known, every person he’d
ever seen, was displayed before him in a lightening round. A
PowerPoint presentation slideshow of old love and painful loss,
of things that were frightening, and people best forgotten.
“Stop,” Adin ground out when he realized he had no control
over what he was seeing. Adin heard a noise near him that might
have been a sigh, and might have been a smothered laugh.
Adin threw the sheet off his body and swung his feet over the
side of his bed. Silk sleep pants clung damply to his sweaty legs.
He put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands.
The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Bran, who
lay curled on the floor around a pillow like a cat.
Adin watched the boy for a minute and realized he was
pretending to be asleep.
“I can see you’re awake.” Adin drew his feet back up into
the bed, as if the boy was going to chew off a toe or something.
“There’s no point in pretending. And stop rummaging around in
my head, Bran.”
“But I haven’t gotten to the best bits yet.” With a heavy metal
scraping noise Bran unfurled himself and sat up. “To look at you
a bloke would think that you’ve never had a moment of anxiety
in your life, that it was all pricey and painless—”
“I don’t appreciate you fooling around with my memories.”
Adin leaned back against the well-crafted mahogany headboard.
When Bran would have joined him on the bed Adin pushed him
back. “Get a chair.”
46 Z.A. Maxfield
Bran tugged one of the leather chairs to the spot where he’d
been sleeping next to the bed and sat in it. He slid back and
lifted his legs to rest his feet next to Adin’s. His eyebrow rose in
defiance, daring Adin to complain.
“Is that why Harwiche wants you? Because you can get inside
of people’s minds?” Adin asked.
“I don’t know why Harwiche wants me.”
Adin frowned in disbelief.
“ No . It’s true! I don’t know why he wants me. I don’t know
what anyone would want with me.”
“That’s probably true,” Boaz spoke from the doorway. He
entered the room holding a tray of coffee, carefully setting it
down between Adin and Bran and then climbing onto the bed.
“He doesn’t know.”
“Make yourself at home.” Adin grumbled.
“I am home.” Boaz smiled. He handed Adin a cup of coffee
then offered one to Bran, who shook his head. “Bran was probably
kidnapped for something random. Perhaps someone saw you do
something unusual and they put two and two together, yes?”
“For the love of heaven, Boaz. Just tell me what he is.”
“That’s part of the problem. If I’m not mistaken, Bran isn’t
any one thing.” To Bran directly, he said, “Am I right?”
Bran stayed silent.
“Look.” Boaz turned back to Adin.
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